Harold and the Angel of Death

by Gary McPherson

  Harold jumped in with a question, “That’s generous, but what about when you’re done with us? What happens to my company when we’re no longer useful?”

  Garcia rolled his eyes. “Please. Harold, PDS has a long history with our country. You will always be useful, but you bring up a good question that was asked of me when I first approached the board. The head of the CIA is currently working with the FBI and others to fast-track the investigation into PDS. They have agreed to cooperate. So I expect your contracts will be rolling in again in the not too distant future.”

  Harold caught Garcia’s redirection. “At what point would that be?”

  “Real soon,” was all Garcia would say, and then he took his seat again.

  Harold looked around at the other board members. Their sullen looks told him there was no reason to push Garcia further. Yet, he could not let the conversation end there. His face hardened, and he glared into Garcia’s eyes and spoke deliberately. “If you do anything to screw this company and the people here, I will come after you, and I think you know that you don’t want me coming after you.”

  Garcia clucked his tongue. “Please, we’re the CIA. Besides, how can you think that? If I hadn’t showed up at John’s death, you might very well be sitting in prison now.”

  “We both know that was self-defense.”

  Garcia gave a dismissive wave. “Yea, I know, but the local law enforcement didn’t. You would have been cleared eventually, but that whole scene could have been much messier. Trust me, if I wanted to screw you, or your company, I would have done so a long time ago. In fact, my superiors originally wanted to buy John’s old defense company and use it as a front, but I convinced them this was the better model. I’m not going through all this trouble to screw you. I’m trying to save you. Your father built a legacy that is about to be destroyed because of one bitter man, one greedy man, and another’s poor life choices. Work with me, Harold, and we’ll save what your father built.”

  Harold leaned back in his chair. “I already said you have our cooperation, but I want to be sure we have yours.”

  “Always,” Garcia replied. With that, he put on his sunglasses and stood up. “If you will pardon me, ladies and gentlemen, I need to tell my superiors that operation Viking is a go.” Without waiting for a response, Garcia briskly walked out of the room and was gone from sight.

  “You’re gonna have your hands full, my friend,” Tom said.

  Harold chuckled. He just hoped Garcia was a man of his word. Cameron passed out forms for everyone to sign acknowledging Harold as the new chairman of the board and Tom as CEO. Tom informed him he would be contacted by Garcia at home sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Harold decided to head back home once the meeting had adjourned. He had experienced more than enough drama with Garcia, and he wanted time to think through the company’s agreement before their next encounter.

  Chapter 4

  Harold felt the snow crunching underneath his feet with each heavy footfall. The gray sky over the bare trees of the forest told him another snow storm was coming. He stopped to get his bearings. Looking over his shoulder, he could see his footprints leading into the woods and out of sight. Finding his way back to the village would not be difficult, as long as he started back before the snow began.

  He loosely gripped his large bow in his left hand. His quiver of arrows hung off his bearskin-covered back. His battle axe sat securely in its leather sheath, crisscrossed over the quiver of arrows. He heard a noise and silently turned his head to his left. A large buck had walked out of the woods. Its ears flickered as it sensed danger somewhere beyond its vision.

  Harold slowly withdrew his arrow and aimed his bow. He cringed as the bow creaked in protest to his mighty arms. Suddenly the animal’s head jerked in his direction, and it scampered off. He closed his eyes in frustration. His arm still held the butt of the arrow to his cheek. The cold air filled his nostrils, and the smell of wolf filled his mind. Harold spun around and opened his eyes.

  Three feet away stood a stranger dressed in a wolf skin. Although he was at least five inches shorter than Harold, his bare chest told him that the stranger had to be a berserker. “Friend or foe?” Harold asked in a deep and foreboding voice.

  “Brother,” answered the stranger.

  Harold stared hard at him. The man’s blue eyes flashed through him, and he could see his baby brother being held in Joshua’s bare arms as the Browns took Harold by the hand and led him out of the queen’s longhouse on the way to their village. Harold wept for Bill.

  “I’m sorry, honey. We want your baby brother, but your mother won’t let us have him,” Queen Barbara said.

  “But I don’t want to leave. I want Bill,” young Harold cried.

  “We’ll try to reunite you.” Barbara held him close to her body. Her leather vest and skirt were rough. Harold reached up to touch the top of her sword’s hilt. He felt safe in her arms. He looked at King Richard. His large battle axes peeked out from behind his battle gear, and Harold’s eyes grew wide. His new mother was right. If anyone could reunite him with Bill, it was his new parents.

  Harold’s mind returned to the snow and the man in front of him. “Bill, how did you find me here?”

  Bill’s forehead wrinkled and his eyes looked skyward for a moment. “I don’t know, but something tells me you’re in danger.”

  The sound of snow crunching interrupted their reunion. John came strolling out of the forest. Harold raised his arrow at John, and Bill turned in his direction and raised his battle axe.

  “Easy, boys,” said John. “I come in peace.”

  “You’re a liar,” snarled Harold. “There’s nothing peaceful about you.”

  John dropped his axe and lifted his palms to his shoulders. “See, I’m unarmed. I’m going to walk ten feet over to that log and sit down. Why don’t you join me?”

  “We’ll stand, thanks,” Harold growled.

  “Who is he, Brother?”

  “A thief, murderer, and liar.”

  John sat down on the log and looked at both men. “Brother? Oh, so you’re this brat’s long-lost brother Richard spoke about. Well, maybe you can help us out then.”

  “There is no us,”

  “Hear me out. Garcia is a dangerous man. He’s the reason I lost my company, and he’s the real reason Richard is dead.”

  Harold tightened his bow further. The wood groaned under his strength, and the string tightened to the verge of breaking. His voice was guttural, “Mention my father one more time, and I’ll loose this arrow into your skull.”

  John put up his hand. “Easy, brat. Besides, we both know that won’t kill me. This is important. Listen to me and then shoot me.”

  Harold stood still as a stone.

  John rolled his eyes. “Bull-headed runt. Listen to me. Garcia came to me when I was trying to get new defense contracts for my company. Contracts your dad seemed to always undercut. He promised me if I played ball he’d make everything right and help us with our future bids. All we had to do was play ball with him and provide our company as cover while he was embedded as an arms dealer in the Middle East during the latter half of the Iraq War.”

  Harold relaxed his bow and lowered his arrow. “What happened?”

  “We played ball. The liar never intended on following through. After the war ended, Garcia got moved to some other project. His handler told me there was nothing they could do. The political winds were changing. Somehow your dad managed to navigate his way through it, but the CIA couldn’t find time to help me out. It had all been a ruse, and I had taken my eye off the priorities of my company. That was the beginning of the end.”

  “Why are you even telling me this? You blamed my father for everything. You killed my parents and tried to kill the rest of us.”

  John’s smile made Harold’s blood run cold, and the darkness in his eyes seemed to suddenly flash with a fire behind them. “Because you are now the enemy of my enemy. You just don’t know it yet. We’ll always have our war betwee
n one another, and one day, I will drive you insane, but in the meantime, I want to make sure Garcia goes down for what he did.”

  Harold stood there and considered what he had heard. He spit to the side. “Forget it. I will never become your puppet. Even if Garcia did use your company, you were the one that blamed my father and pushed him to suicide.”

  John stood up, brushed off his butt, and walked towards his axe with his arm extended. Harold raised his bow again, and Bill stepped forward to stand atop John’s weapon.

  John stopped and pulled his hand away. “Okay, I can come back for it.” He looked at Bill. “I would stay out of your brother’s affairs. You’ll only get yourself in trouble.”

  Bill stood silent, glaring towards John. John turned back to Harold. “Look, brat, you will help me with Garcia. If not for my sake, then for your own.”

  Harold stood like a statue. His bow fingers quivered as he fought the urge to release the string and drive the arrow into John’s head.

  “You think about what I said. It’s time to wake up now.”

  A loud buzzing filled the sky and darkness filled his vision. He cracked his eyes open to find the morning sun shining over the beautiful Malibu hills and through his bedroom window. Harold slapped at the snooze bar to turn off the annoying buzzer and then turned off his alarm. He rolled over on his back. John’s words were still echoing in his mind and he turned his thoughts towards his day to forget his nightmare. Joshua and Maria were coming home, and he needed to make sure he called the maid service to go through their house. John’s warning about Garcia forced its way forward into Harold’s mind. Harold pushed against his own subconscious to remind himself that Garcia was supposed to call.

  John’s words from his dream passed across his mind once more. He snorted and sat up in bed, rubbing his face in an attempt to remove the dream from his mind. Stumbling across the Spanish tile, he passed the wooden doors and walked into the arched entry of his shower. He stuck his head under the warm water and heard a voice say, “Don’t forget, brat.”

  Harold pulled his body out from under the shower head and stepped out, dripping onto the tiled floor. Am I still dreaming? He slapped himself hard in the face. His right cheek lit up like fire. There was no doubt that he was awake. He spoke aloud to calm his nerves, “It was just a dream. Still, what harm will it do to chat with Garcia about what John said?”

  Harold stood silently. The house was quiet aside from the hum of the HVAC pushing the morning chill from the air.

  He let out a short laugh at his own fear and returned to the shower to start his day.

  Chapter 5

  The doorbell rang. Harold stretched and rose from behind his father’s desk in the office. At first, he thought the maid service was done, but looking over at the wall clock he noticed they had only been across the street for a short time. The doorbell rang again, and he realized how much he missed having Maria around to answer the door. Harold plodded his way down the hall to the entryway. The doorbell rang a third time as he reached for the doorknob and jerked the door open.

  Before him stood Garcia. Harold’s scowl reflected off Garcia’s large sunglasses. Garcia wore a broad smile, a T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of Van’s denim slip-ons.

  Garcia said, “Sorry about that. I thought maybe you didn’t hear me.”

  “It’s a big house,” responded Harold.

  “I guess Joshua and Maria are still gone, huh?”

  “They return later this afternoon. Besides, that’s not her job anymore. I thought you were going to call.”

  For once, Garcia removed his sunglasses without prompting. “I was in the neighborhood. I thought I would drop by.”

  “Come on in.” Harold stepped to the side, and Garcia strolled in. “Let’s go out on the back deck. I’ve been inside all morning and could use the fresh air.”

  “I could use the sunshine myself.”

  The two men walked through the living room, out the French doors, and took a seat at Harold’s favorite table. When he realized he had not offered Garcia any refreshments, he slapped the white painted surface of the table. Garcia jumped.

  “What am I thinking?” said Harold. “I’m sorry. Do you want a beer? I’m just used to having Maria here, and she used to take care of this stuff.”

  Garcia composed himself. “No worries. I’d love a beer, if you’re going to have one.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Harold returned with a couple Sierra Nevada Pale Ales. “I do hope you don’t mind the more local stuff.”

  Garcia took out his pocket knife, pulled out his bottle opener, and popped off the top of the bottle. He took a long swig, put the bottle down, and let out a long belch. “I’m a big fan of this, but after you’ve had fresh German beer, the rest is just second place.” Garcia reached over and opened Harold’s beer for him.

  Harold finished his bottle in one swallow. “To each their own. Let me know when you’re ready for another one. Like I said, I’m afraid Maria has spoiled me. I should’ve brought out more beers.”

  Garcia quipped, “It sounds like you could use a wife to keep you in line.”

  Harold’s mouth curled downward. “I don’t think so. I don’t want a woman who serves our guests beers. I want a woman who can drink me under the table or take me on in a fair fight.”

  “Sounds like somebody misses Darla.”

  Harold looked out over the hills and down to the ocean as he thought about his missing girlfriend and then decided he preferred to change the subject. “You know, Joshua really taught me to appreciate this view. We’ve probably spent years out here together thinking, talking, and remembering.”

  “It’s beautiful,” responded Garcia.

  Harold turned to Garcia and pointed up and down at his outfit. “Before we get down to business, I just need to know, is it casual Tuesday at the company?”

  Garcia ignored the quip and finished off his beer. After another burp, he answered, “No, but when I’m in the field, I’m free to dress as I see fit. This is my preferred attire, and it seemed appropriate on a day like today.”

  Harold rose. “Be right back.” He left and returned with four more beers.

  “Easy, big guy. We’re not all six feet five.”

  Harold reached over and patted Garcia on the shoulder before sitting down. “Well, I don’t know how long this will take, and I didn’t feel like making another beer run inside.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The two men popped their beers. Garcia took a slow sip of his, and Harold finished off a third of his bottle in one swallow. “Alright, Agent Garcia, let’s get to work. What’s going on?”

  Garcia took a short sip of his beer and then sat up and put his arms on the table. He leaned forward towards Harold and looked hard into his eyes. Harold’s body stiffened, and he wondered why he suddenly felt like he was going to be interrogated. Garcia asked, “I’m curious. In our meeting yesterday, you shifted gears awfully fast when I said I needed your help. Why?”

  Harold’s finger wiped the sweat from his beer bottle. He stretched out his legs and took a slow sip from his bottle as he thought about Garcia’s question. He put down his brew. “I don’t know. I was sitting in Dad’s old chair and asked myself what he would do. He was able to live with the bloodshed our weapons caused because he was convinced we were always on the right side. I just felt like helping you was the right side.”

  Garcia took another sip of his beer and stared out towards the ocean. Harold wondered what he was thinking about. Now seemed like a good time to bring up his concerns.

  Harold cleared his throat, and Garcia glanced over at him. Harold said, “I do have a couple of questions, more like concerns really.”

  “Fire away,” responded Garcia.

  “Well, John told me a couple of things before he died.”

  Garcia pushed his beer bottle to the side. “What do you mean he told you things? I thought you snapped his neck?”

  “Yea, well, I did. He said this stuff when Jo
shua was talking to him. I was listening in the hallway, trying to figure out when to make my move.”

  Garcia’s brow wrinkled. “What did John say?”

  “He was rambling on about the CIA and my dad. He claimed the two of you colluded to destroy JR Aerospace. John said a guy named Garcia had worked his way into his company and then double-crossed him. I woke up this morning and the memory popped back into my head. I’m just wondering if that’s you?”

  “Why didn’t Joshua mention this to me?”

  Harold leaned back into his chair. “Doc was busy trying to save Maria. I doubt he was even listening to that part.”

  Garcia began to drum his fingers on the surface of the table while he looked down at them. Harold wondered if he was trying to think of a lie to tell him, or if he was debating telling him the truth. Garcia’s drumming ceased, and he grabbed his bottle and finished off the remaining three-fourths.

  After an extended belch, he sat up. “I suppose you deserve to know. First, the CIA and your father never colluded together. That was John’s twisted mind trying to justify his actions. He was right about the CIA and his company having a relationship, and I was involved. My cover in Iraq was as an employee of JR Aerospace. My job at that time was to ferret out insurgents that had tried to infiltrate the ranks of the contractors. John was paid a modest stipend to ensure my cover was well documented in the company computers should anyone try to check up on me. In addition, I promised when I returned I’d try and help him win some defense contracts. It was pretty standard stuff really.

  “I had assumed my handlers would throw a few contracts John’s way. However, as Iraq wrapped up, I was asked to go dark and head into Syria to gather as much intel as I could on ISIS and other newly forming terrorist groups. Because of the danger, all communication was cut, and all the records inside of JR Aerospace that could identify me were mysteriously destroyed by a hacker attack.”