Child With No Name

by Franklin Horton

  37

  Abingdon, Virginia

  Ty was in a weird place when he arrived home. It was around 4 AM and he was exhausted, propped up by energy drinks, sugar, and heavy metal. He was driving on autopilot, his thoughts not completely coming full circle. He’d start thinking about something, following an idea toward its conclusion, only to see his thoughts crumble to dust before he got there. Several times on the drive home he’d wished for some of the uppers the Army had issued to keep him alert on long ops.

  His spirits were buoyed when he hit familiar territory. When he exited the interstate he pulled himself together, not wanting to get pulled over on suspicion of being drunk. He could pass a sobriety test but the cops probably wouldn’t know what to make of him, all kitted out in a truck full of tactical gear. He’d have to hope it was someone he knew from the range.

  He navigated his way home with no complications and backed into his normal spot in front of his townhouse. He tried to be quiet because of the hour, not wanting to disturb his neighbors. He maintained a low profile there in the housing complex, which didn’t exactly mesh with dragging in at the wee hours dressed like he’d come off a patrol in the ‘Stan.

  Ty turned the ignition off and opened his truck door. He sat there for a moment and decided that most of the things in his vehicle didn’t need to be carried in right now. He’d make less noise if he did it during the day when most of his neighbors were at work. He’d just carry in the bag with his clothes, wallet, and phone in it.

  He shouldered the duffle, locked his truck, and gently shut the door. He turned toward his townhouse and someone stepped immediately in front of him. The figure was in shadow, backlit by the porch light, so Ty couldn’t see a face. Reflexively his hand dropped to his waistband, drawing the Glock, and leveling it center mass of the target.

  “Ty!”

  Ty didn’t hear his name, couldn’t process the words being spoken to him. Then the voice came again. Louder. More authoritative. More urgent.

  “Ty!”

  Ty froze, finger resting lightly on the curved trigger. He knew that voice, knew that man. It was Cliff. Through the fog of his exhaustion, he understood it was his boss standing in front of him. Ty immediately diverted the weapon. “God, Cliff, I’m sorry. You startled me. What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Cliff let out a long sigh, the sound of a man aware that his life had been spared, but just barely. “How about we go inside and talk about that so nobody calls the cops.”

  Ty walked toward the door with his Glock still in his hand, sorting the door key from the truck key. Passing by Cliff, he got a glimpse of his face and could see the man was rattled, sweating. Ty unlocked the door and went inside, leaving it open behind him. Cliff followed, shutting it gently.

  Ty dumped his bag on the living room floor and efficiently cleared his Glock, placing it on the computer desk with the loaded magazine beside it. “Dude, I’m so fucking sorry about that. I didn’t expect anyone to step out like that. I’m kind of jacked up right now and the training kicked in.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Cliff what the fuck he was thinking. That had been a dumb move. A highly dangerous move.

  Cliff was still standing in the entry foyer, staring at Ty’s clothes. The dirty boots, the camo, the scratches on his hands from brush and briars. Cliff had seen all this before. “You been on an op somewhere?” It wasn’t an accusation, simply a man trying to put together the pieces of how he almost died in a residential parking lot in the middle of the night.

  Ty headed to the fridge and got a beer. He gestured questioningly at Cliff, who nodded. Ty opened both bottles and handed one off to his boss.

  Cliff leaned back against the kitchen counter with the beer in hand. “Brother, you’re acting a little sketchy right now. How about you wind down and tell me what's going on.”

  “It’s complicated,” Ty said, taking a long pull off his beer.

  Cliff sighed wearily. “It’s always complicated with you, Ty. I’m starting to see that.”

  “Am I the problem child of the team?”

  “It’s getting that way.” There was a painful degree of honesty in the way Cliff said the words.

  Ty tightened his lips and nodded somberly. “I know I’m screwing up this opportunity you've given me. I’m probably a waste of your time. It may be best for you to cut your losses and give the team position to someone else.”

  Cliff waved him off. “We're not there yet. How about we take this one step at a time, Ty. Were you at the clinic in Glade Spring? Please tell me you didn’t break into the place.”

  “I didn’t go to the clinic.”

  “Can you tell me where you’ve been and what were you up to?”

  Ty hesitated. “I'll tell you but you’re not going to like it.”

  “I’m a big boy. I’ve sat through a lot of things I didn’t like in this life. Talk to me.”

  Ty headed into the living room and dropped onto the couch. He placed his beer on the coffee table and sagged his head into his hands, gripping his skull like he was trying to hold it together. He let out a long, weary exhalation. “I was in North Carolina.”

  Cliff had followed Ty into the living room, taking a seat in the recliner opposite him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head in an expression of frustrated disappointment. “Ty...”

  “I know. There’s nothing you can tell me that I haven't already told myself.”

  “Then why did you go?”

  Ty picked up his beer and took a sip. He looked like a broken man, weary and consumed with regret, feeling as if he were a failure. “Same story, man. Started falling into a hole and only knew of one way out. I had to engage. I had to jump into an op with both feet and let it consume me. It was either that or be swallowed.”

  They both knew what that meant. Being swallowed could be a death sentence. It could be the end. You might emerge from the belly of the whale or you might not.

  “Walk me through everything that happened.”

  Ty sank back in the couch. “I was having a good day. They closed school and my sister had to work so I ended up keeping my niece. She and I spent the afternoon at the range and had a great time. While I was there I called Agent Baxter. They were making progress but they still had a few details to work out. Then when I got home shit got dark. I started thinking about the choices we make in life and why I didn’t have a family of my own. Then I realized I wasn’t fit to have a family.”

  Cliff shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s true, Ty. You’re not too old to have a family. Or too damaged, for that matter.”

  Ty shrugged. “I knew if I stayed home, feeling like that, it was going to be risky. I had to do something.”

  “But not the gym? Not hiking? Not fishing? It had to be an operation, huh?”

  “It’s where my mind went, Cliff. I decided I had to find out if that pregnant woman was still at that farm in North Carolina. I needed to know.”

  “Was she?”

  Ty nodded.

  “So you saw her and came home? That’s all?”

  “Well, that’s not all...”

  “What else?”

  Ty drained his beer and set the empty bottle down on the coffee table. “I planted that last trail camera I had. It’s outside a camper where the pregnant woman is staying.”

  Cliff shook his head, staring down at his beer. “Ty...”

  “I know, Cliff. Anything the camera gets is inadmissible.”

  “It’s not just that. If we cross these lines and break the law, if we trespass and illegally collect intel, it discredits us with law enforcement. A company like ours is breaking new ground. We’re on the fringe of what’s allowable and law enforcement is sometimes hesitant to work with us for that very reason. If the rumor gets out that we’re renegades who don’t follow the law, no one will trust us. The evidence we collect will be suspect. We'll be discredited as an organization. I've worked too hard to let that happen.”

  Ty knew everything Cliff said was true. He’d screwe
d up this opportunity like he’d screwed up everything else in his life. He was a failure, a poison that contaminated everything he came in contact with. “How about I save you the awkwardness here, Cliff? I quit. Now you don’t have to feel bad about firing me.”

  “How about you kiss my ass, Ty Stone? I’m not making it that easy for you. You’re not done. We’re not done.”

  Ty had tears in his eyes. His exhaustion, frustration, and emotions were boiling over. “Dude, you just listed all the reasons why I can’t do this. Everything I do undermines what you’ve worked so hard to build. I can’t do that to you. You can’t let me do that to you.”

  Cliff drained his beer, then got up and went to the refrigerator for two more. He opened them and handed one to Ty. “I got two things to say and I want you to listen carefully. The first is that I want you to forget about this camera you planted. You don’t check it and you don’t tell anyone about it. You got me?”

  Ty nodded, taking a sip of his beer. His eyes were ringed red. He looked beaten, tormented.

  “The second is that if you want to remain with DKI, it’s on a probationary status with one major fucking condition.”

  “What’s that?” Ty's tone was that of a man who couldn’t believe that there was still a lifeline available to him.

  “You move to Arizona. I want you to meet with Dr. Cowan on a weekly basis until he says that’s no longer required. You need to adhere to whatever med regimen he and the psychiatrist come up with for you.”

  “Is that all?”

  Cliff shook his head. “When I’m in town, you and I meet for a run three days a week. I pick the route and be warned that my plan is to break your ass down.”

  Ty snorted a laugh. "That's it?"

  “That’s all,” Cliff said.

  “My sister, my niece Aiden…this is going to be hard on them.”

  “Not as hard as losing you, Ty. They'll understand. Would it help if I talked to your sister?”

  “It might.”

  “Then I’ll do it. Can I crash on your couch tonight or you want me out of here?”

  “Sure. Go for it. When I move, I’m bringing that couch with me so I can burn it in the desert. The fucking thing is cursed.”

  Cliff laughed. “I know just the spot. We can make that happen.”

  38

  The Prescott Estate

  Alabama

  On the morning after the party, Harrison’s staff served a formal breakfast around 10 AM. Julie had already departed the estate in a black van, delivering the children to the isolated house in the country where they lived under her supervision. There were always people left after the party, mostly men, who’d stayed overnight to indulge in the party favors that Harrison offered. Of course, none of that was discussed at breakfast. It was all sports, travel, and a little business.

  After breakfast, the guests usually went on their way and Harrison went to the country club for an afternoon of golf. Depending on what he had on the schedule, he’d typically have the pilots on standby to fly him somewhere interesting for dinner. Sometimes with a guest, and other times he’d meet a friend or acquaintance at his destination.

  As he was saying goodbye to his overnight guests, he pulled one aside. He was a younger man than Harrison, perhaps in his late twenties. His name was Gerald Montclair and he was an English commodities trader who’d made quite a name for himself despite his youth. He’d earned a significant amount of money for his employer and his clients, consequently enriching himself in the process.

  Gerald was relatively new to the moneyed life and was exploring the boundaries. He had a flat in a prestigious London neighborhood, had just bought his first exotic sports car, and had invested in a number of desirable properties around the world. Harrison had met Gerald through a mutual friend and invited him to one of the parties at the estate. Harrison had immediately noticed the gleam in Gerald's eyes when he spoke with the young women Harrison spread around the party. They were like chum in the water, drawing the sharks.

  Knowing what that look in Gerald's eyes meant Harrison didn’t mince words. He discreetly informed Gerald that one of his sidelines was brokering the services of young women. If Gerald wanted teenage girls, boys, or even younger children, Harrison could make that happen. Since that discussion a little over a year ago, Gerald had been a frequent visitor at Harrison’s estate, sampling widely from the menu.

  When everyone was gone, Harrison gestured at the veranda. “May I have a moment, Gerald?”

  Gerald’s luggage was already loaded and a driver was waiting to take him to the airport in one of Harrison's limousines. Gerald cast a glance in that direction.

  “It’ll be fine,” Harrison assured him. “I only need a moment of your time.”

  Gerald conceded and the two retreated to a glass table on the luxurious veranda. There was a large pool, colorful umbrellas, and cast limestone statuary. A hot tub capable of holding two dozen people burbled nearby.

  Harrison poured two glasses of water from a pitcher on the table and slid one across to Gerald. “I understand you recently purchased a villa in Mykonos?”

  Gerald’s eyes lit up. “I did. It’s absolutely brilliant. It’s on the beachfront near St. Constantine. You can sit poolside and watch the sunset over the Aegean Sea. I’m going to lease it for now but I hope to retire there one day. It’s the kind of property that rarely comes available.”

  Harrison sipped his water, then smiled at Gerald’s enthusiasm. “That’s my understanding. It looks amazing.”

  Gerald was taken aback. “You’ve seen it?”

  “Oh, not in person. Just some pictures.”

  “I didn’t realize it was offered to other buyers.”

  “It wasn’t,” Harrison said. “I wasn’t in the market until recently.”

  Gerald chuckled. “Well good luck, my friend. I only lucked into this one. Most villas like this change hands privately, never making it to the market. You may be searching for a while.”

  Harrison was still smiling. “No, I don’t really think so. I'm hoping to get something sooner.”

  “Why, do you have a lead on another property?”

  Harrison shook his head. “No, I’m interested in buying your villa.”

  Gerald burst into laughter. “I’m sorry, Harrison, it’s not for sale. As I’ve said, this was a once in a lifetime purchase. I don’t anticipate I’d ever be selling it.”

  With a wry nod, Harrison leaned to the side while he fished his phone from his pocket. He spent a moment navigating the menu before he found what he wanted. He tapped on the screen, then placed the phone on the table and slid it across to Gerald.

  Gerald looked confused for a moment, then recognized the sound coming from the speaker. His expression turned to horror as he realized he was staring down at a video of him taken last night. A video of him having sex with a child. “What the fuck is this?” Gerald’s eyes were wild, his speech frantic. Spittle flew from his mouth.

  Harrison remained calm and casual. He’d done this many times. He knew exactly how Gerald would react. They all went through the same range of emotions—confusion, shock, denial, and rage. In the end, they all accepted his terms. They had no choice.

  “You’ll, of course, be taking a loss on the property,” Harrison continued. “There are certain tax advantages to that, as you know. Maybe it will offset some of those stellar earnings you've been raking in.”

  “How much of a loss do you expect me to take?” Gerald spat. “I spent ten million pounds on that property.”

  Harrison leaned across the table and scooped up his phone before Gerald reached the inevitable rage. Harrison had lost a few phones that way, smashed by angry associates. “I’m going to give you exactly one hundred thousand pounds for that property.”

  Gerald scoffed. “That’s bloody absurd! One percent? That’s one percent of what I paid!” Gerald stood abruptly and started pacing. “I don’t know what kind of scam you’re running here, Harrison, but I won’t stand for this.”


  Harrison gestured at the seat Gerald had just vacated. “Please have a seat. We’re not done talking.”

  “I’m bloody done!” Gerald retorted.

  Harrison shook his head, an irritating grin on his face. “No, you’re not.”

  Gerald shook a fist in Harrison's face. “I’ll not take this, you thieving bastard!”

  “You will. You’ll take it because you have no choice. I’ve already had the papers drawn up. You can take them with you when you leave. I will need them back by close of business tomorrow with your signature.”

  “You’re really going to do this?” Gerald said, his voice turning into a plea. When Harrison met Gerald's eyes he saw tears, the resignation that he was beaten and had absolutely no avenue of escape.

  “It’s business.” Harrison shrugged. “Just business.”

  “It’s a bloody lousy way to do business. Fucking blackmail is what it is.”

  Harrison raised an eyebrow. “And that’s worse than what you are? A pedophile?”

  “It’s what you are too! Don’t be pointing the finger at me like I’m some kind of filth beneath your shoe. We’re the same, Harrison.”

  “And I accept that,” Harrison replied. “I hold no illusions about who or what I am. With that in mind, why not make the best of it and live the life I want to live?” He tapped a manila envelope already waiting for them on the table, the thick packet sealed with an elastic band. He held it up for Gerald.

  With a look of disgust on his face, Gerald snatched the documents from Harrison’s outstretched hand and stalked across the veranda.

  “End of business tomorrow,” Harrison reminded him. “Have a nice day.”

  Gerald didn’t reply, stomping through the veranda door and into the house. Harrison looked off into the distance, smiling to himself as he imagined the profit he’d make on the Greek villa.