by JT Sawyer
Kyle bent down and picked up the soiled knife, dragging the dripping blade across Crenna’s jacket lapel. “You’re really causing me to curtail my plans this week, Darren. You know, after I was going to stroll through the halls of the trade delegation in Jakarta and spread the virus around, I had planned to use the antidote on myself because I wanted to finish out the day by watching your illustrious career go down in flames once this was all traced back to you.”
Crenna leaned on one elbow, looking up at his tormenter. “You think that the agency is gonna take the word of a double agent who sold secrets to China over what I tell them and what’s already been documented with your case?”
Kyle slashed him across the left thigh, the layers of muscles underneath unfurling like ribbons. Crenna sank to the floor, filling every inch of the cavernous warehouse with his raspy screams. Kyle bent down and shoved his cupped hand over the man’s mouth. “I had once dreamt of kidnapping you outside your house, when you walk up from that lovely white-and-blue-trim garage to your two-story mansion with the elm trees by the back door. Oh, I was going to bring you to a rented warehouse a lot like this one,” he said, pausing to look up at his surroundings before continuing. “Then, I was going to put you on an IV and keep you alive for weeks while I fileted you. The longest I’d ever observed a person surviving that in the prison you sent me to was eight days but with some quality barbiturates and intermittent medical care, I was hoping that we could sustain you for a month—far more than my wife lasted.”
He released his hand from Crenna’s mouth as the wounded figure began sobbing. “I didn’t know they were going to take your wife. That was not my doing. You have to believe me. I thought you’d be executed shortly after you were captured.”
He brushed his hands over Crenna’s wool-like hair. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve had a guilty conscience for too long. You’ve carried around too much of this burden, haven’t you?” Kyle thrust the blade forward, removing the top half of Crenna’s right ear. “Let me lighten your load some.”
Kyle shuffled back a few feet as the blood from the wounds kept leaking on the floor, creating a small pool under Crenna. He tilted his head at the leg wound. “Shit, I may have nicked the femoral artery on that slice. Not good, Darren. A man in your advanced age bracket is gonna need urgent medical care.”
He moved forward and raised the blade up, his eyes fixed on the man’s jugular region. “I do have an appointment downtown to keep so it’s time to say our goodbyes, old friend.”
His downward thrust was diverted by the sting of a bullet round grazing the rear of his shoulder. He dropped the knife on the pavement and spun around, firing his pistol in the direction of the shot. Another round pierced the table near his head. Kyle backpedaled behind some wood boxes as a barrage of gunfire splintered the wood around him. He weaved through the tangle of crates and bolted for the rear exit door, catching a glimpse of Von moving towards Crenna’s nearly lifeless figure slumped on the ground. Kyle kicked open the door and raced into the parking lot, clutching his hand over his bleeding deltoid as he looked for a place to hide. He only had to wait another hour until the virus became active in his bloodstream. He couldn’t risk another battle.
Chapter 39
After landing with Mitch and the others, Von had made his way past several derelict warehouses until he saw an identical Huey helicopter near a row of Quonset structures. The passengers had already disembarked but he saw a vehicle slowly pulling away from the helo with a single individual sitting in the back seat. The vehicle sped away then suddenly stopped near an air-parcel delivery building. As Von trotted the half mile to catch up to his quarry, weaving between buildings to cover his passage, he noticed a man wearing a police constable’s uniform emerge and make his way towards the rear door of the building. He surmised it had to be Redstrom, posing as law-enforcement to gain entrance to the upcoming trade delegation. Only why was he stopping at this building? Something of significant value to complete his mission must be inside.
A few minutes later, after entering the warehouse and driving Redstrom off, he moved to the side of his severely injured boss. While Von began shoving shop towels on the man’s gaping leg wound he thought back to what Redstrom had revealed to him about Crenna’s involvement in Beijing and then about the recent kill squad that had been sent to eliminate everyone at the jungle base.
Outside the building he thought he heard the clouds groan with thunder but then saw the orange cloud of an explosion fill the blue sky outside the bay windows, the tumult rocking the heavens mirroring his own inner turmoil.
Crenna’s airway had recovered enough for him to speak clearly though he was still wincing in pain with each word he spoke. “Just in time—good job, Von. That murderous traitor would have done me in in another minute.”
“Like you did when you sent those mercs in today to obliterate all the evidence, including me?”
“What the hell did Redstrom fill your head with? You know I’ve always had your back.”
Von pulled back the drenched towel from the oozing inner thigh. He could see the faint white of the femur and knew the excessive bleeding was probably due to a partial sever to the femoral. Crenna gave him a knowing look and nodded to a red phone on the wall.
“Call for an ambulance and we can sort this all out later.”
Von placed the towel back on the leg and moved Crenna’s one good hand over the top of the improvised gauze. He stood up and took a step towards the phone then looked down at his boss. He’d been brought up the ranks by this senior agent but had never felt like he could trust the man. Now, if Crenna lived, Von would either be implicated in the man’s nefarious undertakings or be forced by Quint to testify against him. Either way, Von knew his career would be over. And even if he did survive this and continue on, he saw himself sprawled out on the floor in a similar setting thirty years from now.
“Go on, boy, make the call. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”
Von stepped back and stood over Crenna, the blood throbbing out from under the soaked towel. “I used to think that what we did, what I did, mattered, like I was some fucking Boy Scout who could fix the faulty parts of the world.”
Crenna arched his head up, his face growing pale. “Get me a medic, goddammit!”
Von squatted, resting his arms on his knees, glancing at the exit door. “I’ve still gotta clean up your mess and take down Redstrom before it’s too late. I’m not going to kill you but I’m not going to save you either.”
The older man slumped back against the leg of the table, frothy spittle coming out from his lips as he spoke. “You think you’re better than me.” His breathing became shallow and his voice crackled. Von stood and trotted towards the exit, his pistol at a low-ready, never looking back at the wheezing figure.
“I made you. You were nothing—nothing before you met me.” Crenna’s eyelids fluttered and his chin sank into his chest as he squeaked out his last breath.
Chapter 40
Mitch was about to get back in the jeep when he saw a man dressed in a police uniform running in the distance towards a warehouse followed a minute later by Von, who was in an all-out sprint.
Above the continued din of the explosion, Mitch yelled across the hood to Marco. “Get back to Dev and Bob and the others—get them out of here back to Kuala Lumpur. Dev’s got a jet there and she and the rest of you don’t need to be connected to any of this.”
“Where the hell are you going?”
Mitch tucked his pistol in his holster. “One final thing to take care of.” He trotted off in the direction of the two men, wondering how long he had before emergency services and law-enforcement were streaming onto the airfield to battle the fire. Mitch’s head was still throbbing from the blast and each step was like a jackhammer pounding into his skull.
He’d seen who he thought was Redstrom bolt into a parts warehouse. He heard the sound of gunfire coming from inside, followed by numerous workers flooding out from the exits. As Mitch reached the building, he cha
nged direction and headed for the rear, hoping to gain an element of surprise by coming in from the opposite side to where the two men had entered.
He crept around the corner, his pistol in hand, and was met by a metal pipe crashing down on his head. Reflexively, he tried to block the fierce blow from Kyle but only managed a partial deflection. The pipe crashed through his defense, making contact with the ulna and then grazing off his forehead. Mitch lost his grip on the pistol and was driven sideways by the force. He blocked the next strike, feeling his injured arm buckling from the pressure. Mitch slammed his right fist into the man’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him temporarily but his head was reeling and his vision blurry. Redstrom raised the pipe again and Mitch rushed him in a tackle, slamming him into the cement walls of the building. Mitch heard the pipe clang on the ground and he unleashed a volley of punches to Kyle’s ribs. The man blocked a few and struck Mitch with a vicious uppercut below the belt then grabbed him in a headlock, shoving his upper body down. He should’ve anticipated the move given their positioning but his head was too rattled from the multiple blows coupled with the concussion blast from the explosion. Kyle began clenching down and Mitch felt his windpipe constrict. He knew in another second, he would either be choked into unconsciousness or have his neck snapped. He’d used the move enough himself and now was enraged that he was falling victim to something he could’ve avoided. He heard Redstrom grunting as the man’s forearm grip increased around his throat. The sunlight that had been pounding down on Mitch was now fading from his vision as he struggled to breathe. He felt for the handle of his fixed blade tucked by his left hip. He used a crossdraw and removed it then drove it in an upward thrust between Kyle’s legs into the perineum, burying the hilt and twisting until he felt warm blood rushing over his hands. The chokehold was broken and Mitch shoved the man back. Kyle staggered in place, his legs buckling and his lips quivering. Mitch lunged forward, delivering a rapid series of thrusts into his throat and ribcage. Kyle dropped straight down, seeming to collapse into his boots as if his skeletal system had been suddenly liquefied.
Mitch was still gagging and rubbing his sore trachea. He backpedaled, trying to gulp in fresh air. He felt the sun beating down on him like a sledgehammer and moved towards the shade near the door. It opened and Von stepped out, holding his bloodied shoulder. He had taken a bullet below the clavicle and was trying not to pass out, his slide-locked pistol dangling from his fingers. Von leaned against the doorframe, relaxing his posture while staring down at Redstrom lying in a pool of blood and viscera.
Mitch moved up and helped Von to the ground. “Well, aren’t we a pretty sight.”
Von pressed his hand against his wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “I’m the pretty one—you’re just kind of, well, looking pretty frazzled.”
Mitch glared at him, his face softening and his breathing turning into a faint chuckle. “I could still take you, kid.”
Von redirected his grimace into a partial grin. “I don’t doubt it, Mitch, though I have a little more finesse,” he said, waving his hand towards the flaming bus across the airfield, the sound of sirens filling the air as the fire trucks arrived.
“You government types—never liking the solutions to the problems you created yourselves in the first place.”
Von stood up, nodding for them to head away from the direction of the emergency responders. “You used to work for the government didn’t you—FBI wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, ‘used to’ being the key words there.”
He stood up and lent Von a shoulder to lean on as they both moved slowly along the back side of the building.
“Speaking of the government, you got any suggestions for getting out of this country back to Kuala Lumpur? This place is going to be bottled up pretty tight after this.”
Von nodded and grinned. “Mitch, I know about every dirty trick there is for smuggling people in and out of this country. This is your lucky day.”
Mitch looked at the massive brown-and-blue bruise forming on his forearm and felt the contusion on his forehead then glanced back at Redstrom’s body against the backdrop of flames. “I’ll take luck over skill any time but today we sure as hell had plenty of both.”
Chapter 41
Two days later, Mitch spent the afternoon with Bob and Margo at their hotel in Tel Aviv. She had arrived the day before after hearing the good news and Mitch needed to go over Bob’s cover story regarding what unfolded in Indonesia. He didn’t want Gideon, Marco, or himself connected with the rescue efforts and they spent several hours rehearsing Bob’s story of escape. After parting with hugs, Mitch drove across Tel Aviv and showed up at the Leitner household with two bouquets of fresh flowers. After greeting Eva, she led him into the rear bedroom where Dev was convalescing from her wound. She was resting on her side, her hands folded under her cheek as she slept. Mitch placed the flowers on the nightstand next to her and sat in the chair. His eyes traced the outline of her lovely face and he leaned forward to brush a strand of raven hair from her nose. Dev’s eyelids opened and she inhaled deeply, craning her head up towards the flowers then back towards Mitch.
“Why, what a kind gesture, sir.”
“I thought of bringing chocolate but didn’t know if you were a fan.”
“Oh, there’s so much to learn about me—I’m a chocolate addict. You just haven’t seen that side of me yet as I’ve cut down a lot.”
“Coffee and chocolate—you can’t have too much of either in my opinion.”
“I live on too much caffeine at work.” She winced as she turned onto her back. “Fuck—work. I’ve got some catching up to do.”
“And plenty of explaining as well, I reckon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that too. I’m supposed to take off the rest of this week—doctor’s orders—but I may try to go in tomorrow. I just don’t care what the board says anymore. Somehow I am going to make my father’s company into a place that he would be proud of under my direction without losing myself in the process. I have to just hold on longer until things smooth out with this transition.” She wriggled her body slightly to adjust her position to better face Mitch. “I also need to be in the field working on occasion and have to figure out a way to make that happen. I can’t be deskbound the rest of my days.”
He moved up, leaning over her. “What about bed-bound?”
She blushed and put her hand on his chest. “My mother’s in the next room and I’m a good Israeli girl or have you forgotten. Besides, you...”
He pressed his lips against hers and she grew quiet. After a few seconds, she moved her head to the side. “Mmm…that’s almost as good as chocolate,” she said with a laugh then pulled him back. “Let me check for sure.”
Mitch slid onto the side of the bed and hugged her while continuing to kiss her tender lips. She winced as he touched her bandage by accident, causing them both to separate. “You know, when you’re feeling better, I’ve got a mind to snatch you away from this country and take you back to the States for a little vacation.”
She chuckled. “Usually, I’m the one snatching people out of other countries but,” she held a finger up to her temple as if she was pondering the offer, “in this instance, I might let you.” As he moved closer to kiss her, she pressed her hand into his chest again. “But, no hammocks, or leeches, or bugs. We’re staying in a hotel with running water and a pool.”
He moved her hand aside, taking it into his while kissing her softly. “And room service. I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight much.”
Chapter 42
Four days later, Von found himself sitting in Natalie Quint’s office at Langley. His typed report was sitting on her spacious desk as she flipped through each page, pausing every few pages to give him a scrutinizing glance. He alternated between trying to read her expressions and looking out of the large windows to his right, relishing the sight of the seagulls flying freely.
“There’s some pretty damming evidence here against Crenna—a man with an i
llustrious thirty-year career. Not that I’m disagreeing with what you wrote. The man was running his own Wild West show for a long time it seems.” She looked up from the paper while leaning back in her leather chair. “Who else has seen this report?”
“Just yourself.”
“Von, some of this report will need to be redacted to protect national security.”
“Which parts exactly?”
“The part about our bioweapons research for one and Crenna’s involvement in the cover-up of his nefarious doings. This agency doesn’t need a scandal flooding the news headlines. We’ve uncovered Anton Tokarev’s connection to Redstrom as his potential funding source but it’s all tenuous so it looks like he’s the one who gets off scot-free. ” She tapped her silver pen furiously on the desk.
“But Crenna was the sole reason all of this unfolded in the first place with Redstrom and the virus—a virus that could have decimated an entire region and possibly spread throughout the rest of the world.”
“Ah, Von, people outside of these walls don’t need to know what ingredients go into making up our modern reality. There are too many disturbing details. It’s our job—yours and mine and the other agents’—to make sure these things never pose a threat so our fellow Americans can get a good night’s sleep.”
Von was silent, looking at her then down at the report while balling his fist in his palm.
She stood up and walked around her desk, her black high heels, which resembled gondolas, clacking on the tiled floor. Quint moved in front of him and sat on the edge of her desk. “You know, Von, I think the agency has underestimated your abilities and prowess. Someone like you shouldn’t be consigned strictly to field ops.” She stood and walked around him then returned to her seat. “I’m going to reassign you to a senior case officer position in Europe—a change of station may do you some good. That is, unless you want to keep beating up your body in the tropics.”