Encountering Evil: Dark Horse Guardians Book Two

by Armstrong, Ava

  Rusty spoke first with a fatherly hint of concern, “You okay?” Thank God he wasn’t looking at her, she thought, as she felt her face contorting. Lara didn’t answer right away. She loathed crying. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, but there was no stopping the tears as they filled her eyes. “I hate feeling like this…” she finally uttered with a sense of desperation. Rusty looked away, “I know…” Lara felt safe enough with him to unleash all of her inner thoughts in one massive torrent, “I’m so stupid. Why did I open the door for a stranger? What’s the matter with me? If Ben had been home this wouldn’t have happened. Why does he have to be gone so much? He loves his superman job more than he loves me. He wants to save the world while his own wife is left alone for weeks to move by herself, to fend for herself, to be attacked by some lunatic. I’m having second thoughts about everything. This is why his first marriage didn’t work. He was never there. He doesn’t even have a relationship with his own son.”

  ~Rusty~

  Rusty was all too familiar with Lara’s anger. He was surprised it hadn’t surfaced much sooner. He expected to hear this while she was in the hospital. Although she wouldn’t agree, he knew the sobbing was good for her and he was comfortable enough with the process to let her finish. But there was one important point he had to impress upon her, and he would do so once she gave him the time and space. She was dancing all around the real problem. Blaming Ben and doubting herself would not serve her well in the end. But right now he knew she had to go through the roller coaster of emotions, fear and anger and blaming…and after she was done with that part…she would become rational again.

  It caused him pain to see her like this. When he first met Lara, the two of them spent many fishing trips like this together in the small aluminum boat – not more than 200 yards from the camp on the tranquility of the pond. It was the safe haven that Lara needed where she could let it all go. It had taken a couple of years, but he had finally gotten her to the point of not crying and having reasonable conversations, sometimes filled with humor and a dash of practical wisdom thrown in. But listening to her now, he knew his work was not finished. And, although he tried to hide his tender feelings, he bit his lip to prevent the tears forming in his eyes. He had to be strong for her now.

  ~Lara~

  Exhausted from her outburst, she had finally stopped crying. The rage seemed to have diminished somewhat. For a moment she felt foolish. Without speaking, Rusty handed her a cold bottle of water from the cooler, sensing she needed it. Silently, he handed her a tissue and she blew her nose and dried her eyes. She longed to stay with him there in the boat for hours, maybe for days on end. She felt safe with him on the pond. Why did the world have to be such a cruel and dangerous place? Or was it her reaction to the world that was the problem? She took a long pull from the water bottle. “Thanks for the drink.” She glanced at Rusty. He was fiddling around with his fishing line, “Hey! I think I got a bite!” he said with a tinge of excitement. Reeling in a good sized bass, he examined the fish before releasing it back into the cool water of the pond.

  Lara whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all of those things. I love Ben.” Rusty looked her squarely in the eye, “I know you do, honey. And, it’s all right to blow up like that when you feel the need. I understand.” Lara looked into the placid water and it reminded her of Ben and how she longed to have him there with her. “I miss him. It’s worse to experience incredible love with him, then have him leave for long periods of time. At least before I met him, when I was alone I never knew what I was missing. I had never experienced the joy of being with him…and never knew how that would change my life.” Lara became silent.

  ~Rusty~

  Rusty sensed she was ready to listen and took the opening. “Lara, do you remember when we first met. You showed up on my doorstep wanting your concealed carry permit. I saw a determined, smart, strong young woman, not only willing to obtain a permit but willing to hone her skills to become a highly skilled shooter – beating me at least half of the time. As we became friends, and you told me why you felt the need to protect yourself, I sensed that you had a rock solid core of strength inside of you that no one could destroy. You weren’t just honing your skills for safety, you were in pursuit of perfection. You dedicated years of hard work toward your black belt in Tae Kwan Do. Whatever you set your mind to do, you did it. Hell, you even started your own business fresh out of college.” She was listening, he continued, “Meeting Ben was another challenge for you. But you knew what you stood for. You stuck to your principles and wouldn’t be intimate with him until he was legally divorced. You knew how much he loved you. Hell, everyone knew. The guy poured his heart out to me more than once. I told him you’d be worth the wait, and you know what he said to me at your wedding? He said, you were right; she was worth the wait.

  You shot a terrorist stalking Bettencourt and saved his life at the dojo that day. You are much stronger than you think. You are not stupid for opening the door. The attack made on you was a crazy random act. Many people would have opened the door under those circumstances. Thank God Hawk showed up when he did. If you ask me, an angel was sitting on your shoulder that day.

  And, as for Ben being away a lot, you knew going into the marriage your life would be filled with upheaval due to Ben’s chosen profession. The other SEAL wives talked with you about the difficulties you’d encounter being married to Ben. They warned you it wouldn’t be easy. Professor Harris warned you, I warned you. It takes a special woman to be married to a man like Ben who’s putting his life on the line. It takes a woman with a core of strength inside of her that can’t be destroyed.

  One thing I know for certain: Ben loves you, Lara, and I know he would do anything for you – and I mean anything. You have to decide if you would do anything for him. You have to decide if you are strong enough to not only be his wife, but his partner -- an equal. Only you can decide if you are strong enough to carry the unique burdens, the fear of being alone for long periods, living life without him there by your side at critical times. Only you can decide if you are strong enough to deal with all that life throws at you, moving alone, raising children alone, and building a support group to keep you going. And, as horrible as you feel sometimes, do you want him to feel responsible for your feelings? These are things that only you can determine.”

  ~ Ben ~

  Breaking his protocol, Ben left the compound a few more times to contact Lara. Each time he called and heard her lovely voice, he wanted nothing more than to break away and drive home to see her, even for a moment. He felt he’d go mad with worry at times. He cried himself to sleep that night because he’d let her down. He was protecting the United States of America from terrorists, but he had left his own wife vulnerable. More than once, he just wanted to plant the C4 charges and blow the whole compound up and leave. Practicing deep breathing and concentration he tried to keep his mind in a calm state. But it was the most difficult thing he had ever done since leaving the Navy.

  He was assured by Bettencourt that all was well. Lara was with Rusty for a few days on the pond. While he had Bettencourt on the phone, he relentlessly pumped him for all of the information about the attacker. His name was Dillon Varney. He was a useless piece of shit who hadn’t done much with his life except get into trouble with the law. He had multiple drug convictions and a long rap sheet of domestic violence incidents, including rape. At the ripe age of twenty-two his arrest record was longer than his life would be once Ben got his hands on him.

  The bastard must have been watching Lara since moving day. Bettencourt said he was one of the movers for a furniture company where Lara purchased items for the new house. He knew she was alone in the house. And he knew she tossed the tennis ball for Einstein. Ben was sick with guilt and worry. He felt like his heart was breaking. He was at odds with himself for leaving her alone for so long. He had plenty of time for self-flagellation when he was alone at night.

  His attention shifted quickly to September 11th, as the date was f
ast approaching and Ali Farouz and his henchmen were champing at the bit to get the anthrax attack underway. Every day leading up to the attack, several men practiced flying the two dozen tiny drones with precision accuracy. If, in fact, this had been anthrax they were disbursing, it would have been disastrous. As they prepared, Ben watched, waited, and pretended to do important experiments in the laboratory. He continued his nightly visits with Rashida in the kitchen. Her trust was valuable to him. He stayed on her good side; he needed unfettered access to the kitchen when the time was right.

  A special feast the night before September 11th was planned only for the men. The warriors would be treated to a delicious meal before they fought the jihad against the infidels. Ben helped Rashida cook the fresh camel meat and made a lamb stew. He was now familiar with their favorite foods. The night before the feast, Ben visited Rashida in the kitchen and insisted upon helping her with the preparations. He brought the anthrax in the Chanel screw-top containers and waited for her to leave. He moved into the pantry for privacy and put on a surgical mask and goggles. He had little time to finish the task. Rashida would not be long at the Springfield Middle Eastern market to gather the last of the groceries she needed for the meal. With gloved hands, Ben mixed anthrax into the goat cheese that was to be stuffed into bread. A delicacy the men especially loved, Ben added olives to make it even more delectable. Trying not to get the bacterium airborne, he moved with slow precision. Finally the anthrax was mixed into the goat cheese along with olives and put into several large bowls in the refrigerator with a cloth placed over each one of them. When Rashida returned, Ben told her the goat cheese was ready to stuff into the bread and volunteered to do it the next day. She was pleased. She focused on cutting up vegetables and making other dishes.

  Ben was insistent that no women attend the feast before the attack. He convinced the men that women would only bring them bad luck and make them weak. The time to celebrate with women would be a week or two after the attack, when all of the Americans were dying. They could have all the virgins they wanted then. He managed to convince them, a task that wasn’t difficult.

  The night of September 10th the feast officially started at sundown. Ben and Habib helped Rashida in the kitchen in the afternoon stuffing the goat cheese into the bread wearing face masks and gloves. Ben celebrated enthusiastically with the men, as he danced to their music and ate some of the food. He did not, however, eat any of the goat cheese, nor did Habib. The anthrax would make its way through their targets’ gastrointestinal tracts and they'd be dead within two days.

  Ben was detached as he watched the terrorists gorge themselves on the goat cheese. Walking around the room with platters, he made sure every one of the men ate it. Killing was usually a nasty business for Ben, but this time he experienced overwhelming pleasure with the knowledge he would be ridding the world of a small cabal of fifty horrible human beings. He would have preferred killing them much sooner than this. As he watched the men eat the bread stuffed with goat cheese, he knew in his heart this was the right decision.

  Ben's phone vibrated twice while he was sitting next to Ali Farouz and listening to one more of the fat man's boring stories of female conquest. The hour was getting late. The men were worn out from celebrating and dancing and firing their weapons into the night sky. They were now leaving to retire for the evening in their respective trailers. Ben had exercised as much caution as he could in the handling of the anthrax in the kitchen. He couldn’t use the clean suit preparing the poisonous goat cheese concoction; it would’ve been too obvious.

  When he returned to his trailer he immediately showered thoroughly after the celebratory feast. He also took great care to launder his clothing. He advised Habib to do the same and started him on a course of Cipro, a powerful antibiotic that would save him if he inhaled any of the anthrax. Ben had all of the Cipro hidden in his trailer. He had taken all of the Cipro on the compound and replaced it with a placebo. He took the first dose that night and chased it with a few bottles of cold spring water. He knew once the men became sick, they’d dose themselves with the Cipro they had stored in the lab for just such an emergency.

  Alone in his trailer, he propped himself up on the tiny bed and looked at the information Bettencourt had sent to him…the exact coordinates and details he had requested. He scrolled through the photos of Lara on his phone. His phone was the only connection he had to Lara. Even if anyone took his phone, it was encrypted and the sim card was designed to be rendered useless if tampered with. This was the only time he had alone without being observed and he savored it. Staring at Lara in the photos made him feel somewhat closer to her, even though it made the ache of the separation even worse in his heart. He was so close now to finishing his mission, he thought only of holding her when he got home. If he closed his eyes and practiced deep-breathing, he could bring himself to a state where he could envision her face, smell her scent, and imagine her silky hair falling upon him. If he really concentrated, he could hear her voice, see her smile and hear her laugh. He preferred to have this pleasant vision in his mind as he prepared for sleep, although he knew it would not last long. In four or five hours he would awaken sweating and shaking fighting off an imaginary enemy.

  The men of Islam-berg were awake early on the morning of September 11th. Ali Farouz was especially excited on the special day. His henchmen had set up the two dozen drones. Ben had preloaded them with the anthrax (Chanel translucent powder) and the men flew them over the packed Boston stadium for several hours from a short distance away. The whole event went undetected by homeland security.

  The terrorists executing the plan dressed like Westerners in T-shirts and jeans and wore short haircuts and cowboy hats. They shaved their beards and blended in seamlessly with the crowd surrounding the stadium. The drone pilots were in a well hidden spot nearby wearing surgical masks. The men had been all over the stadium numerous times planning this event with Ben by their side. The drone pilots were focused as the Sparrow drones flew overhead undetected releasing the powder continuously down upon thousands of cheering people. Simultaneously, confetti was being released from above and no one seemed to notice the drones. Or, if they did, they probably thought it was a camera filming the game. The specs on this drone was nearly identical to the one Ben used for reconnaissance of the compound prior to his arrival. And, the Chinese had already copied it and were selling them on the open market to terrorists.

  The day of the September 11th was warm and sunny with no wind. Ben watched and waited dressed in a baseball cap with sunglasses in a look-out location near enough to the stadium to observe all that was happening and appeared to reload the drones periodically. His perch was on the rooftop of a building a few hundred yards away. He secretly smiled to himself with the knowledge that the terrorists would all die within a short period of time. After the disbursement of the Chanel translucent powder was completed at the stadium, the men made their way back to the compound and the real celebration began.

  The evil bastards were congratulating themselves and smoking Cuban cigars while shooting their AK’s into the air. Leftover food from the night before was brought out by Rashida and the men were gorging themselves on the leftovers, but the goat cheese was gone. Some of the men were demanding the women dance for them. The women performed as ordered at the feast. Ben sat beside Ali Farouz at the long banquet table placed outside in the front of the community building. As candles were lit the men crouched on the ground in unison murmuring prayers for the maximum number of Americans to die. After the prayers, Ben sat through the surreal scene smiling and waving his hands in the air to encourage the celebration. He knew it was only a matter of a few hours now and he’d be away from this hell hole and soon the evil bastards would all be dead.

  Evening was approaching and Ben wanted nothing more than to get out of town. He told Farouz his plane would be leaving from Boston for his long trip home to Pakistan. With the Sparrow project now completed, Ali Farouz embraced Ben and thanked him profusely for his great help. "W
atch the news…" Farouz bragged excitedly. There will be many Americans getting sick and going to the hospital and dying!" Ben watched as the fat man danced a jig. He ha'd never seen Farouz this excited. Ben smiled and danced around with the terrorists as they fired AK's into the air chanting anti-American slogans: “Death to Americans” and “Islam will conquer the world”…it was like a movie he had watched once, and now he was in it.

  Some of the men were beginning to experience noticeable abdominal pain, the very first stage of anthrax poisoning. Soon they would develop fever, nausea, vomiting and severe diarrhea and at that point it would be too late. Ben had taken all of the real Cipro with him from the compound. His men made sure there would be none available for miles around the place. Once the men dropped dead, the Dark Horse Guardians would move into the compound and bring the women and children to a holding facility. The plan was to reunite them with their respective families in various countries.

  Farouz made much of Ben's departure. "Gather round, all of you," he spoke in Pasto dialect. The men who had been drinking alcohol and dancing became silent. "We must show respect for the good doctor who helped us on this jihad…Doctor Malem…the great Doctor Malem!" The men all made a strange sound, very familiar to Ben, a high-pitched yelling that almost resembled a yodel. Once the excitement subsided, Ali Farouz embraced Ben once again. The foul body odor of the man was nearly unbearable as Farouz spoke glowingly, "Ah, Doctor Malem, we could not have done this without your expertise. This has been the greatest achievement and we thank you for your help. Safe travel back to Pakistan and tell others there how successful we have been!" After a few minutes, Habib arrived with the old Chevy Blazer.