by Bill Brewer
He said, ‘I don’t really feel like fishing. I’ll see you later.’ He started walking away. I got up, got off the trestle, and ran after him with the intent to kill. He heard me coming, and as I approached, he spun around with his fish knife in his hand.
“He said, ‘Go ahead give me the reason to cut you out of this family. Do you know why Dad hates you? Because he’s not your father. Mom was fucking some guy from the Deerfield Lodge when she was catering and got pregnant. Dad didn’t kick the bitch out like he should have, and then you were born. You’re a bastard. The product of a fucking affair, and Dad should’ve drowned you like a runt pup. Now he’s gonna know how you lost his rod, and I’m glad you know the truth about yourself.’”
Diegert stopped for a moment from his process of reloading bullets. When he realized he’d stopped, he quickly started up again.
“My brother turned and walked away. I sat there a while, then went home, got all my money, went to the tackle shop, and bought the best rod and reel they had, and when Dad came home, I told him I lost his rod in Sandy Creek. I was sorry, and I gave him the new one. He was surprised I’d taken his rod, but I told him Jake had invited me to go. He was even more surprised and pleased to see the brand-new rod I’d bought him. He recognized it was the best rod they had in the shop. He wasn’t pissed, and he forgave me.
“When he and Jake were next out of the house, I went to my mother and hugged her. I started crying, and I just kept crying. All the pain and sadness and rejection I had felt for so long had to come out. She soothed me and caressed me and asked me what was wrong. I looked at her with my tear-filled eyes, and said, ‘I know, Mom. I now know the truth about me.’ Her eyes grew round as saucers and she hugged me closer so she wouldn’t have to see my face. I cried till I fell asleep, and when I woke up I was alone on the couch and she was in the kitchen. We never talked about it again.”
Diegert turned his half-filled tray of bullets around so he could fill the other side.
“That’s a real sad story,” said Lindstrom. “But all you guys got sad stories. I often wonder if it’s the sadness that lets you kill like you do.”
“What I find sad, Mr. Lindstrom, is to have lived so long in a world of deception. Perhaps not lied to, but to live with—without the truth.”
Diegert sat quietly for a moment, contemplating the impact of his realization. He reached into his shirt and stroked his leather amulet between his thumb and forefinger. Lindstrom sat quietly as well, not running away from Diegert’s emotional turmoil.
“It’s three o’clock, Mr. Lindstrom. I got a training mission at four, and I’d like to get something to eat.”
“Alright, you’ve done enough. Good luck on your mission. It was nice having you down here.”
37
Fatima knew there was no one in Headquarters who cared less about her success as an operator, a trainer, or any other role than Strakov. She wasn’t surprised to find him in the weight room.
“What have you got planned today for my trainee?”
“Trainee? What a dorky word. You mean, what am I going to do to your superman?”
“Look, I’m his trainer, and you should consult me before you do anything with him.”
“That’s not what Blevinsky told me.”
“Regardless, you know you should consult me.”
“I think I should ignore you. I think you’ve been doing a lousy job training a guy who already has a lot of skills but no discipline. I think he needs to be reminded of the importance of teamwork. Blevinsky thinks so as well. So if you got a problem with that, take your sweet ass and go complain to him.”
Strakov lay back down on the bench press, lifted the bar over his chest, and started another set. Fatima stood there fuming and counting Strakov’s repetitions. When he approached ten and started to struggle, she stepped forward and put her hand on the bar. She pressed down as he strained to keep the bar moving up. Eventually, he could no longer resist her and the bar. His arms gave way, and the bar, with 230 pounds on it, collapsed onto his chest. He howled in agony as she walked away, leaving him screaming for help.
Diegert went to the locker room after getting something to eat. At his locker was a bag with a pair of padded punching gloves. As he inspected the gloves, Gregor and Pierre, two of the guys who were part of Strakov’s strike team, entered the locker room. Gregor was from Sweden and Pierre from France. Gregor continued a story he had been telling Pierre. “Then she climbs on my lap in the hot tub, even though there are three other couples in the tub. She pulls down my suit, slides her bikini bottoms to the side, and inserts me into her. Her movements were very gentle, but eventually I explode. Two of the couples leave, one couple stays, and we were all fucking in the hot tub for quite a while.”
The guys visually acknowledged Diegert and started changing. Pierre said, “The wildest sex I ever had was with this Belgian girl. We were driving to Nice, and she said she wanted to suck my dick, while driving! She started in, and it felt great. We had to go through a tollbooth. I told her to stop, but she refused. All these booths are automated now, and they have cameras. The camera caught us with her head in my lap. The person who watches the cameras sent a message to the police with my license plate number. So we are driving along, she’s still sucking me, and I look over to see the cop is driving right next to us watching. He turns on his lights and pulls us over. She makes me come just before the cop steps up to the window. He tickets me for distracted driving and her for public lewdness. He tells her, I got your number. She says, call me.”
“What about you Diegert, ever have any wild sex?” asked the Frenchman.
“A drive-in movie in a convertible, doggie style. We were in the backseat with her bent over the front passenger seat. She was moaning so loud that we attracted a lot of attention away from the movie. Someone shined a flashlight on us, and I shouted I was going to charge them double the admission price if they didn’t shut off the light. Management came and kicked us out. She was really wild and loved the public spectacle of the whole thing.”
“Women. How quickly we are willing to help them with their strange sexual desires,” observed Pierre.
After they changed into shorts, T-shirts, and sneakers, they walked up to Room 240. In the padded room, Enrique, Jaeger, and Strakov were stretching and warming up. Diegert started limbering up and watched as the rest of the guys joked around, smiled, and basked in their camaraderie. Strakov was particularly jovial and inclusive of his team members.
“Alright, guys, bring it in.”
When the guys had gathered around their leader, Strakov began.
“As a strike team, we know the value of teamwork and that when we work together, we can achieve things we could never do on our own. Today we are going to share that lesson with Mr. Diegert as we practice our defensive tactics.”
All eyes cast looks upon the new guy. “Mr. Diegert’s individual accomplishments are well known, but he will never be a member of a strike team without learning and practicing teamwork. Later this week, Mr. Diegert faces a mission in the Urban Zone.”
All the guys chuckled and shook their heads at the memory of this training mission. Diegert was surprised by the reactions of such a tough bunch of men.
“You all know the challenges of the Urban Zone, but let’s see how Mr. Diegert does with DTs.”
Again the men laughed, sighed, and look at Diegert with pity.
“To demonstrate the value of teamwork, this is what we are going to do. Mr. Diegert will assume a defensive stance, and we’ll attack him in a serial pattern. Each of us needs to take Mr. Diegert to the mat.”
Diegert stabilized his feet, tugged on his new gloves, and faced Curtis Jaeger.
Jaeger stepped forward, throwing a flurry of high punches. Diegert defended them, but Jaeger utilized the focus to sweep the legs out from under his opponent, flattening Diegert on his back. He concluded his attack by placing fatal force on his opponent’s throat. When he released the choke hold and stepped back, Diegert coughed
and sputtered but stood up to face the next attacker.
Pierre had long legs and used them effectively. He threw a series of roundhouse kicks, landing blows on Diegert’s hips, thighs, and ribs. His fourth strike was a spinning kick that struck Diegert in the head, snapping his neck to the side, sending him crashing into the wall before he crumpled to the floor.
Enrique was a very solid man with powerful muscles, which he used to generate painful blows to Diegert’s head and face. The strong man drew blood from above Diegert’s eye as well as his nose and mouth, before a right cross to the jaw put his opponent back on the mat.
Diegert felt like a foolish punching bag and resolved to get some strikes of his own in on the next opponent. Gregor stood ready as Diegert brought the fight to the big Swede. Diegert’s first combination was deflected, and Gregor nimbly switched his position, causing Diegert to have to shift his stance. The frustrated American threw a jab, and the Swede grabbed his arm and, with just enough force, pulled Diegert off balance, pitching him face-first into the mat. Diegert’s battered face left a bloody imprint in the mat and pain in his nose and teeth.
Strakov was next. Diegert wiped the blood from his face and found a renewed strength for the opportunity to hit the big Russian.
Strakov moved forward while Diegert stepped to the side to avoid him. The big guy’s movements were awkward, and Diegert saw winces of pain each time Strakov threw a slow, ineffective punch. Like a wolf that selects the injured member of the herd, Diegert realized his opponent was hurt. He aggressively took the fight to Strakov, moving fast and landing punches on the face and body of the big Alpha male. Diegert saw the panic in the face of his nemesis but was unprepared when the big Russian bull-rushed him, tackling him like a linebacker. Strakov groaned when Diegert hit the mat with him on top, but he had fulfilled the requirement of taking Diegert down. As he struggled to his feet, Strakov said, “This phase is over.”
Diegert stood by himself while Strakov handed weapons to the rest of the operators.
“Now,” stated the big Russian, “if Mr. Diegert disarms one of us, he does not have to complete the mission in the Urban Zone. Ready? Attack.”
All five operators, armed with weapons, attacked Diegert simultaneously.
Enrique had a two-foot truncheon with which he struck Diegert on the shoulder blade as the American ducked to avoid a blow to the head. Jaeger, armed with a knife, stabbed at Diegert, who had to twist his torso to evade the sharp blade. He countered Jaeger’s strike with a punch to the temple, stunning the German enough so that he could focus on Gregor’s attack with a six-foot staff. As the Swede swung the big stick, Diegert took the hit, grabbed the shaft, and shoved it forward, impaling Gregor in the abdomen. Pierre stepped forward, swinging a length of chain. The first swing was inches from Diegert’s head, and the return required Diegert to jump above it. For the next swing, Diegert positioned himself so that when he ducked, the chain collided with Strakov’s ribs. The big Russian gasped for air as the metal links concussed his chest, making it easy for Diegert to grab the pistol from his hand. As the leader of the strike team reinflated his lungs, Diegert kicked him in the hip, knocking him to the ground, and stood above him with the pistol, saying, “Too bad it’s not loaded.”
Strakov was furious. The situation was awkward, since no one, least of all Diegert, had expected this outcome. Strakov was in serious pain but struggled to his feet. He was gasping and at a loss for words, but his anger was visible, and Diegert told him, “I’m still gonna do your Urban Zone mission. I don’t want to become an operator just because I beat you assholes.”
Strakov wasn’t prepared for this reaction, and with a look of disdain, he said, “Meet at the armory tomorrow at 1800.”
Strakov, wincing in pain, walked away, not wanting the guys to see just how badly he was injured.
Pierre came up to Diegert, saying, “Very clever. I hope I get to work with you on a team someday.” Pierre punched Diegert in the shoulder and went to the locker room.
Outside the locker room, Fatima was waiting for Diegert and walked with him as he headed back to his room. “I heard about your self-defense training.”
“I heard about your failure spotting Strakov on the bench press.”
“Looks like we are always finding ways of helping each other.”
“Yeah, what can you tell me about the Urban Zone?”
“It was a very gutsy call, and a wise one, because you don’t want to have the reputation of being excused from the tough stuff. Strakov’s arrogance just backfired on him, and it’ll take a long time to live it down.”
“What I meant was, what do you know about the details of the mission?”
“Just roll with it—they change them all the time—and be very skeptical of anything that looks obvious. I think you’ll do fine, which is to say, you’ll survive.”
“Have there been others who have not?”
“Of course, how many times do I have to tell you? We don’t train by the sissy safety rules of the US Army. If you don’t win out there, you die. That’s why your decision to do the training when you had a pass was so gutsy.”
Fatima smiled at Diegert, tapped him on the shoulder, and left.
Holy shit, thought Diegert.
38
The next day at 1800 hours, Diegert reported to the armory.
“Back so soon?” said the wiry Lindstrom.
“Is this my stuff?”
Laid on a table in the armory was the equipment being issued to Diegert.
“The Urban Zone mission has several demands and hazards. This equipment will help keep you from becoming a casualty.”
Diegert surveyed the equipment on the table.
“First you should put this on.”
Lindstrom picked up the top piece of a protective body suit.
“This Kevlar-weave combat suit won’t make you bulletproof, but it is bullet resistant. If it can resist bullets, then just imagine how good it is at resisting everything else.” Diegert thumped the Kevlar with his kuckles, and Lindstrom continued, “The pants have reinforced panels on the thighs and around the hips. Here are your Viper tactical boots. We think they’re the best. You also have Viper gloves. Scissors are here too, should you want to customize your gloves with an exposed finger or two. This outer shell vest will protect you from shrapnel and other projectiles. It has pockets filled with useful things such as explosives, listening devices, and other items. Take some time to check out each pocket.”
Diegert counted the pockets with his fingers.
“This belt also has many items that you will find helpful. Your vest, belt, and body suit integrate to form an internal web harness so that this clip ring here on the belt can be used to secure you when climbing or rappelling. For weapons, you will have the HK VP9 tactical pistol. You can see it has the underbarrel flashlight and laser sight. There is a silencer, which will be in a pouch on the holster.”
Diegert held the gun and felt the weight and balance of it. He nodded approvingly before setting it back down.
“Go put it all on and come back for a systems check.”
When he returned, Diegert looked like a deadly operator capable of stealth and violence. The suit was snug and formfitting, projecting an appearance of fitness and mobility. Its shades of gray and black would allow Diegert to disappear into the shadows of the night.
“Looks good,” said the experienced armorer. “Very crepuscular.”
He handed Diegert a black backpack. “This is your climbing kit. I want the contents returned.”
“Okay.”
Dressed and ready to go, Diegert sat outside the room from which his mission would be controlled. Strakov arrived with a sour look on his face. “Let’s review your mission. In the Urban Zone, you’re to ascend the building marked ‘H7.’ You will then rappel to the fourth floor, recover a laptop that contains critical information, exit the building, commandeer a motor vehicle, and return here to base. You must accomplish this mission in twenty minutes. We have
transportation for you to the Zone. I don’t care if you have questions. I’m not answering them.” With a shake of his head to the right, he said “Jaeger will drive you.”
Diegert and Jaeger climbed into an open-topped jeep and drove down the road from the armory. After the first turn, the jeep encountered a row of orange cones across the road. Puzzled, Jaeger brought the vehicle to a stop. From the bushes on the driver’s side, Fatima stepped out with her Sig Sauer P320 pistol pointed at Jaeger.
“Get out,” was all she said. His hesitation produced a drawback of the hammer on Fatima’s pistol. Jaeger released the steering wheel and put his hands up as he stepped out of the jeep.
Fatima took Jaeger’s position in the driver’s seat and flattened the rubber cones as she drove over them, leaving Jaeger behind.
“Is this my rescue?”
“Shut up. I’m here to warn you that Strakov has a hit planned on you. He’s using your mission as a training mission for a counterstrike team. The team’s mission is to prevent you from completing yours, and they are authorized to kill.”
