Water

by Anna Petrovich

  One of the man’s hands landed on his collar, throwing him violently into a store cover and knocking the breath out of him. Tuvia tried to stop the large foot from reaching his stomach in vain. A sharp bullet of pain went through his hand into his arm, the wave rippled across his stomach. “Hey!” Two soldiers who were passing by lunged on the last three men, allowing the assassin to recover before rejoining the conflict. Security guards approached, throwing men down and cuffing their arms together. “Where’s the man these two were beating up?” The soldier stood there looking around at the crowd who looked blankly back at them.

  Carlson stood looking in the mirror in the bathroom, trying to figure out the reason behind the dark circles underneath his eyes. The door flew open, Tuvia staggering in and running to a stall before throwing up the contents of his stomach. “Hey, son, are you alright?” He turned around to examine the outward appearance of the young man, seeing the pained expression.

  “Patricks knows, they’ve got the airport surrounded.” Tuvia was kicking the air vent grate away from the wall, grunting from the physical exertion. He slid through the opening, following closely by his companion who tried to fit the covering back in place. The tight space made it difficult for the men to breath, sweat dripping from their hairlines. A painful ache developed in the younger man’s chest as they slid down another corridor, freezing his muscles until they had both stopped.

  “You, okay, son?” Carlson could see a panicked look come into the blue eyes, saliva flecking the corners of his mouth.

  “Get me out of here. Just get me out.” The assassin was in the middle of a panic attack, unable to move, frozen in his fear. His fingers were clinching and un-clinching into a fist, a harsh breathing echoing against the metal walls.

  “Think Tuvia, focus on breathing and start crawling forward. Forget the walls, just keep going, don’t let the fear get to you.” Slowly, mechanically he began to move, keeping his eyes ahead toward the grate ahead of them. Fresh cool air began to dry the sweat on his face and alleviate the tightness in his chest. His hands closed on the grate, shoving it harshly outward in a desperate movement. It fell from his grasp with a splash, both men flinching at the sound. Silent breathing echoed in the closed space for a moment, then Tuvia slid toward the edge and looked out into the night.

  Several feet below ran brown waters through a cement canal, full of trash that bobbed along on the top of the water. Taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his back and looked up at the sky. “We’re going for a swim.”

  “No other way out?” Carlson stared at the younger man’s shoes, musing on the clean treads without conscious thought.

  “Straight out. Can you swim?” There was a note of worry in Tuvia’s voice, a sudden thought coming to his mind.

  “Get out of this tunnel.” Carlson retorting, watching the scrambling feet until they disappeared over the edge. A splash sounded again, then a coughing sound of a man unprepared for being immersed in cold water. Pain struck at his chest, water closed over his head, then someone’s hand was gripping his collar and pulling him to the right. They sat on the edge of the cement edge for a moment, catching their breath and adjusting to the cool night air.

  “You smell like a trash heap.” Tuvia said, standing up and walking away with a slight grin on his face. Carlson couldn’t think of a good response, struggling to his feet and following his companion with a noticeable limp. His experience in the field had been gathered during his younger years, coming in from the cold had done no favors. Years of sitting behind the oak of a desk had caused him to get out of shape, despite his attempts to exercise on a regular basis. Strange how lazy a man could get when his life wasn’t in danger. His musings were cut short as they ducked down an alley right into the middle of a group of teenagers, obviously getting high away from the eyes of the law.

  “Hey, handsome.” A blonde with a torn short walked up to Tuvia, her hands on his shoulders. The younger man gently pushed her to the right, causing her to stumble in the high stilettos.

  “Don’t you touch my girlfriend.” A man with a shaved head and multiple tattoos flicked his knife out, lunging for Tuvia’s side. He parried the blow with his hands, sending the knife clattering to the ground.

  “We don’t want any trouble. I’d advise you to stand down.” There was an icy tense tone in the assassin’s voice that scared the older man who stood watching the scene unfold as though on a movie screen. Tattoo kid bent to pick up the knife, his last move in a conscious state. His body slammed into the building, a groan of pain escaping his mouth. The other boys staggered to their feet, wanting to avenge their friend, even in their uncertain state. An Asian kid tried to kick at Tuvia’s shin, but the hardened criminal kicked the leg out from underneath the boy’s body. He collapsed, his legs doing the splits and a half-laugh, half-scream coming out of his mouth. The blonde girl tried to bring her purse down on Tuvia’s head, but he gently shoved her away so that she collapsed on her boyfriend. “Anyone else want to try?” Carlson watched as the kids picked up their fallen comrades, then slunk away down the alley to nurse their wounds.

  “You do this often?” Tuvia whirled around, a savage gleam in the blue eyes that sent a chill down the older man’s spine.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, grandpa. We may be working together, but don’t think for a second that makes us friends. Ask one more personal question, I’ll pin you to the wall.” His harsh response was clearly a genuine threat, backed up by the spit that landed on the ground next to Carlson’s shoe. “Ryde will be sending a recovery team to the airport. You got a phone?”

  “Not after jumping into that canal.” Carlson’s face was rueful as he pulled out the black device, letting the water run out of it. The younger man cursed in a foreign language, running his fingers through the drying dirty blonde hair with a groan. “It’s a city, gotta be a payphone nearby.”

  “You’ve gone soft, old man.” There was a bitter sound in Tuvia’s voice, a hint of despair in his words. “They’ll be under surveillance, one wrong move, there’ll be a bullet lodged in that chest of yours. Start walking.” Wind and rain began to slam into their unprotected heads, seeping into the thin jackets, chilling them to the bone. A harsh cough began to wrack the chest of the older man who was unused to battling the elements, even the hardened assassin was beginning to shiver from the cold. After several blocks, the younger man disappeared down a thin alleyway with a determined stride. Carlson attempted to follow, falling behind from exhaustion and his limp. The shattering of glass made him hurry into the darkness where the sound of a car’s engine reached his ears. Tuvia sat in the driver’s seat of a small car, a defiant look in his face and eyes. “Get in.” Despite being severely uncomfortable with the crime, the older man sat down with a sigh.

  Amber stood looking out into the rain, enjoying the sound of the drops striking the roof of the house. Her fiancé stepped into the room, handing her a glass of gold-brown liquid with a smile. “I’m so scared that this is just a dream.” For a moment, there was an uncertain, fearful glint in the beautiful eyes of the woman.

  “How can I make this real for you?” Ethan’s chest ached with the desire to give this woman the safe life that she was craving.

  “Finish this. Take care of the children…of me.” She set the glass down on the table, pressing her lips to his in a long slow kiss. Her hand caressed the side of his face, feeling the scar on the jaw with her fingers.

  “Who’s going to give you away?” He mumbled into her mouth, thoughts going to the wedding in the desert.

  “Antoine?” She gestured to the sleeping figure in the living room to their left, a sad smile spreading on her face.

  “I think he’d like that.” A fist began pounding on their door, Ethan’s body tensing immediately. His hand closed on the metal of the gun in his jacket pocket, gesturing for Amber to wake the sleeping man. “You hear shots, get out, get in the car, take the children.” She watched him crouching low to the wall, approach the door, ready to run at a moment�
�s notice. It swung open, revealing the drenched men with their guns drawn. “Tuvia, Carlson! What happened to you?”

  “Patricks stopped us at the airport, the mission’s aborted.” A sound came from behind him, Amber was standing there with her hand to her mouth. He could have died. I could have lost him. Tears of joy where sliding down her face, her feet moving towards him. Before he could react, her arms were around his neck with her face buried in his chest. Carlson put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, sending a message through their look. Ethan read it with a strong sense of shame and guilt building in his heart. His life had been spared by this man’s generous, selfless willingness to take his place. He had been ready to throw it all away, including the heart of the beautiful woman hugging him tightly. “What’s the next step, Major?” Tuvia leaned back against the wall with a wince of pain.

  Amber made an embarrassed gesture, sliding a long lock of hair behind her ear and looking at the ground. She felt the arm of her fiancé around her shoulders, relieving the tension with a smile. “Get cleaned up. We should think it through carefully.” The assassin walked slowly into the hallway with a slight limp, a slight facial change because of the pain. “Would you make some coffee, darling?” Amber nodded, heading into the kitchen where Antione already stood talking to Carlson.

  “The man just needs to get out.” Antoine said, then stopped when he saw her standing there. “Should we put some coffee on?” She gave a slight smile of agreement, still unsure of the conversation that had been abruptly ended. Carlson limped into the rest of the house, still coughing loudly. The children began to come out, woken up by the loud sounds in the house. Alex saw Ethan in the living room, running to his side and throwing the little arms around his neck.

  “Papa!” His grip was tight, not wanting to let go, yearning for the security of a father and looking to this man. A whimper escaped his mouth, the stress of the past few years beginning to breath the child’s reserve and strong exterior. It caused Ethan’s heart to ache, memories of his own childhood crashing into the thoughts regarding the mission.

  He was sitting on the outside bench, waiting for Antione to pick him up from the school. Then something had struck him in the face, wet and hard. A pebble fell on the ground in front of him, then the taunting faces of the school bullies had appeared. “Hey, Ryde, saw your old man’s face…on the most wanted section of the newspaper!” He stood up, then flinched as the older boy gripped his shirt collar and picked him up. His legs dangled above the ground, while sweat poured down his face from fear. “You gonna be a little murderer?” Ethan’s throat was choked and dry, so he shook his head quickly. “Sure, you are. Bet you make the front page. Prison rat.” The other boys took up the chant as he fell to the ground, their feet kicking him until the teacher came out. They took off, leaving him in the mud in pain. It had all been a result of being the son of a man who had murdered.

  There was a pained look on the man’s face as the memory faded away, a tear sliding down his cheek. The future difficulties the little boy would face were terrible to contemplate.

  “Dad.” Zara came in, her large eyes widening at the sight and a tender look passing across her face. He turned slightly, meeting her gaze over the child’s head. “They’re all in the kitchen.” Slowly, Ethan stood and carried the boy with him, neither unable to break the embrace.

  “Got any bright ideas?” Tuvia said, taking the ice pack from Amber with a grateful smile and holding it to his cheek, wincing as it touched the skin.

  “Patricks has been one step ahead this whole operation.” Ethan replied with a groan of frustration. “We’re missing the obvious, someone has been leaking information.”

  “We already caught her…” He interrupted Carlson’s words with a cold icy glare that stopped the sentence halfway through.

  “Has there been a person in every room of this house, the warehouse, or any other place that we worked from?” There was a silence that followed this question, realization dawning on everyone’s faces. “Check your clothes, bags, vehicles, rooms, anything that might contain a bug.” The people around the table still sat, stunned by the simplicity of the discovery. “Move!” It sent an electric shock through each one, the chairs scraping the floor in their haste. An hour passed in which nobody spoke, not daring to leak any more information, if only by accident. They met at the table, laying their discoveries in the center. Three. All planted on members of the team who had been in close contact with Matthews.

  “There’s your leak, son.” Carlson dumped them unceremoniously into a glass of water with a grunt of disgust. “Good thinking. The military lost a great soldier.” No one spoke, still unsure of the next move in this chest game that could end in the destruction of every player on the board.

  31

  The limousine pulled up to the airport gates, the driver leaping out and throwing open the door with a dramatic flourish. He accepted the briefcase handed to him without question, bowing slightly as the man entered the vehicle. “President Jakande, the Americans will be hard to persuade tomorrow.” The passenger’s companion spoke softly in order to not let their words travel to the driver’s ears.

  “We will worry about that on the day that the speech must be given. Today, the British soldier and his companions will learn the might of the Kenyan empire.” There was an evil glint in the man’s eyes, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

  “Is it wise brother to test the hospitality of this nation when we are seeking to establish a connection?” Without using his words, Jakande gave a clear picture of the length he was prepared to go in order to achieve his goals. A knife flashed, his guard slumped to the floor with his throat cut, choking on the liquid.

  “I will not be stopped by a mere soldier with a wench and two children!” His whisper was vicious, the knife falling on the dead man’s chest. “Ryde will pay with his life before we leave this country.” It sent a chill running down his brother’s spine to hear the threat.

  “Patricks will be waiting at the hotel, brother. He has a team gathered to follow your orders.”

  “Asani! Our revenge will be carried out tonight. The ancestors are smiling on us because of our success.” His brother nodded, but Asani’s mind was suddenly changed. From that moment on he swore on the graves of his ancestors to stop the killing and death that occurred at the edge of his brother’s blade. The Kenyan people were a strong race, good warriors. They were not intended for this mindless murder at the command of a mad man. Yes, he would admit it to a court – Jakande was insane.

  “You will not need me tonight?” He asked in a hopeful manner, forcing the blood to his cheeks in order to appear embarrassed.

  “Why? Did a girl catch your eye already, little brother?” Jakande’s jocular tone was back, the intensity gone from his eyes.

  “We’ve been corresponding over the internet. She wants to meet this afternoon for lunch and coffee.”

  “Good, go. Use the car or get one from Patricks.” Jakande’s mind went to a far different meeting than the one that was in his brother’s mind. They entered the parking garage, then pulled to a stop in front of a group of men. Patricks and Jakande hugged, laughing loudly with an evil undertone. “Give my brother a car, he has a woman to see!” Jakande ordered on of the men standing on the fringe. They turned and gestured to a large black suburban, handing over the key with a respectful lowering of his head.

  “Romance or revenge, what is better, sir?” Patricks asked, as they watched the vehicle leave the building.

  “We can have both old friend.” Jakande pointed to the picture on the table with a cruel laugh. As his brother turned the vehicle into the suburban area, his heart began to pound in fear. This was the first time since childhood that he had acted on the rebellious feelings that had almost overwhelmed him in his brother’s affairs. A girl came running out of the house, a dog at her heels. She jumped into the grass with a laugh. Her brother came out holding a cup of water and a sandwich. They clattered onto the boards of the porch, his eyes on the
vehicle.

  “Dad!” His voice carried over to Asani’s vehicle, the girl and dog following the boy into the house. Asani exited the vehicle, walking up to the yard carefully, unsure of the occupants and their reaction. A man came out of the door with a weapon aimed at the intruder’s heart, the description matching his brother’s mark.

  “Wait, don’t shoot.” Asani raised his hands and shoved his own weapon away from his reach. “I came to warn you.”

  “Warn us of what?” There was an instinctive trust beginning to develop in Ethan’s gut, but also the thought of a trap keeping him from following his instincts immediately.

  “My brother, Jakande, and the white business man are on their way to kill you all. I told them that I was on the way to meet a girl, but they’ll be here before long. Leave before those children die.” Ethan could see genuine distress on the man’s face, surrendering to the instinctual trust and lowering his weapon.