Water

by Anna Petrovich

  “To be back in?” He was fighting for time, time to process the events and the words that had occurred. “Like a death sentence. Before it was easy to lose myself in the work after losing my mother, then A’isha and the child, now…” His voice trailed off with a groan of mental anguish as his senses were assaulted with the pain of the past. She didn’t reply, just put her hand on his shoulder, unable to speak any words to relieve the pain. How can I help you, my love? Her heart ached for him, wanting to take the pain for him. She couldn’t comprehend the amount of loss that this man had suffered, yet marveled at the love that he was giving to her and the children.

  “The children are waiting inside, they’ve missed you.” It brought a weak and tender smile to his face. At the door, the little arms enveloped him in a hug, tears sliding down their faces.

  “Daddy, we thought you had left us.” A groan escaped his lips, a painful ache developing in his chest, close to his heart. The little girl’s eyes were tearful, yet bright as she hugged him tightly with all the love that her heart could hold. Even the two boys were crying, happy that their father had come back to them. For a moment, they sat there as the children’s sobbing ebbed to soft breathing. As Carlson reentered the room, Ethan stood to speak to him, the children still clinging to his arms and legs.

  “Dolinsky’s on his way to the base. We’ve been going over the files on the Park’s case. Amber will brief you on the details.” Inside the dining room, they sat looking at the printouts in the dim natural light.

  “She was an older news reporter with history in investigative journalism. Two months before her death, a rumor began to circulate that Parks was working on something big.” She slid across an article along with a colored photograph to him. “It had to do with Patricks’ operations overseas. Specifically, the amount of money that was being circulated throughout the city was coming from an offshore account. The bank manager was bribed to give information regarding where the deposits came from – South African dictator, Abasi Jakande.”

  “How does this connect back to Patricks?” Ethan stared down at the sheet of paper, full of figures in small black letters. His head ached at the confusion of numbers, the simple thoughts of a mere military officer complaining at the strain put on them.

  “Jakande owns large plantations in the land, all of which are maintained with slave labor, yet there isn’t any proof. Ask the locals and they’ll tell you about this guy, a ruthless man who only wants money. There is a total disregard for human life practiced underneath his regime. The United States have been trying to work with the rest of the government to begin to remove him from office, but there has been difficulty in gathering proof. Every investigator has disappeared, the most recent being Parks.”

  “So Patricks was in charge of cleaning up the dirt for this guy?” Ethan said, his thoughts running back to the war and all the corrupt dealing that had gone on. “When did they meet? Why the connection?”

  “According to Park’s work which she cleverly hid inside the coffee maker in her office, they were first introduced during the conflict in ’24. Jakande was just beginning to build his empire, picking up a long line of trash along the way in the form of debtors who were willing to pay back their debts in a body count. Most of them left after the debt was cleared, Patricks developed a type of sadistic companionship with the dictator which continues on to today. That’s where the money comes from, a man who kills the people of his own country.”

  “So, they got a lead that Parks was on to their operation, offed her, and tried to erase the evidence?” She looked at his face, saw the exhaustion hanging there. “May heaven save us from all the people who try to keep the truth away from the public eye!”

  “This evidence might put the man away for good, possibly on death row, but not by itself.”

  “Proof.” Ethan sighed, running his fingers over his head in a desperate motion, trying to think this through. “Do we go the route of Jakande or Patricks?”

  “Carlson says that staying close to home will be a better course of action.” Zara came into the room, pulling a large suitcase behind her.

  “Here’s the rest of the files, took a bloody long time to print, mom!” It slammed to the floor, the lid flipping open with papers stacked high inside.

  “Read up!” Amber set a large pile in front of him, sliding a cup of coffee to his hand with a pessimistic smile. “We’re going to be here for a while.” By the time evening began to darken the windows, they had barely touched half of the suitcase’s contents. Ethan felt as though his eyes were dried out, a painful headache forming in his mind. Then a line caught at his attention, the anomaly clearly shown in the printout. They had their proof!

  29

  The young lawyer examined the printout, nodding as the implications began to dawn on her mind. “You are right that this is proof of his embezzlement of the dictator, but not enough to pin him down in court. There has to be some kind of physical evidence, either recovering the bodies, a statement from the man himself, or possibly catching him in the act.”

  “That’s going to be easy.” Dolinsky said, walking into the room with an annoyed grunt, throwing down the badge onto the table. “Old man needs to have a drink.”

  “Watch it, son.” Ethan defend his old commander, remembering the absolute horrors that they’d been exposed to, all of which would have killed him, except for Eason’s advice. “It’s for your own good, jail’s no picnic, especially when you’ve got someone gunning for your life.”

  “I’ve been facing that all my life, Ryde. You grew up with a father who protected your innocence, kept you from the reality of life.” A dull look came into Ethan’s eyes, scaring Amber who watched in silence.

  “Don’t ever say that again.” There was a warning note in his voice that silenced the words about to leave the younger man’s mouth. “Carlson, we need to decide on a plan of action. If getting this proof is all that stands between our team and bringing this son of a gun down, then let’s get started on it.”

  “The agency will inform you of the parameters tomorrow morning at the briefing, until then get some rest. All of us will be working around the clock starting at eight o’clock, there won’t be time for rest.”

  “I’ve made some food in the kitchen.” Antione stepped out, his friendly eyes taking into the exhaustion party with a look of concern towards his adopted son. There were dark circles under the young man’s eyes, along with a deadness in their blue depths that scared him. It brought back the memories after the war, the broken man who had locked the doors and kept to himself. “Ethan, we need to talk.”

  In the back room, they sat down on opposite sides of the small table. “What’s going on, son?”

  “Amber. I’m worried about her and the kids, this wasn’t the life that they needed after surviving the hell that they went through. She’s been keeping up a tough act on the outside, but…I’m afraid…” There was a heavy sigh in the soldier’s words, his head bowed in defeat.

  “When your mother came over to England, she was young, frightened. The dream had been crushed by that terrible man who’d deceived her into believing that he offered the perfect life. We met, for the first time, in the market place and instantly, she tried to hide the fear and exhaustion. It did not work. Talk to her, Ethan. Ask her. It’s her choice, too.” He paused a moment before continuing. “You need to take care of yourself, as well. Don’t go down that path again. It won’t make it any easier on her.”

  Amber sat next to Zara and Almira who were speaking to the children, laughing at some small joke. Her back was upright, but he could see a slight trembling in the sculpted jaw bone. Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder, brushing a hair out of her face. She smiled, looking up into his eyes and rejoicing to see the clearer blue return. It was a sign that the worst had passed, maybe they would get through this – whole. He bent again, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss of love and promise.

  “Could you not, dad?” Zara protested, turning her head away and making
gagging sounds, which the children promptly imitated.

  “Don’t teach the kids bad habits.” He retorted, a laughing glint in his eyes and a smile on his face for the moment. Morning arrived all too soon for the soldier who got in the car, the twilight of the morning casting shadows along the walls of the house. The base was quiet, not yet alive with the civilian visitors for the day. They waved him through without hardly a second glance, bored expressions on their faces.

  Eason stood at the desk, two uniforms folded in front of him. “Good morning, Ryde, where’s the other man?”

  “He left late last night, sir.” His words were premature since the door opened behind him, the assassin taking his place next to his partner with a heavy sigh.

  “Put these on, for now. There’s a room at the back.” When they reentered the room, the familiar material sent uncomfortable chills down Ethan’s back. There was a disgusted look on Tuvia’s face, his stance cocky and relaxed. “The agency wants to keep you in a low-profile position, specifically working on the Jakande case. His men are here in the city, hiring smugglers for drugs to Mexico. That will be your entrance into their ranks. Do you have a problem with artificial coloring for the hair?”

  “No, sir.” Both men replied in unison, staring down at the temporary reference pictures on the desk. “Sergeant Thompson will take you to the team, report back here when it’s finished.” They saluted simultaneously, marching out of the door behind the small woman who led them into a room where a group of people instantly sprang into action. It seemed like a whirlwind of movement that surrounded them both to Ethan who looked into the mirror and observed the changed man with interest. The black hair was speckled with grey, the usual with a man who was aging. They’d given him grey contact lenses, giving a harsher look to his face. A man with slender fingers and a nervous eye twitching habit was handing him a pair of glasses with an apologetic grin.

  “They insist on them, bad style move.” He tsked to himself, waving his hands in a feminine manner that made Ethan smile. The glasses gave him a more mature appearance, yet failed to hide the intense color of the eyes.

  “Won’t it give the impression that I’m not competent to defend the products?”

  “You’re a smuggler, major, not a guard. The less conspicuous you appear, the better, or so they tell us. Now put these clothes on, then sit straight, tall, we’ll be taking the headshots first.” The painful process finished, both the assassin and the soldier followed the little woman back to the office.

  “You look like a New York banker, Ryde.” A slight smile was forced on the uncomfortable man’s part, unsure of how his wife-to-be would react at his changed appearance.

  “Are we going in together?” Dolinsky pulled at the high collar with an annoyed expression, the blonde hair turned into a light brown and the icy eyes into the color of the night sky.

  “The agency has advertised your skills as a father and son, the reason behind the greying hair, Ethan.” There was silence, neither of the men wanting to respond. “Here’s the paperwork.” Sergeant Thompson came in, handing each of the men a plastic bag before exiting quickly. “You have around five hours to prepare before the Jackson family are scheduled to meet your new employer. I’d use that time wisely. Ethan, this is a dangerous mission, don’t let that woman become a widow.”

  “Yes, sir.” There was a grave promise in his tone, the somber eyes meeting the older commander’s without flinching. Accidents happened, but he would not intentional risk his life on a suicide mission. Other people depended on his life now, a wife and children. They left the base in silence, traveling in the same car provided by the agency. It was decent car that blended in with the traffic, the kind no one would notice or remember.

  “You…my father?” Dolinsky tried to joke, the age difference still baffling his mind, trying to figure out the agency’s train of thought.

  “Guess so.” Ethan couldn’t join in the joke without thinking of the children who were relying on him to fulfill that role. It made this job all the more difficult, all the more mindlessly cruel. That they had been sucked into this nonsense sent a wave of red hot rage coursing through his veins. Life had knocked him down more times than could be remembered, but why this woman? Why these children? They were innocents, civilians caught in the line of fire. He had dragged them into this mess. It had been his intention to kill Wade that day on the road, maybe even the woman and children. Sitting there in the driver’s seat, he couldn’t bear that thought, yet forced himself to look at the situation objectively.

  He’d been walking down that country road without a weapon in his pocket, not even enough rations to keep him fed for the next day. Sleep hadn’t been a priority. What had that Ethan been thinking?

  Then it struck him, it had been a suicide mission. That Ethan had never intended on coming back from that trip. There had been a desperate impulsiveness to his actions that scared the man pulling the car up to the curb, sent a cold wave of fear washing over him. Even the assassin noticed the grey pallor that passed across the older man’s face.

  “Are you alright?” His tone was terse, but there was a concerned look in his eyes, a poor attempt at a compassionate glance on his face.

  “Losing my memory saved my life…no…she saved my life.” They both looked at the woman on the porch, surrounded by the three children and the dog who stood waving her tail, her bark friendly. “I can’t lose her, can’t come back…dead.”

  “You shouldn’t be going on this mission.” Tuvia said, crawled out of the vehicle and slamming his fist on the top with an angry motion. “This is the reason…forget it.” He strode up to the house, stepping past Amber without a greeting. She stood watching his retreating figure, wandering what had happened. As Ethan approached, her eyes widened at his altered appearance.

  “You look older.” She pulled the glasses off his face, planting a kiss on his lips with a smile. “What’s going, dear?”

  “The agency is having us go undercover in Jakande’s smuggling operation in Mexico, father and son.” Her beautiful eyes lost some of the light inside them, a deader look meeting his gaze. The slender hand covered the delicate mouth to stop the scream of fear that threatened to come out. He put his hand out, but she shoved him away, running into the house. Carlson stepped out in time to see the strong man collapse to his knees, his head cradled in his hands. The sobs of a broken man were muffled by the groans of grief. He could see the children standing there, seeing their father break down with scared large eyes. It opened something up in his heart that had been buried a long time ago. Fingering the plastic of the cellphone, he made a decision from the heart, not the mind.

  “Major General Eason. It’s Jeff Carlson. I’m requesting the permission to take the place of Major Ryde in this mission.” There was a long moment before the reply came. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be there in an hour…sir.” He approached the grief-stricken man, placing a hand on the shaking shoulder. “Major Ryde, you are hereby relieved from active duty until the agency provides further notice. Orders require you to remain with your wife and children, gathering information in the city. Understand?” Ethan looked at him, his forehead wrinkled in confusion and concern. There were still signs of tears on his cheeks, a redness about his blue eyes.

  “What are you talking about, Carlson?” He struggled to his feet, staring at the older man, unable to speak.

  “The agency has put me back in the field, you are staying here to oversee the city operations.” A realization began to dawn on Ethan’s mind, his mouth moving from the suppressed emotion.

  “You talk them into this?” There was a somber note in his voice, still shaking from the tears of earlier. “Why’d you do it, Jeff?”

  “That family in there, needs their father.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, eyes trained on the younger man’s face. “I’m an old war horse, ain’t got a family to care about, don’t even got a house. Married to the job, that’s what they said. Guess it’s about time to get back in the field, die in the traces.�
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  “I…can’t begin to thank you.” Ethan’s voice trailed off as the older man gripped his arm and looked at him intensely.

  “Just give that woman and those children a good life.” They stood deep in thought, thinking through their lives and choices. There was a pained expression in Ethan’s face, the wounds aching in the cool night air. He reached up for the glasses, then stopped remembering that Amber had taken them with her into the house. Slowly, hesitantly he raised his fist to knock on the door with a trembling hand. A sound was coming from the left on the opposite side, the running of water. Without stopped, he threw open the door and rushed to the bathroom.

  Amber sat next to the tub of water, her hand just playing with it, making ripples. A dead look was in her lovely eyes, vaguely focused on the light playing in the liquid. She turned to look at him before standing up to try and shut the door. “Wait.” His hand sat lightly on her own, stopping its motion. “I’m not going.” There was a little indistinguishable sound that escaped her mouth, the tan hand dropping from the door handle. Neither of them spoke, but her slender arms were around his neck, too exhausted and overjoyed to cry.

  30

  As Tuvia Dolinsky walked through the airport, his sharp eyes caught the figures of five men making their way towards him from the doorway. His companion was several steps ahead, rounding the corridor to the gate. There was no chance of communication passing between them at this stage of the game. He stopped, bent down, and began to tie his shoe. His head was slightly turned toward his pursuers, watching their movements like a cat. As the first man’s foot came into view, his body began to move with lithe motions that began to disarm each of them. A sharp uppercut to the jaw. The harsh slam of his hand into the larynx, hearing the terrible sounds of attempted breathing over the roar of people’s screams.