Fury

by Llewellin Jegels

  “Yeah.”

  More silence.

  “Ok, Tom,” he said at last. “Ok. I’ll get her to safety. I’ll get her home.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  “So what, I take her now?” he asked, sensing my thoughts. Planning something before the phone call would be a lot easier without a little girl worrying about her dad around.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Get the car, come back, and get her the hell out of here.”

  “Ok, Tom,” Mel said, turning to go. “But…”

  “Yeah?”

  Mel took a long hard look at me. “I don’t like this.”

  “I know.”

  He walked through the living room and out the front door.

  Don looked puzzled. “Where’s he going?” he asked when I returned.

  “He felt like a beer.”

  “So do I.”

  Mel returned a couple of minutes later, phone in hand.

  “Great!”

  Rachel woke up slowly, lifted her head up to look at me.

  “Could I speak to you in private for a second?” I asked Don in a friendly tone. He looked at Rachel, then at Mel, who stood by the remains of the front door, then back at me. He nodded, realizing he had no choice.

  We walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table, facing each other.

  “What?” Don asked softly.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Shelley?” Don said. “I already told you, things didn’t work out between us-”

  “Rachel,” I replied.

  He looked momentarily taken aback. “Of course I love her. She’s my daughter as much as yours. Not that you were around to be a father to her. What do you think this was all about?”

  That stung.

  “Yeah, never mind what I think,” I replied. “I need to know if you love her enough to remove her from this mess.”

  Silence.

  “I can’t… I can’t let her go.”

  “You can,” I said softly. “And for her sake, you must.”

  I could see it in his eyes, the thought of losing the one thing in the world he truly loved.

  “But I love her…”

  “Do you love her enough to keep her safe?” I asked.

  He swallowed hard. Then, “Yes. Yes, you bastard. I do.”

  I nodded, “Good. I was hoping you did. Now I need you to tell her something. It’s not true, but we don’t have time for truth. I need you to tell her Mel will be taking her back to her mom. At home.”

  “She saw what happened,” Don said. “How do you expect me to explain that away?”

  “Tell her the cops got the guy,” I replied. “And they put your mom on a plane home, for her safety. If you tell her that, she’ll believe it, no matter how idiotic it may sound.”

  He nodded, swallowed again. “Ok.”

  “Good,” I said. “Don, you’re a better man than I thought.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, shaking his head.

  “If you knew what I had thought of you, you wouldn’t be quite so thankful,” I replied. “But you’re welcome.”

  We walked together into the lounge.

  “Honey, I have some great news!” Don said, making a valiant attempt at feigning happiness. And for a man whose heart was breaking, it looked like quite an achievement. He told her everything we had planned in the kitchen.

  She seemed a bit dubious at first, but when he started talking to her about speaking to the police, and then arranging with them to get him back home on the next plane too, she agreed to go with Mel, who she took for a cop.

  From Interpol.

  Mel could spin the stories when he felt like it.

  She hugged Don, not wanting to let go, and I could see how he fought back the tears. She came to me afterward, hugged me too, looked up at me and said “Bye, dad…”

  Love, I guess, comes in many forms.

  “Goodbye, angel,” Don said. “I love you very much.”

  “Goodbye,” she said. “I love you too. I’ll see you at home, in a couple of days. Thanks for the holiday. I enjoyed it!”

  The tears rolled down his cheeks. “Me too, darling”

  “Can you bring my stuff back home for me?” she asked as she and Mel reached the front doorway. “Mel says the plane is leaving soon, so I can’t pack. It’s a private one like you have, and it’s ready to go now. So maybe I’ll be back home when mom arrives.”

  “Sure, angel,” he replied.

  She smiled at him, waved at both of us and then they left.

  Don sat quietly, listening to the sound of the car driving away.

  “I’ll never see her again,” he said.

  “No,” I replied, matching his tone. “No, you won’t. Shelley would press charges for kidnapping in a heartbeat.”

  He nodded.

  “But you did the right thing,” I said. “And I can see how hard it was for you, believe it or not. You did the right thing.”

  He nodded, “It never feels like it, does it?”

  “No,” I agreed. “Never does.”

  We briefly discussed what we could do to get Shelley away from the lunatic in the grey suit without getting Don killed in the process. I knew the guy in the suit operated outside of the CIA, but bringing them into this would result in a colossal mess. I also knew that Division9 wasn’t involved, or the guy would have arrived with backup.

  No, he operated alone.

  Don and I spoke, exchanging ideas like we were old friends, which felt peculiar to me on several levels.

  In the midst of our intense discussion, the phone rang, signalling the final move in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Darkness fell over Tyre like a shroud, fog rolling in gently from the sea. The proprietors of the small local business pulled down their shutters and locked their doors, calling it a day. Time to go home.

  But not me.

  My job remained undone.

  Dusk turned to night.

  Don and I arrived at the rendezvous point.

  The large stretch of beach felt too exposed. And we stood far down by the looks of things. We’d been told to park in the parking area and walk along the sand until we met them. He never said how far down the sand, but we’d already been walking for quite a while.

  I assumed he wanted to do the trade-off in private, but I couldn’t help but notice the foliage to our right. Perhaps he already trained his gun on my head, ready to pull the trigger. I didn’t like the situation at all. Every bit of my SEAL training screamed at me to find cover, to gain the higher ground, to do something. Anything, other than the aimless walking along a stretch of god-forsaken beach.

  But I needed to think about Shelley, do things this way.

  No other reasonable choice presented itself.

  I shook my head, trying to ignore the SEAL training, trying not to feel those eyes, watching me from the darkness.

  “This place creeping you out too?” Don asked. “It’s doing a number on me.”

  “Yeah,” I grunted. “Not exactly the Sunshine Coast.”

  “Far from it.”

  I felt danger from a hundred different angles, with no place to hole up in, if an ambush ensued.

  But I suspected the guy in the grey suit had other ideas. His issue with Don clearly drove him to this point. And a desperate man possessed no qualms about using ruthless means to achieve his objectives. What he wanted with Don felt personal. This was no CIA op. Not in the least.

  Hell, it seemed so personal that he’d spent six months of surveillance and then embarked on a trip to Lebanon to get the guy. No, whatever his reasons, he would want to gloat over this victory. He’d want to look us in the eye, not snipe us from the dark. The psychopath would get off on our suffering, which made his type so damn twisted.

  Utterly without remorse, the bastards went through life feigning emotion just so long as it gave them what they wanted. And once they cornered their target, the mask dropped to the floor, and the monster revea
led its true face.

  Normally, this would be a bad thing.

  Not tonight.

  Tonight, I needed him to be precisely that. Else we’d be dead in a flash.

  . “A fire,” Don said, pointing up ahead. “At last.”

  I nodded, “Yeah, let’s hope it’s them.”

  We picked up our pace as much as we could. The wind coming off the Mediterranean Sea felt far colder than I thought possible. It numbed my face and turned my walk into a stiff gait.

  I have to admit the warmth of a fire felt welcome, no matter the circumstances.

  We trudged along in the sand, making our way slowly toward the strangely welcoming light. Finally, I managed to make out the vague impression of a single person, sitting by the fire.

  Alone.

  “I see her,” Don said.

  “I see something,” I said. “Be quiet.”

  I was just about to mutter something about this being a vagrant, or a trap of some kind, when I saw something or rather someone by the light of the fire. And my heart leapt.

  Shelley.

  She just sat there, not tied up, not trying to run.

  She seemed unhurt, but I could not tell for sure.

  Just the glint of tape over her mouth.

  If the bastard hurt her. And then I got it.

  The man in the grey suit was here, somewhere, watching. And we were indeed in very much danger if we moved into the cozy little circle of light just ahead of us.

  “Stop,” I whispered to Don.

  “But she’s right there by the fire,” he said, trying to move forward.

  “I said fucking stop,” I grunted, pulling on the plastic strap I’d bound his hands with.

  We stood there, still in semi-darkness, the night offering some protection but I presumed not nearly enough from the scheming of a mad man. Shelley turn her head and looked in our general direction. She shook her head, slowly, almost imperceptibly, obviously trying to warn me. But I already knew the man in the grey suit’s plan.

  “You can’t get an accurate shot in this darkness,” I called out into the foliage. “Best you can hope for is a graze if you’re lucky. We’re not coming in any further until you come out. So come out!”

  Silence.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “Come out and let’s deal with this man to man. No-one’s taking pot shots at me, understand?”

  More silence.

  Then the rustling of some bushes, and the man in the grey suit emerged, moving toward the fire, his gun pointed at Shelley’s head.

  “Well played,” he called out.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “Now, I have what you asked for so very fucking politely, but know this: I have a gun pointed at you right now. So we’re going to play this civilized, do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  He nodded, “Fine. Civilized works just as well for me.”

  “Good.”

  He pulled Shelley to her feet without the gun moving an inch.

  “Send him,” he barked. “Let’s not prolong this.”

  “You first,” I said. “This isn’t my first rodeo, pal.”

  “Fine,” he said, irritation giving his voice a high pitch. “Fine. We do it on three, like they do in the fucking movies. You ok with that, GI Joe?”

  “One,” I said, my voice calm, my gun steady.

  “Two,” he replied.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Don whispered.

  “Me too. THREE!”

  Shelley began walking toward me, and I pushed Don forward to meet his new friend.

  They passed each other and Don looked at her as they did, but her eyes were directly on me.

  When can their glory fade? Oh the wild charge they made!

  I tore off the tape on Shelley’s mouth, held her close. “Got you. You’re ok now.”

  “Rachel,” she whispered, her eyes wide with anxiety.

  “Rachel is safe,” I replied. “On her way back home with Mel.”

  “Thank God.”

  “I’m closer.”

  “I didn’t know if you would do it,” she said, still clinging to me. “That madman wants to kill him. He’s been ranting about it for hours. I didn’t think you’d let him die.”

  “I don’t want to let him die.”

  “But that crazy shit wants to kill him.”

  “Good,” I replied, and let her go, all the while keeping my gun trained on the man in the grey suit and his new captive.

  “What?”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  “It is over,” he replied, looking surprised. “You two can go. I have what I want.”

  “Maybe it’s over for you, but I’m not walking away without seeing that bastard dead.”

  “I never said I’d kill him.” A blatant lie. He wouldn’t hesitate to do exactly that. He was just playing for time trying to figure out my angle.

  “If you don’t,” I said. “Then I will.”

  The man in the grey suit looked even more surprised.

  “You want him dead?” he asked, trying to get his head around this interesting new turn of events.

  “He ruined my life,” I said. “Of course I do. Why the hell do you think I agreed so readily to your fucking terms? He’s dead, and no blood on my hands.”

  “And you get your girlfriend back, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Silence.

  Don tried to plead for his life, but the guy just punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, retching, which kept him quiet for a while, except for the occasional gasp.

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” I said. “Better days?”

  “I had… other plans for him. He… he killed my friend.”

  “I… didn’t kill… anybody.” Don grunted, winded.

  Still doubled over, clutching his stomach, obviously in agony.

  “I understand,” I said. “Believe me, I do. But I need some closure here, and I know Shelley does.” I nudged her.

  “The bastard was a bad husband and a worse father,” she said, her voice barely faltering. “I want him dead as much as you.”

  “I doubt it,” the man in the grey suit said. “I highly doubt it, my dear.”

  “Fine,” Shelley replied. “But don’t take this away from me. Please. I never got the chance to pull the trigger, I’m ok with that. No blood, right? But the least you can give me is the chance to see an end to this.”

  The man in the grey suit watched her closely. “This isn’t in your nature, Shelley Abaid. I’ve been watching you for a while now, and this isn’t you. So what are you playing at?”

  “That son of a bitch took my daughter from me! Things fucking change. Now, if you don’t kill the bastard, I will!”

  He looked at us for a long time.

  “You’re serious,” he said at last.

  “As a damn heart attack.”

  The man in the grey suit nodded. “All right. I had, as I say, other plans for him. But this will do just as well. Besides, I’m sick of this fucking town.”

  He raised the gun to Don’s head, levelling the barrel between the eyes.

  Don swung around at that moment and made a break for it, dashing toward the ocean, hunched over, and lurching away like he had some kind of chance of surviving this. Still out of breath but still running. I admired the guy.

  “No, you don’t get to run from this,” the man in the grey suit said, and put five rounds into Don’s back. He fell to the sand and lay still.

  “You happy?” he asked, looking at Shelley and I.

  “Yes,” I said. “He’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “Good,” he replied, walking over to Don.

  Shit.

  “He’s dead,” I called, trying to keep my voice calm. “What are you doing?”

  “No blood on the sand, I see. Body armor? I like to be thorough,” he replied, and fired a bullet in Don’s head. His body jerked once and lay still, blood pooling around his head.

  S
hit.

  I raised my gun, pulling Shelley down behind me, preparing for the worst.

  He turned to us, “No need for that. I got what I came for. Time to part ways.”

  He quickly stepped backwards, gun trained on me even as mine followed his every move, until eventually the night swallowed him.

  Our plan required Don to make a run for it when I talked the guy in the suit into killing him out here. He would wear my vest, fitted to take maximum damage on the back. So he fell and lay still, just as planned.

  But then the bastard shot him in the head.

  “Don!” Shelley yelled at last, running over to his limp form as I covered the darkness with the Beretta.

  “He’s gone, Shelley,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  I felt a deep sadness. For Don. For Shelley. For Rachel. Yes, Don was a bastard in many respects but he possessed some redeeming qualities. He was a father to Rachel when I failed to be one. That much I gave him.

  Hasta la vista…

  I moved over to her and pulled her away from the body.

  “I did my best, Shelley,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “The bastard took my kid and I still feel bad for him.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. She started sobbing.

  “I tried to save him-”

  “I know,” she mumbled. “I heard what he said about the body armor.”

  And then it dawned on her. “So you’re not wearing your vest?”

  I shook my head. “He wanted Don. I hoped the body armor would be enough.”

  She hugged me, like she’d never let go.

  “He loved Rachel. Enough to let her go.”

  “He did,” she said, crying openly.

  “And so do I.”

  She held me tighter, the sound of her sobs mixing with the waves. I felt devastated by the turn of events but my job remained unfinished.

  I still had another date with destiny.

  The man in the grey suit.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Llewellin RG Jegels lives in Cape Town, South Africa. When he is not writing, he works in the entertainment industry as a publisher, editor, story consultant, screenwriter and event coordinator. He is currently busy with an historic novel about Spartacus which he plans to publish in 2016. At the same time he is working on the development of a graphic novel, which will form the basis of a screenplay for film.

  The Charge of the Light Brigade

  Alfred, Lord Tenyson