Dawn of the Assassin

by Bill Brewer

  Clarky shouted out, drawing the attention of his friend’s. “Hey, fellas, ee got ourselves a real live Army man here. I know he’s not green and carrying a bayonet rifle over his head.” At that crack, several of the guys raised pool cues over their heads, posing like the classic plastic toy. Everyone chuckled. Clarky continued, “But let’s show this fellow American some good old Djibouti hospitality, even if he did choose the caveman’s branch of service.” Clarky lifted his beer and everybody banged their bottles together. Diegert was in with the group for the evening, and although it felt good, he worried that he would regret making friends.

  Barney’s whiskey was taking over his brain. He was firmly planted on the barstool, or he might very well have been on the floor. The ladies around him were realizing that they would be able to get money from him with no sex at all.

  Diegert and Clarky teamed up to play pool, and Clarky told him that his squad mates were all aeromechanics who kept F/A-18s and Predator drones flying. It was steady regular work with lots of it to do. They all lived in container barracks, no windows, one room, three guys. The structures were air conditioned, otherwise they were literal ovens in the desert sun. Each time Diegert went over to the bar, he checked on Barney.

  “Hey, man, I think you’ve had enough.”

  “You think I’ve had enuff… I’m the one who’ll decide when I’ve had enuff. Scroow you!”

  “OK, but just watch your money; you’ve got a lot of pretty little vultures circling.”

  “This isn’t the first portside bar I’ve been in. I know what those ladies want.”

  “Just keep your money in your pocket.”

  “Just mind your own fucking business.”

  Having grown up with his father, Diegert recognized an angry drunk. He knew it was the right time to make an exit.

  Over at the pool table, they faced their opponents, Omar and Moe. Omar Pascal was a special agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, and he observed Diegert with unusual interest. He was in Djibouti completing training for the Foreign Area Officer Program. His ability to speak both French and Arabic, in addition to his racial background, provided the Navy with a highly qualified special agent who assisted in the interdicting of piracy.

  Omar stepped over to Diegert. “How ya doing? I’m Omar Pascal.”

  Shaking the hand that was offered, Diegert introduced himself. “Gary Nelson, and Clarky says he’s gonna run the table.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Clarky only sunk one ball, allowing Omar to put his cue to work. The dark man quietly and efficiently sunk four balls before missing the ten in the side pocket. Diegert was lucky to knock in three before turning the table over to Omar’s partner, Moe.

  Commenting on Omar’s shooting, Diegert said, “You shoot pretty well. Are you a mechanic like Clarky?”

  “No, I work with computers. What division of the Army were you in?”

  “1st Cavalry out of Fort Hood.”

  “Oh, really? Maybe that’s why you look so familiar. I think I’ve seen your face before, but I couldn’t place the name Nelson.”

  “Oh yeah,” is all Diegert said as a cold chill ran down the back of his neck.

  “I did my undergrad at UT. Did you ever get down to Austin for South by Southwest?”

  “Yeah, we’d go to the fest. Austin’s a cool place.”

  Diegert eyed Omar wearily as they watched Moe take his next shot. After he sunk two and missed the third, Clarky was back on the table. With three balls left before the eight ball, the slightly inebriated Navy man had difficulty deciding which ball to focus on. When he finally took his shot, three balls and the eight ball remained for Diegert.

  “Damn it!” shouted Clarky.

  Omar had only the eleven and the eight ball left. He placed the eleven securely in the far right corner. The eight ball lay against the bumper, but Omar had a suitable angle from the cue ball’s position. Using simple geometry, and a steady straight cue, Omar sunk the eight ball in the far left corner to conclude the match.

  “Nice game,” said Diegert. “You got winner?”

  “Nah, I’m done. Moe’s gonna find somebody else.”

  Omar walked away from the pool table, heading toward a window seat.

  As he walked away, Diegert watched him tapping on his phone.

  “Hey, Clarky,” said Diegert. “Where does Omar work?”

  “Omar? He’s with NCIS. He’s doing some foreign regional training thing. He got hot on the table, didn’t he?”

  “He certainly can shoot.” Diegert turned slowly to observe Omar from below his raised eyebrow.

  Diegert could see that Omar was engrossed in his smartphone. Getting two fresh beers, Diegert walked over to where the NCIS officer was sitting. As he approached, Diegert could see Omar’s phone screen. Upon the screen Diegert saw a picture of his face underlined by his real name on an Austin Police Department website.

  “Hey, Omar.”

  The dark man nearly fumbled his phone to the floor when he heard Diegert’s voice.

  “Sorry to scare you, but I just gotcha a beer.” Diegert handed the cold bottle to the man who had hurriedly stuffed his phone in his pocket.

  “Ah, thanks, but I don’t drink.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think that was allowed in the Navy.”

  “Maybe not the Navy of the past.”

  Feeling the rising awkwardness, Diegert said, “Well, you shot a great game, and I just wanted to get you a…something.”

  “Thanks, but I bet you can get Clarky to drink that beer.”

  As they both looked at their goofy friend, who was trying to balance a pool cue on a single finger, Diegert said, “Definitely.”

  Extending his hand, Omar said, “Look, I’m gonna get going. It was nice to meet you Dav… Gary.”

  Diegert looked at the man through narrowed eyelids, saying, “You take care,” as he relaxed the tension in his grip on the Navy man’s hand.

  Omar moved to the entrance of the bar and went outside. Diegert watched the entrance, and within five minutes his concern was warranted; in came the MPs with Omar right behind them. Diegert set down his beer and stepped over to Barney. He grabbed his arm and pinched him hard. Barney yelped and looked at Diegert like he was crazy. “Listen very carefully, my cover is blown, MPs are coming to arrest me, I’m leaving now. Don’t say anything to them about the boat. Get back to it, and we are outta here.” Diegert stepped past him and ducked through the back kitchen to leave the bar.

  The noise, the crowd, and the music all made moving and seeing through the bar very difficult. The MPs were taking directions from Omar, but by the time they got to the pool table, Diegert was gone and Clarky was confused, until Omar showed him the wanted notice posted on the Austin PD’s website. As the MPs looked around, Barney was attempting to leave by the front door. His harem of competitors was down to just two women. One of the women pulled the hair of the other from behind while taking her out at the knee, knocking her to the floor. Screams erupted, and the woman on the floor kicked out, knocking down both her competitor and Barney. The two women began to fight on the floor, punching, scratching, and pulling hair. The commotion impeded the MPs. Barney fell hard on the floor and struggled to get to his feet with the assistance of friendly patrons. He brushed himself off, thanked his helpers, and staggered to the door.

  The two Ethiopian women were tossed out by the bar’s bouncers and continued their argument as they strode down the street. Clarky and Omar were at the door of the bar, and they pointed Barney out to the MPs as he exited. The MPs, two male, one female, stepped over to Barney. The leading male officer said, “Excuse me, sir, but could we ask you a few questions?”

  Barney continued walking, and Omar stepped next to him. “Sir, would you please stop walking?” With Omar standing next to him and the MPs nearby, Barney couldn’t avoid acknowledging them. He certainly was drunk, but he was going to play it up for all it was worth.

  “What…what… Whaddya want?”
r />   “Sir, we just have a few questions for you,” Omar said.

  “What questions? What do I have to do with you?”

  “Sir, back in the bar you were seen speaking with a young man. Do you recall that?”

  “I recall speaking to some young ladies, which I enjoyed, but I’m not interested in young men. I’m not that way.”

  “Sir, you don’t recall speaking with a male in the bar?”

  “Do you mean the bartender? He was male.”

  “No, sir, this male was white.”

  Barney put his hand to his chin, stroking his stubble. “I don’t think I talked to any white guys, but I’m not prejudiced, you know.”

  “Yes, sir. Are you attached to a vessel here in port?”

  “I was…but the ship left without me, and now I’m looking for a new one.”

  “Sir, do you have a place to stay?”

  “An old sea scallop like me is always able to find a shell for the night.”

  “Sir, if we would like to talk with you again, is there an address where we could find you?”

  “I appreciate you calling me ‘sir,’ but I do not have an address. If you want to talk, I will be at Mickey’s. I’m not in the Army, and I haven’t done anything wrong, so good night and good-bye.”

  The three MPs and Omar watched as Barney staggered into the shantytown of local residences. A place no member of the US military would ever walk, especially at night and drunk. When he was out of sight, the MPs went back to their jeep.

  “Thanks guys, I appreciate the backup,” said Omar, who then looked at his phone again at the list of crimes for which Diegert was accused.

  After exiting the kitchen at the back of Mickey’s, Diegert walked down the alley and toward the waterfront. He wanted to go straight out to the Sue Ellen, but he also wanted to assist Barney if things went bad. He went to the rowboat they’d used to come ashore. He found an old tarp covering a nearby collection of lobster traps. He dragged the tarp over to the rowboat, which had three benches in its interior. The oarlocks and oars were at the middle bench. Diegert climbed in and tucked himself into the space behind the last bench and the stern wall of the boat. He covered himself with the tarp, held on to his pistol, and lay quietly, waiting and hoping that Barney would recognize the rowboat and use it to get out to the Sue Ellen.

  Eventually, closing time came, and those who were not spending the night with a prostitute made their way back to the base, with the MPs dutifully following the sailors’ vehicles back to Camp Lemonnier.

  22

  Looking at his watch, Barney could see it was past closing time and it was safe to make his move out to the Sue Ellen. For the past two hours, he’d wandered the slums of Djibouti and had slowly begun to sober up. He’d also got angrier at how Diegert’s problems had ruined his plans for a comfortable sleep in a bed for which he had already paid. He returned to the spot where the line of bars, the waterfront, and the entrance to the slums converged. Looking through the darkness, he recognized the rowboat they’d used to come ashore. He lifted the bow of the boat and began pushing it out into the water. From the back end of the boat, the old man heard his name. “Hey, Barney…Barney, it’s me under the tarp.”

  Barney stopped pushing.

  “Diegert?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stay there. We’ll be offshore in a second.”

  Barney heard a voice behind him on the shore. “Excuse me, sir… Sir, I’d like to speak to you.” Turning around, Barney faced Omar Pascal, who seemed intent on continuing his investigation. “Sir, I’m sorry to approach you like this so late at night, but I saw you in the bar tonight speaking with a young man who it turns out is a fugitive and is wanted for murder.”

  “Murder? I guess there’s all kinds of criminals here in Djibouti.”

  “I saw the two of you arguing at one point, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Well, that’s mighty kind of you, but I don’t recall talking to a young man. I remember the ladies, though.”

  “I saw you drank an awful lot, and so I was worried you might be vulnerable.”

  “As you can see, I’m fine.” Continuing to push the boat, Barney stumbled and nearly fell into the bow. Awkwardly righting himself, he said again “I’m fine, really, I’m fine.”

  Omar stepped forward while Barney stumbled, offering, “How about I row you out to your boat and make sure you get there safely?”

  “No… No, that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

  Diegert stepped out from under the tarp pointing his pistol at Omar.

  Barney shouted, “What are you doing?”

  An agitated Diegert quickly stepped forward. “Shut up. He’s NCIS. I can’t let him go.”

  Diegert grabbed the agent, pointed the pistol at his head, and frisked him for a weapon. Omar was unarmed

  “Get in the boat.”

  Diegert forced Omar to row the boat. When they reached the Sue Ellen, the rowboat was brought next to the ladder so Barney could climb out.

  “Attach the dinghy’s line to the mooring,” Diegert commanded Omar.

  Omar did as directed, while an ashen pallor took the color from his skin.

  “Now climb up.”

  On board, Diegert took Omar belowdecks, tied his hands behind his back, secured him to a bolt eye in the wall, and gagged him with a thick piece of cloth. Barney untethered the boat, started the engine, and began motoring out of the port.

  From Djibouti, the Red Sea was north by northeast. Its gateway was a strait known as Bab-el-Mandeb. Under the cover of darkness and with the motor running at full speed, the Sue Ellen was quickly in the open waters of the Gulf of Tadjoura. As they left port, Diegert removed the battery from Omar’s smartphone, snapped the SIM card in half, and dropped them in the water.

  “What now?” asked Barney.

  “A few miles out, I’ll take care of him.”

  “Will that resolve the problem?”

  “Did you ever mention the Sue Ellen to the MPs?”

  “No, I told them I had been left behind by a merchant vessel and was hoping to get on another.”

  “Good. Then here’s the situation. I was sighted in Djibouti by US servicemen. My presence was never confirmed by the MPs or corroborated by other reliable sightings. I was never seen again. Coincidentally, the NCIS agent who reported seeing me has gone missing. If you were the investigator, you would certainly put those two things together and then you would find nothing to support your hunch. The last known position of his smartphone will be the Djibouti port, where he spent the night partying.”

  “It’s not much to go on.”

  “It sure isn’t, so poor Mr. Pascal is going to the bottom of the ocean so we get away scot free.”

  “You really think he must die?”

  “If we let him live, he presents an uncontrollable risk. He’s a lawman, and everything he represents will work against us.”

  “I leave it to you, then.”

  Diegert went belowdecks and untied Omar from the bolt eye. He pushed him up the stairs. On deck, Omar saw that they were far out to sea. It was a dark dawn, and no land was in sight. Barney never even looked at the man as Diegert directed him to the stern of the boat. With the gag still tied, Omar’s attempts at speech came out as pitiful moans. Tears spilled over his lower lids, and their streams were absorbed by his gag. Diegert was in kill mode as he forced Omar to face the ocean off the stern deck. He kicked him in the back of the leg so the man fell to his knees like a good Catholic about to receive communion.

  Even though they were miles from shore, Diegert rotated the suppressor on to the end of his pistol. He placed the barrel on the occipital of the NCIS agent’s head and pulled the trigger. Omar’s suffering was over and Diegert stripped the clothing off his body. He thoroughly perforated the abdomen and thorax so that Omar’s body would remain on the bottom of the ocean. Using buckets of seawater, he rinsed the deck clean. Omar’s clothing was placed in the boat’s burn can, doused with pet
rol, and ignited. When the clothing was reduced to ash, the contents of the burn can were dumped in the ocean, leaving a black trail in the wake of the Sue Ellen as the sun rose with spectacular beauty over the Gulf of Tadjoura.

  23

  The Red Sea began after The Strait of Bab al-Mandab. The sea was long but not very wide. Sailing south to north was preferable, because the winds were more favorable. Barney had traversed this body of water before, and although it was deep in the center of the sea, there were shallow shelves off both coasts. The Sue Ellen didn’t draw too deeply, so Barney was confident of their safe passage.

  Djibouti demonstrated the worldwide reach of the Internet. Even on the other side of the earth, Diegert’s identity and crimes were just a Google search away. The reach of modern technology had led to Omar’s death. Killing a US serviceman disturbed Diegert and Barney both but leaving Omar alive would’ve certainly brought a search and their eventual capture. Diegert realized that if he were to remain free, it would cost other people their lives—not only by continuing his work as an assassin but killing others would surely be necessary to keep from being captured. Fuck it, he thought, no one but Barney knows I killed Omar. There is no evidence and no one to accuse me.

  The stable winds and good weather allowed the Sue Ellen to traverse the Red Sea in two weeks’ time. Diegert and Barney ate well and relaxed between watches. They passed by the tremendous luxury yachts of the Saudi Royal Family. They saw beautiful sunsets bathing the water in a deep-crimson glow, the phenomenon that gave the sea its name. When they arrived at the northern end, they passed through the Suez Canal and entered the Mediterranean. The history of this body of water was ancient, and on its shores the most dominant civilizations on earth had found their birth. After clearing the canal and setting a northeasterly course, Diegert asked, “Where are we headed now?”

  “Greece.”

  “What part of Greece?”

  “We’re headed to the northwestern port city of Alexandroupoli. I have some business there, and you’ll be safe.”