Child With No Name

by Franklin Horton

  Ty had never known such peace as he felt at that moment. Watching the sunset from that boat was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He'd experienced some nice sunsets and some beautiful vistas over the years, but nothing matched this. It was then, at a moment of utter distraction that an insight crept into his awareness. That was what self-knowledge did sometimes; it waited for the moment you weren't looking and blindsided you.

  Ty knew at that moment, with utter clarity, that he was never going to find satisfaction at Door Kickers International. He didn't want to spend his career being reined in by rules every time his enthusiasm was piqued. He didn't want constraints that made him feel inadequate when he couldn't work within the established parameters. He still believed in Cliff's mission. The very discovery that such a mission even existed had been life-changing for him. But maybe it was only a part of his future and not the entirety of his future.

  With all those pieces laid out before him, how did he assemble those fragments into a life? How did he arrange them in such a way that he could keep going and not succumb to the demons? Maybe he had to let a little more of darkness in?

  No one knew where he was at that very moment. Not Cliff, not Deena, not anyone. No one knew what he was going to do tomorrow, except for him.

  On his flight to Turkey, he'd been afraid that this trip was the closing of a door, an admission that he couldn't function within the system because he couldn't control his impulsive behavior. At this very moment, watching the sun slip below the brilliant corrugations of the horizon, Ty knew that this trip wasn't a door closing at all. This was a door opening. Tomorrow he would step fully through that door and he would embrace what the world held for him.

  62

  Mykonos

  Harrison adored his new property. The lease would bring in a tidy annual profit because his purchase price had been so low. Once it was leased, he wouldn’t be able to stay here until it was vacant again so he planned on enjoying it while he could. After all, what else could he do? His handler said he needed to lay low for six months and give the dust in America time to settle.

  He didn't know what they were so scared of. There was nothing he could be charged with that they couldn't undo with a wave of their powerful wand. They could shut down any inquiries, stop any investigations. Even if he was arrested, they could arrange his release.

  Despite the relaxing environment at the villa, Harrison's ambition was like a ticking clock, reminding him that he was losing money every moment he sat there. Certainly, there were trafficking networks here that he could tap into. He was also close to the organ harvesting networks of Iran, Afghanistan, and Iraq, but that wasn't the business he knew and loved. It wasn't his preference.

  He liked providing children to Americans. That was where the market was. That was where the money was. If you wanted to be in the movies you lived in California. If you wanted to be a stage performer you went to New York City. If you want to sell children to pedophiles, you catered to Americans.

  Harrison stalked by the maid without so much as a glance. He didn't know these people. Most of them had come with the property. They were invisible to him, the ants that kept the house running smoothly. He got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and headed for the pool. One of the features he liked best was the way the sun set off the edge of the infinity pool in the late evening. It was a moment of heart-stopping beauty.

  Harrison dropped his robe and stood there naked except for his sunglasses. He understood his nudity made the employees uncomfortable but it was his house. Let them quit if they couldn't handle it. He tugged his lounge chair toward the hedges, catching the optimal tanning angle, then laid down.

  He could hear the gardener working below him. It was mildly irritating, but not enough to make him get back up and address it. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the Greek sun. Harrison was almost asleep when the length of garden hose looped around his neck and tugged him into the hedges. He tried to scream, but the immense pressure on his windpipe prevented any air from passing through it.

  He gave up trying to dislodge the hose and groped for the arms that held it tight. He pounded against those forearms with all the effort a suffocating man could muster, but to no effect. His sunglasses fell to the side and Harrison squinted upward, staring into the utterly impassive face of a man intent on choking him to death.

  Yet that was not Ty's intention. When Harrison lost consciousness, Ty released the hose and tossed it to the side. With his cotton gardening gloves, there would be no fingerprints. He pulled a partial roll of duct tape from his pocket and made several passes around Harrison's mouth. Working quickly, before his prisoner could regain consciousness, Ty dragged him a short distance from the house. He'd have preferred to do his dirty work in the concealment of the woods, but there were no woods, only rock and clumps of some kind of low plant Ty couldn't identify.

  Ty zip-tied Harrison to a cluster of decorative trees, the naked man sprawled in an awkward and undignified manner. When he was secured, Ty slapped his face a couple of times until he was roused. This time Harrison's expression was a mixture of fear and anger. Ty knew if he removed the duct tape his prisoner's pleas would be mixed with threats. Ty wasn't interested in listening to anything the man had to say. He also had no time to make this dramatic. There was no time for speeches. He had to work quickly before a member of the staff came along.

  Extracting the pruning shears from his cargo pocket, Ty held them up for Harrison to see. The tip was curved and razor-sharp, like the beak of a raptor. Without a word, Ty used them to clip Harrison's penis and scrotum from his body, tossing them to the side like the innards of a cleaned fish.

  Ty looked away, uninterested in the man's suffering. The awareness that the time of your death was upon you was a personal experience and Ty let him have his moment to process it. When he decided enough time had passed, he removed a filleting knife from his belt and slit Harrison's throat.

  Ty watched him gasp and bubble for a moment, then fall still and die. Ty verified that he was dead, then double-checked his surroundings for any items he may have dropped and crept away from the property. There was too much risk in walking along the exposed road so he cut down a trail directly to the beach. In a secluded section of the trail, he retrieved a backpack he'd stashed there earlier. He stripped off the clothes he was wearing, stored them in the pack, and continued in the swimsuit he'd been wearing underneath.

  When he arrived at the secluded beach, he didn't pause to admire the scenery. He walked straight across the sand, into the water, and swam toward his anchored boat with long strokes. Once aboard, he'd dispose of the shears and all the other evidence in deep water. They'd never be seen again.

  With a few days left on the boat rental, he decided he'd sail to nearby Icaria and resupply. He was low on beer and wanted to try his hand at spearfishing. Surely there'd be someplace there he could pick up the gear. He felt lighter. He felt like a man shed of a lifetime of burdens and suddenly in touch with who he was at his core.

  He understood things about the world now that he'd not understood a year ago. He was a sheepdog and needed a mission. Over the past year he'd learned what that mission was. He'd also learned that not all sheepdogs need masters and not all sheepdogs need rules. Some need the space to do what they do best. Some need the freedom to bite.