Alexa - Legionnaire : Training an Assassin: Prequel to Alexa - The Series

by Arno Joubert

  Major Mattew Deu stood in full bush uniform, swatting the mosquitoes away with his hand. “In the Legion we never emphasize brute strength. Our soldiers are wiry and have massive endurance.” He removed his floppy-brimmed boonie hat and wiped the perspiration from his shaven head. “In sparring, always remember that a soldier is able to easily triumph against larger opponents.”

  He called Alexa over. “Show them, Captain. You need to use your opponent’s larger muscles as a weapon against them. You aim your first couple of blows at the pectoral muscles or biceps, surprising the enemy and causing a lactic acid buildup in the muscle fibers.” Alexa demonstrated by throwing jabs and hooks at Deu’s arms and chest. “Eventually, your opponent will stagger around helplessly, unable to defend himself.”

  He mopped his brow then fixed an unblinking eye on the men in front of him. “Remember this, you are going to need this information today.” He smiled. “And if you’re bleeding, it means you are still alive.” He turned to Alexa. “Talk to your men, Captain,” he ordered and sauntered away, lighting a cigarette.

  “Attention!” Alexa ordered, and her troops snapped to attention. “We’ll have a sparring session at 1700 hours. The twenty men left standing will continue with their training, the others will be discharged.”

  She waited for the murmurs to subside. It was a brutal way of thinning out the ranks, but it ensured the men with the biggest hearts continued. “Remember what you were taught. It’s going to be tough, so get some rest,” she said. They saluted, then they broke ranks and disappeared into the jungle, muttering unhappily.

  Alexa had spent the past year training under the watchful eye of Major Mattew Deu, learning how to hunt and survive in the jungles of French Guiana. Which grubs, plants and roots were edible. How to find fresh water. Major Deu was a Legionnaire veteran, having recently completed his fourth five-year stint. He loved the place. One of his insightful sayings was that you could take a Legionnaire out of the jungle, but you couldn’t take the jungle out of a Legionnaire.

  He had promoted Alexa to captain shortly after she arrived, and he put her in charge of the newly graduated troops’ jungle training.

  Alexa marched to her makeshift office, wiping her hair back off her brow. A torrential downpour had been bucketing down, the water forming a solid sheet you could hardly see through. She walked faster when she heard angry voices then noticed a commotion outside her tent. The sentry posted at the opening of her tent was pointing his rifle at two members of Alexa’s brigade. They were trying to shove their way past the man.

  “Stand down, soldiers,” the guard said. He flipped off the safety catch to the rifle and lifted the weapon to his shoulder. “You will not be granted entry unless the captain gives her express permission.”

  The two men stepped back, but they stood steadfast in the rain, drenched to the bone, squinting from beneath their soaked berets. “We request to see Captain Guerra now,” one of them shouted over the roar of the rain.

  She jogged forward. “Stand down,” she commanded her sentry.

  He glanced sideways and she nodded. He stood to attention and lowered his rifle to his side.

  She found cover at the opening to her tent, scrutinizing the sorry pair. They stood shivering and had to bow their heads to inhale a lungful of dry air, wet uniforms plastered to their skins. She waved them into her tent, and they followed her inside. Alexa picked up two towels from the foot of her bed and tossed them towards the men without looking back. She flung her Kepi on her bunk bed then strode to her desk and poured three glasses of cognac.

  She turned around to face her men. Reg Voelkner and Bis Latorre. Laiveaux had personally requested they accompany Alexa to the jungle. They had been her right-hand men. They were standing to attention, dripping, the towels still on the floor.

  “Well, pick them up and dry yourself off, men. You’re making a mess.”

  They grabbed the towels off the floor, pulled off their berets, and rubbed their heads and faces.

  She pushed her provisions chest towards them with a boot. “Sit.” She placed the drinks in front of them on the floor.

  She sat on her desk, sipping her drink, studying the two men. Alexa pulled out a pack of Gauloise and offered them each one, which they took with trembling hands.

  She handed her Zippo to Voelkner. “What is so damn important?”

  Voelkner lit his cigarette, handed the lighter to Latorre, and inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs. “This stuff will kill you, Captain,” he said with a grin, holding up the cigarette. Latorre chuckled. They were drunk.

  Alexa was becoming impatient. The two soldiers sat there, resigned, puffing at their cigarettes and sipping their drinks, as if they had accepted some bizarre fate unbeknownst to her.

  “Well, spit it out.”

  Voelkner lowered his eyes to the ground then bit his nails. “Captain, we have come to you in the spirit of the Legionnaire motto of Honor and Fidelity above all else.”

  “Yes?” Alexa said, shifting her position on the table

  “We have information of a heinous crime that was committed, and we are unable to hide the truth anymore,” Latorre said, his eyes darting up from beneath his short bangs.

  “Go on,” Alexa prodded, her tone suspicious.

  Latorre took another drag of the cigarette then blew the smoke from his nose. He looked up uncertainly. “Two years ago, a troop called Benedict Pascoe was found murdered on obstacle course three next to the main compound in Aubagne, France.”

  Alexa felt a jolt run through her spine. “You know who did it?”

  “Yes, we do,” Voelkner said nervously, glancing sideways at Latorre.

  Latorre sat up straight, jutting out his chin. “We did.”

  “We are here to accept our punishment,” Voelkner said with a slight slur.

  Alexa stared at the soldiers. She slipped off her desk and marched outside, calling to the sentry. He jogged towards her. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Get me the military police.”

  “Yes, Captain.” He saluted and splashed into the downpour, disappearing from view within an instant.

  She strode to her drawer and removed a pair of handcuffs. “I have one pair, gentleman. Put them on your left wrists,” she said and tossed them in Voelkner’s lap.

  They did as they were told and sat shackled to each other, a resigned look on their faces.

  Voelkner held his glass to Alexa. “May I have another, Captain?”

  She filled his glass and offered more to Latorre, who refused.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because he was a malicious bastard,” Latorre spat.

  Voelkner glanced at Latorre and continued. “He was a murderer. A mass murderer. He confessed to killing thirteen girls before escaping from a courthouse in Italy.”

  Voelkner fumbled around in the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out a damp piece of paper. He handed a newspaper clipping to Alexa.

  She scanned the contents. Pascoe was convicted for the murder of thirteen Italian girls, aged sixteen to twenty-seven, over a period of six years. He was sentenced to lifelong imprisonment at a high-security penitentiary in Milan.

  “You would have been next,” Latorre said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

  Alexa looked at him questioningly.

  “He was making sadistic remarks behind your back and going into sickening details of what he wanted to do to you.”

  Voelkner sighed and scratched the dark stubble on his cheek. “He was getting inside the troops’ heads, turning them against you. He said you were getting special treatment, that Laiveaux was feeding you behind our backs. The day you beat him up, he was furious. He was planning on murdering you, sorting you out for good.”

  “So we sorted him out first. And the guilt is killing me. I need to face the consequences,” Latorre slurred vehemently.

  Someone pulled the zip at the entrance of the tent up and down twice, army protocol for a knock at the door. Alexa scratched around in her d
rawer and found they keys to the handcuffs. She tossed them to Voelkner, who missed. He fell to his knees and fumbled around, trying to pick them up with trembling hands.

  “Uncuff yourselves.”

  She walked to the entrance and apologized to the waiting MP, explaining there had been a misunderstanding. He saluted and marched away.

  She frowned at Latorre and Voelkner. “You’re dismissed. I will talk to both of you tomorrow.”

  “But Captain—”

  “Dismissed. Out now. We will talk tomorrow.”

  Latorre followed Voelkner outside, a mixture of concern and relief painted on their faces.

  Alexa hastily scribbled a note on a blank piece of paper, folded it up, and put it in an envelope. She wrote Laiveaux’s telegram short code on the front of the envelope and handed it to the guard in front of her tent.

  “Get this telegram to General Laiveaux, for his eyes only.”

  The guard saluted and turned away to complete his errand. Alexa stood alone, biting her lip as she shook her head in wonder.

  An hour later, the sentry was back with an answer from Laiveaux. It read, “I second your suggestion. The paperwork will be completed by tomorrow.”

  Alexa folded the telegram and put it in her drawer. She went to bed satisfied and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The following morning she called Voelkner and Latorre back into her tent. They stood in front of her, fidgeting.

  She started. “I would like to thank you for saving my life by taking care of Pascoe.”

  Voelkner wanted to say something, but she held up her hand. “Furthermore, I do not want you to feel you’ve broken the Legion’s code of honor and fidelity.” She paused and looked at both men. “You have upheld it by saving a fellow troop’s life.”

  “Yes but—” Latorre said.

  “Let me finish,” Alexa said. “I have discussed the matter with General Laiveaux, and he feels the same way as I do.”

  She removed two blue ribbons from her pocket and attached them to the soldiers’ breasts, left of their pockets. “The Legionnaire's medal of honor, the only accolade ever given to soldiers for risking their lives to save that of another.” She saluted them smartly. “This medal entitles you to a full French pension and benefits. The day you step out of here, you never need to work again.”

  They turned to each other, incredulous smiles on their faces.

  “Well done, gentleman. As recipients of the ribbon, you have automatically been promoted to Sous-Lieutenant, in charge of your own section of men.” She pinned the epaulets to their shoulders. “Congratulations.”

  They spontaneously stood to attention and recited the Legionnaire code of honor.

  “Légionnaire, you are a volunteer serving France with honor and fidelity.”

  Alexa saluted.

  “Each legionnaire is your brother in arms, whatever his nationality, his race, or his religion might be. You show him the same close solidarity that links the members of the same family.”

  The soldiers gathered in front of her tent. Latorre and Voelkner joined them, and they all recited in a chorus.

  “Respectful of traditions, devoted to your leaders, discipline and comradeship are your strengths, courage and loyalty your virtues.

  “Proud of your status as Legionnaire, you display this in your always impeccable uniform, your always dignified but modest behavior, and your clean living quarters.

  “An elite soldier, you train rigorously, you maintain your weapon as your most precious possession, and you take constant care of your physical form.”

  She ambled outside and smiled. The entire brigade was standing in formation outside her tent, their fists to their hearts. They weren’t dressed in uniform; some were still wearing their pajamas, but all had their white Kepis on. Latorre and Voelkner joined their ranks.

  “The mission is sacred, you carry it out until the end and, if necessary in the field, at the risk of your life.

  “In combat, you act without passion and without hate, you respect defeated enemies, and you never abandon your dead, your wounded, or your arms.”

  The entire brigade saluted. Alexa nodded at her men, proudly. She saluted them. She called Voelkner and Latorre to the front and announced their new ranks. White Kepis flew into the air and the troops grabbed hold of Voelkner and Latorre, tossing them in the air and catching them with clasped arms.

  They broke out into song.

  “Our ancestors died, for the Legion's name

  We will soon all perish and all die the same

  During our far-off and bloody campaigns

  Facing fever and fire and sadness and pain

  Old man Death you can't fetch us

  For the Legion has claimed us

  And we are many and hallowed and famed.”

  “Everyone has the day off,” she announced. She turned to her sentry. “Order the mess to distribute additional rations of brandy to the troops.” He nodded and marched away, a smile on his face.

  The festivities continued until late into the night.

  Legion Headquarters

  Aubagne, France

  Present Day

  “Come in,” Laiveaux said and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “So, my girl, it’s been five years?”

  Alexa removed her dark glasses, folded them, and placed them on the table in front of her.

  Laiveaux motioned for her to sit, took two tumblers from a side table, and filled them to the brim. He pushed one towards Alexa.

  She smiled a “thank you” and finished half. Laiveaux swallowed his drink in one gulp, gesturing to Alexa to do the same. She quaffed hers.

  He studied her for a while. She wore a black turtleneck sweater and jeans. She sat upright in her chair, not flinching from his gaze as she used to in the past. Her face was deeply tanned and her shoulders pushed back proudly. She looked toned and lithe and dangerous. Laiveaux filled the glasses again. “So what happens next, Captain?”

  Alexa sat back in her chair and gracefully folded one leg over the other. “I would like to complete the mission, General.”

  “You think you’re ready?”

  She smiled but said nothing. She radiated energy, her green eyes sparkling.

  Laiveaux couldn’t keep his eyes off her; he was amazed at her transformation. He had sent a naive girl into the boondocks, and she had come back beautiful and strong. Like a lithe, graceful, beautiful cat. Yes, she reminded him of a jaguar.

  He refilled their glasses and tore his eyes away from her. He removed a manila envelope from his desk and pushed it towards Alexa. She tossed her drink back and placed the glass on the table, then opened the envelope and scanned the contents. She looked at him questioningly.

  “Your next mission,” Laiveaux said.

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Sergeant Neil Allen, former marine. Dishonorably discharged.” Laiveaux leaned back in his chair. “Bruce will fill you in on his background. Let’s just say we need him and he needs us, although he doesn’t know it yet.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “The Dalerians?”

  “Callahan, Perreira, same old. But they have a new member.”

  “Who?”

  “We don’t know yet. They have a contact in the States funding their operation. All of the intel we could gather is in there. You will have to piece the rest together.”

  “Same stuff?” she asked.

  Laiveaux sighed, taking a sip of his drink. “They are definitely involved in rhino poaching. The rest we don’t know. That is where you come in. You need to find out.”

  “With Allen’s help?”

  Laiveaux nodded. “He knows their background.” He stood and walked around his desk, pulling a passport from his pocket. He scribbled a number on a piece of paper, put it in the passport, and handed it to her. “My personal cell number.”

  Alexa accepted it, stood and saluted the general. He smiled and held out his arms. He pecked Alexa once on each cheek and g
ave her a hug. “I am proud of you, my girl. I wish I could protect you, but this is your time to shine. To make the world a better place.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ll miss you, General.”

  Laiveaux kissed her forehead. “Stay strong. Do good.”

  She nodded and turned around, opened the door, and glanced over her shoulder. She smiled at the general and waved a final good-bye.

  The Dalerians were in for one hell of a surprise, Laiveaux thought as she closed the door behind her.

  The sentry at Laiveaux’s door pulled up the handle from Alexa’s Rimowa rolling suitcase and handed it to her. She nodded her thanks. Everything she owned was in there. Exactly seven items of clothing, which she could combine into dozens of outfits.

  It also contained an electric toothbrush, makeup bag, and seven sets of underwear, still in the packaging.

  She strolled to the gate where Voelkner and Latorre were waiting with a bottle of champagne. She was going to be drunk soon if the celebrations continued for much longer. They popped the cork and each took a slug out of the bottle before handing it to her.

  “Are you excited, Captain?” Latorre asked.

  “I must admit, I am.” She swallowed a mouthful of the bubbly.

  Voelkner grabbed her shoulder. “Anytime you need our help, you know where to find us, Captain.”

  She smiled and pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “Don’t become a stranger now,” Latorre said, hugging her.

  She nodded sadly then checked her watch. “I need to get going, men.” She hated these drawn-out good-byes.

  They waved good-bye as she marched away, then they turned around and closed the large doors to the compound behind them.

  She switched on her new cell phone and punched a number from memory. It was answered after one ring. “Hello, Dad, I’m out. When do we start?”

  General Alan Laiveaux swigged the brandy in one swallow. He grimaced. He never liked the taste of the stuff, only how it made him feel afterward. He eyed the cell phone on his desk speculatively.