by J. M. LeDuc
She did as asked. The three walked approximately fifty feet when she felt high grass lightly rub against her legs. They were walking in heavier brush.
Her guides came to a sudden halt.
“If you put your arm straight out in front of you,” Brent said, “you’ll touch a wall. Slide your hands down the wall until you feel an opening.”
Charlotte complied and was given further instructions.
“Duck down so that you don’t hit your head. We’ll direct you through.”
Blindfolded, she continued to cooperate. A moment later, she heard another voice. One that came from inside the opening. “Take my hand, Miss Dupree. These steps are steep and slippery. I don’t want you to get hurt.”With a little help, Charlotte descended the steps. She heard the “click” of a switch. Instantly, blackness beneath her blindfold turned to light grey. She knew lights had been turned on. She heard the sound of metal sliding against metal. When it stopped, the sounds of the night disappeared.
“You may take off your blindfold, Charlotte.”
Fearing who she would see before her, Charlotte slowly removed the blindfold from her eyes. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the light. She blinked twice and rubbed her eyes. She thought she was staring at a ghost.
Filled with emotion, she threw her arms around the man standing in front of her, hugging him tighter than she had ever hugged anyone before. Tears of relief streamed down her face.
“Brent? I don’t understand. They told me you were dead, that you died in the hospital.”
Brent smiled. “It will all be explained later. Right now, we’re going to take you to your new home.”
Charlotte released him. His words rang in her ears as she traversed the tunnel with the squad. My new home. I like the sound of that.
Their pace quickened, faster than Charlotte preferred. She noticed sayings carved into the tunnel walls as they walked past. Eerie fluorescent lights cast a bright glow on the etched walls.
Mercy triumphs over judgment, she read.
She slowed down, trying to read another.
Faith by itself, if not accompanied by action, is dead. Jms. 2:17.
She stopped to re-read it.
Brent’s ears keen to the sound of everyone’s footfalls, stopped and turned in her direction. “Charlotte, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, it’s just, these sayings. Where did they come from, and who carved them into the walls?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, but it’s like they’re speaking directly to me. It’s weird.”
“The word of God speaks to all of us. We just need to be open to hear.”
His words brought little comfort. “Yeah, or maybe I’m just tired.”
“Maybe,” Brent said, sensing rejection in her voice. “You’ll have time to read more later. Right now, let’s get you settled in.”
The group of five continued until they reached the end of the tunnel and the entrance to the basement of the Inn. Once inside, Brent dismissed the squad and asked Charlotte to sit down.
“I thought we’d talk a little before we go upstairs where you’ll meet everyone.
I’m sure you have a thousand questions. What do you say we tackle a few now?”
“You’ll answer my questions truthfully?”
“I will.” Reading her body language, he thought, she’s built quite a protective shell around her. He understood why and felt sorry for her, but for her to thrive as part of their group, she’d have to open up. “I’ll answer any and all questions, as long as you are open and truthful with me, with all of us.”
“I’ll try. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone.”
“Okay, then,” he said with a smile. “What’s your first question?”
“Who are you?” she said.
“Brent Venturi. I was—”
“No, no, I mean who are you really? You saved my life, and then my father and everyone else told me you were dead. Seven years later, here you are. Who…are…you?”
Brent wiped the hair out of his eyes and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was trying to convey openness, vulnerability.
“I’m Brent Venturi, the leader of the military’s most covert entity, known as the Phantom Squad. We’re called into a situation when all else has failed. It was my squad, the men you were just with, who rescued you; not me alone. I want you to be clear on that. If they hadn’t shown up as fast as they did, we both might be dead. Understand?”
“Got it. Go on.”
“In order for the squad to be effective, we have to be invisible. We have no known identity and no one sees our faces. Because you saw me, you were told that I died. It was necessary to keep the integrity of the squad intact and to keep you safe.”
Charlotte’s eyes welled with tears. Without warning, she slapped Brent across the face. “You bastard! Do you know how many nights I lay awake feeling guilty for your death, wishing it was me instead of you?” Her facial expression a mixture of anger and frustration. “You had no right to do that to me.” She dropped to her knees and pounded her fists on the concrete. “You had no right.”
Brent knelt beside her, attempted to comfort her. She pushed him away.
“Get away from me!” she screamed. “I want to go home.” She glared at Brent through teary eyes. “Do you hear me?” she screamed. “I want to go home.”
Softly, Brent said, “I had no choice.” Walking away, he added, “You are home.”
Chloe and Maddie waited patiently at the top of the stairs. Brent looked at them and said, “That went well, don’t you think?”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Maddie said. “It’s a lot for her to digest.”
“Get washed up while we go talk to her,” Chloe said, giving his hand a loving squeeze.
CHAPTER 22
Just after 2:00 a.m., the basement door opened and Charlotte, flanked by Maddie and Chloe walked into the main hall.
The team was in the den busy performing one task or another. The squad sat at a card table, reviewing the day’s activities and discussing their next steps. Lucille and Joan sat in the main sitting area, engaged in small talk with Jefferson’s and Fitzpatrick’s wives.
When the girls entered, Brent stood up and asked for everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to introduce you to someone very special,” he said, walking over to Charlotte. “It is my pleasure to introduce you to the newest member of our family, Charlotte Dupree.”
Everyone walked over, introduced themselves and with genuine warmth, welcomed her to the group. Charlotte hugged and thanked each squad member for saving her life. After introductions and welcomes were complete, Lucille and Joan brought out a late night snack.
Half an hour later, everyone had finished eating and talking, and it was time to retire. Chloe caught Brent’s eye, gestured for him to talk to Charlotte and headed to bed.
Brent sat down next to Charlotte. “Would you like another cup of coffee?”
She nodded, “That would be nice.”
From the kitchen, he retrieved a cup for each of them. “So,” he sighed, “where do we go from here?”
Charlotte shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t really know. I guess I would like to continue where we left off downstairs.”
“Okay. But the same rules apply—truth and openness.”
For the first time since their earlier conversation, she looked into Brent’s eyes.
“Maddie and Chloe told me a lot of stuff that makes sense to me. Maddie told me about her friend, Joseph, and how he thought you were dead for a long time. He felt the same remorse I did. So, I guess, my first question is, do you know what kind of psychological damage you cause when you save someone’s life and then fake your own death?”
“I see you don’t believe in easing into things, do
you?”
“I’m afraid subtlety isn’t one of my virtues.”
Brent smiled and laughed silently. “I don’t consider the direct approach a flaw, I actually prefer it. You’ll find that the people you met tonight are much the same way. They’re also the most giving, honest people you’ll ever meet.”
“Thanks for that,” Charlotte said. “Are you going to answer the question?”
Brent brushed his hair away from his face. “Right. Your question. In truth, I have never given it any thought—until now. I do what I do based on the knowledge that your ability to identify who I am can get you killed…or worse.”
“Meaning?”
“The Phantom Squad, the men you met earlier and myself, are more myth than reality.”
Brent saw Charlotte’s expression turn to one of confusion. “Let me try to clarify a bit more. Most of our assignments have taken place on foreign soil, and never by invitation. They’ve entailed the rescue of political and religious captives, as well as the destruction of terrorist cells. We’re not ‘officially’ sanctioned by the U.S. government, therefore, there’s no way our enemies can trace us back to U.S. soil.”
Brent took a sip of coffee. “Word has circulated, there is a squad of ‘mercenaries’ who take on these assignments, but no one has been able to learn a thing about us. Al Qaeda and others placed multimillion dollar bounties on our heads for any information that could lead to our identity or whereabouts. They’d more than likely kill anyone who gave them information, and they would definitely torture anyone they thought had information and held out on them.”
Brent poured himself another cup. “Because none of our targets have ever seen us, there was no way they could identify us. Unfortunately, there were two occasions, yours and Joseph’s that my cover was blown. The only way either of you could remain safe was for me to feign my own death.
“So, to answer your question, no, Charlotte, I don’t know what kind of psychological damage takes place in the minds of people we rescue. I do know this, for me to do my job effectively, I can’t dwell on it.”
Charlotte sat back in her chair to mull over what Brent had said. After an uneasy silence, she said, “Your reason for doing what you do makes sense. I don’t like it and I think we need to come up with a better solution, but I’ll accept it.”
We need to come up with a better solution? I wonder what she means by that.
“Thank you for understanding. Are there any other questions before we said goodnight?”
“Are you the Ambassador?” she asked, her eyes never wavering from his.
Stunned by the question, Brent tried to buy time. He sat back in the chair, head extended, eyes following the blades of the ceiling fan. After a long pause, he again sat forward and looked into her eyes.
“What do you know about the Ambassador?”
“Not a lot. Only what Sonia was able to tell me. I know that he’s a person of unwavering ethics and morality. I know he harbors some sort of power passed to him from those who came before him. And I know there are people, many people, who would lay down their lives to protect him.”
“Hmm, it seems your hostess is a bit confused.”
“She didn’t tell me all of it. Some of it I figured out on my own. She just told me enough to subdue my anxieties about coming here.”
“That explains things. Before I answer your question, is that all she told you?”
“No, she also said that the Ambassador talks to God or something like that.”
“Well, let’s first correct your assumptions. The Ambassador does not harbor any power. He’s just a man like any other man. What he does have and what has been passed down to him is the knowledge of a covenant God made with man thousands of years ago.
A covenant that, if broken, would cause irreparable harm to all mankind. And, as much as he wishes he could, he does not talk to God. He has the same lines of communication with Him that you or anybody else has.”
“Which is?”
“Prayer.”
Leaning closer, she asked, “Are you the one?”
“You understand, Charlotte, that by knowing this information your life changes forever.”
Charlotte thought back over the past seven years and said, “Any change in my life would be better than what I have now.”Brent knew this day would come. He memorized an answer, a lie, to give the one who brought up the question. But now, as he looked into Charlotte’s eyes, he swore he heard God speak to him.
After a slight hesitation, he said, “I am the Ambassador, at least, the most recent one. Like I said, I don’t speak to God any differently than you do.”
“I don’t speak to Him at all. Not in the past seven years, anyway.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“You know, you were there. If there was a God, why would He let that happen to me? Why would He create such a monster? After seeing and feeling what I did, how am I…or you, for that matter, supposed to believe in God?”
Brent pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the scars on his arm and shoulder.
He waited long enough for her to get a good look at them. “Because believing in Him is the only way to get past what happened. God didn’t make those things happen, Charlotte.
He gave us all free will and that gives us the will to choose Him or not. Jonas chose not.
I don’t have an answer for you, but I can tell you that if you allow God back into your heart, He will show you the answer.”
Charlotte thought Brent was speaking metaphorically and decided to press further.
“What reason did He show you?”
Smiling, Brent said, “You’ve met my reason; Chloe. If I hadn’t been scarred, I never would have left the Squad. I never would have moved back here and I never would have met Chloe. Furthermore, I never would have met Joseph Conklin, the last Ambassador, and I never would be in the position I’m in today.
“Although I despise what Jonas McFarland allowed himself to become and what he did to us and his other victims, I don’t blame God. That is the work of Satan. I thank God for taking my hand and walking me through that terrible time and for giving me the life I have now.”
Charlotte was at a loss for words. What Brent had just told her ripped through everything she thought was true, and she had no idea how to respond.
Brent continued, “Look, it’s a lot to digest, mentally, spiritually and emotionally.
Why don’t you sleep on what I’ve told you and we’ll talk more later.”
The grandfather clock chimed the three o’clock hour.
Brent glanced up at the clock. “If there isn’t anything else, what do you say we get some sleep?”
“I don’t have any more questions, but I do have one demand.”
“Oh, you think you’re in a position to demand, do you?” Brent teased.
Charlotte didn’t return the warmth. “I want in.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. With the information you’ve been given, you are in.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, I want to be part of the squad. I want to be a trained member of the Phantom Squad.”
Brent pushed his chair back and stood. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It isn’t possible.”
“Not possible, or you don’t think I can hack it?”
Brent shook his head. “Charlotte, you don’t know what you’re asking.”
Charlotte stood, not taking her eyes off Brent. “Sleep on it and I’ll try praying for the first time in ‘forever’, how about that?”
She had him and he knew it. He couldn’t let a chance like this go by. He could not stand in the way of Charlotte finding her way back to God. “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise.”
“That’s all I ask.”
They hugged and headed for the staircase. Before they reached the top, Charlotte turn
ed to Brent.
“I have one more question.”
“Yeah?” Brent said with trepidation.
“What knowledge do you possess that could cause thousands of people to willfully give up their lives for you, without knowing who you are or what secret you harbor?”
“That, my dear, is information for another day. Let me just say, what they do, or are willing to do, has little to do with me and has a great deal to do with their faith in God.”
Maddie, Chloe and Joan were waiting on the third-floor landing.
“Charlotte, you’ll be bunking with me,” Joan said.
“Sounds good,” she said, happy to be with someone her own age.
She turned toward Brent. “Don’t forget.”
“You either. Pray about it. All of it.”
Chloe closed the door to their room and watched Brent undress. She recognized the faraway look in his eyes she’d seen so many times before. He was in deep thought, and whatever he was thinking about was bothersome.
“So,” she said, “what was that all about?”
Brent sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his thigh. Even though ten years had passed since the gunshot wound, whenever he was under a great deal of stress, the pain flared from scar tissue.
“Here, let me do that,” Chloe said, kneeling by his side. “Do you feel like talking or would you rather wait until the morning?” She kneaded his quadriceps.
Brent combed his fingers through her hair. “You won’t believe what she’s asking me to do.”
She placed her head on his lap. “What does she want?”
“She wants to be trained as a member of the squad.”
Chloe lifted her head, her eyes awake with astonishment. “She what? That’s crazy. She’s not even military.”
“I know. But neither is Seven.”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
Brent rubbed his temples. Chloe read the physical and mental exhaustion on his face.
He stood, stretched his neck to each side, producing a loud ‘cracking’ noise.
“You want to hear something crazier?” Brent said. “I’ve been thinking, actually having dreams about the idea of adding a female member to the Phantom Squad. None of the candidates who went through Alliance training seemed right. All great agents, but something intangible was missing.”
