by David Khara
“Eytan, stop!” Piotr commanded several times as the boy ran after the second soldier.
The order had no effect on him.
“Then have at it, you little shit!” he shouted. Eytan was determined to chase after the prey.
Even from afar, Piotr could make out the trembling soldier as he looked left and right in search of the unleashed predator. The hunter was tormenting the hunted, switching up his pace so at times he was fifteen feet behind and in the blink of an eye only a few steps away.
Stop messing around, Piotr thought anxiously. Kill him already!
Eytan reached the road, and now Piotr saw him whispering something in the soldier’s ear as he strangled him. The boxer couldn’t make out what he was saying. By the time he had quietly caught up, increasingly mistrustful of the boy, Eytan was jabbing his knife through the terrified soldier’s neck. Blood gushed from his mouth, and his body convulsed from head to toe. Eytan held the dying man against his chest, as if to taste his enemy’s demise. He released his hold, and the body fell to the ground.
Piotr felt a shiver shoot up his spine as Eytan turned in his direction. Eytan’s fierce glare rivaled that of his blade. Their eyes remained locked.
“Come on,” Piotr said after sensing that the fire in his student’s eyes had cooled down. “Let’s go find the others.”
They rejoined their unit in silence. Pawel was lugging a crate that he had unloaded from one of the ambushed trucks. “You took your sweet old time,” he said. “Vassili finished off our guys. Are yours dead?”
Piotr, more somber than ever, ignored his comrade and approached Janusz, who had another crate loaded with plundered goods.
“I didn’t hear any gunfire,” the Bear said. “Did everything go all right?”
“Two are dead. One managed to escape.”
“Shit. Well, considering what we’ve managed to get here, things could’ve been worse.”
“How’s the supply?” Piotr asked.
“Rifles, pistols, ammo. Christmas came early this year,” Karol said. He sounded giddy, but he toned it down when he saw that Piotr was upset. “What’s the problem?”
“I need to have a chat with both of you. You and the Bear,” he said as he nodded in Eytan’s direction.
Janusz and Karol glanced at the boy, who was looking at himself in the side-view mirror of the last truck in the convoy. He was holding a lock of his long blond hair against his cheek.
“When we get back,” Janusz suggested. “For now, come help us hide this stash.”
Half an hour later, the time it took to conceal their treasure in the forest, Janusz set fire to the trucks, along with the bodies they had crammed inside.
Exhausted, they started back toward the camp and arrived with the first rays of the sun. Marek was sitting on a tree stump, occupied with some kind of clock mechanism.
“So?” he asked. “Everything go as planned? Did the kid pass his initiation?”
“You could say that,” Piotr spit out, throwing his bag to the ground.
Eytan grabbed an empty mess tin and used it to collect several handfuls of snow before storming into his sleeping hut. He slammed the door behind him.
Vassili put down the weapons he had been lugging over his shoulder and crouched in front of the fire. Simmering above it was a pot of stew prepared by Marek. The clockmaker-pyrotechnic served the Siberian.
Piotr took Janusz and Karol aside and recounted the gruesome episode he had witnessed.
“He looked like a crazed person, like he was possessed. He didn’t listen to a word I said. The only thing he was after was blood—I saw it in his eyes. He even messed around with one of the guys before stabbing him in the throat!”
“I was exactly like him after my wife and kids were murdered,” Janusz sighed.
“It’s his fault one of the soldiers got away,” Piotr insisted. “If he doesn’t listen to us, if he ignores our instructions, he’ll put us all in danger.”
Using only his eyes, Janusz gave Karol an order. The latter left the group and headed toward the hut. He carefully nudged open the door and was shocked to find Eytan shearing off his hair.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m shaving my head,” Eytan replied through clenched teeth. “I’m not blond.”
“I don’t mean to make you angry, but you’re as blond as Goldilocks,” the professor joked.
“I wasn’t blond before,” Eytan corrected.
“I’d ask before what, but I know you won’t say anything, so I won’t press. But I will ask one thing: why do you think we’re fighting?”
“To get revenge,” Eytan spat as he continued to chop off his hair.
“Interesting,” Karol said. “And once we’ve satisfied our vengeance, once the Allies show up and the Wehrmacht retreats, what will we do then? Are we going to destroy the Germans on their own turf?”
Eytan seemed taken aback, baffled by his professor’s logic.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, after what you did tonight, you have some idea. You want to slit women’s throats and tear out children’s guts?”
“Of course not.”
“Good answer. Okay then, what will you do when the object of your hatred is gone? What will Janusz and Pawel do? Marek and Piotr? Vassili? Or me?”
The teenager thought for a second, but didn’t respond.
“I’ll tell you what’s driving us, kid. We’re fighting out of love. For the love of our country, our history, our friends and family—living and dead. We’re fighting for the right to live. We’re fighting for dignity and humanity. If you don’t understand that, Eytan, you don’t belong with us. No one will stop you if you decide to live like a savage beast, always on the hunt, blindly stabbing anything in your path. Obviously, you’ll end up getting yourself killed, and your presence on this earth, the talents you possess and have demonstrated over the past few weeks will make no difference.”
The boy hung his head and sighed.
“And above all, Eytan, we’re fighting for a dream. A dream that I would like to see you cherish, as well.”
“What’s that?”
“Freedom.”
Chapter 31
Baltimore, present day
For the past hour, Eytan had kept his eyes glued to the entrance of a large building overlooking Baltimore’s harbor. The revolving door of the tall structure was churning out white-collar workers who could finally fill their lungs with fresh air after spending a long day in the belly of a half-glass, half-steel beast. While many people who knew nothing about surveillance assumed that stakeouts were tedious, Eytan reveled in this moment of peace and quiet after four long hours on the road, during which Jackie and Jeremy had drilled him with questions.
The two were shy at first, but they quickly overcame their awkwardness and began quizzing him. Eytan did his best to fend off any questions that were too painful to answer, especially those about his life before he and his family were deported to the Warsaw Ghetto, and his brother, Roman, was murdered by the Germans.
Eytan preferred to talk about his little house on the Irish island, his life-saving retreat far removed from violence and the ordinary stresses of the world. It was the one place he could be alone and indulge his passion for painting. It blew Jeremy’s mind to picture Eytan in front of an easel with a palette on his lap and a paintbrush in his hand. Brainwashed by the movies, the fantasy-story enthusiast had fostered the illusion that this mystery man couldn’t possibly have anything in common with mere mortals.
Eytan and Jackie, the former special agent, had spent several minutes trying to make the bookseller understand that the better part of the work involved long stakeouts when nothing happened.
“Patience is the most basic skill in this line of work,” Eytan said. “I went through a lot of training to master it.”
“Actually, I was wondering,” Jackie began. “Well, I’m not really sure how to put this...”
“Let ’er rip. I can handle it. I promised you answ
ers, and no questions are off limits,” Eytan insisted.
“Well then: how much did Bleiberg’s treatments—if I dare to call them that—influence the way you are today, and how much of it is your own doing?”
“In his quest to create the master race, Bleiberg provided me with certain advantages, especially in terms of vision and cardiovascular strength. But other than that, I’m not so different from any other man. For decades, I’ve had to train every single day. The qualities that make me unique, in addition to my vision and strength, are my versatility and endurance. While most people are highly skilled in just one or two areas, I have the ability to master many more. And as far as endurance goes, I could never sprint as fast as Usain Bolt, but I’d outlast him in a marathon. And I can’t punch as hard as Tyson could in his prime, but I can bounce back from a heavyweight’s blows better than a champion fighter.”
“You mean you don’t have any superpowers,” Jeremy said, sounding like a disappointed kid after discovering the truth about Santa Claus.
“You’ve got to stop reading so many comic books,” Eytan said. “You’re confusing reality with make believe.”
Jackie snickered.
“Fine, make fun of me,” Jeremy whined.
“I don’t age. I heal faster than you do, and I can go several days without sleep. Those are my superpowers. But without my serum, I’ll die—which you’d agree is a pretty big drawback. Actually, what Bleiberg and the Nazis passed on to me is an unstoppable drive.”
Eytan told them about Janusz, Karol, Vassili, and the other members of his Armia Krajowa unit. He described each of his friends, all of whom had been sucked into the chaos of a horrific war. These exceptional men, like so many others, had risen up against a savage world by repeating a single word: freedom.
The Kidon agent didn’t have time to tell the entire story during their drive to Baltimore, but he was happy all the same. He rarely had the opportunity to talk about the Bear, the wise professor, the soft-spoken Siberian, or Piotr, Pawel, or Marek. To make up for the harsh sting of their absence, Eytan hoped to preserve the memory of these men, unfairly forgotten by the history books.
For the time being, however, he needed to put aside his nostalgia and focus on what he had to do on this cool Baltimore evening. Because Eytan required some undisturbed time to prepare for the attack, which he hoped to execute in the middle of the night, he had given the Corbins a few hours off. Before reconvening at one in the morning, they would be able to share a nice meal and see how Annie was doing. Eytan would have joined them for dinner, as he loved discovering new foods whenever he traveled (compensation for his deprived youth), but he figured the couple needed some privacy.
After assessing the twenty floors of the building, he made a list of every possible variable.
Entering the building would be a cinch, as it was kept open all night, and access to the main lobby was not off-limits. Penetrating the H-Plus Dynamics offices, on the other hand, would be a bit more challenging. Considering the extremely sensitive equipment the company fabricated for the military, as well as its connection to the Consortium, the place would be fortified with highly sophisticated security measures. At the least, there would be surveillance cameras, multiple alarm systems, and round-the-clock guards.
And because he didn’t have enough time, Eytan couldn’t plan a discreet entrance. He didn’t know the building’s floor plan, nor would he be able to confidently identify an H-Plus Dynamics employee with whom he could conspire. Stealing a company ID or dummying up a fake one were out of the question, as well.
On top of all that, he was obsessing over the possibility that innocent workers might get hurt. It was quite possible that H-Plus Dynamics was an accomplice in the commando missions in New Jersey and New York and was operating outside the scope of the law. But it was also quite possible that the company’s workers had no knowledge of their employer’s involvement with the mysterious Consortium. After all, what was the harm in producing prosthetic limbs?
Given the circumstances, Eytan couldn’t opt for a subtle approach. The frontal attack appeared to be the only way—except his principles prevented him from resorting to a senseless attack on innocent bystanders.
Kidnapping Adolf Eichmann was a breeze compared to this, he thought as his plan finally became clear.
The agent glanced at his watch. Lost in thought, he had failed to notice how late it was. It was already time to meet up with Jeremy and Jackie. He looked up and saw Jackie’s petite form under the streetlights. Jeremy, looming a foot taller, was walking alongside her like a protective shadow. These two had their faults, like lack of discipline and questionable humor, but they certainly knew the importance of being on time.
“Since we didn’t know what you liked, we brought you a couple of Baltimore specialties: crab cakes and Bergers cookies,” Jackie said as she handed Eytan the bag. “There’s some Old Bay seasoning for the crab cakes, too.” The bag also held bottles of water and cans of soda.
“Thanks. I’m not picky, but I don’t mind sampling the local food when I’m visiting a city,” Eytan replied, smiling at the sweet little face all red from the cold.
He grabbed a crab cake and devoured it without paying any attention to what he was eating.
Jeremy rubbed his gloved hands together and stamped his feet. White mist escaped from his mouth with every word. It quickly evaporated in the air.
“So, what’s up?” he asked. “Those guys from the Marines aren’t protecting the place because of what you’ve put them through in the past two days?”
“They have no reason to do so. They have no idea that we’re aware of this company’s existence. No one’s waiting for us, and that’s exactly why we’ve got the upper hand, for now, at least. And if I were you, I wouldn’t refer to our enemies so lightly.”
“Relax. I’m just having a little fun before we get serious,” the bookseller protested. “Did you figure out a strategy?”
“Yes,” Eytan said. “We can’t go in there without setting off the alarms, so we need to create a diversion.”
“Why do I have the feeling that this isn’t going to be pretty?” Jackie said.
“You have no idea how right you are,” the special agent confirmed as he took out two explosive pucks from his jacket pocket.
“Are you going to blow up the building?” the young woman asked, clearly worried.
“Not the whole building. Our goal is to get inside, not destroy the place. All right, kids,” he said with a sinister smile. “Have you seen The Towering Inferno?”
Chapter 32
The neighborhood was swarming with police cruisers and fire trucks. Drawn to the building by the wailing sirens and flashing lights, curious bystanders from nearby night spots were viewing the scene from behind hastily installed security barriers. All eyes were on the pillars of smoke escaping from the second floor, where Eytan had thrown explosives after propelling himself up the wall. The bystanders soon heard the thumping of helicopter blades. The aircraft was circling above them in search of any new fires.
Complying with Eytan’s instructions, Jeremy mingled in the crowd. As he wormed his way into their conversations, he spread the rumor that the fire was no accident. The television reporters were already saying something about an attack. They had appeared in a matter of minutes with their satellite-equipped trucks. And the reporters had no trouble finding people to interview. Almost all of the bystanders, it seemed, were eager to give their versions of the events.
His mission accomplished, Jeremy left the mob and walked to the next street, where Jackie and Eytan were waiting. The giant was puffing a cigar while his relaxed pocket-sized partner was sipping root beer from a can.
“Man, they ate that shit up,” Jeremy said. “It’s almost scary, how easy it was.”
“Combine one huge lie with a population’s biggest fears... It works every time. Remember when Colin Powell held up that fake vial of anthrax at the UN? The administration used the anthrax hoax to rationalize invading Iraq
. Admittedly, there were a few other lies—like Iraq was responsible for 9/11, but that’s a whole other story.”
“If you’re trying to prove that we’re all idiots, you’ve won,” Jackie said. “All right, it’s my turn to take the stage.”
Jackie pecked her husband on the lips and gave Eytan a little wink. Her determined face masked any hesitation. As she ran off at full speed, she retraced Jeremy’s steps to the chaotic scene in front of the building. She observed the firefighters as they pulled out their equipment. She counted at least fifty, some of whom were already harnessed and beginning to file into the main lobby. She felt a wave a guilt sweep over her. Jackie wasn’t proud of what she was about to do, but the ends justified the means. Like Jeremy, who had immediately jumped onboard, she considered Eytan’s scheme more brilliant than reprehensible.
Jackie searched for the perfect target. She elbowed her way through the crowd yelling, “Police!” She finally spotted the best candidate. The officer was tall, overweight, and about thirty. She stuck her deputy sheriff’s badge in his face. Legitimate value in Baltimore: zero. Chances of getting caught if he examined her badge carefully: maximum.
“Sheriff’s office,” she shouted with as much authority as she could muster. She slipped her badge back in her pocket as quickly as she had whipped it out. “We were called here as backups to question the witnesses. One of them has given me information that I need to relay to the firefighters. I have to get over to them. Now!”
The officer stepped aside to let Jackie pass. She thanked the man with a charming smile and ran toward the firefighters. She had her eyes set on three guys who were leaning against a truck—waiting for instructions, most likely. She got ready to perform again.