The thing is, these undefined brain chemicals are so powerful that no known drug in the world can compare in sheer potency. One micro-drop of this chemical soup the brain makes will allow a human to become much more than a human. To perform inhuman tasks. The ‘Stage Three’ process takes its toll, though. The longer it lasts, the longer the recuperation period is. A person entering ‘Stage Three’ without extreme training is likely to be hurt in so many ways that full recovery is often not possible. That’s when they live. But even as the animal mind takes over the task of chemical production in the brain, it taps the resource of the memory and takes advantage of any logical processes that might help it do what it is trying to do.
When these ordinary people are questioned after such an occurrence, we find that there is no actual memory of it in a linear sense. Just moments, and feelings. Like ‘I was scared’, or ‘I had to help my child, don’t you understand!? My CHILD’.
It’s pretty much the same with military personnel trained for these situations. Personnel that are supposed to be able to control the onset of the ‘Stages’. The control factor is actually quite low. Some just enter it automatically. Those with the lower control factors are the ones who very often don’t make it back, or even if they do, they can’t recover fully. End of career.”
While I went on, Evie sat silently listening. It was time to let her and the team know who they were working with.
“What you saw this morning was only a mild ‘Stage Two’. I’m categorized as a ‘Natural Three’. You won’t find that in any file you requisition. When or if, I go ‘Stage Three’, it’s best to keep your head down. I mean it, Okay?” I waited for her to tell me.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know where this case will finally lead, but we’re in it up to our necks now, and it’s bigger than Ronnie thought. I know that much. The reason I left the SAS was because they were using me in ways that didn’t fit well with what my heart and mind were telling me. Once they realized what I was capable of, I mean. I’ve done things I didn’t want to do, in situations where I had no choice in the matter. So then I left.
I try not to let it reside with my regular memory. There’s a small room in my mind that has a locked door. That’s where I keep those memories. I remember everything. It’s strange, like being outside yourself and watching, but I remember. I remember it all. This morning unlocked that door for the first time in years.
When I was about ten, twelve or so, I used to leave my body when I went to sleep at night, floating over myself before I went to sleep. Then I’d fly. To the strangest worlds and places. Not every night, mind you, but still, often enough. It was only when I got to be about sixteen or so that I realized that there were people who spent their entire adult lives attempting to achieve what I’d taken for granted as a child. I should have been a Buddhist monk, I suppose.
Now I live my life free, yet I find myself in a situation where anything can happen. That’s already been demonstrated to us. I can’t guarantee my reactions during high tension moments other than to warn you that I don’t surrender and given that I have free movement, I’ll always act. I’m very predictable like that. The problem is, I’m very good at it as well. After a while you lose count of the killings. Sometimes you don’t know how many, just that it happened, until someone tells you. It also becomes less important than the objective. Missio est omnes.”
All along I’d been talking softly, staring at the coffee cup in my hands, or staring through the wall across from where I sat. Evie hadn’t said a word to interrupt me, and she’d listened carefully to the entire monologue.
I looked at her then, and let her see my face. The way I meant what I said.
“I’ll thank you now, in case we don’t get a chance later.” Then she laughed, low and throaty. I smiled like a person who was in on the joke. Then she continued.
“I have a completely different experience than yours. Thank God.”
“In all honesty, you probably wouldn’t make that last set of ‘Finals’, that tells them they’ve got a ‘live wire’ on their hands.”
“I listened to you, now it’s my turn. Shut up.” I smiled at her and nodded. She was right. It was my turn to keep quiet. I said nothing, and she settled down to talk again.
“I know exactly how many people I’ve killed. Two. I tried to keep it clean, but I don’t think they believed me, took me seriously, you know? Because I was a woman. In the end I had to draw down on them. The idiots tried to use automatic rifles on me. Before they could bring the barrels around, I shot them both. They both died at the same time, and they had this ‘surprised’ look on their faces.
Five seconds later the cavalry arrived. Five seconds too late, of course. I spent most of the following summer snorkeling in the Indian Ocean. I dreamt a lot about mountains, and climbing, climbing, finally to fall just before I reached the top. Then one night, I made it to the top without falling. I woke up, and knew it was time to get back to work. Otherwise, I have no complaints. Ronnie is pretty good at what she does. I like being part of her team. She’s a believer in what she does and the people that work for her tend to get converted to her way easily.” She laughed that soft throaty laugh one more time.
“Thanks for sharing with me.”
“That’s Okay. After this morning, I knew there was a lot more happening than I could see with my eyes. I’m the one who should thank you. That’s some pretty personal stuff. One thing I will say, it stays with me. I think you knew that before you started to talk though, didn’t you? I don’t think there’s much that goes on that you don’t have it figured one way or another.”
I smiled with her, and then we both made to get up and speak at the same time. I sat back and gestured with a sweep of my arm.
“Ladies first.”
She got up and said, “If I see one, I’ll let her know.” In a perfectly good Mae West impersonation, then walked towards the bedroom door where Godsen was sleeping. “I think it’s time to get ready for dinner. We girls need a little more time to adjust our natural beauty prior to all public appearances. You’d better wake ‘Sleeping Beauty’ as well.”
“Okay, but remember, this is a jazz club on the Niederdorf. Dress down, not up.”
“Got it.” This last bit she threw at me over her shoulder before opening the bedroom door and disappearing.
I went off to wake Therese. I found her still under the covers, but sleeping on my side, where I’d been lying, and using my pillow. I picked up the other pillow and dropped it on her, watching her face the whole time. She came awake naturally, showing me that she’d been sleeping, and not faking it.
She blinked in the light from the lamps that I’d turned on as I came into the room.
“I’ll give you first crack at the shower, but only because I’m a nice guy. Hungry yet?”
She sat up and rubbed both of her hands up and down on her face, then brushed her hair off her face and leaned back, facing me.
“How gallant of you monsieur. I accept with gratitude, and yes! I am so hungry I could eat an entire pasta and salad dinner right now.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait until we get to the club for that, but the sooner we get there…”
“Oh, bien sûr. Immédiatement, mon capitan.” She threw me a salute and jumped out of bed, with a flash of thigh that would make a lessor man break out into a sweat. Fortunately, I was above all of that. But I did light a cigarette as soon as she closed the door to the en-suite w/c.
I picked out a fresh pair of jeans and Nike Airs. I pulled out my charcoal collarless denim shirt. That would go with the silk-lined dark tan leather jacket. It was bomber-style, but without the heavy lining it made a good cover for carrying. Especially with my rig. I’d have to decide what to do with the knife/sword I’d acquired.
While Therese was showering, I tested several different hookups for the knife rig, and finally found one I could live with. It was held in place by its own straps, then anchored with the straps and clips of my gun rig. It was hanging
upside down, under my left arm, with a ten-degree front-facing angle, and the handle accessible with a draw from either hand. Right-hand draw pulled like a sword, while left-hand draw pulled like a knife. The beauty of it was that it was covered as well as the .45 by the leather jacket, even when it was open. It worked for me.
I heard the water in the shower shut off, and I took off both rigs, and the shirt I was wearing, wrapping the rigs and contents in the white shirt I’d had on all day. When Therese stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped up in her hair and a towel wrapped around her body I couldn’t help it, I flashed on an Old Hollywood production number, but I couldn’t remember which one.
She was dripping water everywhere, so I pointed to the closet.
“I think the robes are in that closet. Freshly laundered.”
“Thanks.” She headed for the closet, and taking out the two robes, she laid one on the bed, said “That’s your one.”, and headed back to the bathroom. Two minutes later she re-emerged, still towel-headed, but robed. The thing came almost to her toes. Looked good, actually.
I picked up my bundle, as well as my shirt and pants choice, now suitably fitted onto plastic fold-out hangers from my case.
I locked the door, then unwrapped my bundle. I left the Colt on the edge of the tub, near the back, and left the door to the shower room open. I showered with my eyes open, sometimes only one, or the other, but I didn’t have any gaps in vision.
The shirt and pants had lost all of their crease with the steam of the shower, which I let run hotter while I was done and shaving. When I finished, I turned off the shower, and got dressed, including my rigs, with the new setup. One Colt .45, model 1911-A, one Heckler & Koch U.S.P. .45 automatic with a laser targeting system and some amazing shells. Last, but not least, an actual Ancient Japanese Samurai… Blade. A hell of a blade. And all I wanted was dinner.
When I came out, I just had to do my shoes, grab my jacket and I was ready to roll. What I had expected to be time on my hands waiting for the girls, turned into a surprise. Therese was nowhere to be seen in the bedroom. I carefully tied my Nike Airs nice and tight with a double loop bow, so nothing was trailing. Shrugging into my jacket I ran my fingers through my hair, my concession to fashion. The Niederdorf is different. Different rules apply. Then I opened the door to find that all three women were ready and waiting! It was definitely a different world to the one I used to know, with reference to women. But I was learning more, day by day.
“My apologies ladies if I’ve kept you waiting. Shall we go?”
They all laughed, and I did too. What the hell, maybe we’d have a good night whichever way it went. We were all in jeans, looking like were out for some fun.
Therese had designer jeans of course. They were a dark mauve, with cigarette legs, and matched the rest of her gear. A white blouse, white tennis shoes, a denim jacket of the same colour and style as the pants, and a white bandana tied across her forehead.
Evie had added Nike Airs, a navy V-neck sweater, and a navy blazer. Her hair was brushed back, but otherwise had had no special treatment. She looked good.
Ronnie was a treat. Her concession to dressing down was a black denim designer outfit. She must have collaborated with Therese before we left for Zurich. She wore a cotton top, a pull-over number, in charcoal. The shoes were Reebok Walkers, which only come in black. The jacket was a sports coat, single breasted, with brass buttons. A charcoal silk handkerchief was showing in her outside top pocket. Her hair was brushed all to one side, and somehow, was being forced to stay there. These things are beyond the ken of Man.
This was going to be a fun night just from walking into the club with these three. Every man in the place would instantly feel inadequate compared to me. How nice.
~
Chapter Twenty-Three
C
oming out of the hotel through the back door took only a small amount of palm-greasing. Apparently, the hotel manager had done a good job of convincing the staff that the Presidential Suite was occupied by minor royalty, and we were tagged as the security and social secretary people. As such, it was only natural for us to be coming and going discreetly.
We walked out of the lane on the busy side, where the hotel street intersected with the Bahnhofstrasse. It was a beautiful night for a walk, and we were about fifteen minutes from the Niederdorf and the club, so we hoofed it. The sky had cleared amazingly fast, like it can only in the mountains, and the stars shone down on the city, twinkling magically. It was like a great fog had lifted, and we all felt the lightness and freshness.
Still, on our way to the Niederdorf, Evie and I took turns dropping back and checking for tails. All for naught. We were just tourists out on the town tonight.
We crossed the Limmat river at the Munster bridge, Therese and I on the downstream side, and Ronnie crossed on the Lake Zurich side with Evie. The distance between us was the span of the bridge roadway and about fifty feet ahead. I checked the frontal view, while Evie checked the rearward view. Paranoia in extremis is when you think the whole world, more or less, is out to get you. Sometimes it’s true. We were given the message this just this very morning. It seemed so far away already, like we were onto another day, and that one had already passed us by. The mind will play great tricks on you if you let it.
Once across the Munster bridge, we were on the Limmatquai. The women were in my hands now. None of them knew the Niederdorf.
About a half block downstream on the Limmatquai was a break between the ancient buildings where there were steps to an alley. The steps were steep and only intermittently lighted as well as only wide enough for three people across at one time. The steps went up for quite a way, maybe two hundred feet. About half way up, for the less stout of heart, was the first of a series of clubs that carried on down a main cobblestoned ‘The way’ that was over one-kilometer-long, with alleys branching off all over the place. And every square foot of it was dedicated to partying, and eating, and drinking, and hanging out, being seen, seeing who’s there, and last but not only not least, but first in Niederdorf sports, bar hopping.
The walls on either side of the stairway were old stone, brick and cement on the repaired or rebuilt sections, and at least three stories high. They seemed to lean in on you, like they were closer together at the top than they were at the bottom. The bar at the halfway point had small windows, with small neon signs representing various beers, and an unlit hand-painted sign over the main doors. We kept going until we hit the alley.
That’s where the fun begins. You’ve entered the Niederdorf. The alley opens up at the top of the stairs to a regular sized small city street for Europe, but old. The cobblestones were mostly the originals, and that old-time charm was maintained well by the ‘NO CARS’ policy on the whole Niederdorf. With the exception of an emergency vehicle, like the police, for instance. There were people everywhere we looked, strolling around, checking out the restaurants, beginning on the clubs. The pubs were about three quarters filled in their outdoor seatings, which usually reflected almost as much inside, if the weather is great, more if it isn’t. Once you’re in the alley and close to the Niederdorf Way itself, the buildings increase in stories. Mostly four and five, but sometimes even six. In the alleys, the bar doors were lit by overhead neon signs, but still small compared to some on the Way.
I kept us walking, and when the alley opened on the Way, they saw it for the first time. For me it was like coming home. I’d spent a fair amount of time here a number of years back. The main Way sloped downwards from both sides, meeting in the middle in a small trough. The middle was where all of the grates for the water system were. Then there were benches, set back to back, and two or four long. Large rock faced containers for the regulation garbage bags. And more for the directly recyclable items.
The lighting here was good. There were street lamps all over the place, and in a line down the centre as well. They topped out at about twenty feet, with a spread of four branching lights at the top each one. All of the clubs, bars,
pubs, restaurants and tourist shopping boutiques were open for business, and some were classier than others.
The people were the main attraction as far as I was concerned. This was the only place in the world that I’d ever seen a three-piece suit accountant walking arm in arm with a Spiked Green Mohawk hairdo, black leather jacket, nose ring with attaching chain, and fish-net stockings under army boots. And they were definitely going to his place or hers, that much was obvious. So, help me, I swear.
Tonight, there were no immediate sights of similar nature to impress my three friends with, but then, the night was still young. Especially on the Niederdorf Way.
There were some couples and some singles walking about, and some moms and dads with the little ones, probably just heading home for the evening. The night beckoned, like an old friend with good intentions that can’t help it if the line gets crossed if you give in to him. I had to corral the troops in order to get us headed in the right direction. As soon as we’d hit the Way, all three of them had started looking around and drifting apart as they explored.
A few minutes away, to the right and on the far side of the Way, was Kreuzherren Club, with a discreet doorman, who understood the message contained in a fifty franc note, and no neon in sight. We were inside in a flash, at a table about half way from the stage to the door, about thirty feet. Against the wall. Which is where Therese and I sat, against the wall.
The waitress was at the table before everyone had finished sitting down. She had blonde-dyed hair, maybe two inches of it, with about an inch of dark roots showing. Other than that, her only sign that she was a waitress was the change apron, and the pen and pad in her hands. Her T-shirt was from a 1992 Grateful Dead concert in Detroit. I spoke up for Therese and I.
“I’ll have a large coke with ice, a Perrier for my friend here.” I hooked my thumb in her general direction. The waitress responded with unbridled enthusiasm.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 50