Let Slip the Pups of War: Spot and Smudge - Book Three

by Robert Udulutch

  Dan saw that his wife had taken a bullet in the arm.

  He had watched all of it happen from the hallway.

  The hallway where Dan had hesitated.

  Only Dan hadn’t hesitated, he had fucking froze.

  Dan was sure Papa or Hamish would have just strolled over and clocked the guy, and then gone for a pint with him. Hell, the Walker-Hogan women had almost done the same. Even his dogs and his son seemed to be braver than he had been that night.

  Dan loved the boisterous nature of his in-laws, with their loud stories and overly physical affection for each other, but even after twenty years with them it just wasn’t Dan. He grew up a single child in a quiet home. Dan had never even raised his voice to another human being until his first argument, and the subsequent spirited makeup sex, with Aila.

  If a dangerous situation ever presented itself Dan had just assumed he’d do what any parent would do and rush forward with fists raised, but he hadn’t.

  When it mattered he hadn’t stepped up. And he hadn’t just hesitated or paused. He had frozen.

  Dan didn’t even know his office building had a gym until the day after the attack. He started to work out for several hours every day, and liked to come down later in the morning when it was empty.

  After a few days he noticed Andi used the gym at the same time. It was immediately obvious the young woman was in amazing shape. She was strong through the chest and shoulders, and her biceps and calves bulged as she attacked the gym’s equipment.

  One morning Dan watched from his stationary bike as she danced around a heavy punching bag in one of the private workout rooms. Andi was ferocious. She beat on the bag with strikes and kicks for almost an hour, nonstop. Her flame red pony tail whipping as she crossed her arms in front of her face and slammed her shins into the tough canvas until her legs bled. As she left the room, dripping and exhausted, Dan asked her for a quick word.

  “A friend of mine used to work in this building,” Andi said before Dan could introduce himself, “I kept her key card, but if it’s a problem I can return it.”

  Dan laughed, and after introductions asked her about her background and why she trained so intensely. Andi explained she was a Boston cop. She typically worked the evening shift and also taught defense classes for the senior security staff at the statehouse and city hall. She got into mixed martial arts competitions at Fort Benning, and still fought once or twice a year as her schedule allowed.

  She stretched and flexed as they talked. Even though she was easily eight inches shorter than Dan he assumed she could arrest a perp of almost any size without breaking a sweat.

  As they chatted she warmed to Dan, and when she smiled it was a big smile. The hard cop went away and a very pretty Irish girl came out. Andi threatened to stop the conversation when she found out Dan was originally from New York, and made him swear he wasn’t a Yankee’s fan. He found the young woman to be as sharp and quick witted as she was tough.

  When Andi agreed to train Dan she had assumed it would last a few sessions at best, and she also assumed he was lying. He said he wanted to learn how to protect himself and his family, and he didn’t mean he wanted to learn a few Hollywood punches or kicks.

  Andi figured Dan was motivated by one of two things. Given the way he talked about his family she quickly understood he was a good guy, so it wasn’t the first thing she suspected. But she still figured he was like most guys who just wanted to get in better shape, flex a little, and have a good story to tell their buds. Andi doubted he meant what he said about being seriously committed to learning how to hurt someone.

  She quickly learned she had been very, very wrong.

  Dan was naturally in pretty good condition and he added muscle quickly, and didn’t shy away from the harder exercises. The real telling moments came when they started to work on ground tactics and submissions. Andi had never trained anyone so motivated to learn.

  She happily continued to train Dan every day, and take his cash at the end of every week. She also began to realize something significant must be driving him. He was charming and made conversation before and after their sessions, but once they started he was focused and never said a word. The man just worked, head down, and with a rare intensity she didn’t often see in her students.

  She threw everything at him and beat him to a pulp most days. They worked through dozens of different fighting styles, from straight boxing and the submissions of jujitsu, to the street techniques of Defence Lab and the KGB’s Systema, to the brutality of the Israeli Mossad’s Krav Maga. Dan picked up the moves quickly and she almost never had to show him the same thing twice. He was also reading up on the background of what she was teaching him, and she could see him connecting the commonalities and differences between the techniques in his head. He wasn’t just getting trained, he was becoming an expert. It motivated Andi, and made her dig deep and bring her best training game.

  After a particularly long and tough session of refining his choke techniques Dan tossed Andi a water bottle and joined her on the mat. As he soaked his towel and held it to his reddened throat he said he wanted to learn the difference between submitting, incapacitating, and killing.

  She thought he was joking until she looked up at him.

  “I have to know something before we go down that road,” Andi said. She took a drink, looked him in the eye, and asked, “Why?”

  Without sharing anything about the pups or the drums of vile compound, Dan told her what had happened with Doug Dorschstein and the farm real estate problems, and about Papa’s killing. He told her about Liko’s attack, and Kelcy’s heroism.

  He also told her about his freezing.

  He finished with, “Never again.”

  Andi considered that, and then asked, “You think you’re going to be in that situation again?”

  Dan didn’t say anything.

  “Okay,” Andi said, “I’m a cop. Which means I understand why you don’t want to say too much, but it also means I can read people better than most. You’re not a drug runner or part of the Southie mob, and if you work on the top floor of this building you’re no idiot. I also hope to talk about a family of mine someday the way you talk about yours. If you’re really hell bent on learning the science of lethality, I’ll teach you under two conditions.”

  Dan nodded.

  “First, you agree to tell your wife about our training so far,” she said, “And that we’re continuing on. Why you haven’t told her yet is your business, but if you’re going to have the abilities I’m about to show you she needs to know about it.”

  Dan nodded again as Andi took a long pull from her bottle.

  She said, “And secondly, as far as anyone outside of you and Aila are concerned officially our training ended here. You must agree to never tell anyone that I taught you after today, and you can’t pay me anymore. It’s on the house from here on in.”

  Dan nodded again.

  Andi got up and picked up her backpack. Before she opened the door she said, “Honestly, I’m looking forward to it. I miss going all in. MMA is great but sometimes a girl just wants to let her hair down and tear a motherfucker’s spine out, and I’m going to show you how. You’re ready, and you are gonna be one chilly dude when I’m done with you, Daniel San.”

  Dan agreed again with a nod, and in doing so he lied to Andi.

  He couldn’t tell Aila, and he wasn’t sure why. He could trust his wife with anything but he struggled with the shame of that night.

  She never mentioned it and he wasn’t even sure she had noticed his hesitation. When she had come running from the kitchen with the butcher knife she was immediately caught by Liko’s bullet. She fell to the floor without uttering a peep, and was up and at her daughter’s side in an instant. Dan had moved at that point. He pulled his daughter off Liko and they had taped the big asshole to one of their dining table chairs. He had probably frozen for all of five heartbeats, but it felt like a lifetime…and it could have been one of his girls’ lifetimes.

&nbs
p; It wasn’t like they didn’t talk about the attack. As tragic as that night was it was often discussed and sometimes even laughed about in their house. Especially the part about Smudge biting down on Liko’s balls.

  Making light of any mishap, regardless of how severe, was just the Walker way and that night had already spawned several favorite family stories. Had Liko still been alive Dan was pretty sure Hamish would be making fun of his bitten testicle on their way to the pub together.

  When Dan and Aila were first dating they had stopped by the farm to help Papa with a loose gutter. As Papa was reaching out to pound in a nail he fell off the ladder. Dan had been shocked to see Mimi and Aila laughing so hard they were in tears as they all drove to the hospital to get his broken arm set. Even Papa was laughing as they walked into the emergency room. They took him right away as the nurse thought he was howling in pain. Had that happened in Dan’s house his mother would have needed sedation and his father would have threatened to sue the ladder company and the hospital.

  As tough as they all were, his crazy adopted family were also incredibly compassionate. Dan knew his wife would certainly understand his freezing, and yet he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, even though he’d tried. That first day he met Andi, and every day since, he had wanted to mention it. He thought it was just a matter of time before it came up. Aila had to notice his new muscle, and the red knuckles and odd bruises, but the more she didn’t ask the more he kept it to himself.

  Soon, he kept telling himself.

  Andi immediately turned up the intensity of their training, and starting with the soft tissue targets she did indeed show Dan how to maim, and how to kill. He learned how to split open the thoracic arteries in the armpit and tear the tender plexus in the sternum. Most of the moves were just a continuation of what they’d already learned. He just wouldn’t stop when the person tapped, if they ever got the chance.

  Andi had already showed Dan how to defend against the Apache and Filipino Sayoc Kali knife fighting styles, and now she showed him those same moves from the other side of the knife.

  Their training had been as much a lesson in physiology as it had been in fighting. As horrible as the reality of the training was, the precision required was fascinating. A half inch either way could mean he wasn’t the one walking away from the fight.

  They spent ten sessions on the vulnerabilities of the human neck alone.

  Dan was amazed at how tough the human body actually was, but he was more fascinated by how fast he could now kill someone. He just didn’t know if he could ever actually do it.

  On his commute home a woman in the car next to him thought he was nuts as he acted out the strikes on his carotid sinus, thyroid, jugular notch, and vertebral arteries while listening to the radio and head-banging along to the tune.

  Chapter 15

  Katia was still naked when she closed her apartment door behind Harley, and as she passed the large monitor mounted above the fireplace she hit its power button before tossing herself face down on the bed.

  She lit another cigarette as her father appeared on the screen. He was in his office with his huge, furry Caucasian shepherds.

  “How was that, Batya?” Katia asked, smiling up at the camera as she lazily swung her feet back and forth.

  “My precious one, that was perfect,” Semion said, “While you were saying goodbye to that mudak I have already received a call from his grandfather, the great Qu Tzeng himself. We’re meeting tomorrow. He’s obviously upset about losing Jia and Mina, and the grandson, whats-his-name, but he’s a business man. With Harley’s lubrication, thanks to you, I am confident we’ll have his team and equipment in New York by this weekend.”

  Katia smiled and rolled onto her back. “That’s fantastic news,” she said, “And were you watching when Harley mentioned the no fly list? He’s well informed.”

  “Da,” her father said, “I was impressed by that. The Tzeng’s of Hong Kong are better connected than we anticipated, which is a pleasant surprise considering their family’s miserable performance for us so far.”

  Semion tossed a ball for one of his huge Caucasian shepherds. The hairy behemoth brought it back and waited for him to throw it again, slobbering as it sat patiently next to its brother.

  He said, “Regardless, I have our travel concerns well in hand. The video of your date with the National Security Director will be in his inbox tomorrow morning. I expect he’ll call me first thing to discuss his resignation. Once we get Gloria her promotion Brother Sacarius’ assets will get cleared and our movements will no longer be restricted.” Semion threw the ball and said, “I should be in the states when grandfather Tzeng’s little family of killers arrives, followed closely by our London assets.”

  “And then we pounce,” Katia said, smiling up at her father, “Did you like my performance in the video, Batya? I wore the black dress and panties from Harrod’s, did you notice?”

  “Lovely, my angel, just lovely,” Semion said, “I did also notice you’ve added a few pounds. Too much chocolate and pasta?”

  Katia threw her lighter at the screen and said, “Zatk nis! This is the style now, Batya.” She rolled onto her side, grabbed a handful of her naked bottom, and said, “American woman pay to have round rumps like this. Guys here like a little junk in the Primorsky.”

  Semion laughed as he yanked the ball from one of the dog’s massive jowls and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get dressed little girl, we need to talk to Marty”

  Chapter 16

  Fisho Mwale turned to his son, Fulfort, and nodded for him to slide up the board that diverted water from the community aquafer into their field.

  “One, two, three…” Fisho continued to count out loud as he moved the larger dirt clumps out of the flow with his hoe.

  The water rushed down the rut beside their field, and spread out as it hit the shallow channels dug next to the rows of cassava and maize. The men walked among the furrows, pushing the muddy water between the young plants.

  At the end of a row Fisho paused to soak his neck scarf and look out over their field. It was just over three hectares, about the size of three professional soccer pitches.

  He’s farmed this patch since the late eighties. Back then he had worked in the copper mines but the unrest in Zambia brought violent protests spilling out of the capital of Lusaka and into the copper belt. Fisho’s brother had been killed in the riots, and Fisho had been badly beaten by the union police. Fearing for their safety, and pregnant with his son Fulfort, his wife begged Fisho to return to farming and move the family to the quiet valley near the Kafue National Park.

  There had been some good years, before his wife died and when the messes in neighboring Angola and Congo were only at a simmer, but the last decade had been tough. His son Fulfort had little ones now of his own and they just scraped by most years. They were in debt to the landlord again, and these crops didn’t look good enough to alter that.

  “…Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine,” Fulfort called out as he walked back to the sliding board. He waved to their neighbor who was moving his cattle across the road and then slid the board down, cutting off the flow of water to their field. He packed it with mud to seal it.

  The father and son spent the rest of the morning pulling weeds and arguing about the yield.

  Fulfort figured they could count on three thousand kilos of maize per hectare. At seventy Zambian kwacha per kilo he was sure they would be able to pay off the landlord, buy seed and water for the summer planting, and have a little left over to keep his lovely Jewel and their three kids off his back.

  “Bullshit,” his father Fisho said, “You’re right mao in the head, boy. We’ve never pulled more than two thousand out of this rock pile, and we’re deep in drought.”

  “Dada, you need some faith,” Fulfort said, spreading his hands like Moses, “The waters will come back, and these little sprouts will jump from the ground. The cassava roots will be as big as my boerie.”

  Fisho loved
his son but the boy had always been a dreamer and couldn’t keep two coins in his pocket for a day. He sat down with a groan on the little dam and rinsed his muddy feet in the water. “I’m not so sure I am your Dada,” Fisho said, “And if these roots only grow as big as your manhood we’re both going to starve.”

  A ball of mud smacked Fisho on the chest. He looked up and caught another one on the cheek, and his son had another one ready to toss.

  “Knock it, you bungie,” Fisho said, “It’s too hot for playing. Let’s get on home now.”

  Fulfort dropped the mud ball, stepped to the stream with slumped shoulders, and gave his father a pouty look as he switched places with him.

  Fisho picked up his hoe and stepped into the dirt road as Fulfort removed his wide brimmed hat and bent to the water to wet his neck.

  Fisho came up behind his son and shook his hoe over him, dropping a fresh lump of cow dung onto the back of the young father’s head. It was very fresh, and the warm brown liquid ran down Fulfort’s back and around his ears as he screamed.

  Chapter 17

  Semion was impressed with his daughter’s ability to go from naked and recently rolling in bed to completely put together and stunning in the time it took him to get Marty to join the connection. Each of his three wives had needed an afternoon and an assistant just to get ready for tea.