by C. R. Daems
"Well, do you still want to be Kazaks?"
"Yes," was the unanimous and instantaneous response.
"It's like a gang initiation that never quits," Jody added. Carla nodded agreement.
"It's like an ongoing hell week," Megan said with a laugh. "Regardless how this ends, we owe you. I would have quit by now if I hadn't known what to expect. I thought you were just cruel. Now I know you weren't."
"I did too. I thought we needed friends for support; however, I watched two brothers helping each other. They failed the second challenge because they couldn't help each other. We hope the others succeed, but each of us has to depend on ourselves."
"What if you fail the next challenge?" I asked. I knew the chances of all making Kazak were close to zero.
"I think it was worth it. I learned a lot about myself and what I'm capable of. And I've earned the equivalent of a college degree. I won't have any trouble finding work in some security business. I might even start my own," Carla said with a grin. We sat around talking for several hours. They all agreed the experience was worth it regardless of the outcome.
For the next four months, I watched the fourth challenge with Master Johar. Jody passed. She was excellent with guns and identifying Assassins and average with hand-to-hand, knives, and batons. Megan also passed. She excelled at hand-to-hand, knives, and identifying Assassins, and average at the rest. Carla was good at everything but excelled at nothing. She was told to leave along with four men. Two women and eight men stayed for the fifth challenge.
***
Witton called a few days later. "Time to come home Lynn."
"Got another easy assignment for me, boss?"
"No. This time I think it's a hard one, one that might cause you to lose your perfect life. I'm sorry, but I have no choice. The committee stipulated you. I hate to admit it but I agreed," his voice a monotone. At first I thought he was joking. Then I realized he wasn't. The thought scared me when I realized he meant being a Kazak, not dying. Then I shrugged. I asked for this life and I couldn't change what was coming. As I said to the Kazak instructor that thought the Hill was no place for a woman: Get used to it, I'm staying.
"Well, it's about time. Those easy assignments are boring." I had to laugh at the silence that greeted me-Witton with nothing to say. He sounded a little less down when he finally spoke.
"The company plane will be waiting for you tomorrow. It will fly you to Denver. You are taking a one-week vacation. Ann Marie will make arrangements for your return here. The details of your assignment haven't been clarified yet, but should be by then." He hung up. If this were my last meal, so to say, I was going to enjoy it. I called Clare.
***
"Witton gave you a week's vacation and you're not injured?" Clare looked at me hard. "And sent the company plane. What's the bill for this?"
"The Committee has given me an assignment he doesn't like. I guess it's his way of apologizing in advance." I smiled trying to minimize the implied seriousness of the coming assignment. I had spent the night in the temple on the Hill and was at peace with whatever was to come.
"I could take some time off and we could go someplace."
"No. I'm quite content to be home with you. I'm sure we can find something to do," I said with a genuinely wicked smile. Clare did take some time off. We ate out at very expensive restaurants, went hiking in the Rocky Mountains, took a white water rafting trip, and spent glorious nights in each other's arms. When I showed no signs of being nervous, Clare appeared as relaxed as possible by the end of the week. I convinced her it was just another assignment.
CHAPTER TEN
I guess I should have been nervous since Witton had sent the company plane and a limo was waiting when I departed the plane. I usually only got this sort of treatment when I had been injured on an assignment. In addition, I didn't have to wait to see Witton and Ann Marie served me coffee as I sat down. The bill for this was going to be BIG. Witton sat quietly as I sipped my coffee.
"Two months ago, Samuel the Lion shot his client. When we eventually located him, he was in the bar, drunk. The Committee concluded he was unstable and took him into custody. Three weeks ago, Vince the Panther killed his client. He keeps saying he killed an Illusion Assassin. The Committee has taken custody of him. Although they have tentatively concluded he is unstable, they are concerned about the Kazaks. It won't take but one or two more of these instances to shut down the organization."
"What do they want with me? I can't see the connection." Kazak life wasn't for everyone and could be extremely stressful. But why shoot a client. Some, like Governor Masson, were assholes but...a good whack upside his head I could understand.
"I don't believe in coincidence. Two Kazaks killing their clients within weeks of each other and both believing they shot an Illusion Assassin doesn't feel right. Furthermore, both clients were sons of influential men. The children were used as leverage against the men. The Committee has conceded there is a possibility they are related."
"And you have a similar client for me," I ventured. I now understood Witton's comment about losing the life I love. If I fail, the Committee would take me into custody with some uncertain future and the Kazaks would be disbanded. Of course the Kazaks would be disbanded no matter who took this assignment and failed. In either case I would lose the life I love and maybe even Clare-the Committee was unlikely to let Samuel, Vince, or me loose.
"Who's the client?" Better me than someone else deciding my future.
"I hate to admit it, but I would have picked you if the Committee had let me. Better a Fox than a fighter." Witton actually smiled. "I don't care who you kill, Lynn, so long as it's not the client."
"I want to talk to Samuel and Vince. That's my only condition." I wanted their side of the incident-one Kazak to another.
"I'll tell the Committee."
***
The next day a six passenger Citation stood waiting at the Potomac Airport, a privately owned airfield just south of Alexandra. A tall woman in her forties greeted me as I entered the plane. She had a dark-blue jacket pulled in at the waist, matching skirt, a white blouse open at the neck, and no jewelry. She checked her iphone before smiling.
"Kazak Lynn the Fox, I'm Catherine, welcome aboard."
"Thank you, Catherine."
"We'll leave as soon as you're settled. Is that all your luggage?" she asked looking at my gym-sized bag.
"That's it. I'm used to traveling light." She let me precede her and I took a seat in the back. I didn't know who was going to attack me, but habits are hard to break. She had a laptop that contained information about me, judging from the way she checked it as she questioned me about my past, the Hill, assignments, and Clare. Occasionally, she stopped to type something. Sometime later, a young steward brought us drinks and a light lunch. She took a glass of red wine. I declined in favor of coffee.
"You don't drink alcohol, Lynn?" she asked. I wondered if this were part of updating my records or some kind of evaluation.
"What are you, Catherine?" I had answered enough questions.
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
"I'm just updating your records." She gave me a grandmotherly smile. I laid back and closed my eyes. I had enough of this nonsense. She made multiple attempts at continuing the interview or whatever. I stayed mute. Much later, I heard the steward announce preparation for landing and I buckled up.
"You are very stubborn, Lynn." Catherine said when she saw me awake.
"No, Catherine. You're very stubborn. You asked me a hundred questions and I answered them all candidly. I asked you one and you avoided answering. You may work for the Committee, you may be on the Committee, or the Committee may work for you. I don't really care. The game's over." She had the nerve to smile.
"Like you, I work for the Committee. Right now I'm trying to resolve what happened with the two client shootings. What actually happened and what Vince and Samuel said happened are at odds. And the Committee feels you mig
ht resolve the issue; therefore, I'm interested in you. And who knows..."
"And who knows, I may become another Samuel or Vince for you to analyze." I laughed. "Perhaps Samuel, Vince, and you are confusing the result with what really happened."
"Do you know something we don't?"
"I only know Kazaks don't shoot their clients for no reason. Therefore you and I are starting from two different perspectives." We were both silence after that exchange. A limo awaited us when we departed the plane. Looking around, the airfield was privately owned and, unlike Potomac, it didn't appear public. An hour later we arrived at an armed checkpoint. The guard waved us through after seeing Catherine's ID. I suspected she was a significant player and closely connected to the Committee. A couple of miles later we arrived at a complex of several one and two story buildings made out of a gray-stone blocks. Two fences separated by several yards surrounded a long one-story building. There was no barbed wire but I would bet that area was crawling with electronics-detection and weaponry. The guards, which were plentiful, were dressed in combat gear but with no insignia.
Catherine led me through a gate with two armed guards, who passed us without comment when she held up her badge. Inside the building was a small room with a guard behind a barred window counter.
"You must relinquish any weapons before you can enter," Catherine said as the door closed behind us. I'd bet there was no way out of this room without the guard's permission. I removed the Glock and two knives I was carrying and placed them on the counter with my bag, which had several more guns and knives. The guards took them and I heard the door into the building's interior click open. There I went through an x-ray scanner and then another set of locked doors into a long hallway. I noticed the guard turned off the scanner for Catherine. We passed what looked like an exercise room, a small cafeteria, and were led into a small conference room with a couple of padded chairs and steel table capable of seating four or five persons. A short time later, a short stocky man was led into the room by two guards. His hands and legs were in chains. They secured his chains to the floor before he could sit.
"This is Samuel the Lion," Catherine said. "Samuel this-"
I held up my hand to stop her. "Kazak Samuel the Lion, I'm Kazak Lynn the Fox."
He laughed. I'd had bet it was the first one in a long time. "I loved your Lynn Board. It must be a bitch for Witton to find you a client." With the word client, he sobered.
"Samuel, I want you to tell me every detail surrounding the shooting of your client. Unlike others, I don't believe any Kazak shoots a client without cause. Even if you do, please humor me."
"I would like to believe you, Lynn. I was following George, my client's son, through the lobby of his hotel when I heard a bang, sort of like a gunshot. Now that I had time to think about it, I don't think it was a gun. I spun around gun drawn. The lobby had quite a few people at that time. Most were looking around not sure what made the noise, some were running towards the exit. I saw George standing some twenty feet away and wondered how he had gotten there. He pointed behind me and shouted, "Watch out he has a gun." I spun around into a snake stance and saw a short bald man with tattoos pointing a gun behind me. I thought he was aiming at George and I fired." Samuel stopped and banged the table, causing Catherine to slide her chair back and the two guards to take a step forward. I held up my hand to stop them. "As the man recoiled backward I saw it was George. I turned back hoping to see George. Mostly the area had cleared. George was dead on the floor but not where I saw him. I don't know why, but I walked into the lounge and sat there drinking until Witton showed. They think I was drunk when I shot George. Lynn, I wasn't." He reached towards me but the chains stopped him. I reached out and put my hands over his.
When I did, one of the guards shouted, "don't touch him. It's not allowed."
I ignored him. "Samuel, I believe you. Like you, I don't understand what happened, but I believe you. The details you and Vince are giving me today are going to help me get you out of here, somehow.
They took Samuel away and brought in Vince, a thin, average height man with light brown skin and a short haircut. He looked stealthy. He was less emotional and sat evaluating me after I introduced myself.
"My client's son, William, was in his junior year of college and hated me tagging along, although I don't know why. It didn't stop him from boozing and screwing. Anyway, we were crossing the campus back to his frat house when he screamed someone had a gun and pointed off to his left. I stepped forward as he stepped backward. I scanned the area but didn't see anything for a moment. Then I saw William pointing behind me, again shouting the man had a gun. I spun back, saw the man with a gun, and fired. I continued to scan the area but by then the kids had dispersed in every direction. I didn't see William and thought he had run off. When I looked down, he lay dead on the ground." Vince sat shaking his head back and forth.
"I believe you Vince. Every word."
***
"Well, Catherine, you best get me back to Arlington. We don't want to keep our killer waiting"
"What are you talking about? Do you think you found something we missed?"
"Yes. You were told exactly what happened but you insist on looking for another explanation. The difference is I believe what Samuel and Vince told me to be the truth. And I'm willing to bet the life I love on it." I didn't have the answer, but I knew the events happened exactly like they said. Catherine was quiet on the way back, although she spent a great deal of time watching me. As I was getting ready to exit the plane at Regan International, Catherine spoke.
"Good luck, Lynn. I hope you're right. I would hate to see the Kazak organization disbanded."
It was late when I arrived back at my condo. I went straight to bed. It had been a long day and I wasn't going to solve the puzzle tonight or here.
***
The next morning I made my way to the seventh floor and Witton's office. Witton's entire staff was already there and working.
"Go right in, Lynn. The boss is expecting you." Ann Marie nodded towards his door and handed me a cup of coffee. I was sure she and Witton could read minds. Witton waved me to a chair as I entered.
"Did you learn anything?"
"I learned what really happened," I said. He looked worried and tired.
"And they didn't already know that?"
"They were told but they don't want to believe it. You and I both know Samuel and Vince thought they were protecting their clients. But we aren't going to solve the mystery here. So who's my client?"
"You're right, although I wish you weren't. She is the daughter of a very wealthy philanthropist, which follows the pattern of the other two clients. All are wealthy, contribute hundreds of millions to charitable causes, and have only one child. In each case, the extortionists demanded fifty million or their child would be killed. They claim to be a charitable organization seeking a cure for depression. The FBI believes they are just clever and well funded criminals. I don't believe it. Something else is going on and I have a bad feeling about it." He took a sip of coffee never taking his eyes off me. He snorted. "It's an irony that I need a Kazak that thinks before he shoots and have the one Kazak that shoots before she thinks." He held up his hand to stop me from responding, although I hadn't intended to. He was right. I relied on my instincts, which have proved good and saved my life more than once. And Clare would like me to shoot faster if that's possible.
"It's a dichotomy, but I feel-and hope-you're the right person. You trust your instincts and they have served you and the Kazak organization well.
"Our killer is not very subtle, but he's very clever. He's threatened the kind of high profile people the Committee is committed to protect. Thus dragging in the Kazaks, who are his real target. The clients are collateral damage." I said, thinking out loud. Based on what Witton had said, I thought I knew the why and maybe who. All that remained was the how. "The sooner I get started the sooner we can settle the problem. Tell-" I stopped. If I shoot my client, the FBI who were sure to be tag
ging along, would shoot me. "One condition. The FBI is not allowed to follow me. They can guard her house or apartment or whatever if they like but not the client."
"No one is going to like that. Instinct?" Witton's eyes narrowed. I nodded.
"I should get started. We aren't going to solve the mystery sitting here. Where can I find my client?"
"Their family home is in New York City. Miss Sandra Waldenmyer is a junior at Duke University. She is working on an A.B. in Earth and Ocean Sciences and rents a house on Chapel Hill Road within easy access to the University. I'm told she and her two roommates use bikes to and around the campus. I'll have one there for you by the time you arrive. The FBI is already there. I will contact the Committee with your request to restrict them to her residence, Duke and New York. Good luck, Lynn."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The house was a one-story bungalow with a wrap-around porch-and swarming with FBI. I saw one in the back yard and another sitting on the front porch.
"What you want, ma'am?" the young man on the porch asked. He was trying to look like a college student with jeans and loose shirt, but the bulge under his shirt didn't fit the image, although he probably wasn't long out of college.
"Lynn," I said as I opened the door and walked in. The one sitting off to the side in the living room almost knocked over his chair when he jumped up while reaching for his gun.
"Hi, I'm Lynn the Kazak. Where's Sandra?" I wasn't worried about being shot. Agents are slow to shoot because there are too many consequences: moral considerations, boards of inquiry, legal consequences... Sure enough, he lowered the gun and shouted.
"Vernon, the Kazak's here." He didn't look friendly. A minute later a stocky man came walking down the hall. His frown didn't make him look friendly either. From the deep lines around his mouth and the curve of his lips, I doubted he ever looked friendly.
"Well, if it isn't the our-shit-doesn't-smell Kazak here to show us amateurs how to do our job."