Chapter 3
I looked down at my watch and once again attempted to call the Colson's. This time the electronic voice on their answering machine said the mailbox was full. I sighed while glancing around the terminal. I decided to continue perusing through the scrapbook—now flipping to a page that highlighted a picture of me that was taken when I was 10 years old. In this photo I was pretending to be Eddie Van Halen playing an acoustic guitar. As part of my required music curriculum, I began taking guitar lessons from a man named Jeff Black. Scott would drive me to Mr. Black's studio in downtown Toronto. One day Mr. Black telephoned Scott and told him he had lost the lease on the studio and that he would now be teaching out of his home. Mr. Black had a son named Peter who was my age and upon meeting him, we quickly became friends. Whenever I would go over to the Black's house for guitar lessons, I would often stick around afterward to have dinner and hang out with Pete.
On one occasion when I was 12 years old, Peter asked if I wanted to play some video games. I agreed, and he got out a game titled, "Splinter Cell." This game is based on the book of the same name by Tom Clancy. It stars a fictitious character named Sam Fisher who is an operative or secret agent for a branch of the National Security Agency of the United States government. As I watched Peter play this game in the role of Sam Fisher with all Sam's skills, abilities, and equipment, a connection was made in my mind. That night back at Scott's house, I did an internet search on Sam Fisher. I called Scott over to show him the results.
"Were you a Sam Fisher?" I asked.
He smiled as he read what was displayed on the monitor and replied, "Lance, I am not Sam Fisher."
"I know that. But did you used to be and do what he is?"
He stared at me for a moment and then replied matter of factually, "Yes. That's what I used to be. I always knew that someday you would eventually discover my former occupation."
Immediately, I started blitzing him with questions, but he just stood there quietly smiling at me while slowly shaking his head. After a moment he asked, "Are you done now?"
I shut up.
He continued, "Lance, I was once an operative for the United States government. Please don't ask me what agency I worked for and never ask me about any of my missions. I took an oath of confidentiality in the interest of American National Security and I will never break it. The United States government invested millions of dollars in my training and I didn't see any point in letting it all go to waste after I retired. That's why I've chosen to pass it on to you. All that I've been teaching you over these past years has the potential to possibly save your life one day, or at least give you an edge in a dangerous situation."
I went to bed that night but my mind, inundated with curiosity, would not let sleep come easily.
"How do you know Scott James?" I asked Sifu Lu Tang the next day at martial arts class. "I just found out he was an operative for a secret agency of the United States government."
"Scott was not just an operative," he thoughtfully replied. "He was the best agent in his department. By himself, he rescued me from Lingyuan Prison. He brought me to the United States and from there he helped me to relocate to Canada. I owe him my life—as do many others. He is a great man."
"Can't you even tell me a little more about yourself?" I asked Scott when he picked me up to bring me home.
"I can tell you anything you want to know about me, but not about my missions or the agency I worked for. They're both classified."
"But all this stuff you're teaching me—isn't it classified, too? Won't you get in trouble for revealing it to me?"
"The information that I'm passing on to you isn't classified. Besides, my superiors are always monitoring me. They always know where I am, who I'm talking to, and…"
"And what?"
"I can't discuss it with you. You'll just have to take my word for it. But the US government can come and detain me anytime they feel like it if they thought I was engaging in prohibited behavior."
"Well, how and why did you come to retire in Canada?"
"One day I was at a stop-over at CFB North Bay Air Force Base. I had some time to kill and I decided to spend it in rest and relaxation. I fell in love with the area, with the scenery, and with the people. I decided that if I lived to retirement, I would come and reside here. I also bought a house in the Willowdale area for convenience's sake."
My curious nature refused to give up on the desire to know about his missions however, and I tried to devise innocuous questions to try to siphon that information out of him.
"Did you ever have to… kill anyone?" I asked Scott one day after target practice.
"On any given mission there was always the possibility that someone might die," he replied.
"I don't believe I could ever kill anybody."
"I hope you're never in a situation where you have to make that decision. I don't see it happening in your life," he smiled reassuringly. "Lance, I never want you to follow in my footsteps. I never want you to pursue a career as an operative. Promise me."
"I promise. But, why would you ask that of me?" He stared off in the distance for a while. Finally, he replied, "This world is ruled by wicked men." There was heartache in his voice. "Greed, the lust for power and control, elitism, murder, and deceit are the dominant characteristics of those who rule. I served those men and women for most of my life. I thought I was serving my country, but in reality, I was only serving them. Now I'm nothing more than a prisoner." He slowly and sadly shook his head while walking back to the house.
Dawn of the Knight: The Lance Rock Chronicles Volume 1. Page 6
