ShadowShot : L'enfant Guerrier

by T. M. Deans

  I thought she might be reluctant to leave her home but she wasn’t at all. She was really excited to go on this trip. I told her that I would like to be going with her but I had a mission, which was to go to Cape Town and see if I could pick up my uncle’s trail.

  By the time we closed up her home, drove to Paris, got her passport and everything all lined up, and got her on the plane, we had been together seven wonderful days.

  I gave her a message number that she should call frequently to let me know how much fun she was having.

  I arranged a private flight for myself to be shared with the owner of the plane to Cape Town. Since my flight wasn’t until the next day, I thought I would take a drive and see what was left of the old family château.

  39

  ALGERIANS

  The weather was sunny. It was a nice day for a drive. I steered the big Mercedes south. I thought about everything that had transpired in the last week. It was a good feeling to think about it. I had made a nice connection with the old girl. I had found out a lot about my life before the war. She had no history on what happened after my father died, so that was still the one hole left open. More importantly, I came away with a feeling of family. Once again, there was somebody in my life who I could relate to as a relative. It was good that I was able to send her on her lifelong fantasy.

  Now if I could just find my uncle. That would really be something. However, it was another long shot. I started to think I was too absorbed in my thoughts and I might’ve missed the turn. It didn’t feel like I was going the right way. The traffic had been pretty light on the last road I was on. Now it had thinned out to nothing. There weren’t even any homes around where I could ask directions. I decided to pull over and check my map but first things first. I needed to relieve myself. For the sake of discretion I walked around to the other side of the vehicle and opened the door. No matter what direction a car came from I could stand behind the door.

  I looked back in the direction from which I had come as a black van pulled into view. They slowed for a moment and then kept on coming my way. I thought I had seen them behind me a couple roads back. My survival instincts started to kick in. The 9 mm was between the seats in the console. I cut off the stream, zipped up, chambered the gun, and slipped it in my belt under my coat. I was probably being paranoid but better safe than sorry. The van pulled up about 25 feet behind me. I thought if they got out, I would just pull the pistol and tell them to fuck off. That probably wouldn’t have been so good. They could be cops doing one of those endless pulling you over for no reason just to check your identity. Two guys got out at the same time, all smiles and hellos. The passenger was holding a map. They were both Algerians. I said hello back and asked them if they were lost. The guy holding the map got up close to me and turned the map towards me, pointing his finger on it. Then he was slapping me in the face with the map. He had a blackjack concealed in it. My reflexes were fast. I stepped back and tilted my head so that it only brushed my face. He was faster. He dropped the map, but now he held a blackjack in his left hand and was pointing a pistol at me in his right. The other guy was coming up behind him holding a club. He could easily have shot me before I got my pistol out. I had to distract him.

  I put my hands up and said, “Money. I’ll give you money. You can have the car.”

  Maybe that’s all they wanted. They didn’t have to kill me to get it. As I was backing up, I slipped behind my open passenger door, while still yelling, and begging them not to shoot me. The gunman was on the other side of the door with me now. He got up close to me, too close. It had to be now. Both my hands were at the level of my chest, palms open facing him. My left hand chopped out, grabbing the barrel snapping his wrist back. My right hand went to my belt. When it came out I was holding my piece, and I fired point-blank into his heart. The window was rolled down on the passenger door. I fired through the opening. The bullet caught the other man in the chest. He went down as well. I needed to get out of there before someone came along. I took a quick look around - no cars no people. I put one round in each of their faces, picked up my casings, and took off. I took the first road that came up to my left. I hadn’t seen anyone and no one had passed me. That was good. I drove east before I started heading north back toward Paris. Seeing the château would have to wait till another time. I had parked on the pavement and never stepped off of it, so it was unlikely that I had left any tire or shoe tracks. I was sure I hadn’t left any fingerprints anywhere, and neither of them had touched my car. I thought, Christ you can’t even pull over to take a piss without a chance of being robbed. Maybe driving around in an expensive vehicle wasn’t such a good idea after all. I was glad I had listened to my first instinct and grabbed the pistol. I should’ve also listened to my second instinct, and pulled it on them the minute they got out of their van.

  I hated the thought of being unarmed again, but I got rid of the pistol, clips and casings. Now as long as I didn’t have any trouble with the cops, it would be all right. I was glad I was leaving Paris early in the morning. I had the vehicle washed when I got back into the city, parked the car in my hotel garage, paid off my bill, tipped everybody, and checked out. Then I did the old double cab deal to a new hotel close to the private airport, and hoped I wouldn’t have any visitors in the night.

  40

  CAPE TOWN

  My flight was taking off at the crack of dawn, so I got up two hours early, showered, had some breakfast and took a cab to the airport. It was a long trip down to Cape Town, but the plane was comfortable and well provided. I was thinking I should be remorseful I just killed two men. Well I wasn’t. They were attempting to rob me, beat me up, and maybe even would’ve killed me. I would certainly have preferred that it hadn’t happened. I was surely glad that Monique was not with me. Still, it was strange that something like that could’ve just happened. It wasn’t like I was putting myself in a risky situation.

  I wondered how I would go about starting to look for Pierre. All I had going for me was the name of the big city where he was 15 years ago, and an old phone number.

  Chances are that he and his son didn’t have a lot of money and had to go to work. That could mean becoming mercenaries of some sort. When they got the small amount of money from their sister’s house, it wouldn’t have lasted long. I thought about getting Besnard involved. Maybe he had a contact in the same line of work down here in Cape Town. I thought I’d poke around for a little bit first before I got anyone else involved.

  I was missing Misha. Even just talking to her on the phone would’ve been nice, but that was all over now. The last couple of weeks had been going so fast and so many different things had happened. It had given me a brief reprieve from being miserable. Well, I knew the routine. I would not be able to keep her from popping into my head. I had to practice having her pop right out again. We landed and went through customs without a problem. I did the old get a hotel and shake off the jet lag first. Tomorrow was soon enough to start a new quest in my life.

  The next few days I spent getting acquainted with the city. The weather was warm, skies were blue, and it was enjoyable just walking around. I started by seeing if there was an area with a French community. It would be as good a place to start as any. After a few days I did find some Frenchmen I could talk to. They were about the right age, but so far I’ve come up empty handed. The photos I had of Pierre and his son were probably almost 20 years old. In addition, I had to find the right person and the right situation before I could start asking questions about mercenaries. It would not do to just blurt out some names without first making the person feel comfortable with me. After a few days of zero progress, I decided to change from five-star hotel to a small but comfortable place on the beach. After another couple of days without any leads, I decided to get some beach time in. Next morning when I headed out to the beach, I had no way of knowing I was about to meet Lana, and that she would be making some big changes in my life. I was very content with my book when an attractive woman took the beach cha
ir next to me. I smiled. She smiled. We said hello and I went back to my book. She was a very sexy woman, lean and muscular without an ounce of fat on her. She looked like she went to the gym every day. Or maybe she worked for the railroad laying ties, but I didn’t think so. There was a hard look to her smile, but with that short blonde hair and a very impressive bust line, it was hard to take my eyes off of her. When she asked me if I would put suntan lotion on her back, I knew I was lost.

  My quest for finding Pierre and his son got waylaid for the next three days, mostly because I was getting laid two or three times a day. She was a very lively British lass, and we were having a lovely romantic interlude.

  41

  THE SEAPLANE RIDE

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of a plane taking off. It was a seaplane, and the only problem was that I was in it. How I got here I could not begin to imagine. There was a blanket covering me. When I started to pull it off my head, I came to the realization that I was handcuffed to a bunk. If that wasn’t enough, I had shackles on my ankles, which were also chained to the foot of the bunk.

  This was not good. My first instinct was to pull the blanket off my face and get a look at my surroundings. Something in the back of my brain said, easy Jack go slow.

  My tongue felt like it had been welded to the roof of my mouth. My eyelids seemed to be glued shut. In general I felt like someone put my head underwater three times and had taken it out twice. Focus Jack. Focus. Try to get it together. I tried to recall the last thing I could remember. Being under the blanket actually was a good thing. I could hear and even see a little. I started getting some circulation back by wiggling my fingers and toes while flexing my arms and legs. Unless we had taken off on a lake we had to be on the sea. In addition, considering how heavily drugged I felt, I must’ve been out for at least a couple of days.

  I could hear a woman’s voice talking to a man. I slowly moved my head around just enough to be able to peek down the fuselage towards the cockpit. The woman talking to a short man was Lana, even though I couldn’t see her head. She was the kind of woman who when she walked through the door, the first thing you saw was her breasts. This meant Lana had snagged me, but why? Did she have some reason for abducting me beside my lovemaking abilities? I was glad I still had a sense of humor even under extreme adversity. She had to be working for someone. The more I thought about it the more I could see her as a professional, but who could she be working for? Could it be someone connected to one of the jobs I had done? Was the Company perhaps worried about me for some reason? Agents were sometimes sold out, but George had said there were not any problems! That only left the contract, but it couldn’t be. It was done with years ago. Whoever went to all this trouble was keeping me alive. That was a two edged sword. Where there was life there is hope. That meant one of two things, interrogation or revenge, which both lead to torture.

  I had to stop worrying about that. It was time to start thinking about getting out of the situation. Seaplanes did not usually make very long trips. If I didn’t turn this situation around now, I might not get another chance. I started to check out my surroundings as much as I was able. Anything I could find as a weapon would be useful.

  I could see Lana was seated on the starboard side and the short person was up ahead of her seated on the port side. I reasoned that the snatch was more involved than just working me over in a basement or the back of a van. Someone with money to burn was taking me on a long trip. It was time for me to make my move. I started moaning and moving around a little. Lana came over and pulled the blanket off me.

  She said, “Hello Jack you okay?”

  “No not really. What are these shackles for?”

  I pretended to be much groggier than I really was. I had to use this to my advantage.

  The short person came back and stood next to Lana, he said, “Is he all right?” Lana told him she’d handle it, and he went back to his seat. The man had an Arab accent with an Arab look but that didn’t help me understand more about what was happening, first things first I’d worry about that later.

  “Would you care to tell me what is going on?”

  “I’m sorry Jack, but I don’t even know.”

  “Well you didn’t have to go to all these extremes just for kinky sex. And here I thought you were falling in love with me.”

  “I do like you Jack, but a job is a job.”

  “I need water, and to go to the toilet really badly. Can you help me with that?”

  She went and got me some water, which was most appreciated, and asked if I would be a good boy? I just nodded. She undid the chains on my ankles. The short guy was seated toward the front. This might be the best chance I would get. I started to get up and then fell back down as if I was too weak to stand. Lana took me by my right upper arm to help pull me up with her right arm. When I got my feet up under me and stood, I clasped my hands together and with all my strength swung both of my arms together in a roundhouse, which caught her hard on the temple. She flopped to the floor out cold. I wanted to see if she had a gun on her, but I didn’t have time.

  The short person was just getting out of his seat. I started moving towards him, and luckily the plane was in some turbulence, which helped to mask my movements. I was about five feet behind him when something made him start to turn. I leaped at him and slipped the cuffs over his head and around his neck. I jerked back as hard as I could. We both went over backwards with him on top of me. I lifted my head to the side, so as not to not bang it on the hard floor or get smashed in the face by the back of his head. My back took the brunt of the fall, but he was not moving. I think I broke his neck. I was reaching for his weapon in his shoulder holster when for the first time I noticed a very big Arab waking up on a bunk directly behind the cockpit. I had shorty’s pistol out and had just enough time to chamber it. Then the big man was standing pointing his pistol at me, and I was lying on the floor with shorty on top of me, pointing his pistol back at the big man.

  We were both motioning to each other to lay our guns down. It was a Mexican standoff. I had the advantage. They had gone to a lot of trouble to take me somewhere alive. I had a human shield who, may or may not have been someone important to the big man. When it was clear to me that he was not about to lay down his gun, I thought, Oh hell, and pulled the trigger. He was big and didn’t go down, so I kept pumping slugs in to him. He got two or three shots off. I know for fact that at least one of them hit my shield. I could feel it hit.

  No sooner had he gone down, the cockpit door opened and the copilot came out with a pistol. The plane was bumping around when I fired my first shot at him. I missed. He started to shoot back. I think my shield might’ve taken another hit before the copilot fell back dead on the instrument panel. I must’ve fired three of four shots. Unfortunately some of them hit the instrument panel, or they might’ve gone through the copilot and into the instrument panel. I was sure of this because sparks and smoke were coming out of the panel. The pilot was having a very hard time controlling the plane. He had his hands full with the plane. I wasn’t worried about him. I needed to get these cuffs off. I rolled my shield off me and made my way back to where Lana was. She was still out cold on the floor. Maybe I had killed her.

  I hoped she had the keys on her. She did, as well as her weapon. I undid the cuffs and chained her to the bunk as a precaution. I didn’t have time to do more.

  When I got back to the cockpit, I held the pistol on the pilot and started asking questions. He was struggling hard to keep the plane in the air. We were in trouble. I wanted to find out where we were. When he wouldn’t answer my questions I jabbed him in the ribs with the pistol.

  He laughed and said, “What are you going to do kill me?”

  “You have a good point there. I think I’ll just shoot you in the foot. How is that?”

  That got him talking a little. We were off the coast of Africa over the Atlantic.

  “Look you shot the shit out of the plane. We are going down. I cannot keep us airborne any lon
ger.” It was a clear night with a moon. We were over water, and off in the distance I cold see land.

  I said, “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re all that we have. You’re the pilot. This is a seaplane. We’re over water. You can land us safely.”

  “I’m not the pilot. You killed the pilot, and I am new.”

  “How new, is new?”

  “I only made three landings before. They were all on very flat water without any problems to the plane.”

  “Well you’re the pilot now. I am the copilot. So just get it as close to shore as you can and set her down. If there’s anything I can do to help, tell me.”

  “Yes you can shut up, so I can say my prayers to Allah”

  “Okay Captain. I will just buckle up and enjoy the scenery.”

  He had used the fire extinguisher before I got up to the cabin, but there was still smoke coming out. I could hear electrical sparking sounds. He was fighting the controls with everything he had. It didn’t look good. The waves were coming up fast. When we were about 50 feet over the water I could see we were going to nosedive, I yelled for him to drop the tail.

  He screamed, “I can’t!”

  For a second it looked like we were going to take a direct dive into the water. Somehow he managed to get it up so we just dove through the top of a wave. Water came up over the plane and we spun around. That’s when I hit my head on something. I don’t know what, but I was unconscious.

  I don’t think I was out very long. When I came to blood was running down into my eyes. I had a nasty gash on the head, but I had done better than my pilot had. He was slumped over, with a huge gash in his chest. One of the blades of the prop must have broken through the windshield, spun through him and continued out his side of the plane. There was a big open slash where part of the prop had exited the cockpit. I could see one pontoon had been almost completely ripped off and was hanging but it still seemed to be floating halfway. It was time to move. I didn’t know how much longer we would stay afloat. We were listing badly to one side and there was water sloshing around. It had come in through the broken windshield. I found a flashlight and started to look around for anything I could use. I hoped this seaplane would have a raft. Lana was still out cold or maybe dead. I didn’t have time to check. I started opening storage compartments and lo and behold a raft, so far so good. The next compartment yielded an outboard motor with a six-gallon gas can in a special vented container. The outboard was a good old Evinrude. It was good luck that the raft was a self-inflator. I dragged it over to the door, got a good hold on the bowline, and let it rip. It opened up nicely. I tied it off securely.