by K. L. Nelson
“Now we can make you work all night long,” Mert said to Lindsay as he looked at her through the blackness. “Just think of the increased productivity. You may actually get something done.”
“Hmm, that’s true,” Lindsay replied, “But I know what you’re really thinking, how much easier it will be to stalk women without getting caught.”
A silence fell over Mert that spoke volumes to the group.
“Moving on…” Emmett said breaking the silence as he opened the door. As the team removed their headgear, he provided earpieces that would allow them to communicate during the operation. The earpiece itself was also the microphone, picking up the vibrations of the voice through the bones around the ear. This allowed the unit to be contained inside the ear, almost completely invisible. Another benefit is that it is hands free, making it ideal for covert operations. The signal transmitted by the tiny devices was encrypted to prevent hackers from listening in.
As a precaution, everyone was fitted with Kevlar stage IV body armor. The lightweight fabric vests fit comfortably yet protected the vitals from even the heavy 7.62mm round of a sniper rifle travelling at over twice the speed of sound. Such a round could penetrate a half inch steel plate if hit straight on, but would be stopped by the tightly woven polymer fibers of the vest. The target would feel the impact for many days, but he would probably live to fight again.
Skye’s mind started to work. The body armor made her think the worst, and she took Emmett aside. “This is a university expedition. I am responsible for these people. If anything happens to them, I could lose everything.”
Emmett looked at her with understanding. “I know,” he answered. “That’s exactly why I’m putting them to work out of harm’s way. You have to admit they tend to find trouble on their own. What should we do, tell them to stay in their rooms? How do you think that would turn out?”
Skye still didn’t like it. It was times like this that she followed her instinct, and she was getting very bad vibes.
“Look, the vests are strictly a precaution,” Emmett assured. “If we lose this opportunity, it’ll set the investigation back months, maybe even years.”
“But your investigation will go on,” Skye countered. “Meanwhile, innocent people are in the hospital or the morgue and I’m looking for a new job.”
Emmett sighed. “Okay, what do you want to do?”
To his surprise, Skye wasn’t interested in backing down. “If it’s our necks on the line, I want in,” she demanded.
Emmett looked shocked. “How much more ‘in’ can you be?” he asked.
“You know what I mean,” she continued. “I’m sure the FBI isn’t going up against a worldwide crime syndicate with one agent. You are amazing Emmett, but not that amazing. Do you expect me to believe you’re going to apprehend this guy yourself while we watch you through these funny binoculars?”
Emmett put his hands on his head and looked at the ceiling. The FBI had made an art form out of fooling the most brilliant criminals in the world, but somehow he was unable to keep anything from this woman. He wondered if he was slipping a bit. At any rate, keeping Skye in the dark wasn’t his goal. Perhaps it was time to level with her. Again.
Emmett stuck his head in the next room and said, “Try not to break anything. We’ll be back soon.” The team was taking turns punching Damien in the ribs with the body armor on. Mert had just procured a baseball bat and was trying to clear the area so he could take a swing.
Emmett drove Skye into the city of Aberdeen, where the FBI had rented an entire floor of an office complex downtown. They rode the elevator up and walked down the hallway to the last door. “This is my team,” he said, opening the door for her.
“Now I know where you get your sense of fashion,” Skye said as she entered the room. Everyone inside was conservatively dressed in business attire.
“Dress code,” a tough looking middle aged man seated at the conference table explained. “We can’t all be archaeologists.”
“We look forward to casual Fridays,” Emmett commented with a funny look.
Skye was introduced to the three new faces beginning with Dax, the tough looking middle aged man. “Pleased to meet you,” he said taking her hand. Skye could tell this man played a key role in the FBI, despite his easy wit and pleasant smile. Or perhaps because of them. Making others feel at ease in stressful situations is a useful talent to an organization like the FBI.
Angela was next, a serious looking woman with dark hair pulled straight back into a French twist. She looked in her late thirties, with makeup applied very precisely and glasses that added a look of elegance to her face. Her pristine clothes continued the theme of sophistication, but as she reached for Skye’s hand Skye could see the service weapon under her jacket. As they struck hands, Skye also noticed something behind Angela’s façade of elegance. Looking into her eyes she could tell this woman was a warrior. She wondered what shade of lipstick Angela wore to the firing range.
Finally there was Rashad. The youngest agent in the Bureau, Rashad had graduated early at the head of his class and was given his choice of assignment. His family was puzzled at his decision to join the FBI. But growing up in the inner city left Rashad with a burning desire to make a difference. Breaking out of that world was an accomplishment few realize, and he knew it. As he applied himself to learning he discovered that it was in fact humanity’s corruption, not its racism that caused most of the social injustice in the world. The FBI was the perfect place to start righting the wrongs. He approached his work at the Bureau with the same tenacity he had his schooling, and his superiors took note. That was why he was assigned to the investigation of The Pact, the Bureau’s highest-profile case.
As Skye greeted Rashad, she saw a confidence in his face that belied his youth. Indeed she was already proud to know each member of Emmett’s team.
But she was more interested in what they were doing at that moment. Several laptop computers were on the table, along with neatly arranged files and stacks of paper. A large LCD screen was mounted on the wall at one end of the room, the obvious focal point of their attention during much of their planning.
With pleasantries out of the way, they got right down to business. Skye knew from the way they started in that Emmett had told them she was coming and why, but for the life of her she could not think when that communication had taken place. She’d been with him the whole time. Sometimes his sneakiness drove her crazy.
The agents laid out the plan for Skye; not just the current sting operation but the entire situation with The Pact. It was then that she realized why Emmett and the FBI were so driven. The Pact had been acting with impunity in every part of the globe. Dax went on for a full fifteen minutes, with Angela and Rashad adding their input as needed. A large map of the world was displayed on the LCD screen. There were red dots all over Europe, Asia, North and South America, Africa, the Pacific Islands; literally every corner of the globe. Dax chose specific dots to give Skye a cross section of The Pact’s activities. When he tapped a dot on the screen, a new window appeared with details of the incident at that location. As the presentation progressed, Skye gained a sense of the insidious nature of The Pact. She began to see they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted.
“You see, Professor,” Dax concluded after the lengthy briefing, “the FBI is not the only agency that wants these guys. Governments around the world want their head on a platter. If this plays out, we may be first in line.”
Strangely, Skye felt energized by all this. She saw a new side of herself welling up inside as she was drawn into the case. There was no fear in her, only an intense desire to make a difference in the investigation. In that moment she completely understood the drive of the people in the room with her.
All eyes were on Skye. She had been looking through the files on the conference table during the whole briefing. Occasionally she would look up and say, “Go on, I’m listening,” to keep the briefing going. She had a talent for focusing on more than one thin
g, but others sometimes didn’t understand.
“You have something to add, Miss McAlister?” Dax pressed after a short pause.
“Call me Skye,” she replied, not looking up. Dax looked at Emmett, who just shrugged.
“What’s this?” Skye finally asked, pushing a photo across the table to the agents.
“Nikolai Sorosa,” Angela replied. “Age 47, operates primarily in Eastern Europe. A.K.A. Gerard Strauss, A.K.A. The Knife.”
“No,” Skye replied, somewhat annoyed, “not who, what.” She leaned across the table and put her finger on the photograph of the man. “What’s this tattoo on his neck?” She picked up another photograph and slid it to the agents, then another. “They all have it.”
“We know,” replied Dax with a sigh. He gestured to Rashad to explain.
“It’s not in any of our databases,” the young agent said. “It’s not associated with any known gang; it’s not a prison tattoo. We’ve had it analyzed a hundred times but we can’t figure it out.”
“I’m not surprised,” Skye said. “It doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Anymore?” Dax asked with interest.
“Nope,” Skye said flatly. “Not for over a thousand years. It’s Pictish. It means signal.”
Chapter Nine
Fidach, Kingdom of the Picts
652 A.D.
Springtime
Orange light covered Fidach as the sun ascended the horizon. Vuradech knelt on the hillside next to the altar his ancestors had erected. It was a single hewn stone the height of two men. He came here often to supplicate at the gate of day, even though Esias the missionary from the continent would rather he pray in the abbey. The abbey was fine, but Vuradech found that he was better able to clear his mind at the altar where his grandfathers had prayed. When the gods had something to say to him, it was usually on the hillside overlooking his lands. And it was usually as the sun was coming up.
But on this particular day, he importuned the gods much more fervently than usual. On this day, he had a purpose. Tears ran down his beard as he pleaded for his wife. He winced every time Galem cried out in pain. If only he could take her place…
Just as the sun lifted its tail above the horizon, the first cries of a new born baby replaced the anguished screams of his wife. The baby was here, but why was Galem suddenly silent? Vuradech jumped to his feet and ran into the village, expecting the worst. It is possible to pray and run, and Vuradech was doing both with all the strength he had.
The night had not been easy for Galem. Her travail had been very difficult. Vuradech’s sister Kavera had been with her all night. So had Vuradech, until he could take no more and fled to the hillside to implore the gods. He would have given the half of his kingdom if only the pain would stop. He even prayed that if he had a choice, let the gods take the child and leave Galem with him.
As he burst into the room, the first thing he saw was the blood. Kavera was holding his baby and he was smeared from head to toe in it. Galem’s blood, he thought in terror. There was so much blood everywhere. For a hopeless moment he knew he had lost his Galem to the child. Then he heard her soft voice.
“Vuradech,” she called out.
Her voice was like a song to him. New hope entered his soul as he turned his gaze in the direction of the pallet where she lay. He looked into her tired eyes and drew closer to her. He allowed himself to breathe only after he took her hand and felt her warmth and her pulse. He wiped the wet hair from her forehead, and then fell on her and wept.
“It is a boy,” she told him proudly.
He nodded his head. As much as he had wanted a son of his own, he didn’t know what he would do if he lost Galem. Now more than ever, he knew that Galem was his strength.
Vuradech arose and went to the window. Throwing open the wood shutters, he shouted his full, booming volume: “My Galem lives! And I have a son!” The sound echoed off the hillside and filled every place in the village. The free range chickens stirred, and a girl beside the well dropped her bucket as all turned to see the joy of Vuradech.
Though Galem was still in pain and completely exhausted, she laughed. “O man! Shut that window and that big mouth! The whole world will think you a fool!”
“Perhaps,” Vuradech replied, “but they will think me a rich fool. Who then is the fool?”
Galem laughed again, at considerable cost. Vuradech saw her writhe, and returned to her side. “Of a truth, woman, there can be joy and pain.” He put his hand on her head to settle her. “Rest now; you have fought a mighty battle. All through the night you did fight. And as you always do…” he had to pause as tears welled up in his eyes, “…as you always do, you have conquered!”
Soon Kavera returned to the room holding the baby. The blood was gone, and the child smelled like the morning dew. Kavera had done an amazing job of making the tiny creature presentable. She gave the baby to Galem who held it gingerly, beaming up at Vuradech.
“Vuradech, have a look at your heir. I am alive and so is he,” she said quietly, holding the baby up to him.
Her voice was stronger now as she looked into his eyes, imploring him to forgive their innocent baby. When the pain was too much for her and she was screaming so loudly, he had cursed and prayed. Before he left the room just before dawn, he had declared to his sister, “Save her, Kavera. Even if the baby would die, save her. I would never forgive the baby if it lived and she did not.”
He had thought Galem too far gone in her pains to hear him. But she did hear. It was true; he would not love a child that killed its mother even if it were his own heir. But now it was no matter. Vuradech assured Galem that his heart was right with the child.
He leaned over to pick up the baby. He did not know how to hold such a small person. He did not want to break the delicate thing, certainly not after having so recently acquired it.
“Mind the head,” Kavera said. “Like this.” She showed him how to cradle the child in one arm while steadying him with the other.
“Indeed, you both are alive,” he said to Galem. “Surely the gods have heard my cries.”
She smiled at him again and his heart melted. This woman had brought nothing but light into his life.
He looked down into his son’s face. He’d never seen such a tiny face! He wondered how someone so small could cause so much pain. At that moment he dared not give voice to his thoughts: “You have caused much trouble young one. You had better be worth it!” The baby was staring at him and blinking. He seemed to promise he would try.
“The little man has your eyes,” he said with a smile.
The baby’s eyes were hay brown like his mother’s but that was where the resemblance stopped. Every other feature on the boy was an exact imitation of his father. And he had the same square jaw and wide mouth. His hair was black like his and his nose was stumped and a little bent to the right just like his too. There was no doubt who his father was.
As Vuradech examined the baby a sudden feeling came over him like he’d never felt before. He immediately looked away, outside past the shutters that were still flapping open. As he looked at the glorious day he realized a tangible bond with this child. In one moment his life was completely changed.
But it was not for the better. A flash of terror shot through his heart as he beheld a gruesome scene in his mind’s eye. It was a future day. He was standing on a cold, misty battleground soon after the rage of war had ebbed. There was death all around him. He stooped to pick up his grown son’s lifeless body.
It was too painful to think of, but Vuradech knew this vision would haunt him for many years.
“Vuradech,” she prodded. “What troubles you? Will you not love our son?”
Her words brought Vuradech back from his trance. He realized he had been stone-faced, but he did not know how long.
“Have the gods given you another vision?” Galem asked. “What is it? Tell me the vision I implore.”
Vuradech sighed and looked at the floor. “It is nothing,” he said. “The night ha
s been long and without sleep. Perhaps I have been into the ale more than wisdom allows.”
Galem half believed him. “Then you should rest.”
“No, woman!” Vuradech replied raising his brow. “You have had ten thousand times more trouble than I! I shall stay by your side and care for the child while you rest. You shall have whatever you require at my hand, I swear by the mountains and the Great Sea.”
“And the child?” she pressed. “Tell me if you have come to accept him. Tell me you welcome him as your son.”
Vuradech drew a breath and stared out the window. There was a long pause as Galem searched his face. “Of this child,” he replied, “I have but one thing to say.” Tears came to his eyes as he looked into the tiny face nestled in his arm and thought of the sacrifice he would one day make for his people. “Courage shall be his mantle, and valiance his crest. His countrymen will revere him a hero. To be his father is an honor of which I will strive to be worthy to my latest breath.”
The foreboding that filled the room was not lost on Galem. But she was nevertheless relieved to see the bond that had formed between the man and his child. She stopped worrying about Vuradech that moment, and instead began to wonder about this vision. For her husband to keep it from her, it must be something horrible. With the words he spoke, her intuition provided the answer.
“And I will strive to be worthy of the honor of being his mother,” she said quietly.
Soon exhaustion had finally overtaken Galem, and Vuradech found himself alone with the child. He looked around for Kavera, but she had left. Suddenly he realized this little person was completely dependent on him. That led to the shock every new father has when he realizes fatherhood is a permanent calling. He looked at the child. The child was still staring at him and blinking.
“Well now what am I going to do with you, Blinkin’?” he asked the tiny creature.
Vuradech laughed out loud at his own joke as he left the room with the boy in his arm. “About that name Blinkin’,” he said, “let’s just keep that between us.”