Forging the Nightmare: A Jarrod Hawkins Technothriller

by J. J. Carlson

  “Only six or seven. Plenty left for ya,” the burly man said, taking a step back and appraising Jarrod's appearance. “It's a good thing, too; you look like you've been on a hunger strike for at least ten years.”

  “I pride myself on my girlish figure,” Jarrod responded. He nodded at the UMP 45. “Is that for me?”

  “Sure is,” Beef grabbed the sling, pulled it over his head and handed the weapon to Jarrod. “I'll be taking you to Makunza's compound, so you can meet the him and your assets.”

  Jarrod nodded. “So it's just me guarding three State Department flunkies? Kind of unusual, don't you think?”

  Beef shrugged, “I'm just the delivery boy. But from what I understand, Makunza has a pretty big security force of his own, so you're just here to advise.”

  They headed toward the baggage claim and retrieved Jarrod's suitcase. Beef threw it into the back of a pickup truck and moved around to the passenger door “You can drive, it'll help you learn the roads.”

  The drive was less than twenty miles, but it took more than an hour on the narrow, pitted roads. They were greeted by two shotgun-carrying locals when they reached the compound’s chain-link gate. Beef leaned forward and waved as one of them approached their vehicle. Recognizing the hulking security contractor, the man waved back and then nodded for the other guard to open the gate. They pulled in and parked along the side of the large, brick driveway. Jarrod killed the motor and hopped out.

  A large, round-faced man in flowing white clothes and jewel-studded sandals walked out of the main building, followed by three American State Department liaisons. The dark skin on his bald head glistened with perspiration as he called out, “Welcome! We are so pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Hawkins.” His perfect smile stretched from ear to ear.

  Jarrod smiled back and offered his hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Makunza, but please, call me Jarrod.”

  “Absolutely, my friend!” he boomed. “And you must call me Valdano. Come, I am certain you are eager to meet the ones you have been sent to protect.”

  A tall, middle-aged man with bushy gray hair was the first to step forward. He introduced himself as Ian Harding, the chief liaison. He was followed by Monica Hodges, a petite red-head and Clark Gibson, a dark-haired man with a handsome, narrow face. Jarrod nodded and shook hands with each in turn. Introductions were merely a formality, he had been given profiles on each asset and knew almost everything there was to know about them.

  “Come, we shall have tea and get to know you.” Valdano said, clapping Jarrod on the back and stretching a hand toward the main building.

  “Thank you, sir, and I appreciate the offer. However, I’d like to get acquainted with your staff and facility first.”

  Ian Harding nodded his assent, “That sounds like a good idea, Jarrod. We’ll be inside when you’re finished. Eric, you can head back into town. Thank you for dropping him off.”

  It took Jarrod a moment to realize Ian was talking about Beef. He gave his old friend a hug and said, “Keep your head down, buddy.”

  Beef smiled, “You know it. But things have been quiet lately. Hopefully your stay is as boring as mine’s been.” Beef waved at the rest of the group and climbed into the truck.

  Makunza led the three State Department officials back into the comfortable abode, and Jarrod set himself to meeting the security staff. He spent a few minutes talking with each guard and made detailed notes of the compound's physical security measures, including the number of surveillance cameras, their make and model, and their locations. He checked the fences for gaps or overhanging trees, examined the sturdiness of exterior doors and their locks, and diagrammed the position of every security light, reminding himself to check for glare and shadows after dark. When he was satisfied, he entered the three-story main building.

  It was spacious and well-appointed, especially considering the poverty he had driven past on the way in. The furniture and decor was imported from around the world—a desk from Italy, an Austrian corner cabinet, a set of French armchairs, Persian rugs and Scandinavian tapestries. Young boys and girls worked as the house servants, and they all wore colorful native garb. Security measures were minimal inside, and none of the guards were present. Jarrod ended his self-guided tour at a luxurious, smoke-filled lounge where he found the others.

  Makunza leaned forward and set down the hose from a jade hookah. “Jarrod,” he said, smoke billowing from his mouth and nose, “what do you think of my home and place of business?”

  “It is quite beautiful, and your security is excellent.” Jarrod clasped his hands behind his back. “I'll spend tomorrow reviewing search procedures, travel protocol, and local threats with your staff.”

  Makunza scrunched his face and gave a dismissive wave. “Do not work too hard, my friend. You are safe here, and my esteemed guests are safe as well.”

  The three State department officials nodded in agreement.

  “My people have brought safety and security to this village for years,” the big man added. “Please, do not be so serious. Consider this a vacation. Come, have a seat and enjoy yourself.”

  Jarrod took a seat between Makunza and the door. A boy who couldn't have been any older than ten walked in, expertly carrying a large, silver tray. It held a turquoise tea pot and several turquoise cups. Deftly, the boy balanced the tray in one hand and poured Jarrod a cup of tea, bowing slightly to indicate that he may take it. Jarrod nodded his thanks and delicately took the cup from the tray.

  The next few hours were business as usual for Makunza and the State Department liaisons. They discussed local politics, humanitarian aid projects, and most of all, funding. Jarrod was eventually shown to his living quarters on the far side of the compound, and was pleasantly surprised to find out he would be staying in his own room, a rare luxury when working security contracts in Africa.

  It was nearly midnight when the three people he was tasked to protect returned to their rooms across the hall. As Jarrod lay on his bed with his arms tucked behind his neck, a smile crept across his face. He couldn’t believe his luck at landing such a low-stress gig, and thought it would be a pleasant way to wrap up his career in professional security. Smiling, he thought of his family and slipped into a deep sleep.

  3

  Melody smiled and waved goodbye to two clients, then closed the glass door to her office. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she returned to her desk. She sank into her chair and, looking at her watch, gave a little sigh. Work days didn't normally drag on like this. She truly enjoyed being a financial adviser, but lately she was distracted. Jarrod had been gone for nearly a month, which was nothing unusual. It was unusual that he had not contacted her in over five days. He was normally so good about calling or at least sending an e-mail.

  Melody chewed on the end of her pen and drummed her fingers on her desk. She told herself he was just busy, but she didn’t really believe it. Jarrod never used that excuse before. And there was something…unsettling in his voice during their last phone call.

  The beeping intercom snapped her out of her reverie. Clicking the “talk” button at the base of the device, she said, “Go ahead,”

  “Your 1:30 is here early,” her secretary replied.

  Melody rested her face in her hands for a beat, then leaned forward and pressed the button again. “Alright, give me five minutes, then send her back.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and started scrolling through pictures of Jarrod and Josh. There was a picture of Jarrod dressed as a clown for Josh’s sixth birthday. The birthday-boy had begged for a clown to come and entertain, but when the moment arrived he was overwhelmed with fear. In the photo, Josh’s eyes were as big as saucers and his mouth was hanging open in a silent cry for his daddy, whom he didn’t recognize in the colorful makeup. In another picture, Jarrod had his son on his shoulders to celebrate the boy’s first home run in a little-league baseball game.

  Her eyes were brimming with tears when the phone began to vibrate in her hand. It showed an incomi
ng call from a number she did not recognize. She cleared her throat before sliding the answer button over. “Hello?”

  “Melody, it's me.” Jarrod's voice was calm, but serious.

  “Jarrod? Are you okay? Why haven't you called?” Her voice contained a mixture of relief and anger.

  “I'm sorry I haven't been in touch.” He paused. “The good news is I'm back in the States. But I'll need a ride.”

  Melody frowned. Jarrod wasn’t supposed to finish his assignment for another month. “You're home already? What happened? Where are you?”

  There was another pause, and she got the feeling that he was checking over his shoulder. “Oh nothing, my replacement showed up early, and I decided to just come home.”

  Melody recognized the tone in Jarrod's voice. He sounded like that when he couldn't discuss something confidential, or when his clients were in the room. She took a deep breath and exhaled before speaking. “Alright, where are you?”

  “I'm in, uh, D.C. right now...”

  Nausea swept over her. “What are you doing in Washington D.C.?”

  “Oh, it's nothing, I just had a little debriefing to do. It's fine, though. I'm free to g—” Jarrod cut himself off. “I'm all set to come home.”

  Melody sighed. “Okay, don't worry. I'll grab Josh from school and I'll be right there. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Jarrod hung up a little faster than Melody expected. She stood up and tried to wipe the tears away without smearing any makeup, then walked briskly out the door.

  Approaching her secretary’s desk, she said, “I'm so sorry, Beth, but I have to go. Could you ask Tiff to cover my next appointment? Tell her I'll owe her one.”

  The secretary could see the redness in her eyes. She knew her boss wasn’t one to cry without a good reason, so she made a shooing motion with her hands and said, “Go on, go on, I'll take care of it.”

  Melody mouthed “thank you” and walked out of the waiting area, avoiding eye contact with the middle-aged woman that was there to see her. She hurried out of the building and jumped into her Mercedes, the tires squealing as she sped onto the street.

  Tapping the button on her Bluetooth, she called the school to let them know she would be picking Josh up early. Her son was waiting in the front office when she arrived, eager to know what was going on. Melody waived at the office manager and led Josh to the car.

  As they set out for the long journey, Melody explained the reason for pulling Josh out of class. Josh could sense the concern in his mother's voice, but he was too excited about the idea of seeing his father to dwell on it.

  Josh’s anticipation and Melody’s anxiety made the trip seem to drag on forever. It took nearly eight hours for the two of them to reach their destination: a foreboding FBI office on the south side of the city.

  Jarrod was waiting at the edge of the parking lot, sitting on his suitcase with his backpack between his knees. He gave them a tired smile as they pulled up.

  “Dad!” Josh yelled as he jumped out of the car before it had completely stopped. “Welcome home!”

  Jarrod wrapped him up in a big hug and lifted him off the ground. “Thanks, buddy! I’ve been looking forward to this moment since the minute I left!”

  He set Josh down and walked over to give Melody a hug. Seeing her crossed arms and concerned expression, he whispered, “We'll talk later.”

  Josh helped his father load his suitcase into the trunk, and they drove a few miles to a twenty-four-hour diner. The mood at the table was somber, but Josh didn’t notice. Rocking back and forth, he bombarded his father with questions. Jarrod was thankful for the distraction, but couldn’t keep from dozing off several times before they received their check.

  They decided to spend the remainder of the night at a hotel in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Melody was up with the sun, but she didn’t wake the others. They slept right through check out time, and the trio didn’t resume their trip until midafternoon. Jarrod took over driving, in part to give Melody a break, but also to have excuse to limit conversation.

  They were about 20 minutes from home when Josh piped up with a question, as if struck by a sudden realization. “Dad, why were you at a FBI building?”

  Jarrod didn’t respond right away. Staring out at the road grimly, he sighed and said, “They caught me with the baby gorilla.”

  Josh rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Dad. Normally we just pick you up at the airport.”

  “Alright, alright,” Jarrod chuckled, trying to put his son at ease. “The Democratic Republic of the Congo has a lot of crime and violence right now. They wanted to know if I could give them advice for how to deal with it, since I was just there.”

  Josh was satisfied with the answer. “That's really cool! I bet you were a big help.”

  Melody glanced over at Jarrod, her lips pursed. He met her gaze and she saw the pain in his eyes, but didn’t say anything. No one spoke for the rest of the trip.

  They pulled into the driveway an hour before midnight and Jarrod volunteered to cook a late dinner. “It's been a while since I've had access to a good kitchen,” he said with a shrug.

  Melody poked lazily at her food and, as soon as Josh was done eating, she said, “Head on up to bed. I've got work tomorrow, so you and your father can catch up while I'm gone.”

  Reluctant to leave, Josh hugged his parents goodnight and trudged upstairs.

  Jarrod watched him go, and when he turned to face Melody, he found the same, stony expression she had worn all day. “Give me just a minute,” he said softly. “I want to make sure Josh is asleep.”

  Melody nodded. To her surprise, Jarrod started making a pot of coffee. When they had both consumed large cups of the dark liquid, they went upstairs to check on Josh. He was sound asleep. They padded downstairs and into the den on the far side of the house. Josh closed and locked the door, then rested his forehead against it.

  “Jarrod, you're scaring me.”

  “Not as much as I scare myself.” When he turned around, he seemed to have aged a decade. He walked over and took a seat in front of his wife. “Something happened over there. Something bad.”

  Melody didn’t speak, so Jarrod started right in, “Do you remember me telling you about Valdano Makunza?”

  She nodded. “He was working with your State Department people, right?”

  Jarrod clenched his teeth. “Yes, he was. But they aren't working with him anymore.”

  “Why?” Melody asked, searching his eyes.

  After a long moment, Jarrod said, “Because he's dead.”

  Melody covered her mouth. She reached out and grasped his hand. “Honey, I'm…I’m so sorry.”

  He pulled his hand away. “You shouldn't be. I killed him.”

  4

  Melody recoiled into her chair. Waves of disbelief and shock washed over her. “I—I don't understand. Why? How? You would never…could never…”

  Jarrod sat in silence, staring off into space.

  Melody continued, this time with an edge to her voice. “Why would you risk everything you have, everything we have to do something like that? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? Have Joshua grow up without a father?”

  Jarrod took a deep breath and said, “That's why I brought you down here. I want to explain everything to you, but I don’t want Josh to know.”

  He looked at her with bloodshot eyes. “You have to understand, I'm not supposed to tell you any of this. When I called you from the FBI, I had been detained for twenty-four hours. They interrogated me for every second of it, and threatened to lock me up under suspicion of murder if I didn't sign a nondisclosure agreement. I didn't want to put you and Josh through that, so I signed it. I figured that justice had been done already, so it didn't matter if no one else knew the truth.”

  “Justice?” Melody asked in disbelief. “How is murder justice?”

  “It isn’t justice to stand idle while a monster destroys the lives of innocent children!” Jarrod thundered. He paused, fe
eling ashamed of his outburst. When he spoke again, it was just above a whisper. “I'm sorry. I'm just tense from the past few days. Please, don't judge me too harshly until you've heard my explanation.”

  Melody regarded him carefully, then crossed one leg over the other.

  Jarrod ran his fingers through his hair and began. “The first week was great, as you probably gathered from our early conversations. Valdano's security team was more than adequate, and there was really no reason for me to be there. In fact, his security team was so good that they were functioning as peacekeepers in the local area. There were no attacks by militia, no terrorism, nothing coming from Rwanda. It was...tranquil.

  “I advised them to make a few changes to their travel routes and patrol schedules, but even that was just a precaution. Threats were non-existent. I was content just to earn an easy paycheck for the first two weeks, but something wasn't right. It was too good to be true.”

  Jarrod shifted in his chair. “I started to notice things about our gracious host. He had tons of visitors coming to the front gate—poor families looking for help. He never turned anyone away, but he would always meet with them in a private room. After a while, I noticed these families would arrive with one or two of their kids, then the parents would leave by themselves.

  “I wanted to know more, but none of the guards would tell me anything. Valdano met the families in a small building near the gate, and no one seemed too concerned about guarding it when it was empty.”

  Jarrod shrugged. “So I snuck in one night. The lock on the front door was easy to jimmy open with a credit card. Inside, a smaller room had a punch-code lock on it, but they used the same code as all the other doors on the compound, so I got right in. There wasn't much in the room, just a small desk and a computer for gathering footage from a small camera within the adjacent room. I saved some of the files onto a thumb drive, took it back to my room, and reviewed the footage on my laptop. I didn't honestly expect to find anything incriminating, because it was all so poorly secured.”