Ogrodnik

by Gary Coffin

  Rayce didn’t say a word during the entire discourse; he didn’t take notes, he didn’t ask questions nor did he acknowledge any points during the one-sided conversation. He was tilted back in his chair holding on to his beer, now long empty, and staring blankly out at the river. The only obvious reaction Elliot noticed was when he first mentioned the name "Enver Yilmaz," Rayce seemed to stiffen just a little. Elliot was also watching for the less obvious micro expressions that might provide an indication of what Rayce was feeling. Rayce was a hard man to read. By nature he was quiet and reflective and didn’t display much in the way of his emotional state of mind. But Elliot was skilled in reading people and knew that by the way Rayce’s jaw jutted out slightly and his brow tightened that he was angry. Not just anger—more like a simmering rage that smoldered beneath his composed façade. Elliot’s story had ignited something deep inside Rayce, something dangerous.

  “Is that it?” he growled more than spoke.

  “There’re probably some details I forgot, but I think you have the picture.”

  Rayce continued looking out at the river for a few moments and finally asked “What is it you want from me?”

  “Sarah used to tell me that you know things. That you were in the US Special Forces and saw action, and that you were capable in areas that most men could never be. She said you had done things, saw things in the forces, overseas, things that most people can’t comprehend. She said if there was ever a need to send one man into battle that you’d be her choice.”

  Elliot waited for a response, but none came. “I’m getting back into the investigation, Rayce. I have to. Those bastards killed my wife, my father, and an employee. If I say anything about it, they’ll kill me and everyone close to me. I can’t live with that. I’ll make sure that my son and partner are safely out of the way, and then I’m going after them.“

  “So I’ll ask again. What is that you want from me?”

  “Help, Rayce. In whatever way you can provide it: advice, leadership, planning or whatever. I have money. I’ll pay you well.”

  “I’m not for hire.”

  “Can you at least give me some advice, Rayce? Tell me what to do or whom I can talk to?”

  Rayce let his thoughts drift back to when he met Sarah. If not for her, he wouldn’t be alive today. The surgeons had done their work; they’d set his bones and sewn his wounds. They told him he was fine, that the worst was over, that he could go home and continue on with his life. They were wrong. His old life no longer existed. The military had discarded him; his unit had betrayed him, and his family had turned their back on him. He moved to Canada to get away, to slink into a hole where he could curl up and die. That’s when she came into his life.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Elliot.

  “If you cared about her like I thought you did, then help me find the people who killed her.”

  “You want advice? Go home, pack a bag and start driving. You’re not ready for this.”

  “And let them get away with murder? Not likely.”

  “Nobody’s getting away with murder. You have my guarantee that whoever was involved in Sarah’s death will answer for it.”

  “I’m not going to let you fight my battles. She was my wife. He was my father,” Elliot shot back.

  “You’re in over your head. I’m going after them but I can’t fight this battle and babysit you at the same time, so go get your partner and stay off the grid for a couple of weeks.”

  “Not going to happen Rayce,” Elliot said shaking his head side to side.

  Rayce looked at Elliot while choosing his next words, “You’ve never had to kill a man. You’ve never stared down the muzzle of a gun or the sharp end of a knife. Who knows how you’ll react at that moment when action is needed. Some can do it, most cannot; even those who react, who are able to overcome their apprehension in a do or die situation will get eaten up inside. The realization that you’ve taken another man’s life will fester inside you and eventually hollow you out leaving nothing but an empty shell. You’ll wish you were the one who was killed.”

  “And you’re immune to this? The great Rayce Nolan, super Black Ops guy.” Elliot spat out.

  “I’m not immune,” he said quietly. “I’m already hollowed out. Whatever humanity I had left was carved out of me on the floor of an Iraqi cave,” he said looking out across the river. “Leave this to me Forsman,” but even as he said it he looked back toward Elliot to assess the man that sat beside him, because he realized that Elliot Forsman would not be dissuaded.

  Elliot nodded his head, his jaw locked in place and lips pressed tightly together but said nothing.

  Rayce finally relented, “I can’t stop you if you want in, but I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder wondering if you’re doing the right thing. It’s going to get messy. I’m going to do what I was trained to do, take out the enemy. There will be no negotiations. People will die and there’ll be no backing out once we start. You do as I say, when I say it, no questions asked.”

  “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

  Neither man spoke, as they let the gravity of the decision they just made sink in.

  “Is your son safe?” Rayce asked.

  “Yes, he’s gone away. I don’t even know where.”

  “What about your partner?”

  “I’ll let her know what we’re doing.”

  “I need you to go home, pack a bag for a week and, in the middle of the night, drive back here. You’ll stay with me until this is over. “

  “Why the middle of the night?”

  “If they’re still watching you, maybe we can catch them asleep, or maybe they aren’t staking out overnight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Bring a gun if you have one, and leave your cell phone behind. It’s traceable.”

  “What will you be doing?”

  “I’ve got a couple of calls to make, and then I’m going to take a look at the Eastern Security building tonight. We need to know what we’re up against. Our advantage right now is that they think you’ve packed it in. They won’t be as vigilant if there’s nothing for them to worry about. I’ve been in a lot of fights in my day and I’ve won a lot of fights. I always try to get the first punch in, sometimes that ends the fight before it even starts. Maybe I can throw the first punch tonight.”

  “Yilmaz told me that they’re backing off.”

  “That was bullshit, Yilmaz’ word means nothing.”

  “You know Yilmaz?” asked Elliot.

  Rayce ignored the question and continued. “You’ll need to talk to your partner and let her know what we’re doing. She should either go away for a while or come back here with you. Don’t trust anyone; assume you’re being watched and that your phones are being tapped. Go now, and act like you normally would. Even if they’ve followed you here, they have no reason to think you’re doing anything case related. Let’s keep it that way. If I’m not back when you get here, you’ll find a key under the rock by the back door.”

  Elliot thanked Rayce and left the bike shop. As he drove back into town, he kept watch for a tail; he didn’t see any.

  Elliot drove directly to his house, packed his gun and his bag, and returned to his father’s where he’d camp out for the next few hours before returning to Rayce’s. His first task was to talk to Rivka. He dialed her number and let the phone ring until her answering machine picked up.

  “Riv, I know you’re mad at me for dropping the investigation, but I need to talk to you. Give me a call on my cell.”

  He thought about what he’d tell Anne. There was no reason to think she was in danger, and he felt the less she knew, the better.

  “Hello, Anne.”

  “I thought I heard some banging around up there. Are you coming down for a visit?”

  “I can’t tonight. I’ve got a few things I need to attend to, things that have been festering for a while and they can’t wait any longer. “

  “But it’s almost 9:30 p.m. You have
to work tonight?”

  “As I said, it cannot wait. I’ll be out of town for a few days, so I’ll call you when I get back. “

  “You’re not back on the case, are you? “

  “No, nothing like that. I’ll explain it when I see you, and it’ll all make sense,” he lied.

  “Okay. Good luck, and be careful. You know how I feel about you.”

  “The feelings are mutual.”

  “Banik. We’ve been tracking the son since he phoned yesterday.“

  “What’s he been doing?”

  “He spent Friday morning out in the country with a lady friend, but he’s been acting suspicious since he got back.”

  “How so?”

  “He went to visit a bike dealer on the south shore yesterday evening.“

  “To buy a bike? “

  “No, the store was closed. He went to meet the bike dealer.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. The bike shop is owned by a guy named Rayce Nolan. I knew a man with that name many years ago. We’re getting a background on him now to see if it’s the same guy.”

  “Who is he?”

  “If it’s the same guy, he’s a soldier I met in the Gulf twenty years ago. A scary fucker, someone we’ll need to take seriously.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “No changes to the plan. We’ll need to take them out and make them disappear, and if we have to take out the bike dealer, we’ll do that too.”

  “Just so you know, Ogrodnik is no longer available to us. “

  “Good. That freak scares the shit outta me. I have a guy who specializes in this sort of thing.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Rayce thought about Elliot’s story and what the logical next step should be. He knew that Yilmaz, a trained soldier and leader, would already have a plan in place, and that plan would not include letting Elliot live. A man such as Yilmaz would recognize that Elliot represented a risk and that risks must be dealt with.

  He went downstairs to the vault and filled a backpack with the tools of his trade. Rayce needed to case the Eastern Security compound, and if opportunity presented itself, he had to be ready to take action.

  Thirty minutes later, he was there. Rayce parked out of sight of the compound and walked to the parking lot from the side where he wouldn’t be noticed. The info Rayce had received from his intel guy, Evan, already told him that the building had cameras on each corner that would cover most of the open areas surrounding the compound. He also knew that the security cameras were watched from the reception area on the main floor. The main floor consisted of a substantial reception area, a couple of boardrooms, and a few smaller breakout rooms. The upstairs contained the living quarters for the Eastern Security personnel and was composed of a number of bedrooms and a common entertainment area.

  From his place of concealment, Rayce saw that there were only two trucks in the back lot but didn’t know if that meant the full contingent was at home or not. The flicker of colored light coming from the second floor windows told him that someone was watching TV.

  Rayce sunk back into the shadows when the compound front door opened. A man’s face was illuminated by the fire of a match lighting a cigarette. Rayce watched as the man strolled aimlessly out front while enjoying his smoke. Based on the size and pear shaped physique of the man, Rayce came to the conclusion that this was not a mercenary. More likely a security guard hired to monitor the cams, answer the phone, and greet walk-ins.

  Rayce did not hesitate to execute a quickly formulated plan. He advanced to the building from the side where the guard would not see him and waited at the corner until the smoker’s pre-occupied saunter brought him close.

  There was no fight. Rayce came out from around the corner and closed the gap to the guard in two large strides. His massive hand closed on the man’s throat to prevent any sound, and the guard was brought easily down onto his back, unable to even breathe under Rayce’s iron grip.

  “I’m going to release my hold and allow you to speak. If you yell for help, two things will happen. Neither of them will be good for you. Are you going to call for help?”

  The terrified guard shook his head no.

  “Good,” said Rayce as he released his hold on the guard’s throat.

  “Who are you?”

  The guard struggled to recapture his breath. “My name is Milos Thompson. I work for Round-the-Clock Security. I’m not one of them,” he stammered.

  “Not one of who?”

  “The soldiers upstairs. I’m not one of them. I work for a security company.”

  “How many people are upstairs?”

  “There are four. The rest left earlier today.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know. They don’t talk to me.”

  “Are the men upstairs armed?”

  “Yes. They always have their weapons with them.”

  “What about the big man? Is he here?”

  “What big man?” he answered with a blank stare.

  “The big man with the little boy voice.”

  “No. He’s not one of them.”

  “I don’t understand. He’s not one of them, but you know him. Who is he?”

  “He comes here to talk to them sometimes. I can tell the guys upstairs are afraid of him. His name is Ogrodnik. That’s all I know about him.”

  “Milos, do you have a family?”

  “Yes, I have a wife and two young children. Please, leave them out of this,” stammered the guard as his voice trembled.

  “Do you want to see them again?”

  The guard just nodded.

  “I’m willing to let you go on this condition. You go home, you don’t say anything to anyone, you call in sick and you never come back here. “

  “Okay,” said the guard as Rayce released his grip on him, and he ran in the opposite direction.

  Rayce watched to make sure Milos was true to his word and then advanced cautiously to the front entrance. The reception area was empty as expected. His plan was simple: kill three men and then capture and interrogate the fourth.

  Rayce, with duffel bag in tow, walked down a hallway to where he knew the power panel was and then threw the switch to cut building power. The entire building went black for a few seconds before the ethereal orange light of the emergency lighting kicked in. Rayce quietly ducked inside a doorway near the power panel and waited. The sounds of movement upstairs carried easily throughout the quiet building as did the muted snips of conversation. Rayce couldn’t understand their words but knew their meaning. The senior in the group upstairs was ordering the junior to go down and check it out. He heard the cadence of a body coming down the stairs. The door was pushed open, and the soldier spoke in a loud voice, with a thick Eastern European accent, “Milos, Milos, are you here?” as he walked down the hallway toward the panel and Rayce.

  Rayce stood behind an open doorway with a knife in hand. When he passed the doorway, Rayce took two steps and simultaneously grabbed his mouth from behind and sunk the blade into the man’s back. It was a precision move that required skill and strength. Rayce’s knowledge of human anatomy and its functions was extensive. Years of studying combat techniques from many cultures had taught him the most efficient ways of incapacitation. In this case, fatality was the only option. He thrust the knife into the center of the soldier's back midway up the thoracic vertebrae chain. He knew that a well-directed knife into the T6 area of the spine would sever the spinal cord and carry on to puncture the heart. It was clean, efficient, and relatively painless for the victim. Rayce took no joy in the administration of pain and death. To him it was a means to an end. It was a tool he owned, and he used it judiciously.

  He let the body slide quietly to the floor as its life spilled out of the wound and onto the floor. The body was pulled into the nearest room and he took his next post, beside the door leading upstairs so that he would be behind the door when it swung open.

  It wasn’t long befor
e sounds of impatience came from upstairs. Again, Rayce didn’t understand their words but knew what they were saying. If they spoke English, it would be something like, “Lukas, what the fuck are you doing down there? Is that useless guard there with you? Are you getting a blowjob from him? Hahaha.”

  Another soldier came down the stairs. Rayce could tell based on the timbre of the voice and sound of the stomping footsteps that this was a big man, much larger than the first. He quietly sheathed his knife and pulled a small spool of woven germanium nano-wire from his pocket. The wire was a foot long, about 2 millimeters thick with padded loops at each end. It was designed for a single purpose. The move he was about to try was risky. If he had his gun pulled or if Rayce didn’t catch him by surprise, it would get messy, and the two soldiers upstairs would be alerted. Rayce stayed on plan and focused on the footsteps coming down toward him. The door swung open, and the soldier called out loudly, “Lukas!” Rayce waited for the words to complete and then slipped the garrote around the man’s neck from behind. The garrote prevented any calls for help, but the man was strong. The soldier caught his balance, braced himself by widening his stance and twisted his torso wildly to the left in an effort to send his attacker off balance. Rayce was ready for the move and rode it out easily. He was also ready when the big man twisted back to the right, and as he swung back around, he crashed his knee into the side of the big soldier’s leg right at the knee joint. The leg caved in sideways in a way that no knee is meant to bend, sending the soldier toward the ground. The weight of the big man falling only increased the pressure around his neck as the killing wire was now the only thing preventing him from falling all the way to the floor. Rayce had used the centuries' old fighting technique by using a man’s weight and strength against him. Within five seconds, the loss of blood going to the man’s brain had weakened him considerably. Another ten seconds and he lost consciousness. Rayce maintained his grip for a full minute until he was sure that reprisal was not possible.