Strom accepted the answer, grabbed his duffle bag, unzipped the front pocket, and retrieved a small paperback novel. Nick glanced at the title and asked, “Why are you reading that?”
Strom opened to a certain page and continued from where he’d left off while he answered Nick, “Because the novel interests me. If it didn’t I wouldn’t keep it.”
“No, I mean, why are you reading it?”
“Because it’s an American novel?”
Nick nodded.
Strom only turned a page. “There was a German invention by a man named Johannes Gutenberg in the fifteenth century called the printing press. Since its creation books are easily available for anyone with money or something called a library card to get. And another amazing concept was the idea of translating written material into other languages, so anyone could get books written in languages other than their own.”
Nick wished he hadn’t asked such a stupid question. “Why aren’t you reading it in German though?”
“Because I can speak and read English and German copies of The Catcher in the Rye are not typically sold at American airports.” He mentioned that he could also speak Arabic, Spanish, French, and Russian before continuing, “Besides, reading materials in languages other than your own helps you from getting rusty.”
“Is it good?”
Strom nodded, “It sort of reminds me of my childhood.”
“Why?”
“The reason I ended up in the military is because I wasn’t very good at school or getting along with the other kids.”
“Why is that?”
“I hated school because I always had to learn about things that didn’t interest me, couple that with all of the fights I got into and I was a regular Holden Caulfield,” he said with a grin.
“What do you mean?”
Strom looked at him and laughed, “You ask too many questions.”
“Well I’m curious.”
He sat up and faced Nick. “How about I ask you a question for a change? Why the hell did you join up with Mizuno?”
Nick shied away. He winced as he told him of his brother’s murder and how he wanted to find the man responsible.
Strom nodded. “What if I killed him? What would you do if I was the killer and I was right here?”
Nick couldn’t answer.
Strom rolled his eyes and reclined on the bed. “I entered the German military when I was seventeen and though there wasn’t really any actual combat I managed to prove that I held some skill in the whole run-and-gun thing and they asked me to join another program within the military. They told me it would be far more challenging and as I was a stupid kid I naturally said yes without any hesitation.”
Strom’s order came to the door and brought their conversation to a pause. Strom got his alcohol and sandwich, tipped the server who brought it up, and left the items on the shelf where their unused television sat.
He reclaimed his seat and continued, “It was the German Hostile Operative program, or at least that’s what a close translation is. Germany basically wanted soldiers who were the top of the line in every way.” He paused, got up from the bed, grabbed one of the bottles of wine, uncapped it, and drank straight from the bottle. “They basically wanted assassins on leashes, which obviously didn’t take.”
“How did you go from German soldier to hired assassin?”
Strom took another drink and said, “They put us through two years of training, told everyone we’d died or something, and even planned on giving us entirely new identities.”
“So what happened?”
“Only ten of us actually survived the training,” he told Nick, “But after the rest of us finished the training we were given our credentials, sent off into the field, and given assignments. Only, once we’d made it out we learned that the Germans only wanted one of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“They worried that having ten operatives was too risky, especially if one or two of us defected or went rogue, or whatever the hell they call it, and caused international issues.”
“Which you did.”
He agreed, “Which I did after the fact. What they planned was a battle royal for the ten of us.” Strom took another long drink and continued, “I didn’t want any part in it and as such they told the other nine to take me out first.”
Nick frowned. “How could they do that? I mean, couldn’t you all have just said no and gone out and told the world about what they planned?”
He only shrugged. “We could have, had the other nine guys not actually taken to the plan.”
“Wh-Why on…Why on earth would they?”
“We were taught for a year that an order is an order and that life is but a brief avenue. We learned that life wasn’t anything to cry over.”
Nick scowled. “So they told you to shoot and you did? Without any question?”
“They did, I didn’t.”
“And why was that?”
He got off the bed and walked back to his collection of drinks to claim his turkey sandwich. Strom pointed to the book on his bed. “Despite being a terrible student, I’ve always loved to read. These books caused me to look at everything objectively. It was why I wanted to go into the program and it was how I withstood whatever brainwashing they put us through. They said jump, I asked why while everyone else obeyed like little lapdogs.”
Nick nodded. “What happened?”
He set the bottle down and told him nothing happened. “They all came after me and I killed each and every one of them.” Strom saw Nick’s disgusted look and he elaborated, “I didn’t want to but I knew if I let them live they’d simply come after me again. I didn’t have a choice. Anyway, after that I left Germany, adopted the persona of Ghost, and a series of events led to me here.”
Nick let out a small breath. He asked Strom, “Do you enjoy what you do?”
Strom swore, “You’ve already asked me that.” He paused in anticipation of another question, but Nick remained quiet. Strom rubbed his eyes with his left hand and added, “I’ve never enjoyed it. Who the hell would? I’ve already told you I’m not some blood thirsty murderer Nick, it’s just a job.”
“So none of this keeps you up at night?”
He took another drink and shook his head.
Their door opened and Mizuno walked in. He looked at Strom and asked, “You couldn’t have trained him in Seattle?”
Strom only forced a grin. “I thought this would be better.”
“Either way, is he ready?”
“More or less.”
“Well then I guess your job’s done.” Mizuno stuck his hand in his coat and retrieved a small paper bag. He tossed in on Strom’s bed next to his copy of The Catcher in the Rye. Mizuno looked at them both and his eyes flashed. “So you’re not going to tell him then?”
Strom guessed what Mizuno meant and shook his head.
“Have it your way.”
Nick looked at him and asked, “What are you two talking about?”
Mizuno answered for him, “Do you know why Strom told you what he did about his past?” He waited for a response but knew Nick wouldn’t have an answer so he continued, “It’s because everything he told you is available on the internet. He hasn’t told you anything personal, just facts everyone else knows.” Mizuno ignored Nick’s loss of heart, took Nick’s jacket off the chair, and told Nick they were leaving. “By the way, someone filmed your training session earlier and it ended up on REFOIA. It’s been removed and destroyed, but I’d like to urge you to exercise a bit more caution Strom. We were lucky Kyle found it so quickly and managed to trace every copy of it.”
“Who’s Kyle?”
Mizuno told him it was another member of their group. “You’ll meet him soon enough, grab your coat; we’re leaving.” Nick left without another word after he took his coat from Mizuno. Mizuno however lagged behind a moment. He looked at Strom and asked, “What are your plans for the next few weeks?”
Strom only chuckled and asked why he e
ven bothered to ask.
Mizuno let out a breath and simply told him, “If you’re interested in more money to piss away,” he glanced at the liquor, “I could use some more help with Nick. In Seattle though.”
Strom said he’d think about it and walked with a beer and his turkey sandwich in hand over to his bed. Mizuno didn’t move though.
“I am sorry, just so you know,” Mizuno told him. “If there was another way I would have just as readily died instead.”
“Let me guess,” Strom muttered, “All for a greater good?”
He nodded, “Something along those lines.”
“Piss off.”
Mizuno headed for the door and mentioned that his offer still remained, should he have a change of heart.
---*---
Chapter 13
September 4th, 2029
7:05 AM
Bothell, Washington
Drake was never one for the first day of school. He hated getting up early for the first time in months, he hated the odd return to school and his requirement to reconnect with people he’d rather drift away from, and he hated how useless the first period of every class was. None of the other students wanted to be there either, as all they did in every class was talk about the syllabus and class guidelines, and Drake held the suspicion that none of the teachers wanted to be there for that first day anyway.
It was bright, it was early, and it didn’t seem like a very good morning to him or any of the other students who trudged through the halls of Bothell High. Drake’s routine at the beginning of each semester was simply to drop his bag off at his class and head to the cafeteria to see his fellow students who he hadn’t spoken to in a season.
He found his first classroom, walked in, and only saw two others in the room. They ignored him and he ignored them as well while he selected his seat, dropped his bag, and then turned right around and headed for the cafeteria.
His first thought was to locate Hiromi but he ran across Jordan first. Jordan stopped him and asked, “We’ve got history together this year, right?”
“Yeah, why?” Drake asked as he continued to walk toward the cafeteria.
Jordan tagged along and asked, “Could I borrow your notes tomorrow? I was planning on ditching today, seeing as I was busy last night.”
Drake looked at him, “What are you talking about?”
Jordan blinked, “I was up watching movies with my folks.”
“Oh.”
“Why? What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” Drake told him while he rubbed his eyes. “You weren’t clear so I thought you might have meant something else.”
“What? Like I was busy with Rachel.”
“Something like that.”
“Sorry, but it’s not my fault if you assumed something,” he said. “But the notes?”
“Yeah…Wait, no, actually.”
“Why?”
“I leave for Japan later today.”
“Oh yeah,” he frowned. “The whole Tokyo Game Show, right?”
Drake nodded.
Jordan scoffed, “You’d better bring me back something cool.”
Drake told him he’d try his best and wandered off.
He walked off in another direction in search of Hiromi, but hardly realized she did the same thing as they headed toward one another. She wore her hair down which barely graced her shoulders, a chain necklace with a key on it that he recognized was from an old video game that had come out before he was born, and a bag slung over her shoulder with a character from a manga Drake had read nearly half a dozen times.
Hiromi saw him through the crowd, ran to meet him, and threw her arms around him. “I had fun last weekend at lunch.”
“So did I,” he beamed. “Can I see your schedule?” She nodded and showed it to him. Drake examined it briefly and frowned. “We don’t have any classes together,” he told her before he gave it back to her.
“That is too bad…” she looked at his schedule and exclaimed, “We do have the same lunch though!”
He looked again and saw that she was right, “Oh, that’s right. At least we can spend time together then.”
“Yeah, that will be nice.”
The bell chimed and signaled the students’ need to head to their first course. Drake told Hiromi that he looked forward to lunch with her later and then briskly walked back to his first class.
When he did return he found the room filled out more and happened to find a young woman in a wheelchair next to his desk. He walked over, said hello, and took his seat.
“I know where Nick is Drake.”
“As do I Jessica,” he said with little amusement. “He transferred to Inglemoor yesterday.”
“What?”
Drake repeated himself, “He’s in Kenmore attending Inglemoor High School.”
“He’s in the state?”
“Yes,” he nodded, “Probably in Kenmore.” Drake examined Jessica’s face and noted her anxiety before he asked her what was wrong.
She took a breath and kept her voice low so none of the other students would overhear them, “Nick was in Las Vegas last weekend.”
He frowned, “How do you know that?”
“Because I saw a video of him with Ghost on REFOIA.”
Drake’s thumb twitched. He looked away from her and quietly said, “Unless you can prove that, I highly doubt it.”
“Why?”
He looked back at her, “What reason would he have to be around an assassin Jess? Moreover, how would he know that assassin first of all, and why on earth would he go to Vegas?”
She took a breath, “I don’t know, but there’s a video of Nick and Ghost in Vegas shooting rifles.” She paused, dwelt on something momentarily, and then shared her thoughts with him, “This is going to sound nuts, but Nick has some sort of super power as well.”
Drake looked at her and asked if she was serious. “There’s no such thing Jess.”
“Oh come on Drake,” she muttered with a scowl, “I know you have to have at least heard some of the rumors about what’s going on in Baltimore. This could be related.”
“Or that video you saw was and is complete crap,” he told her.
“It was on REFOIA,” she stated.
“Which of course means it’s entirely credible,” he sarcastically added.
Jessica swore, “Can’t you be a bit serious about this?”
“I am,” he told her. “You’re asking me to be serious in a conversation about Nick having super powers and associating himself with an assassin. Out of the two of us I’d say I am serious.”
She sighed and muttered some grievance against Drake as their instructor walked in. “Could you at least keep your mind open to the possibility of this?”
He agreed. “You’re going to have to show me this video later, alright?”
“Sure, fine…well, I would, but for some reason it’s not there anymore.” Drake gave her a look and she quickly snapped, “I’m not making this up Drake.”
Class began immediately after their conversation ended. Midway through the course introduction Drake retrieved his cell phone and sent a text to Sho. It read, ‘Search REFOIA for Ghost.’
---*---
2:00 PM
Baltimore, Maryland
Mia Hendricks sat by herself at one of the small tables in the break room with a cup of decaf coffee, an energy bar, a bottle of aspirin, and a small onyx notebook. She studied her notes without touching her coffee for more than what was needed to wash down two of her pills. Her wrist still hurt if she didn’t take the pain killers; it felt like a reminder of what she needed to do.
Detective Felton walked into the room and toward the communal coffeepot. “Y’know the Chief told us no notes right?” he asked quietly.
“These aren’t notes on the investigation; they’re notes about my identity theft case.”
“How is that going?” he asked as he poured himself his own coffee.
She sighed, “Not good. Apparently I travele
d from DC to India and from there to Seattle all last week.”
“Really? Was anything else bought? Jewelry or a car or anything?”
“No, just those plane tickets. And I guess they forged a passport in my name too about three months ago.”
“Do you have any leads on who it might be?”
Mia shook her head and told him that whoever they were they covered their tracks well. “It’s honestly as if they don’t exist at all.”
He took a swig of his drink and chuckled at the thought, “I highly doubt that. You’ll find them eventually.”
Mia nodded. She looked up from her notes and asked, “How many days do we have left?”
Felton let out a breath and searched his mind for the answer. “According to what Detective Sage believed to be the pattern…about two days.”
She frowned, “And then what do we do?”
He only shrugged, “We give it our best without letting anyone know.”
“What are you talking about?”
Felton stirred his drink a bit and told her the case was closed. “Commissioner Schmitt claims there isn’t significant proof of the existence of Cladis and as such there is no need to have the investigation.”
“And what does he expect us to say to the mayor?” she asked.
“He’s actually spoken with the mayor and convinced him that it was the work of a new gang under the name Cladis.”
Mia stopped him and asked, “So we’re supposed to work under the cover that there’s a rising gang called Cladis and not a serial killer?”
He wavered on whether he should agree with her statement. Instead he clarified, “Basically, there is no investigation of this new gang until they prove to become a larger threat.”
“But none of that makes sense,” she told him. “What are we supposed to do as more stiffs turn up?”
Felton only shrugged and said, “Cover them up.” He took a sip of his coffee before he told her he wasn’t happy about the decision either. “Sage was my partner for a long time and I want to stop Cladis just as much as you, maybe more.”
She scowled, “Can I ask why you sound so cavalier about their decision?”
The detective told her that their decision didn’t impede their investigation. “Do you really think we’re going to abandon this? Hendricks, we know full well that Cladis is a threat and that we need to figure something out to stop him. I’m not sure how to handle that though, and I think rather than publicly declare how inept we are, the commissioner would have us work discreetly.”
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 29