by Rusty Ellis
Viktor turned to James and waived his hand in the air to get his attention, to warn him of his next act, and not take any further action.
“Harper!” Viktor yelled.
He watched as Harper spun around, half-expecting Harper to respond in mutual respect. Instead, the yell startled the group, especially the old man. Viktor had his hands on the M400 on his chest in combat ready position. The result of training and muscle memory versus concern for the actual threat the group presented.
Viktor’s short-lived antics deteriorated as he saw the old man raise and shoulder a rifle in his direction.
“Gun!” James called out and raised his own weapon.
Viktor beat James to the draw and painted the red dot from his scope on the old man’s chest and pulled the trigger, two successive bap-bap sounds cracked from the muzzle of Viktor’s rifle. He watched as the silhouette of the old man disappeared into the shadows.
Viktor lowered his gun slowly. James did the same.
“He gave you no choice,” James offered.
Viktor grunted, shifting the blame to the old man’s foolish reaction. The old man’s choice. Not Viktor’s.
Viktor and James retreated backward into the brush.
“Popov to Operator.”
“Go ahead.”
“Border secure. Notify me of any breaches through the night, at any time, and at any level.”
“Roger, that.”
Viktor turned to James, “Go get some rest in the HQ. I want you close in case there’s another breach. Have Martin and Thomas go with you.”
“Roger, that,” James answered and started for the HQ.
Viktor began his march back to the Garden and Adam. He still had to answer to the loss of one of the Twelve. And he needed to determine if Harper was finished, if this was one and done, or if he intended to start a small-scale retaliatory war over the old man.
Time would tell, more than likely sooner than later. Collateral damage was inevitable. He’d seen it before. He’d suffered it before. He’d handed it out before. In his mind, the old man took his own life.
Bad decision, old timer.
56
The double-tap sound of a rifle confused Chase at first. Henry couldn’t have gotten off two shots so quickly, not with his 30-30 and needing to rack a second round after firing the first. And the sound came from the HLC side, not next to his ear where Henry’s muzzle was ominously close.
Chase stared in the voice's direction that yelled his name.
“Chase?” Henry whispered.
Chase turned around to see Henry on the ground behind him, holding his chest, his rifle splayed out to his side.
“I think I’ve been hit,” Henry struggled with the words.
Chase dropped to the ground next to his friend. Shards of fabric puffed out from Henry’s coat from the impact of the two shots. The entrances were within a few inches of each other in the middle of Henry’s chest. Chase unzipped Henry’s coat and saw a growing red patch of blood on Henry’s shirt.
Megan stood over the top of both of them, her mouth agape and eyes fixed on the red pattern soaking Henry’s shirt.
Chase pulled off his shirt and pressed it up against the wound.
“Help me zip up his coat,” Chase told Megan.
She reached down and zipped the coat up to where Chase was holding his shirt against Henry’s chest. Chase switched hands and finished zipping up the coat. Shock would set in and the coat would not only help with compression but with the cooling upper-70s temperature of the night.
Chase took one hand off Henry’s chest and took his friend’s hand, “Hey, look at me. Come on, look at me, Henry.”
The old man’s gaze drifted from the moon to Chase’s face.
“I need you to hang in there, okay. Stay with me, Henry!”
Chase turned to Megan, “I need you to help me get him on my back, piggy-back style. It will help compress the wound and we can cover ground quicker back to his place.”
Megan continued to stare at Henry and the blood now soaking through the front of his coat.
“Megan!” Chase startled her. “Help me get him on my back!”
Megan helped raise Henry high on Chase’s back so he could reach his arms under and around Henry’s legs.
“What about his gun?” Megan pointed at the rifle lying on the ground.
Chase stared at the worn weapon, the barrel partially hidden in a bush. If Henry survived the trek back to his house, he would forever blame Chase for leaving his gun behind.
“Bring it,” Chase growled and tightened his grip around Henry’s legs. He leaned forward to keep Henry’s chest weighted down against his back, an attempt to keep as much pressure as possible compressed against Henry’s chest and to keep his centered on Chase’s back.
Chase ignored the fact Megan wasn’t wearing shoes. He picked up his pace, almost to the point of a sprint, as he balanced Henry precariously on his back. He headed straight north and then pushed close to the HLC border as he turned west. He would have cut through the HLC property, but he was unsure if more rounds awaited their return. The last thing he needed was to lose time playing cat-and-mouse trying to avoid security staff.
Henry made a low wheezing sound as his head bounced up and down each time Chase’s feet hit the ground and launched the two of them forward.
“Hang in there, Henry! Hang in there!”
57
“What happened out there? Where’s Megan?” Adam asked.
“Nothing to worry about. The problem was taken care of,” Viktor said. “Megan’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“She left tonight with a little assistance.”
Viktor flinched at his own response. Less is better. Everything went smoother if he kept Adam in the dark and out of the loop. He was on a definite need-to-know basis. For now, he didn’t need to know about Harper, but Viktor’s mistake of mentioning Harper’s help opened the gate.
“What other person? One of my followers?” Adam acted amazed at the thought.
“No, an outsider,” Viktor said.
“But, how…,” Adam started and was cut off.
“I took care of it. That’s what you hire me for, to take care of things. You can go back to bed now. Tomorrow you can take care of everything at the Enlightenment Circle.”
Adam nodded in agreement, “Yes. True. They expect to hear from me tomorrow. Thank you, Viktor.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Have a good sleep and I’ll check in with you in the morning,” Viktor closed the bedroom door and listened to hear if any of the girls were stirring in the loft—quiet. He walked to the front door and stepped onto the porch. The cool air hit his face. The intensity of the engagement with the old man had warmed his body, a welcome rush of adrenaline through his system. The rush was now subsiding and his body welcomed the cool chill of the night air.
Viktor’s footsteps clapped the wooden planks on the porch as he walked to the chairs beyond the picture window and took a seat.
All in all, it was a good night. His men were safe. They lost one follower. Harper lost a follower. An even trade.
58
Chase’s legs were on fire. His thighs were screaming from Henry’s extra weight. Chase reached the edge of the clearing and hurried up the front porch steps to Henry’s house. He let go of one of Henry’s legs and opened the door. He stepped inside and did his best to roll Henry off his back and onto the living room floor. Megan ran into the house as Chase slipped his hand from under Henry’s head, setting it down on a pillow from the sofa.
Megan was out of breath and visibly shaken, Henry’s rifle in her hand, her bare feet covered in dust and dirt. She stood in the living room, motionless, no words.
“Get me some water,” Chase nodded toward the kitchen.
Megan disappeared with the rifle into the kitchen and returned to her same spot in the living room, with a glass of water in her hand.
Chase was about to run into the bathroom to look for a medical kit when s
omething clutched his hand. He looked down to see Henry’s aged knuckles, white against the grip he had on Chase’s hand. His breaths were shallow, his chest barely raising with each struggle to draw in a fresh batch of air. A sleepy grin pushed across Henry’s face as he licked his lips and looked into Chase’s eyes.
“Brighten up, buttercup,” Henry winced but battled to keep the smile on his face.
Chase stared at his friend. Unsure of what to say.
“Hey, I’ve had a good life. There’s a lot worse ways to go out. This old cowboy went out fighting, with my rifle in my hand.”
Chase listened, rocked with guilt seeing Henry laying on his own living room floor, covered in blood.
Henry’s brow furrowed, “Did we do it? Did we get her?”
“Yes,” Megan answered and dropped down to take Henry’s other hand.
“That’s good. That’s real good. Nothing’s more important than family,” he muttered, “nothing.”
Tears began to stream down Megan’s face. She held onto Henry’s hand and used the back of her other hand to brush away the flow of tears.
Chase watched as the shallow breaths dissipated. The taut lines on Henry’s forehead smoothed and his grip loosened in Chase’s hand. Henry’s chest lowered as the air exhaled from his lungs. He was gone.
Megan’s breathing stuttered as she tried to speak, “What should we do?”
“Exactly what Henry said,” he looked at his sister. “Nothing’s more important than family. We need to get Haley.”
59
The sound of crunching and crashing brush coming toward the Garden through the woods to the west pricked Viktor’s ears. He was taking in the night air, giving Adam a little space after explaining the night’s events to him then retreating to the front porch. Viktor reached up to his sidearm and slid his palm high on the gun’s grip and waited.
James appeared out of the woods and hesitated at the edge of the clearing, waiting for permission to approach the Garden. Viktor made eye contact and with James and watched as he walked over and sat in a chair next to him. James had two manilla folders in his hands.
“Couldn’t sleep,” James said.
Viktor raised an eyebrow and waited for more information.
“Still trying to figure out the connection between Harper and the girl,” James said.
James held up the files. One tab read “Harper, Chase” and the other “King, Megan”.
Viktor took Harper’s file from James and flipped it open. He skimmed through the documents and background reports. Nothing stuck out.
James began flipping through King’s file and reached a series of financial documents toward the back, “Hmm…”
“Find something?” Viktor asked.
“She’s divorced but kept her married name. She did make one change to her name after the divorce though.”
James pulled the paper from the file and handed it to Viktor and pointed to a specific section on the financial report.
Possible Alias(es) or Former Names Used: Megan Ann King, M.A. King, M. King, Megan Ann Harper, Megan Harper, Megan Harper-King.
“Bingo,” Viktor tapped the names on the page, “good work.”
He had the connection in his hand. Harper’s sister. He’d come to “rescue” his sister. Viktor was impressed, at least to the length Harper played them leading up to the extraction. Harper fooled his best man, James, and pulled in the rest of his staff. The only thing still nagging him was the reason for so much smoke and mirrors when a simple smash and grab would have done the trick.
“Something wrong?” James asked.
Viktor reached up and ran the palm of his hand over the day’s worth of stubble on his face.
“Does it seem odd Harper didn’t just run a quick strike from directly east of the back porch?” Viktor asked.
James paused a second before answering, “He entered in the most covert way possible, to protect his sister I guess.”
“Yes, yes. But doing that, he extended the amount of time he was on property. He introduced more opportunity for failure, more chance for variables. If it were you, which would seem more precise, which would seem more exact with lesser variables to control?”
“If it were me, I never would’ve let my sister come here in the first place.”
Viktor shot him a look of disapproval. He agreed, of course. But he would never voice it on property or in front of other staff.
“But if your sister were here, how would you handle it?” Viktor asked.
James looked down momentarily and then began, “If I knew my sister were in Adam’s room and there was a door off the back porch directly into his room?”
“Yes.”
“It would be a sprint, not a marathon,” James said. “I would inch up to the edge of the sensor then sprint across to the back door. If the door was locked, I would kick the door and grab my sister and sprint back across the sensors to safe ground.”
“And what if you’re sister didn’t want to go?” Viktor smiled.
“In the most loving way possible, I would put her to sleep and throw her over my shoulder, like a sack of potatoes,” James crossed his arms and sat back.
“The most loving way?”
“Well, she is my sister.”
Both men paused and laughed.
“So why did Harper take the long way and increase his variables?” Viktor asked.
James shrugged.
“Humor me for a second. What if his sister wasn’t his only target? What if he needed to return for a second extraction? Would the initial risk be worth an anticipated second extraction not being so covert?”
“But, who?” James muttered.
“That’s what I need you to find out. What other connection could he possibly have, what reason to return?”
James was already standing as Viktor finished relaying his orders.
“Let me know as soon as you find anything. And let Martin and Thomas know we’re expecting another not-so-covert strike,” Viktor said.
“Roger, that,” James said and turned to leave.
“And James,” Viktor added and waited for James to look back, “we took out one of his, he may intend to return the favor.”
James nodded and jumped off the edge of the porch and sprinted back into the tree line. Viktor knew he had a little time. Harper was left to deal with the old man—either dead or severely injured—and his sister. Both would take time.
So what else do you have planned for us, Mr. Harper, Viktor mused.
Chase pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and covered Henry’s body. The fabric barrier seemed to calm Megan down enough to discuss their next move.
Megan stood in the middle of the kitchen holding a glass of water with both hands. The water in the glass had finally stopped sloshing as she calmed down.
“Take another drink,” Chase said.
Megan numbly followed his directions. She took a sip from the edge of the glass and returning the cup to the same position in front of her
“I’m going back to get Haley,” Chase said.
“I’m going with you.”
“Sorry, sis. I need to do this alone.”
“She’s my daughter!” Megan looked startled at the sound of her own voice.
“Megan, I need to go alone. I can’t afford to lose you too. I need to be able to move and act without thinking about you,” he said. “I have to focus on Haley.”
Megan shook her head and repeated, “Focus on Haley.”
“I need you to tell me everything you know about the layout of the cabin and where you might think Haley would be.”
Megan explained the general layout of the cabin. The main living area, the loft, the kitchen, the dimensions and layout of the sofas and chairs in the front room, and Adam’s room. She hesitated after describing the Holy Garden—a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I had to get to Haley. The only way was through Adam. I didn’t have a choice…,” her voice trailed off.
Chase took the gl
ass and set it on the counter behind her. He reached out and pulled his sister close to him. She buried her face into his shoulder and Chase could feel her breathing quicken as her weeping took hold and turned to a series of uncontrollable sobs.
“Oh… Haley…”
“I will get her, Megan. She’s coming home with us.”
Chase grabbed Megan by the shoulders and pulled her back from him.
“She’s coming home with us,” he said again.
Megan nodded and fell back into Chase’s arms.
60
Chase moved Henry’s body from the living room to the master bedroom. He laid his friend’s body gently on the bed. The cowboy had finished his ride and was home. Chase battled the anger raging in his chest. There was no reason to shoot the old man. The worn 30-30 rifle was plenty out of range and of no real concern to security staff.
Chase stood in Henry’s bedroom, surrounded by pictures of his friend and his family scattered across the walls. A nightstand stood on either side of the bed. One with a box of tissues with a decorative cover placed over the box, a pair of reading glasses setting on a dusty jacketed book, and a gold-colored lamp. The other nightstand held a single picture of a woman, in her mid-20s, and a matching gold lamp.
Stepping toward the picture, Chase picked it up by the edge of the frame and compared it to the photos on the wall. The woman was a younger version Arvilla. Henry’s wife in her prime. Chase looked at a photo on the wall opposite the headboard, a picture of Henry and Arvilla holding hands, a frozen moment of happiness captured and framed. Chase set the photo back on the nightstand and turned toward the blanketed outline of Henry. Everything he was, to his wife, to his children, to himself, captured on the walls of this room. Henry was home.
