Requiem

by J. B. Turner

  Stone pushed her forward down the trail.

  “Hey, do you mind?” she said.

  “Keep moving until we get to the water.”

  “The water? What water?”

  “This is the River of Grass.”

  “You decided to drown me, is that it?”

  “Keep walking.”

  “Where exactly are we, so I can tell the cops?”

  Stone knew the area well. It was the Snake Bight Trail. He wanted to get out of there before they bumped into early-morning hikers. Animal noises sounded in the distance, and he could hear night birds rustling in flight.

  He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow.

  And they walked. Deeper and deeper into the Everglades. Away from civilization. Away from them.

  Eight

  It was the dead of night when a Gulfstream, registered to a company in the Caymans, landed on the prairie airstrip in Wyoming. Armed guards confiscated Dr. Mark Berenger’s cell phone as he walked down the steps. He was scanned for any surveillance equipment. Satisfied that there were no listening devices on him, the men drove Berenger in an SUV to a huge house on a nearby ranch.

  A butler wearing white gloves showed him into a dimly lit dining room.

  Berenger was left alone with his thoughts for a few minutes until the butler returned, serving him coffee.

  “He’ll be with you very soon,” the butler said. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

  Berenger had never visited this property. He had only met the man he knew as Fisk once. Truth be told, he was rather apprehensive about this second meeting. Berenger was carrying the mantle as the head of the newly configured Commission, which meant that Fisk’s approval or disapproval landed entirely on him.

  The more he thought about their current mission—not going as smoothly as he’d like—the more he wondered how much blood it would take to bring down Stone. More than Stone had already spilled trying to destroy the Commission?

  Berenger wasn’t surprised Stone was proving so elusive. So dangerous. He knew better than anyone what made Nathan Stone tick. That was why he had been picked to lead the remnants of the shadowy group. The ghosts of those who had perished at Stone’s hands lingered in his mind, transforming his usually analytical thoughts into seething anger. Where previously he had obsessed about Stone’s psychological makeup, now he wondered only what it would take to bring him down. He had, unbeknownst to anyone, visited Stone’s childhood home. He had tried to absorb the environment. He kept grainy photographs in his study at home of Stone as a boy, with his mother. He’d studied the emptiness and sadness in Stone’s eyes. The mother’s proud features. Berenger had also read up on Stone’s violent alcoholic father. His influence pervaded everything in Stone’s life. Like a ghost from his past who was forever with him.

  Stone had a remarkable psychological makeup, and it made him a truly terrifying figure. It was as if Stone could sense a man’s fear up close. His vulnerabilities. He had an almost animalistic ability to sense danger.

  Berenger was out of the loop in many ways. He had not been part of the inner circle during the previous operation, which had ended in such terrible failure. He had watched in grim fascination as Stone had wreaked his terrible revenge. Destroyed facilities. Destroyed lives.

  The reason Berenger had been invited to the ranch today was because of Stone. The mission to kill him had run into trouble. And he was here to either explain why or perhaps outline the next move to kill Stone. The buck stopped with Berenger. And that made him nervous.

  His instincts told him that the man he was about to speak with could have him deleted, and no one would be the wiser. He could be disappeared as and when Fisk saw fit for any perception of failure or for no reason at all.

  Berenger pondered that for a few moments. He wondered if he should have accepted the post when he was offered it. Was it just vanity that had led him to think his medical knowledge qualified him for this role? Pride? Delusions of grandeur? Narcissism?

  Berenger drank his coffee and sighed. He missed not having his phone. He wanted to make sure his wife was okay. But as it stood, his main concern was the ongoing operation to find Nathan Stone.

  The door opened behind him. Berenger turned at the sound.

  The butler smiled. “He’ll see you now in the library.”

  Berenger followed the butler down a long corridor, which led down stairs and through security doors, before he was ushered into the carpeted library.

  Fisk was sitting in an armchair staring out at the staggering vista, the Rocky Mountains silhouetted in the distance. “Take a seat beside me, Mark.”

  Berenger did as he was told.

  “I don’t sleep too much these days.”

  “If you’re in need of a prescription . . .”

  Fisk waved off the suggestion. “Hope your flight up from Florida was okay.”

  “Bit of turbulence over Arkansas. Nothing to write home about.”

  Fisk gazed out through the glass at the breathtaking view. “This is what we fight for. To be free. To wake up each and every day in a free country.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I love this country, Mark. I know you do too. It needs men like us to deal with unsavory things. And yes, by that I mean neutralizing an American senator, journalist, or whatever it takes. We have an agenda. And we thought Nathan Stone was the man to carry it out. We invested so much in him over the years—the reconstructive surgery, the medical bills, keeping his goddamn sister in that nice hospital. We picked up everything, but he went bad on us, Mark.”

  “I know that only too well, sir.”

  “He went rogue twice. And he wiped out the previous group. Good friends the lot of them.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “Patriots. Fierce patriots. And our work to delete the Canadian prime minister was very nearly compromised. But we got lucky in the end on that one.”

  Berenger sighed. “Stone will be neutralized, sir.”

  “Our organization can’t move on with its work while he’s alive. He knows too much. And I fear it’s just a matter of time before he’s picked up by the Feds. God knows where that will end.”

  “We’ll find him. And he will be taken care of, believe me.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this already. Surely, in God’s name, it isn’t difficult to kill one man. This is America, after all.”

  Berenger cleared his throat. “Sir, first, I take full responsibility for what’s happened. I appointed Brigadier Reynolds as operations chief. So any blame lies solely with me.”

  “Reynolds is a good man. But the others I’ve spoken to on the team say he made the wrong call on the approach to Stone.”

  “Sir, I’m offering my resignation with immediate effect. I’m a man of honor, and I have and will take absolute responsibility.”

  Fisk stared off into the distance as if contemplating his next move. “He’s an interesting character this Nathan Stone.”

  “Indeed.”

  “He takes down the entire facility in Scotland . . . then destroys everyone in the Commission. By himself! It defies belief.”

  Berenger sighed as he shifted in his seat.

  “Now we seem to have let him slip through our hands again. Reynolds should have handled this better. Dazzling career. Special operations. CIA. He’s been there, done that. And he knows the drill.”

  Berenger felt his stomach tighten. “I thought the honey trap was a terrific idea.”

  “Why did you pick that particular actress?”

  “She was deep in debt. She was desperate. But also she bore a striking resemblance to Stone’s sister. I figured this aspect, knowing what I know about Stone, would confuse his judgment, reassure him too.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, it was a terrific idea,” Fisk said. “But I’m running this through my head. I know about these things too. Shouldn’t she have lured him outside, where he could have been taken care of? There’s a goddamn alley down the side of the bar, just off
Fourteenth Street.”

  “Hindsight is a wonderful thing.”

  “She could have drugged him, jabbed him with some Fentanyl, a million ways to do it. He is now on the loose. Am I right?”

  Berenger sighed. “To be more accurate, he’s on the loose with the actress we hired.”

  “Against her will?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Fisk pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s the latest?”

  “Just before my plane landed, sir, I checked in. We have three teams working on this around the clock. They’re scouring a location near Homestead, in Florida. The last known location of one of the operatives. Pieter de Boer. But I think on reflection it was handled incorrectly. The setup to bait him was wrong. Reynolds—”

  “Reynolds is out.”

  Berenger felt his throat tighten. “Sir, I am one hundred percent responsible for appointing Reynolds.”

  “You stay. You know the inner workings of Stone’s head better than anyone. You understand the target on a psychological level. I like that. But with regards to Reynolds, he’s gone. Am I clear?”

  Berenger nodded. “Very, sir.”

  “I want you to see this through. You’re still growing into the position, Mark, I understand that. But if you feel things are not going according to plan, my rule of thumb is always to change the plan.”

  “I hear what you’re saying.”

  “This is not a criticism of you. The blame lies squarely with the military man who had that responsibility.”

  Berenger took a few moments to consider his reply. “Who takes over the operational planning from Reynolds?”

  “Tell me your thoughts on Kevin de Boer,” Fisk said. “I like how he talks. I like how forthright he is. I’ve spoken to some experts within South African intelligence too. But I’m keen to hear your observations.”

  “He’s very impressive. And as you say, he speaks his mind. The fact that he instructed his brother to join the revised mission shows strong leadership.”

  “Pieter de Boer is dead.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Berenger said.

  “I believe Kevin raised concerns with Reynolds from the outset about the honey trap.”

  Berenger cleared his throat. “Absolutely correct. He did voice concerns about how we were going to execute the trap. To be fair, his voice was the only objection.”

  “Exactly.” Fisk ran his hands through his hair. “In my eyes, what has transpired lends credence to Kevin de Boer’s instincts.”

  Berenger nodded. “The fact that de Boer foresaw a problem when no one else did shows brilliant critical-thinking skills. I should have opened up the strategy to more scrutiny. I made the call, and it was the wrong one.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Mark. The question is, What do you want to do now?”

  “I want to find and neutralize Nathan Stone—and the girl—without further delay.”

  Fisk smiled. “So, how would you feel about Kevin de Boer taking over as director of operations? Reporting to you. And you alone.”

  “Very good,” Berenger said.

  Fisk steepled his fingers, deep in thought. “Where do you think Stone is headed?”

  “I think the Everglades looks like a smart choice.”

  “How do we pick up the scent again?”

  “I have a plan to boost our cyberteam with immediate effect. We need far better technical data. Real-time feeds.”

  “Whatever it takes. We need to find Stone. And end this once and for all.”

  “What about the girl?” Berenger asked.

  “The girl knows too much. Eliminate her.”

  Berenger felt himself begin to smile.

  Nine

  Beatrice was walking down the dark trail at the edge of the Everglades, Stone close behind. The full moon lent enough light that they were making good time, but he was all too aware of how soon dawn would arrive and leave them more exposed. Suddenly, he saw something move on the trail in front of Beatrice.

  “Freeze!” Stone said.

  Beatrice stopped.

  “Not another step forward. Stay perfectly still.”

  She turned to look at him. “What is it?”

  Stone took a few steps forward and aimed at the ground. Two shots rang out. They tore into the oily black skin of a cottonmouth snake.

  Beatrice shrieked in horror. “What the hell?”

  The moonlight illuminated the writhing snake. A few moments later it stopped moving.

  Stone waited a bit before he stepped forward and kicked the dead snake into the bushes at the side of the dirt trail. “It’s okay, relax.”

  “Damn.” She looked at him, fear in her eyes. “I don’t like it here.”

  “Keep going.”

  Beatrice shook her head as she swatted the mosquitos biting her arms. “I just want to go back.”

  “Don’t you understand what I’ve been telling you? You need to reset your life from here on. What’s in the past is in the past. Your old life is gone.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, it is. The biker was just the opening salvo, trust me. You just don’t realize it yet. But you will. Trust me.”

  “I’m not an outdoor person. This is hell for me.”

  “I get that. But you really need to keep moving. Because when the sun comes up, they’ll be casting their net for us.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Stone grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “Let’s go!”

  She turned and stomped down the trail.

  Stone followed in her wake. Up ahead, glistening dark waters lapped the shore. He saw the outline of a small boat tied up with a rope near a wooden boardwalk.

  The type of boat used by Everglades rangers.

  Stone prodded Beatrice forward. “In the boat!”

  She turned, her eyes glassy from crying. “I can’t.”

  “Listen, you want to walk all the way back along the trail again? Do you? If there was one cottonmouth, there will be dozens more.”

  Beatrice started hyperventilating and rubbing her face hard with the palms of her hands. “Have you got any Xanax?”

  Stone burst out laughing, the unexpected sound startling birds into flight, silhouetted against the pale moon. “Do I look like the sort of guy that carries around Xanax? No, I don’t.”

  “I suffer from multiple ailments.”

  “No kidding.”

  Beatrice squatted down for a few moments, as if exhausted and traumatized by it all.

  “Get up!”

  She groaned as she stood up straight. “I want to die. I would rather die than live like this. I can’t cope with this.”

  “Get in the boat.”

  “Or what?”

  “Just get in. And we can discuss how I plan to get us out of here.”

  “You’re the one who got us in here! In the middle of fucking nowhere! On a goddamn trail that leads to the water. I can’t see a thing. I want to go home!”

  Stone grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’re still alive. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that when I killed that goddamn biker.”

  Beatrice grew quiet, brushing some bugs out of her hair.

  “You’re alive. Don’t you get it? If you try and disappear from them, you are as good as dead. With me? You have a chance.”

  “So you’re my protector now, huh? Lucky me!”

  “I’m your only fucking chance!”

  Beatrice turned and looked back down the trail. Then she looked at the dark waters up ahead. “What’s out there?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m asking you a goddamn straightforward question.”

  “This is the Everglades. Tropical wetlands. Mangrove swamps. Hundreds of tiny islands. It’s a tough place to survive. But it’s a good place to hide out. For now.”

  Beatrice bowed her head before she turned to face him. “Jimmy, I’m scared.”

  Stone sighed. “Listen, we’ve wasted enough time.
You either retrace our steps, or you get in the boat. Your choice. I’m done with this discussion.”

  Beatrice hung her head low. “You say they’ll kill me . . . How can you be so sure?”

  “Head back that way and you’ll find out yourself. Do you think the biker just wanted to make friends?”

  Beatrice looked down the dark trail again, then stared back out over the black water. She sighed. “I’m not going to make it, am I?”

  “You can do this. I promise. But it’s not going to be easy. I’ll try and help you.”

  “But I can go if I want?”

  “You’re free to go.”

  Beatrice looked at him, her face bathed in moonlight. “My instincts are saying you’re dangerous and I’d be nuts to get in the boat.”

  Stone said nothing.

  “But a tiny voice inside me is also telling me that you could have killed me and you haven’t. Better the devil you know maybe.”

  Stone looked out over the water. “We don’t know what’s out there. But you sure as hell do know what’s waiting for you if you turn around. They will kill you. I had to take that guy out or we would both be dead.”

  “So, where are you going in the boat?”

  “There are tiny islands all throughout the Everglades. I plan on getting to one and hunkering down.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “No guarantees?”

  “No guarantees.”

  She shook her head, climbed into the small boat, and made her way to the bow. “I must be mad. I must be absolutely fucking insane.”

  Stone tried hard not to smile. “You might want to face the direction we’re going to be traveling.”

  Beatrice turned herself around. She muttered to herself.

  Stone leaned over and untied the rope, which was attached to a wooden stake in the ground. Then he pushed off and climbed into the boat. He lifted one of the two oars and began to paddle out of the inland shallows and through the mangrove waters. There were bugs everywhere. Mosquitos bit their sweaty arms and necks.

  “Goddamn!” Beatrice shrieked, swatting something away from her face.

  “You need to think of these things in a different way.”

  “Oh yeah, what sort of way is that?”