Love Lonely

by William C. Cole

“Hunter. Thank you for making our world a better place to live in. I really do appreciate it.”

  David’s admiration for soldiers was instilled in him from an early age. His father educated him on the importance of those who serve for us. Anytime his father had the occasion to meet someone who served, he would offer his hand and thank them. David continued the tradition with heartfelt sincerity.

  Just as they were embarking on the discussion with regards to the stable fire, they were distracted by the giggling of two women entering the bar. There must have been quite the humorous joke exchanged prior to their entrance. A number of patrons joined the infectious chuckling of the newcomers. The ladies hadn’t realized their entrance was so grand. When they did, they gave each other a small nudge while covering their mouths, leaving only their wide eyes of embarrassment visible.

  “Oops, sorry,” they said to a few people sitting close to the doorway.

  It took a second or two for it to register with David that the two women were Renée and Gabriela. He felt a little offish by their surprise appearance. Uncertain why, yet it was uncomfortable. Common sense told him her presence should not be of any concern. She had as much right to be there as he did.

  Hunter made a comment once he turned back from witnessing the commotion,

  “They seem to be having fun. Not sure they look old enough to be in here though.”

  “Actually they are. One of them is my lead trainer, Renée. The other is Gabriela D’Angelo, one of the country’s premiere jockeys.”

  The men’s focus shifted back to the reason for the get together.

  The women took a table on the other side of the room. Renée sat with her back to the men. They were visible from Gabriela’s vantage point although she hadn’t taken notice.

  Sebastian approached the girl’s table sporting an ear to ear smile.

  “You two know how to make an impressive entrance.”

  “Sorry Sebastian. We promise to behave,” Gabriela pledged.

  “No need to apologize. Laughter can be a wonderful remedy to our rigorist lifestyle. Please feel free to laugh the night away.”

  “Thank you,” Renée said. “Can we get a pitcher?”

  Off he went to fill their order.

  “Well that was a bit embarrassing,” Gabriela joked.

  “No more stories tonight about your wardrobe malfunction. In particular the one’s broadcast on television,” Renée warned.

  “As I said, if I thought my Jodhpur’s were going to split open,” referring to her riding breeches, “I would have worn underwear.”

  “Stop it,” Renée whispered trying to avoid another outburst of laughter.

  The conversation toned down by the time their draft arrived. They talked mostly about the activities at the race track. A few minutes into their stay Gabriela glanced around the room looking for someone mentioned in the exchange hoping to clarify something. That is when she took notice of David sitting in the back of the room.

  “Renée, don’t turn around, it would look too obvious. Your boss is here. He’s seated along the back wall with two other men.”

  “David,” she asked.

  “Yes, of course David. How many bosses do you have?”

  “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t know he was going to be here tonight,” Renée explained.

  “Renée you’re allowed a life outside work. He doesn’t control you twenty-four-seven.”

  “I know. It’s a little awkward, that’s all. You’re right, let’s order some food I’m starving.”

  David, Hunter and Richard settled into the subject matter which was the reason for the meeting.

  “Have you come across this method of arson before Hunter?” David questioned.

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve studied it. It was briefly touched on during our training. The technique is rarely used. It is extremely expensive for the minimal success it produces.”

  “Is there anything you could add to what we already know?”

  “When Richard asked me to look into it, I made a couple of calls to some people outside the military who are well versed in this area. What I know is that the fire was started by a method referred to as a Marble Burn. It was invented by a man in Germany. We don’t believe he is still active in the manufacturing of it. There are however others with the skill who have continued the practice. A small computer chip is implanted into a tiny blown ball of glass, an alley or marble. When activated the chip heats up to a temperature which will ignite certain materials. In your case that was hay. It works similar to your stove top burners. Leave a dry cloth on it long enough it will go up in flames.”

  Sebastian interrupted the explanation by offering refills. All three nodded yes.

  “Renée, we haven’t seen much of each other since our trip to California. Seeing David reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I don’t think it’s a big deal. But I thought you would like to know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I left your hotel room Saturday morning I noticed a man at the end of the hallway. I caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared into the stairwell. I’ve had a gut feeling it may have been David. I doubt that he saw me, but then again I hadn’t looked up until I was almost at the elevator.”

  “You said he took the stairs instead of the elevator.”

  “Yes that’s what it looked like.”

  “Shit.”

  “Is that your word of the day?”

  “Sorry. Why didn’t you tell me this before,” Renée asked.

  “As I said we really haven’t talked much since then. Does he know about us?”

  “No.”

  “Renée, I understand your expectations of our relationship. I’m okay with sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll. Well minus the drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. So I guess just sex. No emotional ties. Our time together is precious. But,”

  “Gabriela, I don’t want to do this right now. Let’s enjoy the evening. No relation talk,” Renée cut her off.

  “That’s not where I was going with this. I’ve accepted the way it is between us. What I was going to say is, be careful. David is your boss. He’s married into a powerful family. You have everything going for you. A dream job, one you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Don’t throw it away. He’s married Renée. It’s not worth it. Sandy and her father will crush you.”

  “Why in the world would you think I’m interested in David?”

  “It’s written all over your face. If I can see it, you can bet your bottom dollar Sandy will pick up on it.”

  “I’m not having an affair with my boss. I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

  “Please be careful,” Gabriela closed out the conversation.

  Renée nodded yes.

  Hunter continued explaining to the other two at the table about his findings. Most of what was being offered had already been brought to David’s attention. There were aspects of the history and technical side of the procedure that he was finding interesting.

  Summarizing his uncovering Hunter went on, “So let’s say you wanted to rob a bank on the east side of a city. You strategically place these marbles on the west side. Preparation could be done weeks in advance. If one was found it would most likely end up in the trash. An hour or so before you require the diversion, you dial a number or input a code into a computer device, and there you go. Small fires start popping up all over the opposite side of town. A number of fire trucks are dispersed. A police unit for each fire to direct traffic and ambulances in case a first responder requires medical treatment. The depleted resources cause a delay in responding to your crime. Enough time for you to most likely get a clean get away. Or at least that’s the theory,” he paused allowing time for questions. There were none.

  “The person that financed the fire had a great deal of disposable money. The placement of the marbles was amateurish. The loss of lives wasn’t part of the plan. An educated guess says it was meant as a distraction. They wanted to either lure
someone to the area of the fire, or keep someone from leaving. I would start reviewing the travel arrangements for those directly involved with the stable’s operations. Concentrate on those whose plans needed to be altered. This might set you in the right direction. If damage was the sole reason for this, a gas can and match would have worked much better.”

  “Thank you Hunter,” David appreciated the insight.

  The explanation played in line with what the FBI had concluded. He was starting to think this wasn’t about the stable but something much bigger. It was also looking like the ones responsible may never be caught.

  The chat reverted back to sports when David’s phone rang. It was Sandy.

  “Excuse me guys, it’s Sandy,” staying seated he leaned back and answered.

  The other two remained leaning forward with their arms resting on the table. Richard took notice of a strange reaction made by his army buddy. When David excused himself, Hunter’s body twitched, as one would do if they suddenly got a chill.

  “What was that?” Richard questioned.

  “What?”

  “That shiver almost knocked you off your chair. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It just something David said.”

  Sandy was calling from an altitude of thirty five thousand feet. She wanted to inform her husband that she had one stop to make in the USA for a short presentation before arriving home. A repeat of her commitment to give this stay longevity was again interjected into the call.

  “That’s good news,” he offered. “I’m leaving for Florida tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back on Sunday. Hope your home by then. Listen I’ve got go. I’m at the Dead Heat having a beer with the guys. We’ll catch up in a couple of days.”

  He ended the call but before putting the phone back onto the table he sent Renée a text. It read, flight’s at four, pick you up at one. He watched her look down to at her iPhone then his chimed with her reply, kk. The notification sounded again. This time it was Sandy, I love you. He answered with a smiley face, no words.

  “Sorry again, my wife is on her way home from Europe. Did I say something to upset you?”

  Hunter smiled, “I’m fine. I haven’t heard the name Sandy in a long time. When I do I get a chill up my spin. Sorry David, it has nothing to do with your wife. It is part of a legend or rumor within the Special Forces community. No one even knows if it’s actually true. I’m sure you guys have hockey stories that spread without really knowing if there is any accuracy to them.”

  “I’d like to hear more. Any story that could jolt a reaction like yours is worth a listen.” David invited him to continue. “I don’t get out with the guys much anymore. I’d like to hear it. What about you Richard?” who nodded yes.

  “This isn’t classified information, is it? You never know, it could be about my wife.”

  “It’s not about your wife. If that were the case, you might want to sleep with your eyes open,” Hunter added.

  “A number of years ago it was said to be a joint, top secret training mission. It is common knowledge that members of any Elite Special Forces go through some of the most brutal training. This one however took it to a new level, one that seems too far-fetched to be true. It is rumored the United States along with a few of their allies selected a handful of their very best. I’m talking about the ones that train the trainers that train the trainers that train the trainers, the best of the best. We’ve heard that thirty to forty were invited into the program. Few within the military or government knew about the operation.

  “Am I boring you yet,” he enjoyed sharing tales like this even if there was a good possibility it was a myth. It excited him to think that this small society existed.

  Both men urged him to continue.

  “Okay, here’s where it becomes a bit unbelievable. I’m not sure you’re aware women are not permitted to be a member of a Special Forces unit. Recently they have been authorized to begin training for entry a few years down the road. But for now it is only males. Although it is said that one woman took part in this exercise. Her name or nick name or code name was alleged to be Sandy. Chances are it was not a female. It was more likely to be the name of one of the men.

  “The covert program was said to be one year long. Apparently only eleven survived the duration of it. The remainder surrendered at various times. It is told the brutality of the mission was inhuman. The legendary participant called Sandy was one who endured the full term. He or she was the most feared.

  “The level of clearance required to participate, was only issued to those entrusted in keeping the assignment within the group. We wouldn’t be having this chat if it wasn’t for one of the men who bailed early. He talks in his sleep. The men in his unit would wait for him to go to sleep then they would try to extract information from him. During his many nightmares he would scream, no Sandy no, please Sandy no. In the morning the others would quiz him and he would categorically deny it.”

  Hunter took a breather. It felt to him like he was rambling. His listeners continued to be hanging on with interest so he would proceed. First a refill was in order. After a few good gulps, he carried on.

  “It is believed the viciousness endured in their training was so extreme that no official documentation exists. The exercises were based on experiencing situations that might be encountered, such as water boarding. Each member was made to undergo this torture to acquire a firsthand understanding of its effects, should it be used if captured. It is a known fact that some carry the post traumatic stress associated with the procedure to their grave. They became experts in counter terrorism, explosives and every facet of warfare.

  “Another exercise related to water was drowning. These soldiers could swim underwater longer than any record time found in a Guinness Book of World Records. The thought was if one knew the feeling of actually drowning they could learn to extend their time submerged until the last second. They were held submerged until loss of consciousness. Two divers would rush the body to the surface where CPR was performed in hopes of revival. If you wanted an insight on what you experience by death, this group would be the right ones to ask. When on a mission you would wonder if one of these guys was part of your platoon. The guy who talked in his sleep was quickly reassigned to a location where he sleeps alone.”

  It was time for a sip of beer. Hunter figured the guys would have had enough by now, but that wasn’t the case.

  “What would possess a person to endanger themselves this way,” David stated.

  “The goal was to make them superhuman. They couldn’t be broken. Pain, torture, any form of physical or mental abuse wouldn’t faze them. A couple of bullets to the head would be the only way to stop one. If in fact there is any truth to the whole story, these are the guys who are dispatched into solo covert operations.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “It is crazy David. Keep in mind they were already considered the finest in their respected fields. The eleven survivors became machines.”

  “And I thought our training was tough,” David looked at Richard who nodded his agreement.

  “Not as tough as what these guys underwent. The unit was stripped naked then left to survive in a rainforest. No food, no clothing, the only supply was an emergency beacon to be used in a life or death situation. If that call was made, the one responsible would be extracted from the group and sent packing.

  “For fear of boring you I just want to wrap it up. We got on this topic because of the name Sandy. The one carrying this name Sandy, even if she was a woman, was the most feared. It is said that she was a master of Martial Arts. Her duties, besides participating alongside the others were to teach hand to hand combat. Now when I say that, we’re not talking about your neighborhood Karate lesson. Apparently she could kill a man three times her size with one blow. At the end of the year the other remaining ten could do the same. Our sleep talker’s nightmares were mostly related to this Sandy. The men did everything in their power not to be paired with her during the demonstrations. It was com
mon for her partner to sustain broken bones, which would be reset the moment the sparing match was over. As legend has it, she was the scariest of the bunch.

  “Now remember the only reason I can talk to you guys about this operation is because we don’t actually know if it happened. The story has been floating around for years now and I’m sure it has been embellished. The sleep talker could have been referring to a bad relationship. We will most likely never know.

  “One theory is the powers-to-be made the whole thing up so elite units felt more secure knowing one of these guys might be the guy in front of you. I do know each time I’m on a mission it is a comforting thought to think our commander may be one of the eleven. Although there was no way to identify one as they don’t wear patches or anything to distinguish themselves from other officers. It’s been hinted they got inked identically upon completion. No one but the eleven knows what the tat is.

  “Well that’s my bar tale of the evening. If you repeat what you’ve heard I’ll have to kill you,” breaking out into a good laugh he joked with the other two.

  The three men sat for an hour or so making small talk. It turned out to be an enjoyable evening for all. David missed the camaraderie of teammates which were part of his world since the age of five.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful David,” Hunter said as he stood with Richard preparing to leave.

  “Don’t be sorry. Your information will be very helpful. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me,” they shook hands.

  The two men exited the bar and hailed a cab. David remained at the table considering his transportation options. He hadn’t planned on consuming as much beer as he did so driving was out of the question. His choice was to call a ranch hand to pick him up or take a taxi. Both options gave him the excuse to finish the pitcher on the table with one more mug of beer in it.

  Once the glass was full with the final drink of the night, he looked over to the girls table. Gabriela sat alone. She caught his stare acknowledging him by raising her glass and smiling. He returned the offering with a nod.

  His mind was preoccupied thinking about Hunters story. Could the Sandy be his Sandy? That was nuts. It couldn’t have been. Her martial art training was a discipline not a profession. Although her recent display in New York made him the slightest bit curious. It had to be coincidence. He was so consumed by his speculation he hadn’t noticed that someone was standing behind him.