Balance of Trust

by Charles Geoffrey

  He waved to Lydia to follow, while continuing along the top of the hill. At the gully’s southern end, he ran a zigzag path down the hill, using trees for cover while watching for Elias. No shots. It gave him a sinking feeling.

  If Elias had left, the man would have a decent head start on him. Chasing him with his side injury wouldn’t be easy. The light rain was also beginning to chill him. Still, he trained hard at home and ran often. He hoped Elias wasn’t a conditioned athlete.

  He waved Lydia to follow him, and ran down to the bottom, and then south. After fifty feet he noted a footprint, also pointed south. A hundred yards later the gully ended in a long, gently sloping hill.

  He waved to Lydia again, and then bolted up the hill, using trees as much as possible to hide his ascent. If Elias was going to ambush him, this was the perfect place. Silence.

  At the top of the hill he saw two things to his liking: a shoeprint leading southeast, which fit for an exit strategy for Elias, and a large pine tree with a wide cleft in its bottom. He waited impatiently for Lydia to run up the hill.

  When she joined him, he pointed to the recess in the tree trunk. “Sit in there, facing out, and point the gun out. If the bear or anything else comes at you, fire the gun until you kill it.” He unscrewed the silencer from the Glock he’d taken off Kaysan. “It will make more noise this way.”

  She stared at the opening in the tree trunk.

  He knew she didn’t want to go in. “I have to go now. There’s food and a compass in the sling bag. Do you know how to use a compass, Lydia?”

  She nodded. “My grandpa showed me.”

  “Good. If I don’t return by dark, use the compass to go west to the river. Then go north along the river until you find a canoe to cross it. Then keep going west.” An adult wouldn’t want to hear all of that and he hated saying it to a ten-year-old girl. “Repeat it to me.”

  “West to the river. Follow the river north. Then take the canoe across and go west.” She looked at him, and then climbed into the trunk and sat down.

  Clicking the safety off, he moved to the side of her and handed her the gun. “Hold it between your legs.”

  She wrapped her hands around the grip. Setting the gun against her waist, the barrel facing out between her legs, she squeezed her knees together to prop it up. Carefully she put a finger around the trigger.

  “If the bear comes, just stay here. Don’t make any sounds. If it attacks just keep pulling the trigger.” He couldn’t imagine leaving Rachel in this situation. “I’m coming back. I promise. Okay?”

  Biting her lip, she gave a small nod.

  He had to let go of any concerns for her so he could focus. He whirled and ran.

  Chapter 8

  Traveling in the direction of the last print he had discovered, Bender ran southeast at a good clip, switching the Rattler from hand to hand.

  The rain ended, but the ground was still wet and slippery. He was glad he had boots. His headache had eased a little, but he was tired. The knife wound added to his fatigue and his ears were still ringing.

  While he ran he looked for footprints or any other signs of Elias. After ten minutes he didn’t see anything so he ran a weaving pattern, back and forth. It slowed his forward progress but gave him a better chance to spot tracks. He ignored the pain in his side.

  After twenty minutes without seeing anything, he widened his pattern. He almost cheered when a broken branch appeared on the ground with a partial print. Judging direction from the angle of the print, he headed directly south.

  To be safe, he slowed to a fast walk while looking for a second print to verify he was going in the right direction. He found it, and then decided to run hard in a straight line, using the compass to stay on track. The cloudy sky hid the sun and any possible bearing.

  After another thirty minutes of hard running he came to a small creek. Scattered patches of sand were on both sides. He looked for tracks again on the near side first, running along it thirty yards in either direction. Nothing.

  He splashed across the ankle-deep water and inspected the opposite side. He was rewarded with a print farther south, and followed it slowly to the next, where it turned into the woods. There he spotted another. He ran hard again.

  Looking ahead, he scoured the forest for glimpses of Elias’ green flannel shirt or any sign of movement. He started to worry that the man was too far ahead of him.

  Thirty minutes later, his side burning, he stopped. A faint noise. He cocked his head to listen, trying to filter past the ringing in his ears. Another faint sound. Straight ahead. He sprinted.

  Ahead of him a stand of birch trees broke up the pine, enabling him to have a farther line of sight. A flash of green flannel appeared a hundred yards in the distance. Exhilarated, he corrected his direction to intercept the terrorist.

  He was running so hard he almost missed spotting Elias aiming the HK416 at him from beside a tree. He jumped sideways as Elias fired a burst. Not waiting, he bolted right, still moving fast, using trees for protection.

  Unless Elias was a trained marksman, he would have a difficult time hitting him on the run where there was cover.

  Three shots.

  Bender’s upper left arm abruptly burned. He gasped and almost fell down, stumbling several steps before he steadied himself. Glancing at his arm, he saw a bloody furrow across the back of the triceps.

  Ducking, he ran faster, noting Elias’ position while weaving and making himself a harder target to hit.

  More rifle reports.

  Bender scurried among the trees, glancing east. Elias ran from his position. Changing direction, Bender sprinted in direct pursuit again.

  In three minutes he saw the terrorist fifty yards ahead of him running through the trees. He wanted the man alive but couldn’t risk letting him escape. He fired a burst from the Rattler. Missed.

  Elias whirled, stopped, and fired a burst from the hip.

  Bender dodged to the right, didn’t slow down, and closed the distance. Elias aimed at him again. Nothing. Empty magazine. Bender ran right at him, the Rattler raised in his right hand.

  Elias turned and ran.

  Aiming at Elias’ legs, Bender pulled the trigger. Empty. He had wasted bullets on scaring the bear to protect Lydia. Another unnecessary risk. He let the Rattler hang, pulled the Glock, and fired three shots at Elias’ fading back. Too many trees.

  Shifting the Rattler to his back, he pumped his legs. He noted with concern that Elias had a smooth stride. The man was a runner. Under normal conditions Bender could wear him down, but injured and tired he didn’t know if he could catch him.

  Stopping, he took careful aim and fired several shots. Too much foliage. Elias had crouched low, veered left, and kept going. Worried he couldn’t catch him, he fired two more quick shots.

  Elias kept going.

  Running a short sprint, Bender stopped again and fired several times. Thick forest blocked his shots. But then Elias burst into view. Bender pressed the trigger. Empty. Swearing, he dropped the gun and ran.

  The idea of failing and allowing VX to threaten millions didn’t allow him to slow his gait. His lungs burned.

  Within minutes he was gaining. Elias was tiring too. Thirty yards separated them. Elias glanced back, and then spurted ahead. Bender couldn’t match his stride, but soon Elias slowed down again.

  Bender ignored his heaving lungs and drained legs. Desperate, he blocked out everything except keeping his legs moving in a smooth rhythm, focusing on Elias’ back.

  Elias slowed more.

  Bender wove around a tree, relieved to see he was only ten yards behind him now. The terrorist slowed even more, but Bender could also feel the toll on his body. It was now or never. One last effort. He burst forward.

  In seconds he pushed Elias from behind and sent him tumbling.

  Instead of crumpling, Elias rolled smoothly over the ground and rose to his feet fluidly, ending up in a martial arts stance, his open hands raised and ready.

  Bender stopped abru
ptly. He unslung and dropped the Rattler and drew the OTF knife. His lungs heaved and his body felt drained. While running through scenarios in his mind, he needed a delay to recover.

  “You don’t have to do this, Elias,” he gasped. “You can choose to walk away.” He walked toward Elias, who was also breathing hard. The man’s glasses were askew on his face, but his eyes betrayed no fear.

  “Was Kaysan your brother?” Bender wanted him off-balance. “He didn’t put up much of a fight before he died.”

  Elias said matter-of-factly, “We were both prepared to die. I accept his death.” His eyes glinted. “After I kill you, I’m going back to finish the girl.”

  Bender believed him. A moment of rage filled in his head but he immediately squelched it. Stepping to the side, he swung his knife at Elias’ arm. Elias blocked the strike, while turning into him, elbowing Bender in the stomach while simultaneously grabbing his knife arm.

  Bender was ready for the stomach blow and twisted out of his grip. Elias threw a kick. Bender turned sideways to avoid it, dropped to a knee, and scored Elias’ calf with the knife.

  Gasping, Elias aimed a series of strikes at Bender’s head.

  From his knees Bender rolled away. Before he could rise Elias rushed forward and kicked him in the ribs. Bender rolled again, numb with pain, and ended up prone on his stomach. Maybe a broken rib. For a moment he couldn’t move. If he didn’t end this quickly he might end up dead.

  He lay motionless on the ground, groaning, his eyes barely open. Another scenario he had practiced repeatedly in the VR sims.

  Elias took two steps toward him, raising a foot to stomp his head.

  Twisting to his side, Bender cut the Achilles tendon of the foot Elias stood on. Screaming, Elias fell on top of him. Bender gasped in pain.

  Trying to turn over onto his back, Bender raised an arm to block Elias’ fists. One blow connected with the side of his head, stunning him for a moment. Gathering himself, he had to let go of the knife to push against the soil, twisting violently to his back. He drove his folded knuckles into the front of Elias’ neck.

  Elias gasped, pulled back, and managed to hit him in the chest and torso, and then his ribs again.

  Bender almost blacked out from the pain, but his survival instincts took over. He palmed Elias in the lower ribs. The man gasped and fell off him to his back, choking for air. Bender thought he might have pushed one of Elias’ floating ribs into a lung.

  Rolling away, it took several gasping breaths before he could slowly push to his knees, and then his feet. It felt like he’d been run over. Breathing was painful and he hurt everywhere. Definitely a cracked or broken rib.

  Elias wasn’t moving and wheezed deeply, remaining on his back, staring up at the sky. The man had lost his glasses.

  Stumbling over to him, Bender noted the terrorist still had the sling bag. He kicked Elias in the head and the terrorist went limp.

  It took him a minute to use zip ties from the sling bag to bind Elias’ wrists, ankles, and ankles to wrists. Each time he moved he winced, but he kept his breathing shallow so he didn’t expand his diaphragm.

  Finished, he sat a few feet away, the sling bag on his lap, his back against a tree trunk. Feeling weak, he peeked at his side wound. A bruise surrounded his ribs and the cut was still bleeding. His upper arm was also bloody. He searched the sling bag for the first-aid kit.

  After applying antiseptic, he taped four-by-four gauze over his wounds. It stopped the bleeding. He quickly searched the sling bag and Elias’ pockets, but the man’s phone was gone. Elias must have considered it a risk and tossed it at some point during his flight. Not worth searching for it. He already had the numbers, and Kaysan’s phone.

  When Elias came to, the terrorist looked at him calmly, wincing as he wheezed for air.

  Bender toyed with the knife in his hands. “Do you like the turn of events? You get one chance to avoid pain.” He smiled grimly. “Answer if you understand.”

  “Go to hell,” Elias wheezed.

  Bender slowly stood up, hobbled over, and kicked him in the side. Elias groaned, his face strained.

  “Where are the VX barrels?”

  “You’ll never find them,” gasped Elias. “And they’ll send someone else to deliver them. You’ve failed no matter what you do to me.”

  Bender thought about that. If Elias could withstand pain, he might not get any more information. He stared at the terrorist.

  An idea came to him. “The girl almost got mauled by a bear. I think if you can’t tell me what I need to know, I add more zip ties and you wait to see what comes along that’s hungry. Wolverines love to scavenge on carcasses too.”

  Elias stared at him, hate in his eyes.

  Bender spoke softly. “Your friends are all dead. It’s just you now. Why not live to fight another day?”

  His breathing still shallow, Elias didn’t answer.

  “Three phone numbers were on Kaysan’s phone for three VX barrels. I memorized the numbers.” He pulled out more zip ties from the sling bag. Kneeling, he added them to Elias’ wrists and ankles, ensuring the man would have no chance to escape.

  Finished, Bender looped the bag over his head and positioned it on his back. Painfully he rose to his feet. “Last chance. Tell me how to find the barrels and I’ll let you go. Otherwise you stay here—food for passersby. Something is going to smell your blood.”

  Elias looked up at him, his voice hoarse. “You’re why your country needs to suffer.”

  “Give me something. You can’t help ISIS by letting a bear have you for dinner.”

  Elias didn’t speak.

  Bender turned and walked away, recovering the Rattler and slinging it over his head so it rested against his back too.

  Elias whispered, “You’re right. The phone numbers are the contacts for the barrels.”

  Bender stopped to face him. “I already know that.”

  “You call, give a password, and they give you directions to the barrels.”

  “Why don’t the contacts just take care of the barrels themselves?”

  “They have families and jobs. They blend in. They can be used again for other actions.”

  That made sense to him. And he didn’t detect any signs that Elias was lying. “What’s the password?”

  “Take these zip ties off me first.” Elias looked up at him, his breathing still labored.

  “We’ll just track down the numbers and the contacts, and someone more skilled than myself will talk to them.” Bender leaned over. “My guess is that if your contacts have jobs and families, they won’t be as tough as you and have a lot more to lose and more reasons to bargain.” He straightened. “Either way, I can’t trust any password you give me.”

  “Without the passwords you have nothing.”

  “I have the phone numbers.” He put the sling bag on his back and walked away.

  “Wait,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you.”

  He waited, regarding Elias.

  Elias said, “For the first phone number the password is the Arabic word for twenty-five—the number of prophets named in the Quran. The second is the Arabic word for seven, the number of sins that doom a person to hell, and the third is the Arabic word for ninety-nine—the number of names of Allah.”

  Bender stared at the man. It sounded plausible. But Elias had advanced training and could be skilled in lying, possibly giving him false passwords or in the wrong order to warn the three contacts. The higher-ups could sort it out. “Thanks, Elias.”

  There was a small chance Elias would be found by a hiker or the Canadian police before he died, and then get access to a phone and warn ISIS about the leak for the VX barrel locations. He was still a risk.

  Elias wheezed. “You gave me your word.”

  Bender spoke softly. “You killed a little girl’s parents and grandfather in front of her. You killed my two operatives. You’re a murderer and your only purpose in life is to continue murdering.”

  “You’re a liar.”

&
nbsp; “I can live with that.” He considered his options. The OTF knife, zip ties around the neck, or his hands. None of it felt appealing.

  When he finished killing Elias, he walked away, never looking back.

  Chapter 9

  Bender recovered his Glock and the HK416, slinging the latter over a shoulder, the pistol shoved under his belt. Unable to signal Lydia with the gun, he hoped she had remained where he left her.

  He used the compass to backtrack. It was slow going. It hurt on every step and every breath. Pacing himself, he kept the pain in the background, while following his tracks along the way he had come. The terrain didn’t seem familiar because he’d been running hard through it before.

  When he reached the stream, he stood in the middle and cupped his hands, dipping them in to drink some water. If he had to take parasite drugs later, that was better than passing out on the trail due to dehydration. He took the canteen out of the bag and filled it, returning it to the bag.

  As he walked he felt lucky to be alive. His training had paid off. Still, the mission was only half-completed. He had to get the phone numbers to Colonel Danker.

  What he really wanted now was to return to Rachel and Carol. His thoughts continually turned to them. He couldn’t wait to see them, to hold them in his arms. He missed them terribly. Considering how close he had come to losing them, and causing them grief, he realized how lucky he was.

  He would quit Blackhood Ops, go caving with Rachel, and take her and Carol to a cabin. Enjoy life with his loved ones. It seemed so simple he wondered why it had taken him so long to see it.

  Nearly three hours later he recognized the hill at the south end of the gully, and the tree Lydia had been hiding in. From fifty feet away he still couldn’t see her, since the trunk opening faced north. It couldn’t be more than mid-afternoon, but the clouds were turning the forest darker. At least they had plenty of time to make the rendezvous point before midnight.