by J C Ryan
He realized watching the wolves’ movements that Loki and Keeva had taught the pups the pattern of a hunt and bringing down an animal, but he guessed nothing as large as this.
It was going to take time. The wolves circled, the bison moved back and forth, testing every avenue of escape, but each time it made a run for it, one of the young out-maneuvered it.
I can’t watch this. One of them will be injured — killed. I need to do something. But Carter knew better than to interfere. Whatever the outcome, he could not move in on them. He had to watch helplessly as the bison charged at one of the young, who only just escaped the hooves smashing its head in.
Slowly Loki moved closer, and then, choosing his moment, charged at the nose. He gripped the soft, tender flesh in his teeth as the angry animal shook his head, blood spraying, in an attempt to dislodge him.
One of the over-excited young raced in behind Loki and received a nasty nip on the rump from Keeva before she circled and leaped on the bison’s back, sinking her teeth into its rump.
The erring child shook its head. The nip had hurt, but it rejoined its siblings to harass the feet of the beast, running in, biting, nipping, dodging, leaping sideways and in again, distracting him.
Carter watched them avoiding the slashing hooves close to their heads and bodies while he held his breath. This won’t end well — I just know it won’t.
His pulse was pounding as he watched Loki slowly drag the head down, cutting off the air supply on the beast’s nose. It was breathing through its mouth and bellowing.
Keeva was pulling hard on the rump with her teeth, her hind legs digging into the side of the beast to get purchase and to bring the creature down.
It ended quite suddenly as the bison toppled, then hit the ground in a cloud of dust and a thump he could hear even as far away as he was. Keeva leapt to one side, while Loki continued to grip its nose. Keeva joined him to sink her teeth into its neck, reaching quickly to the carotid artery and aiding the animal’s rapid death.
Carter was shaking as he counted heads. They were all there, and no one was hurt. He watched as Loki broke into the bison’s soft underbelly and began to feast. He was followed by Keeva, and shortly afterward the young were allowed to join them.
Once fed, the wolves would carry a lot of the flesh and bones off to be buried for later, still leaving enough for more ravaging creatures to dine upon.
Carter turned his horse and slowly continued his ride, thinking of what he’d just witnessed. It was as if there was a lesson in it, but what was it? Obviously, the young wolves had been taught a great deal about hunting since they were weaned, but he knew that at their age a bison would not have been a chosen beast of prey for the young wolves. However, Loki and Keeva had no option once the pup roused the animal.
He frowned. Am I being a coward wanting to keep us out of harm’s way? Would we be happy living a secluded life here on Freydís? Isolate ourselves from the rest of the world and the perils within?
Suddenly the words of Solomon flashed before his eyes. Proverbs 6:6 “Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.”
Then it struck him — the analogy between what he’d just witnessed and his own situation. He and Mackenzie’s work had stirred up a bison. The bison came after them and their family. Now they had no choice — they had to attack and defeat it. Just like Keeva and Loki had to lead dangerous lives if they wanted to survive, and their young had to be trained how to fend for themselves.
Yes, the beast was enormous. They'd seen it, but it shouldn't deter them. There was work to do that only they, with their experience, could continue — it was time to reactivate the project work.
He turned and headed home to talk to Mackenzie.
Chapter 12 -
The strategy
James had deliberately postponed the phone call he had to make to Carter. Bill, Irene, and he had developed a new operations strategy for A-Echelon, and the President had accepted it. James’s problem was that the strategy called for Carter and Mackenzie’s involvement, but they had no knowledge of it yet. James was saddled with the task to get them onboard, failing which the President would step in and use his powers of persuasion.
What kept James from contacting Carter was that he knew him better than anyone else in the group. That meant he knew that if Carter had decided to quit A-Echelon, nobody would make him change his mind — not the Pope, not the Dalai Lama, not even President Samuel Houston Grant. Given what had happened to Carter and his family, nobody could blame him if he decided to keep them as far away from A-Echelon and its activities as possible. Moreover, with a net worth north of two billion dollars, Carter was a very wealthy man. Neither he, nor Mackenzie, or for that matter their children, would ever have to work for anyone or at all.
Irene’s knock on his door startled James out of his silent deliberations. “Morning, Jim. Just checking in to find out if you’ve had time to speak to the Devereuxs?”
“Haven’t had time yet,” he growled without looking up.
Irene smiled. She knew James loathed the task assigned to him and recognized what he was doing — kicking the can down the road in the hope it would just disappear. “James Rhodes, look at me,” she said, sounding like a mother who’d caught her four-year-old boy with his hand in the cookie jar. “Stop procrastinating, pick up that phone, and call Carter now.”
James looked up — and indeed, he looked like that four-year-old boy. “I don’t see the point. I already know what he’s going to say, and I don’t blame him. I feel like a criminal having to talk to him about it.”
“Jim, you participated in the planning, and you agreed that Carter and Mackenzie have vital roles to play—”
James put his hand up and stopped her mid-sentence. “Yes, and as you know, I also told you, Bill, and the President I’m sure they won’t do it, and we might as well start looking for someone else—”
Irene interrupted him. “Yes, Jim, and the President told you he would support that notion, but only after you got a definite answer from Carter and Mackenzie.”
“Dammit, why didn’t he make the call? Now I must harass the poor people. I already have few friends as it is — I don’t want to . . .”
James’s secure phone started ringing before he could finish — it was Carter. “Speak of the devil,” he mumbled as he picked up the phone and pushed the answer button.
“Jim, how are things inside the Beltway?” Carter asked, obviously in a cheery mood.
James indicated to Irene to take a seat.
“I’m surviving, Carter, but only just — I would much rather be walking around Freydís. But hang on, I have Irene with me. Would you mind if I put you on speaker? She was just asking about you and Mackenzie and the children.” He winked at Irene, who just shook her head about James spinning the facts.
“No, of course not. Let me call Mackenzie so we can all have a chat — the more, the merrier.” Carter chuckled.
When Mackenzie arrived, she and Irene took over the conversation for the first ten minutes, talking about the health and well-being of their families. Finally, there was a lull in the conversation, and James and Carter got a chance.
“Carter, I’m sure you didn’t call me just to facilitate a conversation between Irene and Mackenzie.” Irene rolled her eyes, pressed her lips together, and made a fist at James.
“Well, there is that, of course.” Carter laughed. “But the original reason for the call was to find out when we’re getting the show on the road?”
Irene started smiling, and James had slack-jaw. “Umm . . . ah . . . are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
“Now, Jim, how on earth would I know what’s going on in that corroded, antiquated mind of yours? The psychiatrist who would be able to do that does not exist.”
“Watch it, boy! I know where you live.” James chortled and then continued in a serious tone. “Of course, I know what you’re talking about, Carter; it’s just that I’m surprised — really, pleasantly s
urprised. But then, I must confess, I've been under Presidential decree to contact you about that. I just couldn’t scrape the courage together yet to do it. I was so convinced you and Mackenzie would want out, and of course, you are entitled to it . . . God knows you and your family more than deserve it.”
“The decision didn’t come easy, Jim,” Carter said. “But in the end, there was only ever going to be one right decision. Mackenzie nailed it on the head when she told me the other night, ‘We didn’t win; we only survived.’ She and I agree we have to get back to it, and the sooner, the better.”
“And we are both raring to get started,” Mackenzie rejoined. “Irene, what are the prospects of you and Jim paying us a visit here on Freydís? That way I won’t have to disrupt Beth’s routine at all.”
Irene and Jim smiled and nodded quietly at each other. They never required persuasion to take a trip to Freydís. “Done deal, Mackenzie. Give us a day or two to make the necessary arrangements. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
Chapter 13 -
The human tail
The one thing most professional assassins were lacking was not money, adventure, or excitement. It was the prospect of longevity. By its very nature, theirs was a treacherous job. Clients willing to pay obscene amounts of money to get their problems taken care of by a third party soon had a conflict of interest. Almost without exception, clients wanted no evidence left that could lead back to them — that’s why they outsourced their problem in the first place. But the problem existed for as long as the assassin was alive. Footprints back to the client, however faint they may be, always remained if the assassin continued to live after the job was done.
Picking clients very carefully, making use of agents and go-betweens, dead letter boxes, and other measures helped to a degree, but it was never watertight. With enough time and resources, anyone with the motivation to do so would be able to find the dotted line back to the client. It was nearly impossible to wipe it out.
In many cases the contract ended in one of two scenarios; either the client got rid of the assassin, or the assassin got rid of the client. The only alternative was for one of the parties to run and hide and hope never to be found.
These thoughts were front and center in Perrin Durand’s mind as he was on France24.com, a news website he visited three times a week from different Internet cafes. As always, he had typed in just one keyword in the search box, “enduring.”
This day, there was a message for him in the rooms for rent section. It read:
Enduring views of Rome from two-bed apartment. €150 per day. Applications close on the 10th.
His surname, Durand, was of Norman origin and meant “enduring” — the message was for him. No phone number or email address, and the link in the ad led to a website that sold outdoor furniture. That was his confirmation.
The message meant there were two people (two bed) in Rome to be placed under surveillance (views), the contract price was one and a half million Euros, the price mentioned in the ad times ten thousand. He had one day (the date divided by ten) to lodge his expression of interest or not.
A shitload of money for a surveillance job! What is so important about them?
He was more than intelligent enough to know that when something looked too good to be true, it probably was.
Durand was an ex-officer in the GCP (Groupe de Commandos Parachutistes), an elite parachute unit within the French Foreign Legion. They were trained for commando type missions, which included recon, target marking, raids, hostage rescue, and extraction or destruction of high-value targets.
He'd left the Foreign Legion five years before, shortly after he was promoted to the rank of captain. He’d had enough of it after ten years, and for someone with his expertise, there was real money to be made on the hit man circuit. If played shrewdly, a few carefully selected and perfectly executed contracts would assure a life free of money worries in an exotic location of his choosing.
If he accepted this contract, it would be his third. He had to relocate from the USA to Italy after his first hit and from Italy to Paris after his second. Those two contracts earned him one and a quarter million US dollars, and he had stashed away a little over a million of that in a few anonymous numbered accounts in tax havens across the world.
He had his qualms about this project. But that was the nature of the job. Since his last hit, he had been waiting and preparing for a new one. His next vanishing was already prearranged in detail — Thailand. The money was good. Just two more contracts of this size and he was out of the game, set up for life. Durand never made rash decisions, but twenty-four hours was enough time for him to evaluate before responding to the agent.
***
When the plane leveled out at cruising altitude, Mayon and Aisha leaned back in their seats, and their minds turned to the events since they’d fled from their home country twenty-one days ago.
Since they got the laptop from Yilmiz and could connect the miniature portable hard drive given to them by their father, they had been reading a lot. At times, while they were devouring the information on the hard drive, it was as if their father’s parting words were still hanging in the air.
“This contains your promise — this is my blessing to the two of you. With this in your hands, you can start a new life and become very successful. Keep it with you always and use it wisely.”
Mayon and Aisha cleared customs at Naples without any problems, and then got a cab to the train station from where they would make their way to Rome.
When they left the airport building, despite being on high alert, they didn’t notice the human tail following them.
Chapter 14 -
Back to business
With Carter and Mackenzie’s agreement about the future also came Carter’s decision to keep up his Special Forces training routine. The next morning at six a.m., when he was outside stretching before his run, he was surprised to see Mackenzie appear next to him dressed in a tracksuit and running shoes.
“What’s this?” he asked. “You’re going for a run with me? What about Beth?”
“Beth will be okay. I’ve asked Liam to take care of her if she wakes up. I fed her an hour ago, so she should sleep for another two hours. I’ve put the baby monitor next to Liam, and he knows what to do.”
“And?” Carter frowned.
“What do you mean and? I’m going for a run with you, and you’re going to teach me everything you have learned during your Special Forces training. Self-defense and weapons . . . all of it.”
“Huh. You want to become GI Jane now?”
She just smiled and aimed a friendly kick at him. “Yep, something like that.”
Mackenzie had given him no indication that’s what she planned, but if she did, he had no problem with it. In fact, it was something he’d been thinking ever since their conversation about the future. It would be good if she could take care of herself when the need arose.
“Okay, the track is ten miles. I suggest you do as much as you can and build it up over time. The first few days are going to be the worst, but don’t get despondent. It gets better after the fourth day.”
Mackenzie managed to keep up with Carter for the first mile, then dropped back. At the two-mile mark, she stopped, took a few deep breaths, turned, and walked back home. It was a good start.
When Carter arrived home, Mackenzie had already completed the Five Rites routine, which she and Liam had been doing religiously every day since they were captured.
They both had a drink of water, and then Carter started teaching her the Krav Maga close combat techniques. The self-defense system employed by the Israeli Defense Forces to neutralize threats utilized concurrent defensive and offensive tactics sourced from aikido, judo, boxing, Brazilian jujitsu, and wrestling.
Forty minutes later, Mackenzie plonked down on the lawn, exhausted but happy. “That was a lot of fun.” She laughed. “But now I’m pooped.”
Carter laughed and pulled her up. “You did great, Mackie. I’m
impressed. You should have seen me on my first day. I’m sure I looked much worse than you do now. The secret is to keep on going every day and get past those magical but excruciating third and fourth days. If you get past that, you’ll be okay. Those guys who trained me had a good motto. ‘Yesterday was the worst day.’”
Mackenzie’s weapons training would start in a few weeks, when she’d be in better shape. They went inside and showered together. “You know, Mackie, I can get used to this new routine very quickly.” Carter chuckled as Mackenzie was washing his back.
“Me too, absolutely!” She laughed.
Carter made breakfast for them. Liam must have smelled the bacon and eggs as he appeared at the kitchen table just when they sat down.
Carter produced the plate of bacon and eggs he’d put aside for Liam while the boy told them he and Ahote had plans to go fishing for the day.
Mackenzie packed lunch for them, and soon after, they watched as Liam and Jeha disappeared in the direction of Bly and Ahote’s house.
“So, I guess while we’re waiting for Irene to let us know when they are coming up to visit, I can get started on the Sirralnnudam and you on that library of the giants,” Mackenzie said.
He nodded. “I’ll help you with the translation of the Sirralnnudam as much as I can, and as soon as you are settled, I’ll take another look at that library from the City of Lights. Last time, I couldn’t make head or tail of it, but then it was under different circumstances. Maybe I’ll make better progress this time.”
They both got busy with setting up their workspaces and computers in the study, where there was more than enough space for both to work.
A few hours later, Carter looked up from his computer at Mackenzie. She didn’t see him looking; he smiled. What a fortunate and blessed man I am. He got up, walked over to her, gently turned her face to him, and laid a kiss on her that took her breath away.