by Randy Dutton
With the barrel held steady, he moved to the coffee table and clicked off the TV, then moved calmly behind the crib, five paces away. The clinging Fuzz threads and blackberry thorns stuck into his black coveralls suggested he had taken a difficult trek around her security.
She stood erect but tense. “Duke, isn’t it?” Keeping her eyes on the intruder and his chrome pistol, her anxious mind flashed to the various weapons secreted within the large open downstairs.
“Yes, and you’re Anna Catherine Heyward, formerly Anna Catherine Picard, aka Olga Svechinsky, aka Catwoman, aka...a very wanted woman. By the way, congrats on the baby. Your pregnancy was very unexpected.”
Her pose relaxed. Looking into his stern expression and let out a deep exhalation. “You got the first name right, all the rest are wrong.”
“Your vacation pictures say differently...especially the ones from Canada.” He turned her iPad so she could see a very personal image. By having unlocked the device’s biometric security, he was conveying how serious his threat was.
His brow lifted. “Sexy photos, too. However, with a single phone call I can verify or refute your claim.”
“Who would you call?” Her voice was flat.
“My old buddy, Gabriel. Know him?”
His cunning grin sent a chill through her. She looked down, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation. Her eyes shifted to Connor sleeping in the crib below her captor.
Duke’s eyes followed hers. “Yes, the infant makes it tough for you to fight back doesn’t it?”
She shrugged and acted indifferent. “Why would I fight?” She nodded to the telephone. “Make your call. Meanwhile, I need to take care of my child. Okay by you?”
He waved his weapon’s barrel at the sofa.
“Sit! And don’t think I have a problem incapacitating you,” he said. “The first time you resist, I’ll put rounds in both your knees. I want you alive...they want you alive, but not necessarily intact. Oh, and the shotgun you strapped to the sofa bottom, isn’t there anymore. As a precaution, I’ve rounded up several of your hidden weapons.”
“I need to take care of my child!” she reiterated. “Are you heartless?!”
With a sniff he recognized she had a point. “Okay...you can do it from here.” He waved at the crib.
“I’ll just get the diaper bag,” she said nonthreateningly.
“No!” Duke stepped from around the crib and moved forward. “I’m not sure why Gabriel put a five million euro bounty on Swanson’s executive recruiter, but I’ve no doubt you’re dangerous. I’ll get the bag for you.”
“Never mind about the bag, let’s talk.” Anna’s struggled to feign indifference. “My son can wait.”
“You pulled a ruse on me on the beach. That won’t happen again. Now, kneel next to the crib!”
They slowly moved counter clockwise, she to the crib, he to the island for the bag. His gun tracked her continuously.
Her eyes scanned the room for a weapon while trying not to telegraph possible defensive moves. Consumed with doubt about what weapons might be accessible, she knelt next to Connor.
Picking up the bag, Duke bounced it by the strap, and his grin expanded. “What do we have in here?”
He carried the small bag closer and turned it upside down – the PPQ and silencer tube dropped onto the sofa along with diapers and other baby supplies. “Oh, you are a pretty little liar, aren’t you?!”
She shrugged. “As you said, a pretty little woman...jogging alone on a country road? It’s a tough neighborhood.”
The compact pistol was now in his left hand. “Bond fan, huh? I’m rather fond of the Walther myself. And a silencer? Hmmm, your feigned innocence is evaporating, Anna.”
“What do you want?!”
“My bounty.” He chambered a round in her pistol and put it in his belt. “Get over here.”
Slowly, she moved to the sofa.
He threw a cuff-tie at her feet. “Put it on. Then we talk.”
“But my child—”
“I know my way around diapers.”
She reluctantly slipped the cuff around her wrists, and grimaced when his pistol pressed against her knee and his other hand yanked the tie tighter.
Her eyes were intense. “So you’re entirely about the money?”
“You’re my retirement fund.” Putting the pistol on the coffee table, his very large, powerful hands grabbed her ankles and crossed them, then zipped another tie.
“Still could be, where both of us are satisfied...Duke.” She rolled the name around. “Are you by chance, Duke Shoreham?”
He picked up the pistol and sat at the sofa’s far end. His eyes narrowed and his smile flattened. “Yes. And how would you—”
“Gabriel’s senior partner with the Agency before he left?”
He slowly nodded and his smile returned. “You must be the young girl he recruited for Swanson.... Why he left the Agency.”
She nodded with a half-smile.
“He never gave me a name, and only the most general of circumstances. You turned out nicely...differently than I’d have thought considering your dubious background.”
With a sigh she shrugged a shoulder. “Different time, different life. Gabriel told me a bit about you, even how you got your nickname. Something about your recruiter asking you to tackle him? You missed the first time but flattened him the second. Just like how John Wayne made it into the movies.”
He turned his hand around so she could see the scarred knuckles. “Did he tell you I used to get into bar fights, like the Duke?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I guess that’s why you’re packing a six-shooter. A Smith and Wesson 686 Competitor isn’t it?”
His head bobbed. “I don’t like policing shell casings.... Arthritis, you know. Now, put your feet on the coffee table. And so you don’t get cute, understand this. I’ve created a failsafe notifying Gabriel of your new life...if I don’t push back the clock in four hours.” He slowly pushed himself up.
While changing the diaper, he added gruffly, “Cooperate and I won’t tell him about your family.”
“Thank you.” Sadness tinged her voice.
When he had finished, he returned to the sofa’s far end. “Tell you what. How about we level with each other? My partner and I have been chasing you since August. My curiosity’s running wild. Let’s compare notes.”
She thought for a moment and grinned. “Your partner.... That would be Kyler?”
“Good memory.”
She leaned forward conspiratorially. “And I’d like to find out what you know, and strike a deal.”
“You’re hardly in a position—”
She leaned forward. “Don’t commit until you hear my side.”
After two hours they had exchanged information. Duke started by revealing his peninsular chase, and clues he had uncovered about her. His mood lightened when describing how he had surveilled her house and property, watched her jogging with the stroller along the country road, and how he defeated her security precautions.
In return, she explained why Gabriel wanted her, and the injurious escape from the Russians. Recognizing her captor was a lonely romantic, Anna tailored each episode with an emotional pause before revealing the tragic outcome, and only provided information he already knew or needed to know. Meanwhile, her voice stayed soft and vulnerable, as if she were his niece, who had made a youthful indiscretion. When describing threats to her life, her damp eyes would turn to her sleeping child, and draw his along. What she revealed showed in his eyes – hatred for the Russian brutality and admiration for her rebelling against financiers manipulating the global financial markets, and flaring anger when she described her part in helping Swanson create the invasive species.
But it was her description of Swanson’s security chief killing her Rottweilers Perses and Styx, and remorse in the plagues and commitment to track down Sven, when Duke’s heart softened. He was looking down with puppy dog eyes while his hand rubbed his craggy face.
With the moral dilemma resolved, Duke’s mood had lightened considerably.
“You know. I could just keep the five mil and get the bounty, too,” he challenged.
Her mouth widened as her head slightly shook. “But you won’t.”
“Nah.... You’re a quick study.” He flashed a coffee stained smile and then pulled out a knife and cut off the remaining plastic tie. “Wouldn’t be sportin’.”
Anna paused and a mischievous grin formed. “Duke, how much do you know about 3-D printing?”
His brow lifted. “More than most. Why?”
“Oh, I was just thinking about how boring retirement can be for a former agency man with means.”
“And I’m sure my daily routine isn’t foremost in your thoughts. Spill it.”
“Ever think about getting into the gadget business?”
His smile widened. “Sometimes when the road was long and boring, like when I was chasing you two across Canada.”
She chuckled. “With five million on the horizon, I doubt you were so bored.... Seriously, Gabriel switched to selling components...why not you?”
“Young lady, I thought you were hiding.”
“A girl needs to be prepared.”
With tongue in cheek he considered the possibility. “Be honest. Are you more interested in just bypassing normal supply chains to get customized items for your domestic life?” His hand waved in an arc. “Or are you planning something more offensive?”
“Uh huh.” Her head bobbed. “A little of both.”
“What kind of items did you have in mind?”
Her eyes looked up innocently. “Maybe some customized weapons, specialized electronics, documents.”
“Hmmmm.” His smile widened. “And I’ll venture you’re eager to be my first customer.”
“A very silent customer,” she emphasized. “And I won’t haggle the prices...much.” She winked.
“It’s an intriguing idea. I’ll give it some thought.”
When she opened the front door, the groggy dogs slowly wandered outside.
“Duke, Pete’s going to be home soon. He can’t know you’ve been here,” she gently warned.
“He won’t.... You’ve my word.”
“And you can’t divulge anything about me...to anyone.... Even flaunting your new wealth could make Gabriel suspicious.”
He let out a slight chuckle. “I’d be a fool to blow my investment in you....” He touched her shoulder. “You know, Anna, I’m glad we came to an accommodation.”
“So am I.” She continued massaging her wrists.
“Yeah, sorry about making those so tight.”
“No worries. It’s not the first time.” Her mind drifted to the life altering event 20 years earlier.
“Right...the Russians,” he said thinking of the more recent past. “I think this new venture idea is kinda fun actually. And honestly”—he winked—“I would have only shot you once in the thigh, and not in your knees.”
“Well that’s considerate.” Her tone was facetious.
His amusement was obvious. “After staring at your pictures for months, and today, having listened to you emotionally play this old man, I’ve grown rather fond of you. I didn’t want anything bad to happen.”
Her brows arched. “You think I was playing you?”
“Oh, I know you were.” Again he chuckled. “It’s okay, Anna. Hermits like me need an occasional refresher in humanity.” He withdrew the clip, cycled out the round, and handed her the Walther. “Remember to keep guns away from children,” he quipped.
Her smile went crooked.
His arthritic right hand held a card with a telephone number, and his large left paw wrapped over her shoulder. “We’ve each got a reason to keep each other safe. Call me if you need help. And think of this old man, now...as a guardian angel.”
Chapter 89
May 28, 1230 hours
Survivors Café
Dallas, TX
Survivors Café was half full, and very dark. Mounted above the several booths were trademark oil industry signs and longhorn trophies that harkened to its Depression-era founding. The landmark restaurant was a testament to the fortitude of early Texans, and now became a political target. With the fossil fuel and cattle industries scorned by various environmental and government groups, late-night vandalism had claimed the window fronts. Just two weeks earlier, every window had been broken with tar-dipped rocks. It wasn’t the first time and, like before, every repair was undone the following day. Eventually, the owner gave up. Today, only painted plywood filled the frames. But the café’s lunchtime clientele was loyal and undeterred by threats. Economic reality was another matter. Their numbers were diminished by this new economic depression. Dallas, because of its energy sector, was among the cities particularly suffering from newly-imposed UN and federal regulations and high carbon taxation.
Under the wall-mounted Sinclair Dinosaur gas station sign and a hanging kerosene lamp converted into an LED booth light, a father and son sat at a table in a far corner. With a view to the café entrance, their backs were to the wall.
Pete and his father were halfway through their meal and speaking in soft voices.
“...and here’s a photo of Anna with her eight-pointer from last autumn,” Pete said proudly, as he flipped to another image. In it, Anna was kneeling and holding up an elk’s antlers. Leaning against the fallen animal was a compound-bow camouflaged with a grayish-green pattern.
Tom’s eyes narrowed at the iPad. “I’ve never seen a bow like that. Looks like a Klingon weapon...get it at a Star Trek convention?”
Pete chuckled. “It’s a Mamba M6...extremely powerful and very light and quiet. I had its paint job customized to match the Fuzz.”
“Makes sense.... Why’s she smirking?”
“At five-months pregnant, I told her she didn’t have the patience to tag an elk.”
“How long did she wait?”
“Nearly nine hours.... Stalked or stayed hidden the entire time and only radioed me when she bagged it.”
“That’s commitment.”
Pete nodded with a slight reluctance. “Like a sniper...though I think she wanted the solitude. I agreed to stay at least 300 meters away from her hunting area.” His eyes rolled. “She thinks I make too much noise.”
“You didn’t get one?”
Pete’s head shook. “But gutting and hauling one elk was plenty enough for me. Our deep freeze couldn’t hold much more. My work was made easier by our unfortunate pest...Fuzz. I was told by the Fish and Wildlife agent, the harvested elk were skinnier than previous years.”
“Why’s that?”
“The accumulating Fuzz is inhibiting their food supply.”
“It’s raising beef prices just as bad.... How’s Anna holding up?” Tom’s brow lowered. “Your mom and I worry about her.”
“She’s keeping up a brave face, but her depression’s evident. It’s more noticeable when she isn’t busy, or Connor’s sleeping, or sometimes when she’s playing music,” he said thoughtfully.
“We’ve had a lot of laid off workers suffer from depression. Now, she’s not only unemployed, but her ex-boss is gunning for her.” Pete shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “She seems happy to be rid of her last job, though.”
“Maybe she’s bored?”
“I don’t think so. She keeps busy.”
“How?”
“For example, she installed an extremely complex security system—”
“What makes it complex?”
“Well...it has hidden infrared cameras that...” Pete grimaced. “You know, I probably shouldn’t bother you with this.”
“Wh
at’s a father for if not to share burdens?”
“Now that I’m one, I guess I’ll find out soon enough. Okay...she’s fortified our property.... The cameras are tied to a computer that monitors the county road and other accessible points, and she has them tied to software programmed to identify human movements. Ever hear of virtual trip wires?”
“Yes. We use them at refineries. The computer analyzes behavior and movement across a field of view to determine likely risks.”
“She’s set those up, as well as progressive security zones. If an intruder comes closer, the threat level increases. Our lovely forested property is split into surveillance zones she can monitor from the house or her tablet.”
“So now with security in place, isn’t she’s more relaxed?”
“Not actually. Last month she became even more agitated and decided to dramatically increase security.”
“Frankly, Son, Anna sounds paranoid.”
“That’s the problem. I can’t dispute her logic, nor her precautions. I don’t dare challenge what she’s done, because letting her implement security was a precondition to moving there.”
“I see.... So how else has she been spending her time?”
“She’s always researching...or working on a home project, or in the workshop fiddling with electronic gadgets. Of course, Connor keeps her busy and she’s getting her body back to what she calls ‘fighting form’...claims she’s getting nearly as much exercise as before.”
Flipping to some pictures of Anna working out, Pete’s smile returned. “When we moved in, she set up a gym and dojo downstairs.”
“Hmmm. That’s quite a set up...and I’ve got to say, for a woman who delivered two months ago, she’s looking very fit. Your mom would be jealous...Paula too.”
“I’ll pass the compliment.... Anna’s even made a 500-meter firing range outside with markers every 50 meters. It’s got a backstop and wind flags.” He flipped to another photo.
“Looks like a spur road.”
“From above. It’s supposed to blend in as a logging road. The markers are only visible horizontally, and the covered firing position looks like an equipment shed. Here’s a picture of her firing from it.”
