The Operator

by Craig Martelle

  She popped her eyes open and jumped to her feet. I had to keep her from running out the door.

  “Hang on. We have to wait for the van to block the view. Then into the breezeway to the back of the hotel, across the parking lot, and into the field beyond. Don’t run, just a fast walk, and don’t look around. People remember folks who act like they have something to hide.

  Check-in complete, a young couple with a small baby climbed back into the van. Short haircut. My guess was military on orders. He pulled out, maneuvering slowly through the parking lot. I took a quick look around and wiped the table where I’d been sitting. I turned the doorknob with my shirtsleeve. The truck started to pass. I threw the door open and Jenny popped out, hurried to the left, and dove into the breezeway beside our room.

  I pulled the door shut behind me and followed, clearing the opening before I could be seen. Through the breezeway and into the parking lot at the rear of the motel and into the field beyond where people walked their dogs. We slowed and walked casually, hand in hand on our way around the far side of Walmart. It made for a longer walk than I’d intended.

  We ran into Walmart to buy a pair of binoculars and toiletries. We hurried out, a sense of urgency hanging over our heads. I could feel it, like my combat sense in the Marines.

  I drove across the highway to a small hill that overlooked the area. We settled in to watch. As the sun breached the horizon, we found that the entire area was lit up like daylight. I checked the camera feeds on my phone, plugging it into the charger sticking out of the car’s twelve-volt power outlet.

  “Why are we up here?” Jenny asked.

  I took her hand and watched the motel parking lot through the binoculars. “Getting into a gun battle in the motel parking lot wouldn’t be the best. All we need is to find our mark, then we’ll pick the time and place of his demise. Never let the enemy select the battlefield.”

  “What about innocent bystanders?”

  “There won’t be any. We’ll make sure of that before we take care of them.”

  “What about the motel?”

  “That’s on them if they hurt anyone.”

  Jenny turned on the radio and searched until she found a rock station. Modern rock. It was different from what I liked, but it was what she wanted to listen to.

  “Not going to fight me?” She pointed at the radio.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, and I won’t let your poor taste in music be the catalyst to start one.”

  Jenny turned to me, rubbing her chin as she contemplated my countermove. “I think those are fighting words. Are you always playing chess, Mister Bragg?”

  “Why, Mrs. Bragg, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Since you brought it up, are you going to give me a proper wedding?”

  “Proper…hang on.” A car moved from a spot close to the highway, circled the lot, and then drove slowly around for a second pass. I pointed at the screen. Two people in the car. They slowed to a stop behind Jenny’s car. A woman got out, carrying a brick attached to a bottle.

  She took two steps before winding up and launching it through the window of the room. It caught on the curtain but had gone in far enough to burst into flames inside, igniting the bedding and the carpet. The woman hopped back into the car, and it drove slowly away.

  Emergency lights started flashing on the side of the building. A few more seconds and the first people emerged from their rooms. The smoke pouring out of the first-floor window expedited the departures.

  The nondescript four-door parked at the edge of the Walmart lot, facing the motel.

  “You drive,” I said, jumping out and climbing into the back seat.

  “Where?” Jenny wondered.

  “Walmart. You’re going to make one pass around the back of the lot before pulling past, keeping that car on the passenger’s side. Put something in your ears. Earplugs if you have them.”

  Jenny moved both front seats up to give me more room. I rolled the rear passenger window down and wedged myself in, crouching low.

  Jenny stuffed torn tissue into her ears. With trembling hands, she drove away from the overlook. I held the M1911A1, relaxing my grip as the blood started to race through my veins. Jenny’s knuckles turned white from the death grip she had on the steering wheel.

  Def Leppard popped up on the radio station. Not a bad way to head into battle.

  “Those two just tried to kill us. I am not cool with that,” I told Jenny.

  “I’m not either,” Jenny agreed, her voice less confident than mine. I let my anger drive me. I only kill bad people.

  “Whatever you do, don’t look into the other car. Focus on what’s in front of our bumper.”

  These two were just like me, operators working for The Peace Archive. When did they start churning out contracts on just anyone? I was no threat to them. Whoever was in charge had his ego bruised when an operator wanted out of the game. I had no idea who that person was or where the business was located, if anywhere. The contracts were arranged online through a maze of secret locations and memorized passcodes.

  No one knew anyone except for the recruiters.

  Dumbasses.

  They were going to forfeit two of their people in a senseless vendetta. Or was it only one with his partner? It was hard to recruit operators two at once.

  Like Jenny and me.

  Into the game. All the way in. And these two were on their way out.

  What a waste of life.

  Across the highway and into the parking lot. In front of the store to head up the aisle next to where they were parked. Around the end, turning toward the store. Approaching at a regular speed. The car jerked as Jenny’s arms tightened from the tension seeking to seize her. She muscled the power steering, the resistance hers. She brought the car next to the one with my targets.

  Time slowed as it always did during the moments right before the hit.

  I raised the pistol over the window ledge, let the driver come into sight, and fired, taking the man in the face, blowing the back of his head over the passenger, the woman. She started to yell, facing me in terror or anger. I couldn’t tell in the last instant of her life. I raised up and fired, hitting her in the chest. She flopped against her door.

  The thunder of the .45 firing from within the car. Like a silencer, little sound escaped. I dropped into the space between the front and back seats, making myself as small as possible.

  “Keep driving.”

  “Where?” Jenny’s voice shook.

  “Back to your house, Miss Jenny. I’ll put you in your shower and then your bed. We’re safe until we leave the country.”

  I touched her on the arm, making her jump. I reached over my head and rolled up the window. Jenny turned left past the store as firetrucks’ lights and sirens stopped traffic on the road between Walmart and the motel.

  “Drive carefully. Watch for people walking and gawking. They’re watching the firetrucks, not us. Slow and steady.”

  Back past the storefront and to the road next to the diner where we had been earlier. Onto the highway on our way to a place of comfort and refuge.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “A great storm is like a sunny day to a person of great faith. A gentle wind is like a great storm to a person of great fear.” Matshona Dhliwayo

  Jenny made it thirty miles before she started to cry. “Pull over,” I said, resting my hand on her arm. She bolted from the car as soon as it stopped. I jumped out and ran after her. She pulled up after fifty feet, knees shaking and threatening to buckle.

  I caught her and held her tightly.

  She had been rousted from her bed way too early and chased through the country by ghosts, who then tried to kill her. It was a lot for a person to internalize.

  I held her as late-night traffic drove by, tired drivers minding their own business.

  “We need to keep going,” I told her. I was unhappy with my pragmatism, but the farther we could get from the fire and the killings, the be
tter off we’d be. She nodded but didn’t speak. She continued to cry. I put her in the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt for her, kissed her on the cheek, and closed the door.

  I drove the rest of the way to her home, parking on the street two houses down. No lights lined the windows of the houses. Early morning. Working-class, taking Sunday off. I carried our stuff while holding onto Jenny and getting her into the house. I closed the curtains before turning on a light.

  She flopped onto the couch, face red and puffy.

  I sat next to her and pulled her to me. She buried her head in my chest and started to mumble. “What did we just do?”

  “We taught people that they shouldn’t try to kill us.” It was the complete truth. Unrepentant. I would do it again if The Peace Archive made me.

  “I am not good with killing people. I thought I might be, but I didn’t know. How could I?”

  “You couldn’t. The first one changes a person forever. You’re upset because you care. I’m upset because those two people tried to kill you.”

  “They were trying to kill you ,” Jenny corrected.

  “A firebomb isn’t a precision weapon. I wonder who else they injured in that hotel? People like that don’t belong on the same planet with you and me.”

  “My ears are still ringing.” She hadn’t blocked the worst of the noise. “Is this our life now?” She’d asked the same question before.

  “No. Our life is out there, exploring the world. If we tried to stay here, this house would become a fortress. There’s no need for that. We can preserve the memory of your parents and keep the house intact. Do you have any friends who can stop by and check on it every now and then?”

  “I do.” She sniffled. I got up to find a tissue, bringing back the box. “I’m not going to need that many.”

  She took one and used it. I ran a single finger along her neck. Skin as soft as satin. She shivered. “I want you, Ian,” she said softly.

  “You’ve got me,” I replied, not understanding.

  She stood and pulled me after her on the way to the bedroom. She was caught in the tidal wave of emotions that came from the culmination of our day.

  At that moment in time, I wanted her to the exclusion of everything else going on in our lives. We wanted to celebrate that we were still alive.

  ***

  “Is it common?” Jenny asked.

  “It what common?” I was confused, half-dazed from expending my remaining energy. The day had been a test of wills, taking all my focus.

  “Making love after a hit?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. The rush is from surviving something dangerous. We all love a good rush.”

  Jenny smiled up at me. A nightlight on the bedroom wall sparkled within her beautiful eyes. “Is that a pun?”

  “It might be. I want you to know the lengths I will go to protect you. I will never hurt you. As odd as it may sound, I’m not a violent man. I don’t need anger in my life. I get no jollies from it. My job was my job. I believed in what I was doing. Still do. There’s no place for bad people here, the really bad ones. I’ve made the world a safer place. That’s what I tell myself.”

  “What if those two were on their way to make a hit? Take out a drug kingpin who goes after something big? They’re not able to finish him before he executes his plan, and a lot of people die because those two are no longer with us.”

  I shook my head. “That’s a pretty extreme hypothetical. It begs the question, though. Is there a backup for the primary operator? I haven’t thought about it. There probably should be. They sent me a note to call them when they already had people on us. Suggests there’s a backup operator on standby. Damn, you’re smart. I should spend more time with you.”

  “What’s our next move?”

  “You have a passport, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “I needed one a couple of years ago for a retreat in Canada.”

  “I can’t believe I never asked before. Good. We’re not stymied. Next move? We fly to wherever we’re catching our world cruise, assuming that’s what you want to do.”

  “I do, as long as there won’t be people trying to blow us up.”

  “There are no guarantees, but we’ll live for today, every day. We’ll fly to London, take a train to the continent, then fly to Italy, catch our cruise, and relax on deck between luxurious and glorious stops.”

  “Simple as that?”

  “The world will leave us alone if we don’t involve ourselves in its affairs. When we get on the plane out of here, we’ll officially be retired.”

  “Officially .” Jenny sounded skeptical.

  “As much as we can be. Are you ready to sleep now?” I could hope.

  “You’re going to roll over, and in fifteen seconds, you’ll be out cold.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think you should try it. You might find that you like it.” I snuggled closer to her perpetually warm and soft body.

  “That is a good way to get yourself hurt,” Jenny replied, lightly scratching my back with her fingernails. “I’ll lie here for a while, start tossing and turning, and finally fall asleep right before you get up.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” I was fading and fought a losing battle against it. The past week had been hard on my sleep cycle.

  “Empathize. Feel for me. Whisper sweet nothings into my ear.”

  “You are the most magnificent woman I have ever met,” I told her. With my arm draped across her waist and a breast as my pillow, I disappeared into a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  It was light when I awoke. I froze, trying to remember where I was. Jenny had rolled to her side, but I still had one arm around her. I kissed her back lightly before freeing myself.

  I peeked out the window. No cars on the street. I couldn’t see where we had parked our new ride. It was probably still out there. I started a pot of coffee, turning on my computer while it brewed. I didn’t use Jenny’s internet but rather used the data plan from the burner phone in addition to the VPN.

  I then accessed the cameras from the car. They were still taking pictures. I went back to the active shots from the motion sensors, starting from the moment the woman jumped out of the car carrying the firebomb. They’d driven away after tossing the bomb and starting the fire.

  Others rushed to the room and yelled in the window, looking to help. The fire department arrived. I ran it back. They drove up moments after I had terminated the targets. No one acted strangely during the time when someone might have heard the gunshots. The sirens, the alarms, the fire, and the muffling from firing inside the car had made it a clean hit.

  The firetruck took care of business, cleaned up, and drove off. Most of the residents packed up and left. With the parking lot mostly empty, I could see the four-door in the distance, facing the camera at the edge of the screen. The two had not yet been discovered.

  That’s a bit of good luck, I thought. I gave them the finger. No one even noticed you died.

  I checked on cruises. The ship leaving from Italy appeared to be second best. A Viking cruise was leaving out of Miami in a couple of weeks. Nearly six months underway. I changed my search criteria to high-end cruising and realized the options were limited and ridiculously expensive, with Viking getting high praise.

  Two weeks? We could drive to Miami, traveling with luggage like real humans instead of flying with the clothes on our back and taking the train. Jenny could take her own clothes and ease into life on the road. Or on the run. However it turned out.

  I looked at the cost of the best suites on the ship. Only fourteen of those available, with nine hundred other cabins. A quarter of a million dollars for the two of us. I expected that bought a certain amount of privacy. A smaller ship, focused on delivering passengers to exotic ports around the world. No cabarets. No entertainment. The ship was a vehicle to move people from one place to another, not a destination in and of itself.

  A few things to do before anyone realized we wer
e still in the area. Maybe today. No later than tomorrow. We had plenty of food. The burgers I’d bought were in the refrigerator. I’d put them there barely twenty-four hours prior.

  It felt like a week.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy,

  In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!” William Shakespeare

  Jenny joined me when it was nearly lunchtime.

  “Did you sleep well?” I hugged her, ending with my hand on her butt as I always did. She shook her head and gave me a half-smile.

  “I shouldn’t have, but I did. I feel better, as if yesterday was a bad dream.”

  “And that’s how you do it. Live for today, plan for tomorrow. Yesterday is gone.” I pointed at the computer screen. “What do you think of this?”

  She walked through the itinerary from Miami and around the world, ending in London. I had put together a rough schedule for a drive from here to Miami. “I like it, but why five days in Vegas?”

  I kneeled next to her. “Jenny, will you marry me?”

  She pursed her lips and looked at herself and then down at me. “It has been your presumption since we met that we would marry, even that we already were. Now you want to make an honest woman of me?”

  “You’ve always been an honest woman.” I wasn’t sure what plays were being made. I had just proposed to a naked woman. I’d failed on the romantic side.

  “You want a real piece of paper?”

  “I want some things to be normal.” My knee started to hurt. I stood. “Maybe I do want the white picket fence and apple pie.”

  “We don’t need a piece of paper, Ian. I’m perfectly happy, loving as we do.”

  “Even if it’s Elvis who marries us?”

  “Why didn’t you start with that? I’ll marry you just to get a little time with Elvis.”

  “Burgers?”

  “What burgers?”

  I pointed at the kitchen. “For lunch, since it’s lunchtime. I’m famished.”

  “You want me to get dressed, then?”

  “I’m good with a come-as-you-are lunch, but what do you say we pack and leave today? I’d like to get out of here, just in case someone checks.”