Diary of an Assassin

by Methos, Victor

  “That had to have been a good bust. What happened?”

  “He was released in one day. I didn’t have enough power to hold him for even twenty-four hours. Interpol said he was working as an informant and let him go, but that was bullshit. The Mexican government collects taxes from the drug lords. They don’t want drugs to stop and they don’t want them to be legal. They make too much money. Too many people with their hands in the purse. So they put pressure on Interpol.” He took a bite of his muffin and then pushed it away. “I’ve never chased anyone overseas since that day. Until now.”

  She was silent a moment. “I know what you’re going to say and it’s taken care of.”

  “He killed four people and kidnapped a young woman. Two of them were just bystanders, people that had nothing to do with anything. Did you know that?”

  “Not about the kidnapping, no.”

  He nodded. “I know everything about Starlight and about your little projects. Don’t forget that our two countries began the project.”

  “I haven’t forgotten and I haven’t forgotten your role in that either.” Vanessa was accusing him of something but didn’t know what. She had been involved with Starlight after its formation but Henri had helped form it as a liaison with the Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence in France. By right, it was more his than hers.

  “I know,” he said. “I am just as responsible for this abomination as you are. But you were not there when we founded it. It was meant as a counter-terrorism agency. One that would work outside of each nation’s laws and chase terrorists and war criminals down wherever they were. We were so patriotic then. We thought we had found the solution to the world’s problems, and instead we created a Frankenstein.”

  “Frankenstein? Excuse me? Do you have any idea how much evil has been taken out of the world by this one organization? We have, what, about fifty employees and we do more good than any agency in the world.”

  “Hm, you would be surprised how your perspective will change with age. It is a monster, and we are all responsible. But we’re not paying for it. These poor bastards caught in the middle are.”

  “I already told you, it’s taken care of.”

  “I deal with people lying to me all day, Vanessa. I can smell bullshit.”

  She folded her arms. “Well what do you want to hear?”

  “Why did you release him?”

  “I needed the best and he’s the best.”

  “He was taken out of rotation for a reason. Do you know why he was in La Santé? Did you bother to ask?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “He was in a bar fight. A simple bar fight. A man gently bumped into his arm. Witnesses told me he apologized. Before the apology was out of his mouth, Gustav was on top of him. He bit off his nose and his lips, pulling out one of his eyes before the patrons tackled him from behind. It took seven men to hold him down until police arrived. He is severely unstable, and you released him, gave him weapons and money…”

  “And I told you it was taken care of.”

  “How? By sending another psychopath after him? That is a fool’s plan.”

  “What would you suggest?”

  “Help me find him.”

  “You?” she said with a chuckle. “You’re too old, Henri. And you were never that good at this.”

  “I was his commanding officer at DIIF. I may still be able to speak to him. But I may not, I don’t know. You know it used to be that our biggest concerns were the communists. I miss the communists. They were one enemy that we could focus on and try to understand. And they weren’t that difficult to understand. But now…I don’t know. I had to arrest a twelve-year-old boy last year for murdering his parents. They grounded him and he stabbed them to death in their sleep. He made his younger siblings clean up the blood. That type of thing didn’t exist when I was younger.”

  “Or maybe it did and you weren’t paying attention.”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  She exhaled. “I’ll help you find him.”

  He nodded. “I think I know where he will go, but it might be too late for that girl by the time I get there.”

  “Where’s he going?”

  “There’s a place in Algeria. It holds a lot of memories for him. And for me. I don’t believe he will attempt to take this girl on the plane with him. He will kill her first.” He glanced around the coffee shop and then back to her. “Can the Messenger help us?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not his favorite person right now.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you know who he is, Henri? I’ve never asked you.”

  “Yes, I know who he is. He was there at the beginning.”

  “Why don’t you ask him for help yourself then?”

  “I think you should come with me.”

  “Why?”

  “He and I…have a, what is it you Americans say? A checker’s past?”

  “Checkered past. Yeah. Okay, let me go home and take a shower. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

  As she left, excitement tingled her belly: she was going to meet the Messenger. Out of her entire organization, only two people ever met him face-to-face. She wondered briefly if seeing who he was would be a good thing or a bad…

  CHAPTER 48

  Billie woke in the passenger seat as they were driving by a farm. She had grown up on a small farm out in Nebraska and being around barns and horses and seeing herds of cows gave her a type of comfort: the relief of home.

  She hadn’t meant to sleep but exhaustion overtook her after about an hour and her body had shut down. When she woke they were heading in a different direction than when she had gone to sleep. She glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. He was staring forward, expensive sunglasses covering his eyes. He didn’t acknowledge her.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she said.

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  He drove another ten minutes, passing two exits that had gas stations, until he found a rest stop. He pulled off and parked next to a semi and a mini-van, which had a family stretching and having snacks in front of it. He unbuckled his seatbelt and then walked around the car. He opened the door for her. She stepped outside and felt the breeze on her face as she stretched her back.

  Gustav took her arm and led her up the sidewalk.

  “I can walk,” she said.

  He didn’t respond and continued up the sidewalk, into the women’s bathroom. He opened a stall door and pushed her inside before shutting the door and leaning against one of the sinks. She slid her pants down and sat.

  “I can’t go with you in here,” she said.

  She glanced under the stall and saw his shoes by the sink. He walked out of the bathroom, stopping at the door for a second, and then the door shut behind him and Billie exhaled like she had just come up for air in a pool.

  She pulled up her pants and hurried to the windows that were up high over the sinks. She stood on the counter and reached up. She could just barely reach it if she stood on her tip-toes. Her foot slipped out from under her and she fell to the cold linoleum. Her shoulder and hip radiated with pain but she didn’t make any noise. She just watched the door. When the man didn’t come in, she climbed back up onto the sink.

  Stretching her body upward again, she managed to reach the latch and open it. The window only opened about three inches and she frantically tried to push it further, mumbling, “Please, please,” to herself.

  Suddenly the door opened behind her.

  Billie turned to see a woman give her an odd glance. She jumped off the sink.

  “Please,” she said, sobbing now, “please. Please help me. Please help me.”

  The woman looked concerned and put her hand on her arm. “What’s the matter, dear? Do you need money?”

  “No, no. The man I’m with…the man I’m with kidnapped me. He stole my car and kidnapped me. Please call the police. Please.”

  The woman sat in shock a moment and then pulled out her cell phone and put her arm
around Billie. She dialed nine-one-one and waited as it rang.

  The door flew open and Gustav stood there. The woman was startled and nearly dropped the phone. Gustav walked toward her. Billie screamed and hid behind the woman, who began to say something and then yell for her husband. Gustav grabbed her by the chin and back of the skull and spun her head violently around. Filling the bathroom with a loud crack.

  Billie screamed. He grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. He took out his pistol and put it to her cheek.

  “No, no, please please please. Don’t kill me. Please.”

  “Every person you try to have help you will die. You killed this woman. Do you understand?”

  “Yes…yes,” she said, crying, “I understand.”

  “Now stop crying and let’s go.”

  He grabbed her arm again, leading her outside. As they stepped out, a man stood there with two others and some children.

  “What the hell you doin’ in the women’s room?” one of the men said.

  Billie didn’t even see her captor hesitate. He simply lifted his pistol and shot one of the other men through the eye. He pointed the pistol at the others standing there and they held up their hands in surrender. The children didn’t even realize what had happened. He lowered the weapon and continued pulling her to the car.

  CHAPTER 49

  Henri sat at the coffee shop for just under an hour before he saw Vanessa walk back in wearing a black dress and high heels. She looked stunning. Once, a long time ago, before Collette, they had had something. It was brief and passionate. A couple of weekends, if he remembered correctly. Weekends spent in a hotel room and on the beaches of Nice. She was an idealist then too.

  At night when they would lie nude in bed, and the moonlight would be coming through the windows and the sound of the ocean filled the room, she would talk. She would talk for hours sometimes and Henri would just listen. She spoke of the American Republic and how it was the greatest nation that had ever existed. How every nation that had come before, from Babylon and Ur to the British Empire, was founded on the notion of one group’s superiority over another. Of collectivism. That the individual was always expendable for the needs of the state. Then she would explain why the Founding Fathers of the United States were the first ones to reject that notion. The individual was an end unto themselves in the United States and if America ever fell, freedom on the planet would fall along with it.

  He also remembered that they were to meet in Paris and that she never showed up. She let him know days later that something had come up. But he always wondered if the life he had was meant to be shared with her. If his children were her children and she just let career get in the way.

  “Ready to go?” she said.

  “Yes. I feel suddenly underdressed.”

  “You look fine. Let’s go.”

  Henri rose and they began to walk out of the coffee shop. “You seem excited.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

  “I’ll drive.”

  They got into Henri’s rented Nissan Z and he pulled away from the curb. He put an address into the GPS, which directed them to turn around and head to the interstate entrance.

  “Could’ve picked a bigger car,” Vanessa said.

  “All the cars in France are smaller than this. Large cars and trucks are uniquely American.”

  “So who is he?”

  “He was a general in the Army. One star I think before he went into intelligence. I’ve never thought of him as a decent man but he is very efficient.”

  “What was the problem between you two?”

  “It was over the direction of Starlight. One group, led by him, wanted to make it private. To sell our services to raise funds and continue our anti-terrorism activities. Funding was always a problem. The CIA and DIIF allotted us funds from their budget every year but it shrank every time and our expenses grew.”

  The GPS dinged, indicating for him to get into the far right lane.

  “So he and his group thought privatizing the organization’s resources was the solution,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “And you were against it?”

  “Yes, for the reasons you see before you now. When money is involved, everything changes. Why do you think the CIA, FBI, DEA—why do these positions, extremely important positions—pay almost nothing at all? Because they don’t want anyone joining for money. It has to be patriotism. Otherwise you will not be able to suffer in the job like you must suffer.”

  “Obviously he won.”

  “Yes, he did. He convinced enough people. I don’t know how, but he convinced them. Probably with money. He was wealthy even then. That’s when I left.”

  They drove another hour and spoke of mundane things: what television shows they watched, how the French viewed American politics…why the Founding Fathers had allied with France and why the two nations remained strong allies until the Bush administration and the debacle in Iraq.

  Eventually they left the interstate and were driving through lush, green country. Cyprus trees and grasslands that stretched out past the horizon surrounded them and Vanessa watched them with a detached curiosity. Nature usually held little fascination. Its beauty was lost on her. She preferred sidewalks and skyscrapers. Surrounded by these was where she felt the most comfortable.

  They drove into a neighborhood, if you could call it that, of massive houses with driveways that wound up hills. A gated community with limousines and luxury cars. There were a few places like this in France but they were mostly the chateaus of the large vineyards. Seeing such ostentation made Henri uncomfortable.

  The GPS brought him to a gate that appeared to be made out of a shining brass. He got out to ring up to the house on the intercom but noticed the gate was unlocked. He pushed it open and got back into the car.

  “That gate supposed to be unlocked?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only been here once before.”

  They drove up a driveway that seemed to go on for miles. It wound up a hill to a mansion, the size of which shocked Vanessa.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said.

  He glanced to her and then back to the mansion. “I think he’s gay,” he said.

  “I wasn’t—”

  He grinned and she playfully punched his arm.

  They parked on white gravel in front of the home and got out. The day was warmer than it had been the entire time Henri had been here and the air this far upstate was fresh and smelled like grass. Henri walked to the front entrance, Vanessa behind him. The front door was wide open.

  “He expecting you?”

  Henri pulled out a 9mm pistol from his waistband. “No.”

  He pushed the door the rest of the way, ensuring that no one was standing behind it. He held the gun low with both hands as he surveyed the mansion. He stepped inside and listened. There were no sounds. He took a few more steps into the foyer. A massive dining room was off to the left and to the right a hallway leading to a spacious room with white leather furniture and a grand piano. He stepped gently into the room with the piano. A staircase wound up to the second and third floors, massive paintings hanging on the walls above him.

  He walked around the furniture to the sliding glass doors that looked out over the property outside. It seemed to go on forever, an alien landscape of rolling hills and rich emerald trees. Henri stepped away from the doors and began up the stairs.

  Looking back into the foyer, he saw Vanessa standing there with a pistol in her hand. It was a prejudice, he knew, but he wasn’t fully comfortable with her having a weapon. Women with guns was something he didn’t see very often. Or perhaps he wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t shoot him if she had a good reason.

  Upstairs on the second floor, he turned to the left where several rooms ran down the length of the mansion on both sides of the hallway. Double doors, white with gold trim, stood on the right and he pushed them open.

  He stood in awe, unable to comprehend
what he saw.

  CHAPTER 50

  Santos Aras sat in a large conference room, while outside, Washington was gray and wet. It had stopped raining for only a few brief moments and now it started again and came down in sheets that pelted the window like insects smashing into a windshield.

  The conference table held seven people from the State Department and three from Homeland Security. A man was standing at the front showing a PowerPoint, a technology that Santos thought was outdated by at least ten years.

  He closed his eyes a moment, his mind drifting, and realized he was falling asleep. He shifted in his seat and reached for the coffee in front of him, taking a long drink. It was lukewarm and black without any sweetener.

  The briefing seemed to go on and on, and Santos kept his eyes on the rain outside. He knew there were people out there that weren’t protected from it. People that had to take the full power of nature and find a way to keep going. He wondered how, in the middle of such abundance, people were actually starving. His own feeling was that they were simply too weak or too imprudent to take what they wanted. He had no patience for weakness.

  “Any questions?” the man at the front said.

  Santos perked up, hoping no one had any. One woman raised a finger in the air and said, “Does this apply to all department heads or just those dealing with security?”

  The man dove into a longwinded answer and Santos zoned out again. He took out his phone, unable to hide his boredom, and began checking his email and Facebook updates. Finally the man stopped talking. He waited a few moments for any more questions before calling the meeting.

  Santos yawned, finished the coffee, and then stood up. He walked outside quickly, hoping to avoid any chit-chat, and managed to sneak onto the elevator before anyone else. He pressed the button for the parking garage and then the door-close button as people tried to approach him.