Bloody Truth: A Granger Spy Novel

by John J. Davis

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little of both.”

  “Don’t,” Wakefield said. “I repeat, DO NOT, under any circumstances, use lethal force. Do you copy?”

  “I hear you, and I understand.”

  Turning around in the street, standing still, letting the crowd fan out around me, I waited for the baldheaded man to notice I’d stopped walking.

  Looking in my direction with a pastry raised to his mouth, the man in the black suit, white shirt, black shoes, and tie froze mid-bite, seeing me smiling at him. I decided to have a little fun, then, and using my half-block head start, I ran.

  I entered the Cathedral, joining a sightseeing tour gathering near the front entrance, and watched the doors. The man appeared about a minute after I arrived, looking around wide-eyed.

  Seeing another line for the entrance to the Cathedral tower, I left the tour group queuing up for a chance to climb the stairs. Then I noticed ‘Under Construction’ and ‘Do Not Enter’ signs at the far end of the hallway on my left, and did just the opposite by entering the restricted area.

  I found a set of stairs at the end of the hall and took them down to the basement of the Cathedral. I’d seen signs posted in the shopping district about the renovation project, and knew the basement was being turned into a museum of sorts, with an additional entrance being created.

  I ran past the barricades in hopes of finding that new exit, but, instead, I found a dead end opening onto an excavation pit twenty feet below street level. The work was obviously behind schedule, trapping me. Running back in the direction I’d come, I spotted the man tailing me at the top of the stairwell.

  I turned and began running toward the pit as fast as I could. I leapt out over the abyss toward the vertical support structure for the construction site elevator. I landed hard against the side of the structure. I felt the shockwave of pain rising from my ribcage and began sliding down the steel. Catching a cross member in my grasp, I stopped the slide and began climbing the scaffolding. Reaching the top, and painfully pulling myself over the plywood security fence, I ran for the train station. I raced toward the ticket booth and bought a round-trip ticket to Buir.

  “You’ll have to hurry if you want to make it, sir,” the ticket lady informed me. “The train is leaving in three minutes.”

  Running through the station, one arm pinned to my side, and up the stairs leading to the platform, I arrived at the train just in time for the final boarding call. I found a window seat in the empty coach class car and breathed deeply. I watched the platform for the man in the black suit and was just about to relax when, at the last minute, the bald man boarded the train and sat two rows behind me.

  Arriving in Buir thirty minutes later, leaving the train hurriedly, I made my way down the stairs to the main station area and into the men’s restroom. The room was empty except for the janitor who was leaving just as I entered. I walked into a stall, counted to one hundred and then exited. I was washing my hands when the bald man entered the restroom.

  Using the wall of mirrors, I watched him go into a stall. I listened, and realized he was doing exactly what I’d done; he was just standing there. When the door opened, we made eye contact in the mirror.

  “You know,” I said, smiling at his reflection in the mirror, “I have a rule.”

  He looked around briefly, as if asking are you talking to me before responding.

  “I’m to be concerned with your rule?”

  Ignoring the question, I continued.

  “My rule is: if I see a man once, that’s okay, and I saw you in the shopping district when I bought my French fries. You were inside the pastry shop watching me through the window. But at the time, I figured I’ve got nothing to worry about from you. You’re just some guy buying a donut.”

  He said nothing, just washed his hands, smiling back at me all the while.

  “Now, if I happen to see that same man again, I pay attention. And what happens? The harmless pursuer of pastry shows up outside the coffee shop, donut in hand, where I just happened to be buying coffee.”

  “Sir,” he said, drying his hands under the blower, “might I offer you some advice? Seek professional help. You’re paranoid. This is all a harmless coincidence. That’s all.”

  “And now you’re here,” I said, walking past him toward a hand blower located near the door. “A coincidence? Well, maybe, and you know what? I’d be inclined to agree with you if this, right here right now, wasn’t the fourth time I’d seen you today. And this,” I paused to lock the door before turning to face the bald man, “is the part you should be concerned with.”

  Driving a right front kick in the direction of his left hip, I was surprised by his quickness. Partially blocking the kick, but still absorbing enough of the blow, he spun away from the sink.

  We ran toward each other. Keeping my elbow low, protecting my ribs, we exchanged a quick succession of punches, elbows, and knees. We locked in a clinch, and both struggled to find leverage.

  Gaining a slight advantage, I hip tossed him to the floor and he landed hard on his shoulder. My ribs screamed at me. Moving as quickly as I could into a side headlock, I held on with all I had left until he lost consciousness.

  *

  “One, two, three dunks,” I said, pushing his head into the toilet. “Time to wake up. Rise and shine.”

  He kicked his legs desperately to free himself. He was bucking like a horse trying to throw me off his back. Realizing the bucking was an exercise in futility, he stopped moving.

  “Why don’t we start with an easy question?” I said. “I’ve searched you and found nothing except a few Euros. What’s your name?”

  “Furukawa,” he said spitting a mouthful of toilet water back into the commode.

  “Why are you following me, Mr. Furukawa?”

  “She wants to know everything you do, and everything about you.”

  “Who? Tia?”

  “There’s no one else.”

  “Okay, fair enough. I’m going to let you go. Stand up, but if you try to fight me again, I’ll do far worse than stuff your head in a toilet. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but only for now. We’ll see each other again.”

  Before I carefully began untangling myself from Mr. Furukawa, I squatted low, almost sitting on his back, forcing his arms skyward to reinforce in his mind the predicament he was in.

  “Sounds ominous. Should I be worried about letting you go?”

  “No, I said next time,” he blurted through gritted teeth. The pain evident on his face and in his words, “But when that time comes, don’t count on the element of surprise working for you. I’ll be ready.”

  I straightened my legs and his arms slid off my knees. I leaned against the closed stall door.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He sat on the floor, his back against the commode, wiping his face with his jacket’s pocket square.

  “She will find out all there is to know about you, and then kill you.”

  “Say it isn’t so. And to think I was looking forward to working with her.”

  “Make your jokes, but I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Okay, say I believe I’m marked for death, what harm is there in telling me what she and her old man are up to?”

  “No harm,” he said, grinning up at me, “but I don’t know anything to tell you.”

  “Want to try again?”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “You Americans think you have all the answers, yet you’re clueless. I’m not going to help you, Mr. Peter Heely. You want to know what she’s doing, ask her yourself or figure it out. I really don’t care which path you choose; all paths end the same. You will be dead.”

  I could hear the pounding on the locked bathroom door. I was running out of time.

  “That’s it, then? That’s all you got? Threats?”

  “Not threats, Mr. Heely, promises. You should reconsider your current course of action. Do yourself a favor and take some time off. Go on va
cation. Nothing good will come from involving yourself with Tia and her plans.”

  “And how is it you’re alive?”

  “Ah,” he said, smiling again, “I proved my worth to her.”

  “Do I want to know how?”

  Grinning up at me, he laughed again.

  “Tales for dead men, Mr. Heely. You will know soon enough.”

  I opened the door to the stall and walked away.

  “If I catch you following me again, you’ll be the dead man. And while I’m thinking about it, tell your MMA guys to stay away from me, too.”

  I unlocked the door to the bathroom, and a handful of kids rushed past me toward the urinals. I jogged through the station, boarding the train for the return trip to Cologne.

  Thirty minutes later, I was walking toward the hotel and said, “Granger here. Anybody listening?”

  “Yeah, we got you,” Ryan said.

  “Anything on Furukawa?”

  “Zero,” Zach answered. “I ran the name through all the databases; got nothing back.”

  “Well, I guess we have tomorrow to look forward to. Leecy and Val, ready for the ten o’clock meeting?”

  “Ready,” Val said.

  “Roger that,” Leecy replied.

  “I just want to take this opportunity,” Ryan began, “to once more, and for the record, register my complaints about this mission formally, and with witnesses present.”

  “Dully noted,” Wakefield said. “That’s enough, Ryan.”

  “As long as you’re aware of my strenuous objection to the operational line up and planning, and that I think, though she’s shown improvement over the past sixteen months, Leecy Granger is still green and the wrong choice for this assignment.”

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Wakefield said. “Need I remind you it’s your colossal screw up that almost killed Ron and gave Russia all the reason they needed to invade the Ukraine? Let’s not forget about that. And while I’m on the subject, I just received an update. Putin is sending in forces. NATO spotters report unmarked, green army vehicles with heavy tarpaulin covers, towing howitzers, crossing into Eastern Ukraine today. I could argue that’s on you, Agent Ryan. So, unless there’s anything anyone wishes to add, let me close by saying from this point forward all objections will be submitted in writing and in triplicate.”

  Silence.

  “Ron,” Val said. “I’m waiting for you in room two-thirty-seven at the Marriott. The hotel is a couple of blocks north of the train station.”

  “Roger,” I said, and then without thinking asked, “Where’s Zach?”

  “I’m bunked with Ryan,” Zach answered. “Why do you ask?”

  Feeling a little embarrassed, I covered nicely, saying, “Just curious who ended up with the short straw.”

  “Ron, that’s uncalled for,” Wakefield said. “Tomorrow morning, my suite, briefing at oh-seven hundred. Everyone is to be present and accounted for. That’s an order. Ron, I’ll expect a thorough accounting of today’s events.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MERCENARIES FOR HIRE

  “FOCUS, PEOPLE,” WAKEFIELD SAID. “Now that we know all the players, it’s important everyone be up to speed. I know it’s early and everyone’s tired, but if we can just run through it one more time so I know you have it, that would be great.”

  “Hodges, Ryan, and I rotate surveillance on CCP every fifteen minutes,” Franks said.

  “I’m monitoring communications,” Zach said, “and searching for a way to overcome the jamming signal.”

  “When we’re finished at CCP,” Val said, “we make our way to the cable car ride at Rhine Park for debriefing.”

  “And remember, under no circumstances do any of you use lethal force. We’re out on a limb, here, and everything we do is under a microscope.”

  “Ten-four,” I said.

  “Roger that,” Leecy added.

  “Got it,” Valerie chimed in.

  Checking the time on her watch, Wakefield said, “It’s a long walk; best get moving.”

  As we left the hotel, walking south through the train station, I saw the sign for Starbucks and asked, “Coffee, anyone?”

  “Sure,” Val said. “I’d rather be late than punctual.”

  “Why’s that?” Leecy asked as we entered the coffee shop.

  “Good question,” Val said. “I don’t like appearing too eager when I’m undercover, and I like rocking the boat whenever I’m operating on the target’s turf. I want them off their game, so to speak.”

  “You want them to be pissed at you?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

  With drinks in hand, we found an empty table in the most remote corner of the café. Signaling the girls to turn off their earpieces, I waited for the lady seated on the couch opposite our table to finish the last of her muffin and leave before I shared what was on my mind.

  “We need to discuss something before this mission goes any further,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Leecy asked.

  “Look,” I said, pausing, sipping my coffee. “It’s your career, and your life, and you should pursue them both the way you want. You’ve never given your mother or me any reason to doubt your decision-making abilities. You’re intelligent beyond my ability to comprehend, motivated, and determined. I don’t want to stick my nose in your business, and have fought the urge to do just that for as long as I can.”

  “And what?” Leecy asked. “You’re sticking your nose in my business somehow?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Hello, walking contradiction,” Leecy said. “Who are you, and what have you done with my father?”

  “That’s my problem, see, I’m allowing that part of me, the dad part, to creep into the operational side of me.”

  “Really? That’s news to me. Since when?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Val said, sitting across the table from Leecy. “He’s fought that internal battle since we started working with you.”

  “You’re joking,” Leecy said. “I haven’t noticed him being overly protective or anything remotely like that. He’s been Ron Granger. You know, tough guy and all that stuff.”

  “Yeah, well don’t ever confuse what he does for a living with who he is. Besides, he unloads all those gooey daddy emotions on me, and until recently that’s been enough. But I think the concerns are mounting, and he needs to, no, we need to get them off our collective chest. Cut us both a little slack. Neither he nor I want to interfere if we don’t have to. We feel we have to.”

  “Hold on. So this is coming from both of you now? You both have concerns?” Leecy asked, looking between Valerie and me. “Well, let’s hear it. Let’s lay all the Granger cards on the table this time.”

  I squirmed in my seat then asked, “Tell me about you and Zach?”

  Leaning away from me and against the glass wall, Leecy looked across the table at her mother as she answered.

  “There’s nothing to tell. We’re friends. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? Really?” I asked.

  “Yes, Dad, that’s all, and why are you choosing now to talk about this? I know I said lay all the cards on the table, but I didn’t think personal stuff was in play. Shouldn’t we be talking about the mission at hand?”

  Nodding my head, I said, “Yes, of course we should, and we will, but you have to admit we’re not the normal sit around the dinner table talk about our day type of family, are we?”

  “No, I suppose we’re as opposite of that as we can be.”

  “And it’s not every day I almost get blown up, and well, that near-death experience, though I’ve had one’s similar to it in the past, was my first as a father. And you and Zach have been on my mind, and I wanted to know if there was anything between you two.”

  “That’s why you asked where he was last night? You thought he was in my room?”

  “No, I didn’t think that,” I said, embarrassed having not considered the full repercussions of having a
sked that question last night. I managed to stammer out, “Look, I know you’re a… you’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, patting my arm, letting me off the hook, “but Zach and I are just friends. Nothing else is going on with him, okay? Maybe one day, but not now.”

  “Okay. Thank you, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t know why I get so tongue tied with you and your mother when in any number of dangerous situations; I’m in perfect control. I’m sorry I brought it up. Whatever you and Zach are or aren’t to each other is not important. What is important is I… just know… I want you to be happy.”

  “Easy, big fella,” Leecy said, continuing to pat my arm. “All this from a little explosion? Wow, don’t worry about it, Dad, it’s okay. I’m not upset, but,” she paused, looking across at Valerie then back at me, and continued, “you said concerns, plural. Tell me what’s really on your mind, ‘cause it’s not my love life.”

  “Like your father said, I, too, battle keeping ‘Mom’ out of operational issues, but there’s one thing I can’t remain silent about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The rule against the use of lethal force.”

  “So this is what you two have been building toward? Me breaking the rules?”

  “Yes. I mean, no, I don’t want you to break the rules,” I said, leaning closer to her, “but I need you to go into CCP prepared to do whatever you have to do to ensure you come back out alive.”

  “I agree,” Leecy said. “But if I disobey a direct order and use deadly force, it’s game over, Leecy and game over for the Grangers.”

  “Maybe so,” Val responded, “but you’ll be alive.”

  “You forgot to add, and out of work, and my career with the CIA is over. Is that what you want?”

  “No; absolutely not. We just want you to be safe and prepared to handle anything, not cautious and reluctant.”

  “But deadly force? I don’t think Wakefield’s joking around about that one. You heard her; we’re way out on a limb here and under a microscope. I break the number one rule, and I don’t think I’ll get a second chance.”

  “Even Ryan gets second chance after second chance,” I countered.