The Handler

by Roger Weston

  She took off her sunglasses and looked at Chuck with pleading eyes. Chuck didn’t return her gaze.

  “May I introduce my lovely wife Olga,” Lazar continued.

  Chuck looked up and gave a weak smile to Mrs. Lazar. Then he looked back at Maria.

  She stood up and turned to leave, but Lazar seized her arm. “Stick around, Maria. The show is just about to begin.”

  Reluctantly, she sank back into her chair and hid her face in her hands.

  General Lazar gave a slight bow toward his wife. “Olga, I ask you to start the contest.”

  She avoided looking at him.

  “Do it now!” Lazar demanded.

  She didn’t move.

  He lifted his hand as if he was going to slap her. “Now!”

  With a shaking hand, she raised a white handkerchief in the air.

  “Please, be seated, Mr. Brandt. I think you will enjoy the next contest.”

  “Is this your idea of fun?” Chuck said.

  Lazar looked at him and smiled. “The bullfight is the world’s most perfect sport. You shall soon see for yourself.”

  Chuck eyed Mrs. Lazar. She sat with eyes closed and lips moving silently, fingers tightly clasped together.

  Lazar leaned forward, spreading his thick, short fingers across his pant legs. “Look, the matador is coming.”

  Lazar chuckled with delight. “Watch his technique, Brandt. You might learn something about life… and about death.”

  Mika and his henchman sat behind Chuck. Mika’s gun still pressed against Chuck’s raw back.

  Mrs. Lazar crossed herself. She continued to mouth a silent prayer, her eyes closed.

  Chuck watched as a terrified man was shoved out into the arena. The man held a matador’s cape in his hand.

  Chuck sat up. He knew the man. It was the professor—the missing man in his spy chain.

  Lazar laughed. “Every man should have a chance to prove that he is strong.” Chuck felt the warm steel of Mika’s gun press against the back of his neck.

  Chuck winced. The poor man in the ring was only a low-level cut out. He had been hired to transfer the information from the informant to the ambassador. He had a young family.

  The gate opened and a bull raced out of the gate and charged the man. The professor jerked the cape with panic. He managed to step out of the way of the charging bull just in time.

  “I’m impressed,” Lazar said, laughing. “Beginners luck, I fear.”

  The bull made a second charge, two horns and hundreds of pounds of flesh and muscle flying over the sand. Even from the stands, Chuck could see the terror in the professor’s eyes. The man improvised well and survived another pass. This time, however, the bull pivoted around quickly. As he raced back toward the cape, the creature violently swung his horns, left and right. When it reached the cape, its horns slashed the corner of the fabric. The professor was unable to move out of the way in time and was caught between the ribs. The bull’s horns thrust the professor up in the air. The man did a flip and landed on his back with a thud. He didn’t move. Now the bull descended upon the man with a vengeance, piercing its horns into the professor’s mid-section with crushing force. The powerful animal tossed the man around like a rag doll. No picadors came to the professor’s rescue. Chuck lunged forward, but the two men behind him grabbed his rippling arms and pulled him back down. The gun pressed against his back. Chuck watched in horror as the bull flung the professor up in the air again. When the professor landed, Chuck was sure he was either dead or would be soon.

  Lazar stood up and clapped. “A wonderful performance,” he shouted. Mika and his men clapped as well.

  Mrs. Lazar started to shake in her seat. Chuck glanced at Maria. Her face was still buried in her hands.

  Chuck felt as if he was going to vomit, but held the churning bile in.

  After a few minutes more of witnessing the professor being trampled and gored to death, the picadors came into the ring and distracted the riled bull, while the banderilleros tied a rope around the professor’s feet. The other end of the rope was handed to one of the picadors, who looped it around his saddle horn and spurred his stallion on. The horse ran for the exit, dragging the professor’s limp body out of the ring.

  Chuck gagged as he thought about the professor’s wife and kids. They had come to Spain together to enjoy the art and culture. Now their husband and father was dead. Lazar would pay for this.

  “Well, look at that,” Lazar said. “The bull was the stronger of the two. Now who will be next?” He looked around as if he expected one of his henchmen to volunteer. “Nobody?” He looked at Chuck. “That leaves you, Brandt.”

  “Maybe some other time,” Chuck said.

  “Now is the time. Great men are known for bold action. Prove to me that you are strong.”

  “I’ll pass.”

  “But you must,” Lazar said. “My men have already placed bets. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would you?”

  “Great men don’t need to prey on the weak and defenseless to prove that they are strong.”

  “Just as I thought,” Lazar drew a pistol—as if the gun at Chuck’s back wasn’t enough to make the point. “Actually, I insist. You’re next.”

  “Why are you doing this, Lazar? What’s your plan? Kill me, then what?”

  “Ah…” Lazar waved his hand through the air as if he was shooing away a fly. “So that is what you want to know. You want to know what I’m up to? Just look around. This hacienda was once a village and now it is all mine. Do you know how much it would cost to buy this ranch? This is two thousand acres of the best land in Spain. I’m assuming you’ve seen my yacht.”

  “So this is all about money?”

  “It’s about a lot more than that.”

  “Oh, yeah. How so?”

  “I am a great man. A man meant for greatness.”

  “You’re nothing more than a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Brandt, let me teach you about life.” Lazar scoffed. “You obviously don’t know who you are dealing with.”

  “I know who I’m dealing with. A man who kidnaps his own daughter, beats his wife, and has no problem killing a defenseless man.”

  Lazar shook his head in disappointment. “You and your kind are the little people—all of you. You know nothing of how the world works. You don’t understand what it takes to feed the appetite of a great man, but your president does.”

  “My president? What does he have to do with this?”

  “He has a lot to do with it.” Lazar smirked. “How about this? At the moment, we are negotiating the details of a tariff on all U.S. offshore gas production.”

  “Why would the president negotiate with you? You’re no one.”

  “You are wrong about that. I am a former Russian General. You see, your president is a wise man. He understands what great men like me need. He knows he can amass political power by giving away that which America owns. He truly understands how the world works. He’s gaining massive political clout by showering world leaders with expensive gifts with the help of the UN. Think suitcases full of cash. You get the picture?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “Your Secretary of State and a team of D.C. lawyers are working on the details of the treaty right now.

  “Congress won’t go along with it.”

  Lazar scoffed. “Your president is going to do an end run around your pathetic congress. This is a treaty, remember? The people’s beloved president knows how to work the system. He has no problem giving away the hopes and futures of America’s children and grandchildren.”

  Chuck was stunned. The ambassador, the professor and Albert all died because they were going to expose the secret negotiations of a treaty to transfer America’s wealth to the U.N.

  “It doesn’t make sense. He’s a lame duck president. He can’t run again. How does he benefit from this?”

  “Oh, he’s a smart man. He’s not content to just rule the United States. He’s doing this to buy votes from i
nternational leaders so that they will vote for him as the next leader of the United Nations, a move that will ultimately give him the reins of long-term worldwide power.”

  Chuck’s back flinched and he felt the pain from his crushed ribcage and the whip lashing of the previous night. “The U.N. is a powerless organization.”

  “You are right. At the moment the U.N.’s power is limited, but as a steward of a 30% U.N. Fairness tax and a 10% export tariff on all U.S. energy production, the leader of the U.N. will soon be one of the most powerful men in the world.”

  “What’s in it for you, Lazar? Why would you help the president?”

  “Because my organization is going to get a 3% cut for brokering the deal. That will make me extremely powerful and give me worldwide prestige. My reputation as a great Russian general will be restored. That is the kind of deal a great man like me can negotiate. Your president will be signing the treaty soon.”

  Chuck knew that once the treaty was signed, the public wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because Congress didn’t have the power to override treaties. The Senate could in theory, but corruption and infighting was rampant in those halls of power. Chuck appreciated the fact that America’s great wealth could be used to help alleviate poverty and hardship worldwide, but in the hands of a few greedy leaders and their cronies it would at best be squandered, and at worst be used for more sinister means.

  Chuck shook his head in disgust. He wondered if Werther know about this. Was he serving jackals once again—and all the while naively thinking he was doing the right thing for his country? It was said that a bad tree could not bear good fruit. Chuck knew that as long as he was serving jackals he couldn’t make the world a better place. He was glad that he’d walked out on Werther and EREBUS, but at the moment he didn’t have much hope for his country. Just as the future looked bleak for him personally, it looked real bad for America.

  Chuck eyed the two gunmen posted by the bleacher entrance ten feet away. “So tell me, general, do you always have armed goons on hand when you entertain guests? Looks to me like all your graft and corruption has bought you more fear than happiness, but it’s a good thing you have those goons around. You’re going to need them.”

  “They are professionals. They can handle anything that comes their way. Now no more talk about business. The fight is about to begin.”

  Chuck was thinking about his situation—and about what Lazar had told him. That knowledge had gotten the ambassador killed. It had gotten his other agents killed as well. Chuck knew he would fare no better, but then again, he’d known since last night that Lazar wasn’t going to let him live. Chuck could deal with that. Nobody lived forever. It wasn’t so much whether you died in life, but whether you died trying to make the world a better place. If Chuck died today, he knew that his life had not been wasted.

  Lazar leaned forward. His eyes glittered with excitement. He smiled and gestured toward the bull ring. Another parade of men and animals had begun to stream into the arena. The procession was led by two horsemen.

  “Ah, the picadors have arrived,” Lazar said. He sat up straighter, his eyes wide. “See the two men walking behind the men on horses? They are the most talented banderilleros in all of Spain. They sting their prey like scorpions.”

  “So why are you in Spain? Shouldn’t an esteemed Russian general like yourself be sunning himself in the Black Sea with the rest of Russia’s elite?”

  Lazar’s eyes began to twitch rapidly. “Olga’s relatives played a glorious role in the Spanish Revolution,” he said. “For that reason we stay in Spain.”

  Mrs. Lazar lowered her face and stared at her tightly clasped fingers.

  “I’m sure they’d be proud to find out that you’re a traitor and a killer,” Chuck said.

  Maria’s head popped up and she looked at Chuck with fear in her eyes.

  The general glared at Chuck. “I was the youngest man to ever become a Russian general. I am a patriot of my great nation. You don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “So that’s why you’re here brokering treaties with a rival government?”

  Lazar’s face darkened now. A thin film formed on his eyes as they glared at Chuck between narrow slits.

  “No more business talk. Let’s watch the show. You might learn something, Brandt. Bullfighting is a game of the weak and the strong, but here the weak is strong. The strong is weak. It’s all backwards. You can learn about life and war from a bullfight.”

  A dozen thoughts flashed through Chuck’s mind about the weak and the strong.

  “Brilliant, wouldn’t you say?” Lazar smiled down toward the procession in the ring. “A bullfight is the supreme test of the weak and the strong in the sporting world.”

  “I prefer more even matches,” Chuck said.

  Lazar broke out in laughter. “We will see if you think the next match is more even.”

  Chuck felt Mika shove the gun into his back. He flinched as its thick metal tip dug into his ribs and the open wounds on his back.

  “Get up. Now it is time to see how you fair with the bulls.”

  Chuck frowned. He stood up slowly. “If you insist.”

  “Oh, I do.” Lazar’s eyes glittered with excitement.

  As Chuck stepped off the bleachers, Mika pushed the gun into his ribcage again. Water filled his eyes, but he didn’t flinch this time.

  Chuck allowed Lazar’s thugs to continue escorting him to the arena’s entrance. A banderillero handed him a red cape and opened the gate for him.

  “Give me your banderilla,” Chuck said as he eyed the colorful, barbed stick.

  The man shook his head. “Sorry, Senor. You are on your own.”

  Mika prodded Chuck into the arena with his gun. The gate slammed behind him.

  “No!” Maria screamed. Mrs. Lazar began to pray out loud.

  The other banderillero was in the ring jabbing a black bull with his blade, provoking the bull to anger. When Chuck entered the ring, however, the man slipped behind a wooden protection wall that was on the perimeter of the ring.

  Chuck looked up at Lazar. “What’s the point in this?”

  Lazar laughed. “You must be weak to be strong.”

  Gritting his teeth, Chuck jogged across the ring toward an exit, but a gunman stepped out and aimed a submachine gun at his face. Chuck turned and faced the angry black beast.

  The bull charged Chuck, fury raging from the barbs in its back. Chuck held up the red cape and felt the ground vibrate as a thousand pounds of flesh thundered past him. He stepped aside quickly as the twin horns stampeded under the crimson material, but Chuck misjudged when the bull swung his neck. A horn stung his hand, and the cape flew like a kite across the arena. Chuck spotted it in the dirt and was about to get it, but the bull was fast and turned to charge him before he could. With no cape, Chuck ran at the bull and tried to dive over it. As he careened through the air, a horn sliced his thigh. Chuck landed hard on the dirt. He writhed in agony from the pain in his leg. His back stung and his ribcage crunched as he rolled over in the sand. Even in his dazed state, he knew he had to act fast. Using his good leg, he sprang to his feet. He felt warm blood running down his leg.

  The enraged animal flew at him again, hooves pounding the dirt. At the last second, Chuck dove and somersaulted out of the way. He was a bundle of agony, but landed within reach of the cape. He grabbed it and began to taunt the bull. “Okay, now. Come on. Come and get it.”

  Chuck was near the horses and their picadors now, and the next time the bull charged him, it flew under the cape and into the side of a horse. While the rider was trying to regain his balance, Chuck snagged the long blade-tipped lance out of the picadoor’s hand.

  The bull was still digging his horns into the horse’s protective jacket, keeping the rider occupied. Chuck speared the picador in the thigh, causing him to fall off the horse. Then the bull turned on Chuck, who pivoted and swept the cape over his head. The bull charged past and into the second horse. As the bull took out his agg
ression on the second horse, Chuck ripped off the first horse’s blindfold. He released its protective jacket, pulling the padded material to the ground all the while maintaining his grip on the picador’s lance. Then Chuck catapulted himself up onto the horse’s back, releasing an agonized wail of pain as he did.

  He saw Mika and his men run into the ring. Mika’s men worked with the banderilleras to distract the bull, while Mika came after Chuck. Chuck kicked the horse, but there was nowhere to go as he ran the beast in a circle. As he passed Lazar, he heard the general laughing at him.

  A couple of the thugs tried to stop the horse and pull Chuck down, so he speared one of them in the shoulder, the other in the leg. Suddenly Lazar was not laughing, and his men were shouting furiously.

  Maria stood up and began to cheer. Two goons grabbed her by the arms and pulled her back down into her seat. She resisted them as they did and yelled out to Chuck to keep fighting. Mrs. Lazar lifted her head and smiled.

  General Lazar yelled, “Get him.”

  The bull was still going after the other men who were doing their best to distract the big beast.

  Chuck peered up into the bleachers and saw the men jerk Maria around. He had to help her, but to do that, he had to get away. He had to be weak to be strong, just like the general said. He reined the horse around and ran straight toward the bull-ring’s gate. The horse did what any horse would do under the circumstances. It jumped the gate and came down on the other side, and Chuck was happy that he was still on board.

  The mount ran through the arched open-air tunnel and bolted across the property and down the dirt road.

  ***

  Lazar was stunned for moment. He could not believe he had not foreseen this possibility. Nobody dared to escape from Lazar. He got over the shock quickly, however. Within seconds, he was running scenarios through his mind on fast forward. Mika sprinted around the bleachers, panting for breath. He locked eyes on Lazar, but kept his mouth shut.

  Lazar glared at him. “This is your fault. You will pay for this.”

  Mika looked at the ground.

  “Get the motorcycles from the barn,” Lazar ordered. “He’s heading to the border. Shoot on sight. Bring me his head. I want that bastard dead.”