Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “Want me to take her?” Camilla whispered.

  “Naw, I’m okay.” Yaw caressed a miniature cheek with his index finger, and Kylie gripped the finger on instinct with her tiny hand.

  Camilla watched the two of them and smiled. To her, seeing father and daughter together in an tender moment like this was beautiful; it stopped time for her, as if the universe was allowing her an instant of awareness, of unconditional love flowing like a true force of nature through all three of them, connecting them, and with that connection came total understanding of the purpose and cycle of life. But that allowance—that glimpse into the totality of larger forces at work—was always temporary, and the look on Camilla’s face slowly turned serious when she thought of what lay immediately ahead for her daughter’s father.

  “I’m not going,” Yaw said, as if reading her thoughts. “I need to stay here. I need to take care of Kylie. And you. Alex will understand.”

  Yaw moved his captive finger, with the tiny hand attached to it, back and forth, and Kylie gurgled with glee.

  “You have to go,” Camilla said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can take care of myself. And Kylie. You know this. You know my strength. It’s one of the reasons why you love me.”

  Yaw turned to Camilla. “I can’t leave you.”

  “You’re not. There’s something special about Alex,” Camilla continued. “Larger than what we can understand. I feel it from blood to bone. He can change the world. And I mean for real. I think that’s what Mawith was trying to tell us,” she said, referring to the old Indian’s prophetic words about Alex, spoken to the entire group over a year ago in the Arizona desert.

  “I know,” Yaw whispered softly, almost to himself. “But I can’t—”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kylie started to fuss, and Camilla reached for her daughter on instinct. Equally on instinct, the infant let go of the grip she held on her father’s finger and transitioned to her mother’s arms with little fuss before going silent. Kylie put her hand on her mother’s face, and Camilla blew into it. She smiled down at her daughter, and the infant smiled back.

  “I’ve always felt…” she trailed off.

  “Felt what?”

  “I dunno if you wanna hear it.”

  “C’mon. It’s me you’re talking to here.”

  “I’ve always felt it wasn’t random, Alex coming into our life. But it’s you…” She looked at Yaw, studying his face, trying to catalogue every detail, almost ravenous in her love for him. “In the long run, when things get crazy, it’s you that’s gonna have to look out for him.”

  “I don’t understand,” Yaw said.

  “Nikki’s his love. And part of the family. We have to save her, too. But you’re Alex’s brother. You’re the only one who isn’t afraid of what he can do. You never have been. You’re his connection to humanity outside of himself; and he’s going to need that.” She turned her attention back to Kylie. “It’s just what I feel. And, no, I don’t want you to go. Believe me. But I also think that, no matter what, I think that somehow, Alex will keep you safe. Just like you’ll keep him safe. It’s what I believe. It’s what I have faith in. The both of you.”

  Yaw leaned over and kissed Camilla on the cheek. “I’m always gonna look out for you. And my baby girl. Know that.”

  “I do. We’ll be okay. Until you get back.” An unexpected wave of insecurity passed through Camilla, and she looked at Yaw. “Promise me you will. Get back, I mean.”

  “I promise.”

  She leaned into Yaw, resting her head on his chest, and he put his arm around her. Kylie giggled, and the three of them lost themselves briefly in a perfect moment.

  “I gotta go,” Yaw finally said.

  Camilla fought back tears.

  Yaw gave Camilla a kiss before gently stroking his daughter’s cheek. With what felt like monumental effort, he got to his feet.

  “Tell Winn all thirty-eight of the refugees are placed,” Camilla told Yaw. “Each with their own people. And by the time you get back—all of you—I’ll have scouted some options for a new home for Safe Block.”

  “I will.”

  Yaw began to turn away and Camilla grabbed his arm. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. And I’ll be back—we’ll all be back; before you know it.”

  Yaw gave Camilla and Kylie a final kiss, and Camilla watched as he picked up his backpack, Kali stick holster, and exited the bedroom. She said a silent prayer as she heard the apartment door gently close behind him.

  “You’ll be flying into the Chisinau International Airport into Moldova. From there, you’ll have to take a bus to the city of Tiraspol, where Drugal claims Parks has his base of operations. The Trans Dniester Moldovan Republic, even though it’s not internationally recognized, has opened their borders to a small number of tourists, so if your paperwork is in order, which it is, you shouldn’t have any problems. Once you get inside Tiraspol, however, you’re on your own. And even though Drugal and Vasilevich are being held in isolation, there’s a good chance Homeland, under the influence of the Coalition, will move them out of U.S. territory and have them quietly terminated in a foreign prison. And that means there’s a good chance at least one of them will tell someone connected to Parks everything in an effort to bargain for their lives, and Parks will put it together that you’re coming, probably before you even get there,” Dino Rodriguez said to Winn as he handed over airline tickets. “You still have the passports I gave you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Good. Here are the new ones that Nikki and Alex will need—I don’t imagine they’re carrying their old ones,” Rodriguez said before handing over the final documentation that Winn, Yaw, and Chris Aldrich would need to travel safely overseas in search of Alex Luthecker and Nicole Ellis.

  “I don’t have to remind you that you’re going into dangerous territory. Papers are everything, so don’t lose them. The last thing you want is to get trapped in a foreign land with no exit, Parks or no Parks. And one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “They’re not free.”

  Winn sat back in his chair. “And who will I be compensating for this?”

  “Me.”

  “The cost?”

  “Safe Block. I want it up and running again the minute you get back.”

  “I’ve already agreed to this.”

  “I’m not finished. When you get back, you’re gonna have to handle some transpo. Run some folks through for me, on the house, no questions asked.”

  “No criminals.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “Who?”

  “A bunch of tired and poor people yearning to be free.”

  Winn grinned slightly. “Agreed. But under one condition.”

  “What?”

  “Camilla. For all practical intents and purposes, she is Safe Block. Keep a close eye on her while we’re gone.”

  “Jesus Christ, you actually thought you had to ask?”

  Winn offered his hand, and the men shook on it.

  Early on in his law enforcement career, Rodriguez learned the rules of the game. He realized quickly that things on the street were not always black and white, and justice must be pursued with a certain amount of assertion, if not outright aggression. In order to do that, deals had to be made, often with below-the-law characters. To the young officer, it was the larger moral picture that mattered, and it was this overall view that allowed him to support Safe Block so fervently, even though it was a subsystem effort from a legal perspective. It was this proactive stance and big picture view that also allowed Rodriguez to justify bartering with small-time nonviolent offenders over minor transgressions in order to gain under-the-table favors to help him solve larger crimes. It gained him trust from the street because the word got out quickly that he treated people fairly, and they all understood he was looking out for the underprivileged. It was this involvement and reputation for
fairness that allowed him to get insight into the activities of the larger and considerably more dangerous criminals, the ones who threatened all. In Rodriguez’s mind, the true enemies were big, and the side deals were justified. As such, he had no qualms about reaching out to his underground connections in order to procure the necessary travel documents and identification that would allow Winn and his small crew to travel as anonymously as possible.

  “Final words before you go. I don’t know if these new IDs and docs will keep you off of Coalition radar for very long, but you shouldn’t have any problems leaving the U.S. if you leave tonight. But Parks, on his home turf, that’s a different animal. And if you get in trouble over there…”

  “Thank you, officer Rodriguez. You’ve been a tremendous help.” Winn tucked the airline tickets and documentation in his jacket pocket. If all went as hoped, he would use the paperwork to bring all of them home safely within the next seventy-two hours.

  Winn took a look across the café and made eye contact with the owner, a Vietnamese man in his sixties who barely spoke English. The man had escaped the horrors of the Vietnam War when he was just a boy and had owned and operated this small ethnic diner for nearly twenty years. Winn had found a home for several of the man’s relatives, and any transaction Winn needed to complete was safe here. Winn and the owner exchanged nods, Winn’s way of saying thank you for letting him conduct business here safely.

  He got to his feet and looked at Rodriguez.“If for some reason we falter…”

  “Shut up, old man, you’re not going to. Didn’t your wizard-boy clue you in on how it all ends? I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  Winn nodded, turned away from the table, and headed toward the door.

  Rodriguez watched the older Asian leave the café, barely making a sound in the process. After the martial arts instructor was gone, Rodriguez felt, what could only be described as, a certain emptiness in the café. He took the moment of quiet, of peace, to finish his tea. He hoped it wasn’t the last time he would see the Safe Block founder.

  Winn stepped out of the café and onto the sidewalk, pulling his coat tight against the unseasonably-chilly evening breeze. He hustled down the street to the bus stop, reaching the corner with only minutes remaining before the last Blue Line Metro bus was scheduled to pass. Winn looked up as he heard the large rectangular vehicle approach. The big diesel-powered bus hissed to a stop in front of him, and he climbed on board.

  Winn paid his fair and stepped into the aisle, noting that the bus was nearly empty. There were only two other passengers on board, an older, world-worn Latina seated next to the window, with a large canvass bag on her lap. On the other side of the bus was a young black man, no more than seventeen, legs sprawled out in the aisle, dressed in an oversized jacket and baseball cap, lost in a world created by the sound emanating from his oversized headphones. Neither passenger looked at Winn as he made his way to the bench at the back of the vehicle and sat down on the torn and tattered seat that took up the entire width of the bus. After he settled in and the bus began to move, Winn took a deep breath to relax. He impulsively massaged his right shoulder with his left hand. Both his right knee and right shoulder had been bothering him as of late, a familiar low-level ache that came and went of their own accord, the ghost-like pain caused by the nicks and bruises suffered during countless training hours, combined with the reality of age. Although he looked more than a decade younger than his chronological numbers, he felt every minute of his fifty-four years. The pain from his past injuries would rise or fall without warning and had been particularly painful as of late, and he silently prayed it would not worsen and prove problematic on the trip. The last thing he wanted was his injuries slowing him or the group.

  For the first time in a long time, Winn wished that the course of recent events had turned out differently. His Buddhist practice had instilled an understanding of the nature of cause and effect, along with the impermanent design of all things. It was these twin beliefs that had brought him peace, even in the most hostile environments. But now his sense of peace was disturbed. He wished he had been able to see Lucas Parks coming, felt guilty for not seeing the threat, and thus failing to save both the group and himself from this challenge. An undercurrent of anxiety had forced its way into his attention as of late, in turn forcing him to intensify his meditation practice in order to keep himself at peace, often times failing in his attempts. The source of the anxiety had revealed itself in his quietest moments, and that was a fear that his physical body might betray him on this journey. If the circumstances were different, he would confidently send Yaw and Chris alone. But with what he believed was at stake, with these circumstances, there was no other choice. He had to go.

  The decision for Winn to pursue Alex and Nikki did not have the same clear-cut motivations as it did for Yaw and Chris. They were young men, bold and confident, and to them, Alex was a teammate, a fellow warrior, and there was never any question about their course of action. Indeed, Yaw and Chris would put their lives on the line for Alex, without hesitation, and it was this very determination Winn knew he had to temper with thought and planning in order to ensure that they all returned alive.

  Winn’s motivation was more complex. His initial hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire to help Alex; he, too, was willing lay down his life for his young student. The reality was that Winn believed Alex was more than capable of handling his current circumstances. To Winn, it was not physical rescue that Alex needed.

  Winn sensed that Alex had yet to realize his potential, a potential that Winn himself was just beginning to understand. He surmised by simple extrapolation that if Alex could read the patterns of someone’s fate, if motivated, he could alter that person’s fate. He had already done so in a rough and brutal manner with David Lloyd, to a lesser degree with Richard Brown, and most directly by saving Nikki’s life. If Alex trained his abilities to share his perceptions of the life patterns of others to be more nuanced, he could potentially weave his own thoughts directly into people’s beliefs about themselves and manipulate them into all sorts of behavior. In short, he could control them. And over time, he could potentially control entire groups. Alex had escaped LAPD and Coalition custody with harsh and undisciplined effort but still with relative ease, and soon Winn felt there would be no cage that could hold him. If anything, the presence of himself, along with Chris and Yaw, might hinder Alex in his dealings with Lucas Parks. But to Winn it was a necessary risk.

  What convinced Winn that he must accompany the others to Trans Dniester was Alex’s anger.

  The rage that Alex had displayed after the abduction of Nikki had not tempered. This may have been part of Parks’ plan to lure Alex into his possession, but Lucas Parks had no idea what he was in for. If Alex was capable of what Winn suspected, the young man could not only lash out at Parks, but others as well. He could destroy individual lives, and through a Karmic ripple effect, his anger could damage generations of people in the process. It was with very little experience and effort that he had destroyed both David Lloyd, a master interrogator, along with Richard Brown, decorated war veteran and former CEO of Coalition Properties. A better trained and anger-turned-revenge motivated Alex could wreak far more havoc. It was not lost on Winn why the Coalition wanted Alex so badly, and in his mind, the decision to go to Trans Dniester was not to save Alex and, by extension, Nikki from Lucas Parks—Winn was going to save Alex from himself.

  Winn removed the tickets from his jacket pocket in order to double check their information. They would be flying out of Virgin Airlines, leaving out of LAX’s International terminal at 10:35pm, just under three hours from now. There was a brief stop in New York, then again in London, before they made it to their final destination. And there was much to be done before they boarded the plane.

  Chris and Yaw were at the storage unit that Winn had long ago rented for his few belongings, and the two men were already packing what they would need for the trip. Winn had spent the greater part of the afternoon rese
arching the Trans Dniester Moldovan Republic, both its history and the layout of the city itself. He had several maps of the area that he had downloaded from the Internet and printed out, which included both major streets and the most prominent buildings. Finding Alex and Nikki would not prove anywhere near as difficult as freeing them, but Winn hoped that Alex would be able to help them in some way.

  Winn got to his feet as the bus slowed, making his way to the front by the time the vehicle stopped. He nodded to the driver before stepping out onto the street, and he took note of the sun disappearing over the angular horizon. The last stop of the bus on its route was six blocks from the storage facility, and Winn would make the short walk to meet the others. From the storage facility, they would complete their planning before a cab, driven by Joey Nguyen, one of their own, would take them to LAX. The roar of the bus pulling away faded to silence as Winn made his way down the sidewalk. He stopped briefly and winced from the sharp pain in his knee that haunted him. It faded as soon as it arrived, as it had countless times before. He shook it off and kept moving.

  “Can I say this is nuts, and just get that out of the way right now?” Chris Aldrich said to Winn and Yaw. “I won’t say it again; I just had to get that off my chest.”

  Chris, along with Winn and Yaw, stood around a small metal folding table at the center of the 10x10 aluminum-walled storage facility that housed nearly everything that Winn owned, which consisted of filing cabinets, blankets, martial arts weaponry, and bits of furniture, all neatly lined along three of the four walls.