Agent
out of
time
Book Three
of
The Agents for Good
Guy S. Stanton III
Words of Action
Copyright © 2013 by Guy S. Stanton, III.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com
Ordering Information:
Agent out of Time is currently available in the eBook format at
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http://www.words-of-action.com
Agent out of Time/ Guy S. Stanton, III. -- 1st ed.
ISBN 978-0-9910565-7-6
Table of Contents
Hot Rocks
Forgot Again
The Dotted Line
Seduction Begun
By the Seaside
Bygone Era
The Skull
Agent Shalako
Way of the Desert
Stiff
Southward Bound
Veiled Evil
Big Storm
Into the Cold
Unexpected Warmth
Three Fires
Manna in the Wilderness
Blood in the Snow
Destination International
Catharsis
Love Letters
Unsung Heroes
Dedicated to the warriors of the faith,
who have gone on before and paved the
way for those yet to come.
Chapter One
Hot Rocks
Tick…..Tick…….Tick……..Click!
The graceful fingers paused and then spun the dial back to zero to begin all over again, which was followed by a harder click.
The shadowy figure in the darkened room straightened up as the other gloved hand went to the handle of the wall safe and gave it a crank. The door of the safe opened with a soft whoosh of air. The thief grew quite still for a moment and listened, but all was still within the penthouse suite.
The thief was about to turn back to the safe when a slight rumble sounded close by. The figure in black froze, even as the rumbling continued, cautiously a hand reached out into the darkness to stroke the chin of the cat, who had caught her in the act.
Deshavi chuckled softly as the cat pushed into her stroking fingers, its rumbling purr only intensifying. Deshavi petted the cat a few times before she commenced to rob the cat’s owner blind. Her hand slipped into the safe and started pulling bundles of cash out, which she tossed in a bag as the affectionate cat pressed up against her leg.
The money wasn’t why she’d come, but it was always nice to have and she was sure she could make use of it somehow. Her gloved fingers touched the box and stilled. This is what she had come for. She pulled the slim box out of the safe and opened it in the dim light. Out of it she brought the heavy necklace that lay against the velveteen background.
The twinkling lights of the Big Apple cityscape outside were caught and reflected by the many faceted sides of the diamonds that made up the necklace. The prisms of reflected light shot throughout the room into a many hued display of color that reflected the range of colors of the outside cityscape.
Diamonds, but not just any diamonds. These diamonds had a history, which dated back to the czars and empresses of Russia. They were beautiful and now they were hers. She reached up and clasped the necklace around her neck and took one last glance at it before tucking it underneath the black jersey knit shirt she wore. She gave the cat one final pat before grabbing the bag that she had come with. She started to rise to her feet, which is when she saw the red dot light up on her chest.
A heavily accented Russian voice spit out, “Take the necklace off! Now!”
Deshavi’s hand slipped back in the dark and jerked the cat’s tail hard. The cat screeched and the red dot wavered from her in a moment of confusion. Deshavi struck out knocking the gun to the side and then she lunged away, as moments later a bullet plowed into the spot where she had just been kneeling.
Deshavi ducked out of the room and down the hall as more shots followed along after her. Shouts rang out even as alarms sounded throughout the building. She’d have to take an alternate escape route tonight. The construction debris chute would no doubt be blocked off from her by now. She saw the new construction extension of a taped off area and quickly headed for it, as a bullet took out a chunk of new drywall just inches from her head.
Running through the construction area she grabbed up a crowbar along the way. At the far end she rammed the crowbar up behind a piece of plywood that was nailed over an old window opening. It broke free and she ducked through. Both of her feet landed on the horizontal I-beam that ran out into open space to where it was joined by other intersecting I-beams.
She ran along the beam her feet as sure as any cats. She was seventy feet above the ground, but the height and the precariousness of her flight seemed to not even phase her one bit. A bullet clanged off of an I-beam near her head and she dropped down to a lower level gracefully. The Russian goons started out after her hesitantly and she quickly put distance between her and them.
There was a scream and Deshavi glanced back to see one of her pursuers falling down through space to the hard pavement below. He connected with an I-beam and his scream abruptly stopped, followed moments later by a dull thump, as he made contact with the ground. A corner of her consciousness pricked at the sight of someone else’s death, because of her actions, but in truth she reconciled herself that the world could do without one more Russian goon in it. She flipped down gracefully onto the base of the construction site and sped off into the dark.
It took about twenty minutes of a fast-paced jog to reach her hotel. She wore a coat that she had stashed in an alley to conceal her conspicuous all-black burglar attire. The front desk clerk’s face lit up at the sight of her and she gave him a flirtatious smile in return. His eyes glazed over and she could barely hold in her laughter at his slack-jawed look of lust, as he watched her go by.
She deliberately let her hips sway more than usual to add to his torment. Her walk returned to normal, after she turned the corner and she shook her head, as a rueful smile played about her full lips. Men were just too easy. She slipped into her room and started peeling off her black night gear, until she was bare as the day she was born. Bare, that is, except for the necklace around her throat.
She had to admit she looked pretty darn good, never better actually, now that she had such a necklace to complement the rest of her. She winked at herself confidently and then moved off to start slipping into the expensive evening gown that she had purchased today. She had just finished with her hair, when a knock came at the door.
Her lips split wide showing her pearly white teeth. That would be Mark, her date, for the evening. She opened the door and had the satisfaction of watching him react like the desk clerk had. She loved that look and never got tired of blowing men’s fuses.
She twirle
d around, “What do you think Mark?”
He shook his head, “You have got to be the most gorgeous woman in the city, perhaps the world!”
She stepped up close to him raising an eyebrow, as she deliberately let him gaze down at the exposed cleavage revealed by her gown, “Words like that honey will pay off big time later on!”
Her hand openly stroked the front of his pants and his whole body jerked hard. She smiled triumphantly, but pulled back from the visual feast that she was giving him. Poor boy was about to have an accident and she didn’t have time to waste getting him another pair of pants.
Her words full of implied meaning she whispered seductively, “I’ll see that your rewarded later. Now come along and escort me to the ball handsome. You know how I like to dance.”
Mark fought valiantly to come back to the world of the fully conscious and offered his arm to her, which she took offering him a smile that showed both her dimples, as a reward for his gallantry.
Mark couldn’t help, but comment as he escorted her out into the hall, “That is an amazing necklace that you’re wearing! It had to cost a fortune!”
She smiled up at him, “No not really, you see it’s crystal. Pretty believable isn’t it?”
He nodded his head surprised, “I’ll say!”
Mark collapsed down onto Deshavi breathing hard from his release. He didn’t see Deshavi’s look of disgust directed at his head buried against her shoulder. Mark was handsome and wealthy, which enabled him to get her into a lot of nice places, but as a lover he really was lousy.
She wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t know any more than the basic or that he wasn’t capable of anything more than basic function. Whichever it was she was tired of doing all the work and getting nothing in return for her efforts. She would be leaving New York City in a few days and she’d already decided that would be the last that Mark would ever see of her. He could go crawling back to his fiancée that he had broken his engagement off with, for all she cared.
The next time she would need to make sure that she selected someone that could not only show her a good time, but had more to recommend himself under the sheets than her current suitor did. That would have to wait for a while though, because she was going home, as she always did when the urge to visit the mountains became too great within her to resist anymore. When she was away from home she always went under fictitious names, but when she was at home in the mountains of Idaho she was known by her real name, Deshavi Songwillow Longtree. She by birth, was full blood Native American. Half Sioux on her mother’s side and half Nez Pierce on her father’s side.
Her father had died, when she was just a little girl and she been left with just your mother to provide for her. Her mother had meant well, but even Deshavi had to admit that her mother’s skills, as a provider and mentor had been decidedly lacking, especially after she had gotten into using the bottle heavily.
It had been her grandfather that had seen to it that she had more than enough food to eat and clothes to wear and even money to go shopping or have a little fun with. He’d even given her the money she needed to go to college. College by virtue of her native birth had been free, but the rented stay had not been.
She had decided early on that college wasn’t for her and had spent her time educating herself in other ways, while writing back home to her grandfather and telling him about how college life was going. The checks had just kept coming. Grandfather had eventually found out and he had been furious, actually furious was a small word for it.
The checks had stopped coming and she’d had to move on to other ways to finance her carefree lifestyle. She’d probably run into him when she went back, as she usually did. Growing up she had only wanted, even craved, his respect and love, but something had changed and now she didn’t much want to be around him, because she knew full well how much he disapproved of her and what she did for a living. It didn’t help being around him either, because he reminded her of how much was wrong in her life and she didn’t like that.
Life was meant for having fun and enjoying every second of it as vicariously as possible. None of that fit in with him though and his more disciplined approach to life, because of that she avoided him as much as possible. She didn’t need to be made to feel guilty. She deserved to get everything she could get and his old-fashioned morals just got in the way. She had to admit to herself though, that every time she had ever needed help, he was there for her without question.
Chapter Two
Forgot Again
I stared out over the forest around and below me, as the majesty of the sun rose above the horizon and lit up the land with its fiery light. This was my favorite place to watch the glory of my Creator’s sun rise upon the Earth. Morning mist rising off the river below sparkled brightly, as the sun increasing in its power began to burn the mist away from the land. Bald eagles soared off of their lofty perches only to then plunge downward toward the cold waters of the river that teamed with fish.
Warmed by the risen sun, the chill of the night finally left my bones. It was a new morning still fresh with promise. I pulled the dog-eared Bible from my pocket and opening it I began to read about the Israelites entering the promise land. I came to the account of the spies sent to spy out the land and with the biblical account of that I came upon my namesake, Caleb.
My mother had always been taken by the Old Testament hero and so she had named me for him, Caleb Longtree. It was a lot to live up to and I had tried, but I didn’t think that I had managed to measure up in God’s eyes the way that the original Caleb had. If I had, surely my life would have been more blessed like his had been? My wife had died giving birth to my firstborn son. My son had died in a war that no one even cared of or knew anything about. My daughter-in-law was a silly drunken sort of a woman I could not stand to be around and my granddaughter was lost in the rebelliousness of the ways of the world. Surely in comparison to the biblical Caleb I was cursed where he had been blessed.
I had spent all my days seeking to live by honor and yet at sixty four years of age I was left without any joy to call my own. What had the purpose of it all been? I was feeling sorry for myself again, which was wrong, as I had plenty to be grateful for, but in this moment it was hard to remember those things, when the torment of what I didn’t have was so great.
Would it ever get better or would the long slide downhill just continue?
There didn’t seem to be any answer forthcoming from beyond the heavens and so I sat there in a bitter sort of solitude missing out on the beauty of the unfolding spring morning. Try as I might I could not find anything with which to motivate myself that things would ever get better. Realizing the depth of my depression I sank off my rocky seat onto my knees, as my hands folded together. My lips fumbled in a prayer, in search of release from the oppression that I felt that I was under.
I was in the midst of that tearful prayer, when an alien noise made its rude appearance into the tranquillness of the morning songbird’s lullaby. My hand reached into my coat pocket and brought out the screeching modern nuisance that was my cell phone. I thought I had left it back at the cabin, but apparently I was not so fortunate. I held it for a moment as a savage urge almost overwhelmed me to bash the contrary device off of a rock.
I sighed and flipped it open, and saw that the call was from Ted.
“Yes?”
“I disturbed your morning vigil didn’t I? Sorry about that! You didn’t forget about picking up my grandson today though, did you?”
I grimaced, because I had forgotten, yet one more sign that I was getting old.
“I’m on my way.”
The voice on the other side chuckled, but didn’t say anything and I ended the call with a snap of the phone. I swiftly pocketed the Bible and started making my way back down to my pickup that was about a mile off from me.
Ted Rogerson was one of the few people I had bothered to cultivate a friendship with. He, like me, was not held in high regard by those of
my people. I was something of a maverick to my people. They didn’t understand me, but they respected me. Ted they disliked mainly because of his profession. He was an archaeologist and his point of interest in these parts was the study of the first dwellers of the continent, which may not of been strictly Native American in origin, as was commonly acknowledged by all in academia.
His research and study bothered a great many among the native tribes in the area, as for me I could not have cared less as to who was here first. In the Bible that I read it stated that all of mankind had started with two people, so what did it matter which descendents settled here and there first?
Only the problem was that it did matter to a lot of people. Such research threatened the continued income gained by Native Americans from casinos, not to mention free perks like free college and tax leniencies. It was a big deal to those who depended on such incomes, but I had no stake in that game, as I had never taken a paycheck for being a Native American.
I was proud of my heritage and grateful to live where I did. Taking payment for being something that I already was far and above anything money could have ever bought would’ve only cheapened the traditions of my forefathers. My forefathers would never have understood the idea of being paid for what you were, as a point of ancestry, out of the sense of some past wrongdoing on somebody else’s part long since dead. They would have seen it simply like this, ‘you lived, you fought, and you died, hoping for a good life somewhere in between’.
My life hadn’t been so great, but it wasn’t over yet either. With that welcome shot of enthusiasm about the future I increased my pace to reach the truck. As I swung around trees and skipped over logs I reveled in the fact, that although I may not remember as much as I was starting to forget, I at least still had my health and the ability to do something dangerous.
Agent out of Time (The Agents for Good) Page 1
