In the Shadow of Men

by Darren Swart

  She stared at his eyes, which now glowed with an eerie blue light. Her voice lowered an octave. “Sorry. You didn’t seem to be able to hear me.”

  He looked all around him. “Did you see it?”

  She stared at him, quizzically. “See what?”

  “The room, the old man, the bright light—any of it?”

  She frowned and shook her head.

  He sat for a moment, reliving the experience. It amazed him that she had seen nothing. He looked at her and said, “We need to go to France.”

  She looked at him, incredulously. “We need to go where?”

  “France. You know, they make a lot of wine, wedged between Germany and Spain.”

  “I know what France is. I just need to know why we need to go there.”

  “Because that is where we need to be.”

  She frowned. “You’re not making any sense. Plus, you’re starting to weird me out here.” She began to shake her head. “I don’t need this now.”

  He was making her feel a trifle unhinged. She wasn’t sure when, but at some point she had obviously lost control of the situation. She wasn’t sure how to report any of this. Franz would think she had flipped. At this point, she wasn’t sure that she hadn’t.

  Marty smiled. “Trust me. It’s what we must do.” Gently, he placed his hand on hers. As he did, her eyes glazed over. She began to see what he had seen. Marty let go and watched as she sagged back in the big chair. Her chest heaved, breathing heavily. She blinked several times and then looked up at him. In a small voice, she stammered, “I-I’ll make the arrangements. I-It’ll take a few calls.”

  He placed the lid back on the box and slipped it into his pocket. They sat quietly for a few moments before leaving the small office.

  ****

  Hours later, light from the setting sun filtered into the small office, bathing it in amber. Joseph Thomason removed the letter of resignation from his top desk drawer. It was yellow with age, having been drafted years ago and put away. It awaited only a date. Carefully, he wrote in the date and dropped it on his desk for Rose to find. The associate Pastor Ryan was long overdue to assume the duties of the church. He left the study door cracked when he picked up the phone to call Pastor Ryan. He knew Rose would circulate word around the church faster than they could get a bulletin out.

  Chapter 14

  They made sure they were out of the sonar-like ears of Rose Tilley before Gillian made the call to Franz. The phone rang only once before she heard his familiar voice answer. “Yes, Gillian.”

  “Sir, we have the target. However, Mr. Wood informs me that there is another piece we need to recover. We need travel plans to France as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll see to it. Is Delgado still with you?”

  “I’m calling him next.”

  “When the three of you are together, proceed to the closest airport. I believe it’s Charlotte and I will have everything you need there waiting tomorrow morning.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Gillian?”

  “We don’t have any travel documents.”

  “Not to worry. I will have passports waiting for all of you.”

  “Very good.” They both disconnected.

  Marty looked at her, curiously. “Are you sure you’re not in the military?”

  She smiled at him, sheepishly. “No. But I used to be. That’s where I met Cindy. Our fathers served in the same unit. It is the only lifestyle I’ve ever known. She and I served together in the Marines.”

  “Which branch was your dad in?”

  “Most of them.”

  Marty looked at her, quizzically. “I thought people just served in one branch?”

  “Most do. In my dad’s case, they put him where they needed him. He was different.” She changed the subject. The thoughts of her dad disturbed her for some reason. “Does it bother you that I was in the military?”

  He smiled. “You’ve kept me alive and fed for the past two days. I’m not complaining.”

  She returned his smile. “Speaking of which, hold that thought for a moment.”

  She dialed Digger’s number. “Hey, Dig. Can you get us out of here?”

  She couldn’t see it, but she knew Digger was smiling wherever he was. “Of course. You know I live to make your life better.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Please be careful. These people are very different people than what you’re used to.”

  “I get that. Where do you want me to pick you up?”

  She blinked for a second. “Hold on.”

  She looked at Marty. “Just exactly where are we, anyway?” He smiled at her.

  Dourly, she handed the phone to Marty. “Yo Dude, what’s up?”

  “Where are you guys, anyway?”

  He was surprised at how comfortable he felt giving Digger directions. It felt like he had known him for years instead of hours. Digger disconnected the line and calculated the time. By the most direct route, he could be there in ten minutes. But he wanted to impress Gillian with how clever he could be. He would show her he could do it her way, with a slight of hand. He scrolled to Billy on his phone. It was time to call in the troops.

  ****

  Marty and Gillian slowly meandered to the shade of an old oak. They sat under the canopy of broad leaves, with the small chapel to their back. The freshly painted, white picnic table felt slick to the touch. They waited, sheltered from the warm sun by the ancient oak. A cool breeze soothed the morning’s tension. It was the first time they had sat without something looming over them. Silently, both of them tried to rationalize all that had happened. Marty felt numb from the strain of receiving so much information. As he sat, an unexpected vision intruded his thoughts. All else faded, as his attention turned to the vision. His perspective was that of being on the floor looking up, behind two men. He couldn’t see either of them very well. His field of view panned around an opulent room, balanced with books and art. He felt the sensation of leaping and then he could see neither face. He could still hear them speaking.

  “…the plans are falling into place…should be within our grasp…only a few more arrangements…”

  As suddenly as it came, the vision winked away. Marty had a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that something was terribly wrong.

  Gillian broke the silence. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He looked at her, warily. “I’m okay, just a little tired, I guess. Thanks.”

  “How does it feel?”

  Marty looked at her, distractedly. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never experienced anything like that. I received a second hand dose. I guess what I’m trying to ask, is, do you feel any different than before you were given the stone?”

  His eyes were far away. “I am different. I wish I could explain how, but it’s hard to put into words. I feel like a radio. I keep receiving images, but I can’t tune them in, if that makes any sense.”

  Her smile was far away. “I think I do understand. The preacher opened my eyes to a lot of things.” Her voice trailed off. That didn’t come out the way she wanted. She always felt like she was saying the wrong thing. Where did that thought come from?

  Marty nodded. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m connected to something.” He looked down as he spoke. “I felt like I was drifting through life, with no particular purpose to anything I did. Does that make any sense?”

  She nodded. “I think so.” She really didn’t. Her whole life had a purpose. As an assassin, motherhood and apple pie didn’t factor in to it.

  He looked at her, solemnly. “There’s one thing you need to know.”

  “What?”

  “I think we have a spy among us.”

  That got her attention. Her eyes narrowed, while her voice took a strained edge. “What do you mean? Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. I just get the feeling that something is not right.”

  She looked at him. “Marty, this isn’t a game. You can’t just say something like that and leav
e it. I must know who it is.”

  He shook his head. “Honestly, I can’t. I only caught a glimpse of him. I have never seen him before. I saw two people discussing us, but I didn’t get anything more. Please trust me. You’ll know as soon as I know.”

  She looked into his eyes. She knew when someone was lying to her. There was no deception in his eyes. There was an uncomfortable silence. Marty sat silently, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. The longer he sat, the more lethargic he felt.

  “Marty, are you okay?”

  Distantly, he said, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just feeling a little washed out.”

  He looked exhausted. She patted him on the shoulder and said, “Digger will be here soon. We’ll get you to some place safe where you can rest.”

  Marty nodded in acknowledgement. He could hear her, but it was like she was far away. He knew she would look after him. He wasn’t sure how he knew this. He just did. They sat quietly for a while on the picnic table. A hint of lilac traveled on the cool north wind. The oak tree rustled and swayed in the afternoon breeze. Everything was quiet save the chatter of cardinals arguing over food and territory. Marty’s head nodded forward. Gillian guided him gently into her lap. He was asleep before he ever touched her leg.

  Chapter 15

  Digger eased the VW onto the main road and headed back toward town. He watched the stoic pair tailing him in a faded green Ford Explorer. They were just within sight. A shiver of nervous excitement washed over him, as he anticipated how he would elude them. He hoped that it wouldn’t end too soon.

  He fiddled with the radio, as he continued north toward West Bend, as the Explorer followed at a discreet distance. Within minutes, traffic began to increase, as the town of two thousand swelled from work traffic from the surrounding county. Digger coasted into ever-present runway lights of the Snack Shack, where a small contingent of foreign cars surrounded the building. Several were bugs, like his own. Others were tricked and toned in various states of assembly. The cast of characters was as diverse as the vehicles they touted. Little Richard’s the banana yellow sported red stripes front to back to the whopped and chopped profile. Jersey Nick’s bug rested on wide profile chrome wheels that cost more than the car itself. Billy Slade looked quite plain on initial inspection. Yet, he received a weekly noise citation because of his sound system.

  Jimmy, the owner/cook, yelled over the speakers at the parking spots. “You boys gonna order, or run off all the other paying customers?” He slung hamburgers to the tunes of the Beach Boys, wishing he were with them.

  Digger glided into the vacant spot and hopped out to a chorus of yells and cat calls. While he cut up, he kept a watchful eye on the high tight pair across the street at the auto parts store. He leaned against his car and started the pitch. “Dudes, are you up for some games?” Nods and grins reflected their eagerness for anything out of the ordinary. A shadow fell over Digger, as Little Richard eased up beside him and leaned against the bug. His towering stature loomed over Digger, his clothing strained to contain his powerful physique. However, it was his shrewd eye that set him apart. He glanced discreetly at the stone-faced men across the street. He pegged them the moment he saw them. Those men were far from anything this little town had seen, much like his friend Digger. “So, surfer boy, do I take it we are going to toy with those nasty white boys in the green cracker box across the street?”

  Digger gave him a small sideways grin. “Cracker box? You do know my parents drive an Explorer, right?”

  Richard smiled back. “Well, I’m sure they make it look good.”

  “Okay Dudes, this is what I want to do…” They all gathered around and tittered like a bunch of debutants.

  Fifteen minutes later, Digger washed down the last of his cheeseburger with a chocolate milkshake. He was truly going to miss this place. The small clutch chatted and laughed in the warm afternoon sun. The pair across the street waited patiently, while the group of boys took verbal gabs at each other. Digger’s yellow bug was the last car to ease out of the lot and into cross town traffic. Even in such a small town, it was becoming difficult to follow him as factory workers began to commute home. Digger drove carefully with no sense of urgency, as he cut down a side street. The green Explorer tailed him doggedly, trying to keep the gap closed as much as possible in the traffic. Digger slowly accelerated, opening the gap up a bit. Before the surveillance team realized it, they were at a disadvantage. The Explorer driver accelerated, trying to close the distance when a red Volkswagen turned in front of them, cutting them off. Throwing caution to the wind, the Explorer shot past the Volkswagen only to find a yellow VW coming at him from the opposite lane.

  The passenger in the Explorer cursed under his breath. “Watch it, Boyd, they’re playing some kind of game here!”

  Boyd glanced at the weapon in his partner’s hand. “Matthews, whatever you do, don’t hit the Delgado kid. I don’t care about the rest of them, but we’ve got to have him alive.”

  Matthews glared at him. “Yeah, I know. Christ, I miss Iraq.”

  Boyd nodded, glumly. Matthews jabbed his finger at a cross intersection ahead. “There he is,” he barked, pointing to a yellow bug which shot across in front of them two blocks ahead.

  Boyd slammed on the brakes, as another VW cut in front of him from a sidestreet. Matthews was becoming visibly agitated by the cat and mouse game. He fidgeted with the gun. Boyd accelerated the Explorer. Instead of trying to pass the car in front of them, he closed the distance, ramming the smaller car in the rear. Using the weight and power of the bigger SUV, he gunned the motor and pushed the smaller car off the street and through purple pansies and the picket fence of a meticulous front yard. The car lurched to a bumpy stop just before hitting a large white oak. Billy’s eyes were wide and his face was pale, as they passed him.

  Boyd leered at Matthews. “Man, that felt good.”

  Matthews sneered back. “Hell, yeah.”

  There was no pretense now. They powered ahead, closing in on Digger’s yellow VW. Digger quickly jogged the wheel into the service entrance of a strip mall. Both vehicles careened through the maze of dumpsters and truck trailers, along the back row of buildings. Digger slalomed the VW back and forth, missing trash containers and orphaned shopping carts by mere inches. Boyd drove with abandon. He pushed the heavy SUV through the channel like a snowplow, leaving a trail of collateral damage in his wake.

  Digger eased the car closer to the wall. Matthews lip curled into a sneer. He had the rookie now. He eased closer to the VW, crowding the small car closer to the wall. Suddenly, they were free of the alley, as they reached the end of the complex.

  In one deft move, Digger cut sharply to the left and jammed the brakes, skidding to a stop. The Explorer shot past him, only to see Digger’s head turned, smiling at them as they passed. Matthews hit the brakes, cursing loudly. As he crashed past the barricade he pressed the pedal harder only to find there was nothing to stop them but air. For a split second Boyd and Matthews were weightless floating in space. One second later, their journey ended with a sickening crunch of bending metal, as the behemoth landed at the bottom of an enormous sink hole.

  Digger reflected, as Billy sipped on a chocolate milkshake. “It’s supposed to be the biggest one in the state, you know.” Nick’s head had bobbed in agreement. Thinking back to that moment, Digger couldn’t have agreed more. This was truly the biggest sink hole he had ever seen. He eased the bug into reverse. Heading back down to the main street, he raised his hand to Richard as he drove by. The young man responded with a smile and signed peace. Digger eased the VW south to go pick up Marty and Gillian.

  It was Boyd who managed to drag himself from the passenger seat and to scratch and claw his way to the top first. It was every man for himself at this point. He cursed and muttered, as he struggled against the slick red clay. He grabbed at roots and rocks, struggling to pull himself up. Even with years of military training, the climb proved to be a challenge. Muddy and mad, he muttered to himself, as he hauled
himself from the hole. “If I get my hands on the little twerp…”

  He reached the edge of the opening and grabbed blindly over the edge. His hand slapped something that felt like a shoe, only bigger. He gripped it and pulled up. As he slowly pulled himself forward, he found that he had indeed grabbed a rather large left shoe of a rather expensive pair of Italian loafers.

  He stopped to let his eyes follow the loafers up the tree trunk leg and out of sight to the face above. Boyd didn’t wait for any witty dialog. He reached for his Beretta in the small of his back. He never made it. There was a sudden enormous pressure on his wrist, as a hand the size of a small ham gripped him firmly. Another hand (or foot) pushed his face into the asphalt. It didn’t matter. Either way, it hurt. He couldn’t move. He didn’t think that was possible.

  He could feel himself being relieved of the Beretta.

  He heard Matthews grunt, as a size nine and a half Nike connected with his jaw. A second later, there was a thud as Matthews landed back on the top of the Explorer fifteen feet below.

  The Brown Italian loafers had a deep baritone voice. “Who’s paying for the damages to my friend’s car?”

  Jeez. Boyd wished he had the gun back, so he could shoot himself. They would never get work again, if this got out.

  ****

  Marty stood on a short stool, as he finished washing the last of the mixing bowls and spoons while dinner cooked in the oven. The kitchen smelled of roast and potatoes. His stomach growled, begging for just a taste. Bess came in and placed an affectionate hand on his head. She bent over and kissed him on the top of his head. He looked up at her and smiled.

  Cupping his cheeks in her soft hands, she reached over and gently kissed him on the forehead. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a sweet-natured grandchild. It’s been a long day for you. Why don’t you go to your room and take a little nap before dinner? I’ll get you up when it’s time to eat, okay?”

  With a small beatific smile, he nodded and climbed down from the stool. Obediently, he headed off to his room with his little gray companion bounding at his feet. Marty considered that Gertrude liked nap time a little too much, but then she was a kitten.