by A D Seeley
“And?”
“We sent Them a message telling Them to back off.”
Inac, who didn’t care enough to know what the message was as long as They got one, turned back to Aviv.
“I’m sorry that it has to be this way,” he said in Hebrew to the man who was so much younger than Inac, yet appeared to be so much older.
Aviv nodded. “You never lied about what you would do to me if I betrayed you.”
From behind Inac, Santoni’s deep bass said in English, “What would you like us to do, sir?”
Without taking his eyes off Aviv, Inac answered, “Drop him off in Palestine alive and in the same condition as he’s in now. Let them do what they will with him.”
Aviv’s eyes widened; he was a politician who dealt with the United States enough to have learned English. “Please?” he begged in Hebrew. “Please have mercy and kill me now. They will torture me far worse than you! Please?”
Inac felt a tearing at his soul. He had learned to really respect this man when he’d seen him withstand the torture he’d put him through. He wished that it didn’t have to be this way. But it did. If Inac didn’t follow through, then he would lose control. And if he lost control, the world would be set afire from the wars that would break out as everyone tried to take it as their own. One man’s life, no matter how respected, was worth it for the rest of the world’s peace.
He looked into Aviv’s eyes and nodded.
You would think Aviv had just seen the coming of his lord from the joy that took over his features. “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
Inac nodded to Aviv—saying goodbye with it—before turning to Santoni, who was already cocking his gun as though he’d understood the Hebrew’s plea.
“After you’re done,” he said to the giant of a man, “take his body to Palestine. Let them get credit for his execution.”
“Yes, sir. And his family?”
“Let them go. They don’t know anything.”
“Thank you,” he heard Aviv cry behind him once again.
Inac walked out of the room, flinching a few moments later when he heard the sound of the gunshot that ended Aviv’s life. Inac was so tired of death and war. Why did it always come back to this?
Reminding himself that Aviv had brought this upon himself, he took a deep breath and pushed away the remorse. Now feeling like himself again, he pulled out his phone to call Hara; he needed to move on to the next order of business.
“Hello?” she asked. She sounded angry.
“Hara? It’s Inac. Sorry I haven’t called, but the Israeli Prime Minister and his family were all missing. We’ve been searching for them all week.”
“Did you find them?” she asked, her anger turning to concern. Leave it to Hara’s bleeding heart to automatically believe the best in Inac.
“Yeah. His family’s fine, but he wasn’t so lucky. Rebels in Palestine executed him.”
She took in a sharp breath. “Oh my gosh….”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice tired as he attempted to sound like he was affected by it. “Look, don’t tell anyone because the media doesn’t know yet. We’re just trying to do what we can to keep a lid on this. The two countries already have very hostile feelings toward one another and we don’t want things to get worse. Many more people will die if they find out the truth.”
“I promise. I won’t say a thing. And now I understand why you haven’t called or answered my calls.”
“Yeah, babe. I’m sorry about that. You aren’t mad at me, are you?”
“Of course not! You’re out there trying to keep two countries from going at it with each other. That’s more important.”
“Thanks for being so great about it.”
“How much longer will you be gone?”
“I’m not sure. I need to brief the government here to make sure that they all understand what’s going on. I’ll try to make that quick. But if I get too busy to call, just remember how much I love you.”
“I love you, too. Be safe.”
“I promise.”
After hanging up he turned to Santoni, who was wiping blood splatters and pieces of brain matter and bone from his face and arms with a clean rag.
“Get me a meeting with the person who will take over as prime minister,” Inac commanded. “We need to make sure that he’s on board so I can go back to Hara.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
***
Inac had tied up all loose ends within a few days, which was only because the new prime minister was willing to do what Inac wanted. Of course, how could he not when he learned that he would be killed otherwise? It was always so much fun telling people who he was and who they really worked for. Sometimes the grown men even urinated all over themselves, as the new prime minister had. That always told him that he wouldn’t have any problems with them. It was only when they didn’t urinate or defecate themselves that he had to worry.
Inac had then loaned the new prime minister his team to help with the battles going on between Israel and Palestine because of the recent “assassination.” Inac himself was leaving the area because news vans from the West had taken over the area and he really didn’t want to be recorded; not only so he wouldn’t appear in any footage that the Vatican could use to locate him—Professor Sampson obviously hadn’t told The Order where he was as they’d agreed—but also because his last wife was still alive. She thought that he’d been killed in the war of the times so, if she saw him, she’d ask questions. Lots of questions. Not that she would think he was her husband. She would think that he was a long-lost grandchild of his. However, he really didn’t need her endless queries with everything he was trying to accomplish with Hara just now.
He was walking toward his jet to go back home when an unfamiliar number called him.
“Mr. Adamson?” the voice on the other end asked. “It’s Professor Sampson.”
Inac definitely wasn’t expecting a call from him. “Enough with the formalities, Professor. Please, call me Inac.”
“Oh. Okay. And you may call me Todd.”
“Okay, Todd,” he said, the name sounding odd as it came from his mouth. “What can I do for you?”
“Tracker told me about the engagement. I would have called sooner, but I know you’ve been busy dealing with your people in Israel.”
“You seem to know a lot about what I’ve been up to?”
“You’d be surprised how much we know now that you’re staying in one place. I have a couple of people who report to me on all of your movements. They think that I’m then reporting them to my superiors but, well, you know….”
“I’m only staying in place for the time being; however, back to the engagement. It isn’t breaking our deal.”
“I know. I’m calling about something else. Tracker said—”
Inac interrupted. “If it’s about how I said that we had never specified exactly what good and bad entail, I was just pushing his buttons. He was uptight about the engagement and acting infantile.”
“Good,” Todd said, breathing out a sound of relief. “I didn’t think you would do that. You seem to keep to your word.”
“Well what fun would cheating be? I like a challenge.”
“And is Hara a challenge?”
“Surprisingly,” he said, climbing the stairs to his jet, ignoring the pilot waiting there to greet him. “More of one than I thought she would be. I thought I’d have her in a week, but she’s proving difficult. Of course, I have noticed changes that I hope mean that I’ll win.”
“Like what?”
A large frown overtook his face as he settled into his black leather, over-sized chair, a pretty redheaded stewardess he’d hired who knew enough not to cross him doing up his seat belt—she probably thought he worked for the mafia, or was an assassin or something by the way she obviously feared him beneath her painted on smile. “She has a bit of a temper now that could possibly bring her to violence. Also, I believe that she’s becoming lax about swearing. Now, I know that swea
ring is no big deal to us, but to Hara, things that aren’t even cuss words bother her. Then, obviously sex with me is something I’m working toward; another thing that isn’t really a big deal, but she thinks is. I’m getting closer to that all the time.”
“You know, I’m actually surprised at how honest you are; you’re telling me, your enemy, exactly what you plan on doing. That makes it easier for me to prevent.”
“Which makes it more of a challenge for me. I’m actually glad my man messed up in killing her as a child. This is much more fun.” Then, on a more serious note, he said, “Getting to know her, I can see why God chose her. As fragile and pure as she is, she has a core of steel.”
“Yes, she does.”
“I’m actually on my way home right now,” Inac said, grasping for a more comfortable subject to talk about since he didn’t want to think about any of Hara’s good qualities. “I thought I’d let you know so that you can have a head start because, the moment I land, I’m taking my game to the next level.”
Todd chuckled. “Thanks for the warning. You really aren’t such a bad dude…despite what they say.” For some reason, his choice of words humored Inac. The professor usually tried to act all mature, but his façade was cracking if he was unknowingly calling Inac “dude.”
Pushing aside the chuckle that wanted to work its way up his throat and out his mouth, Inac replied, “Oh yes I am. I just don’t see why we can’t be cordial. I’m pretty old-fashioned. You know, the kind of warrior who shakes my enemy’s hand before battle. People had honor once upon a time.”
“So is this us shaking hands?”
“Not yet. You’ll know when that moment comes.” The engines of the jet roared to life. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you soon.” Without another word—or waiting for a reply—he hung up the phone. In a few hours he’d be back home where, true to his word, he planned to step up his game.
***
Hara climbed the stairs leading to her apartment, all the while thinking about the lecture from her science class. She wished that Inac was around to explain it to her because she was totally lost. She hated chemistry…all the stupid math.
She was still walking up the stairs getting her key ready to open the door when she noticed Tracker standing in the way. She hadn’t seen him since slamming the door in his face a few days ago. He’d called a bunch of times, but she hadn’t answered.
Upon seeing him now, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hardened tone she thought Inac would be proud of.
“We need to talk and you won’t answer your phone.”
“Now that the tables have turned, do you get why I’m so angry with you?”
He looked down; the penitent puppy. It also dissolved all her anger.
“Yes,” he choked out. “And I’m really sorry. It won’t ever happen again.” The tears spilling from his eyes made hers well up.
She was to Tracker in a matter of seconds, hugging him as he threw his arms around her too until they were standing there as one blubbery mess—she just couldn’t stay mad at him when he had the face of an angel. Once they had calmed down, she grabbed one of his hands.
“Come inside so we can talk,” she said, pulling him along.
They settled on the couch, her sitting Indian-style facing Tracker, who was sitting on one of his feet while the other rested on the floor. He was nervously playing with a bit of fluff coming out of the back of the ancient couch. Again, she noticed how much more like a man he was dressing in his green polo shirt and only slightly baggy jeans. He’d started dressing that way about the time Inac had come into her life….
“Looks like you have another patch job ahead of you,” he said.
“Yeah.” She grabbed the hand fiddling with the stuffing and rested it between them, not letting it go for an instant.
“Track, will you at least explain what made you not speak to me?” she finally asked upon realizing that he wasn’t going to broach the subject himself.
“I would think that it would be obvious from the timing of it.” Apparently he was still hostile….
“Okay. Then will you tell me why you’re so upset about my engagement to Inac? You two finally seemed to be getting along?”
“I guess so. I guess I just understand where he’s coming from better. I don’t agree with the path he’s walked and where it’s taking him, but…I guess I pity him. He hasn’t exactly had it easy.”
She felt a pang in her chest. It sounded like Inac had opened up to Tracker more than he had to her.
“He’s told you about his life?” she asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.
“Not exactly.” Tracker was uncomfortable. She knew this because he let go of her hand to play with the couch again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s more like other people have told me all about his life so I already knew it. That just helped him to explain some of it to me.”
“But who knows about his life and why would they tell you?”
“I can’t really tell you a lot other than the person who told me belongs to a group that’s watched the Mokolios for hundreds of years. That’s how I knew.”
“And you won’t tell me?” she pleaded, letting her eyes droop so he would feel bad and tell her.
“I can’t,” he said with a groan. “I shouldn’t have even told you that much.”
“So you know he’s a Mokolio, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you didn’t like him? Because of what they’ve done in the past?” Without allowing him time to answer, she added, “I hope you know that Inac would never do the things his ancestors have done?”
Tracker was serious when he looked into her eyes, his gaze unfaltering. “Don’t be so sure, Hara. You have no idea what he’s done in his life.”
“And you have no idea what he’s already told me!” She was getting defensive and angry. She hadn’t invited Tracker in just so he could rail on Inac.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking back down at his hand in hers. “I guess I’m just protective of you. I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I do know. Or, at least, I will. He promised to tell me everything before we set a date for the wedding.” Tracker looked sad again. Hoping to brighten his mood, she dropped all negativity to add, “I’m going to ask Father Carroll if I can get married in the chapel back home.”
“You haven’t told him yet, have you?” Tracker asked quickly, looking back up at her. Something about her statement had him panicked, though she didn’t see what about it could make him so.
“No….”
“And he doesn’t know about Inac?”
“No….”
He relaxed with relief. “Good.”
“Why’s that good?”
“I can’t tell you why. Just don’t tell him about Inac. If he knew….”
“If he knew what…?”
“I can’t…” he said, shaking his head. He looked so young just now….
“Tracker,” she said in her best stern mother impersonation. Or, at least, stern nun….
“Let’s just say that he’s the one who told me about Inac.”
Man. Everyone seemed to be part of some big secret. At least everyone but her…and, quite frankly, she was getting really tired of it.
“But he never left the orphanage. How could he spy on the Mokolios?”
“He doesn’t. He’s just a part of something bigger. And this group lost track of Inac a few months ago. If They knew….”
“Then what?” As panic surged through her, she asked, “They wouldn’t hurt him, would they?!” She couldn’t lose Inac now that she’d found him.
Tracker snorted. What about that could he possibly find funny? “No. But let’s just say that They wouldn’t really approve of the wedding.”
“But why not? The Mokolios are good now! They stopped World War II. Did you know that?”
> “Yeah. But I also know that it was them who put it into Hitler’s mind to do what he did in the first place.”
“Still, it wasn’t Inac who did those things.”
Tracker rolled his eyes. But whatever it was that made him do that, he didn’t say. Instead, he said, “Yeah, well, look how some Germans still hate Jews and vice versa. Sometimes people inherit feuds they’re not a part of.”
She shut up. That she couldn’t deny. So many people hated because of what had been done to their ancestors.
“I guess you’re right. So what should I do?”
“I don’t know. I say talk to Inac about it first.”
She nodded before going into her own little world. Was there anybody in her life who wasn’t a part of a secret something? It was beginning to seem like she was the only honest person around.
A hand on her knee brought her out of her thoughts so she looked up at Tracker, who now had only concern on his face.
“Thanks for being honest with me, Track.”
He smiled. “I’ve always wanted to be. I guess I’ve just always worried that you’d freak out and reject me.”
She put a hand up to cup his cheek. “I love you, Track. I’d never reject you being honest with me.”
He had tears in his eyes again so she pulled him into her arms, letting him weep into her shoulder. She didn’t understand what he was sad about, but at least she could help him spill his tears until he felt like he could be completely honest. Why was it that the men in her life both harbored so many secrets?
When he seemed done with the tears she pulled away. She then wiped away the trails of water along one cheek and then the other. When he responded with a tired smile, she leaned forward to kiss his forehead.
It was times like this—when she took care of him—that she felt more like his mother than his sister. At the orphanage they’d always called her “The Little Mother.” They had told her stories of her at three years old taking care of the sick nuns and older children.
When she pulled back, Tracker moved in and kissed her on the forehead, his hands cradling her cheeks. She closed her eyes, letting the comfort of his warm hands and mouth relax her. She was glad they were still friends. When he pulled away, he left his hands there, lightly rubbing one cheek with his thumb. She opened her eyes to smile at him.