Zero Mercy: The Evolution of Pierce Wellington III

by Scarlett Braden

  As the team carefully approached the first opening, I

  slowly peeked my head past the opening to see through into the

  makeshift room, hoping to not alert anyone of our existence yet.

  Inside the room were three cots, each with a man sleeping. Like

  silent lightning, three of the team members moved into the room

  and silently subdued the men. The three men were gagged and

  handcuffed together. All three men’s feet were bound together.

  The team then moved to the next room.

  When I saw who inhabited the next room, I placed my

  index finger over my lips in the universal sign to stay quiet and

  stepped boldly into the doorway. Before me, both tied to chairs

  were the Crown Princess Cecelia and Dr. Korzinski. As I quickly

  and efficiently cut the ropes that bound them to the chairs I

  quietly whispered the question, “How many men?” First in

  French to Cecelia and then in English to the doctor. They both

  held up a hand, palm out, fingers splayed indicating five men. I

  mouthed and motioned with my hand for them to stay. Then the

  team moved to the third opening.

  It housed a small kitchen but was devoid of any human

  beings. We moved on to the fourth and last opening. There were

  two desks in the room. Each desk held a computer and large

  monitor. Behind the desks were the remaining two men. The

  team moved in and the captors became captives in the blink of

  an eye. I quickly snapped photos of the five men, the Crown

  Princess, and the doctor and sent them to the team coordinator.

  I helped the doctor and the princess up the stairs while the rest

  of the team herded the kidnappers along behind.

  Back above ground, I radioed for extraction choppers.

  Three choppers would be sent. One for the victims, one for the

  kidnappers and one for the team. As I assisted the Princess and

  the doctor into the first chopper, I received a message on my

  phone. I didn’t check it until the chopper lifted off to return to

  the palace. As the kidnappers were loaded into the second

  chopper, I checked my message. Facial recognition software run

  on the photos I sent identified the two men in the last room as

  Americans. And the message said, “received word for you to call

  home when mission complete.”

  I remembered the only other time I received the message

  to call home. When my grandmother, my last remaining

  grandparent died. Maybe Nicole had the triplets, it wasn’t time

  yet, but don’t multiples often come early?

  Chapter 5

  Back at base operations, I asked the commander, “Who

  are these idiots?” Of course, I was referring to the American men

  involved in kidnapping a political royal and a renowned

  scientist.

  “The most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. They are owners of

  rival pharmaceutical companies,” he told me.

  “What? What the hell?”

  Harrison stood up and replied, “I read on the way here,

  there are some people who believe astatine will cure cancer. Not

  just some cancer or cancers but all cancers. They’ve done some

  research with synthetic astatine but want to try the natural

  element. You know different isotopes work differently.”

  “So they didn’t really want the material…”

  “No, they wanted someone to try to bring it up in a fit of

  desperation which would effectively destroy it. Then it couldn’t

  be tested or used.”

  “Is there never an end to the way the human race can

  screw each other over in the name of greed?” I said shaking my

  head. I really can’t understand people some days. “I have a

  phone call to make. I’ll be right back.”

  “Mom? I got the message to call home. What’s going on?

  Did Nicole have the babies?”

  “No, it’s not Nicole, it’s Harper.”

  “Harper? What’s wrong, what happened?”

  “We don’t know yet honey. She’s in the hospital. How

  quick can you get here?”

  “I’ll apply for emergency leave now. I’ll let you know when

  I can get there. I’m wrapping up a mission. How serious is it?”

  “I don’t think she’s going to make it. I’m pretty sure Tony

  is behind this and your dad is completely certain. If she dies, I

  fear what your dad will do. I’m afraid he intends to be judge jury

  and executioner.”

  “What do you mean Tony is behind it?”

  “We recently found out that he’s been hitting her. This

  time, it’s bad. She’s in a coma they say there will be brain

  damage if she survives.”

  “I’m on my way, try to keep dad away from Tony!”

  Son of a bitch! I’ll kill that asshole!

  Chapter 6

  I didn’t make it home in time to tell Harper goodbye. I

  hear a lot of people say that following the loss of a loved one. I

  think maybe I’m supposed to say it. But that’s not why I’m sad.

  It’s not what I’m pissed about.

  When they brought Harper into the emergency room, she

  was already in a coma. No one got to have a conversation with

  her. No one got to tell her goodbye. No one got to tell her how

  much we all love her.

  I didn’t make it home in time. In time to stop the son of a

  bitch. In time for her to tell me what was going on. In time to

  find out on my own if she wouldn’t tell me. How in the hell does

  something like this happen in my family? To my sister? Where

  the hell was I? I’m the great protector. The hero. I’m supposed to

  save the day. But where was I?

  I was saving someone else’s daughter. In another country.

  Over the issue of natural resources and profit margins. Why was

  saving someone in another country more important that saving

  my own sister? The sister that made me feel loved and missed

  when I was a twelve-year-old boy who felt forsaken. Why was a

  Crown Princess more important than my sister?

  The answer, of course, is that no one is more important

  than anyone else. I was doing my job. My duty. I was where I

  was supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to do. I didn’t

  know my sister needed me or I would have been here. And

  Harper knew that. She knew if she told me I would have been

  here. I would have taken that man down to within an inch of his

  life and I would have taken her away from here. Maybe she was

  working up to telling me. I know all of this logically and in my

  mind. But my heart is breaking. That son of a bitch was beating

  and killing my sister while I was off somewhere else saving

  someone I don’t even know. What kind of hero is that?

  I’m looking for Tony. I will drive around and through

  every neighborhood, every street and search every bar until I

  find that bastard. Mom said he works at a meat packing plant. A

  sausage plant somewhere just outside of town. They said I’ll be

  able to smell it and know I’m there. It won’t smell like sausage,

  Don said. It’s foul. Just like the jerk that works there. I already

  went to the sausage place, and as usual, Don was right. That

  place stinks. I may never be able to eat sausage a
gain. They said

  he hasn’t been to work in three days. Dad’s looking for him too.

  Tony’s driving a 1983 Ford pickup faded red and we have the tag

  number. So where would a lily-livered wife beater go, while his

  wife lays in a coma in a hospital and dies?

  “Dad, I found him. His truck is parked at a house on

  Maple. The address is 432 but I’ve got this. Go on home and take

  care of mom.”

  “Son, don’t do anything stupid. He’s not worth it. Don’t go

  in there. Call the police and give them his location. They want to

  talk to him. Let’s do this by the book.”

  “Okay, Dad. I hear you.” As I got out of the rental car, dad

  pulled up behind me.

  “What the hell Dad, I thought you were going home to

  Mom?”

  “I never said that you did. You call the cops?”

  “Nope. I never said I would. I said I heard you. I’m going

  in there.”

  “Well then, I guess we go in together. It sure would be

  nice if we knew who lived here.”

  “Yep, it would, but honestly I don’t care.”

  “Me either.”

  We didn’t knock. We didn’t ring the doorbell. We didn’t

  kick in the door, and we didn’t shoot our way in. I just turned

  the knob and strode into the house as if I did it every day.

  Tony sat in a recliner, drinking a longneck beer and

  watching Pawn Stars on TV. When he looked up and saw me

  and Dad he tried to launch out of the chair, his feet fell through

  the opening between the seat and the footrest and he pitched

  forward. I swung at his face.

  Dad pulled me back by the arm and stepped in front of

  me, raised his arm and fired his pistol. The shot penetrated

  Tony’s back and the bullet settled in his gut. Dad then reached

  down, pulled Tony up and threw him back in the chair and then

  shot him in the heart.

  “Dad! No! Why! You said he wasn’t worth it! Give me the

  gun. Get out of here. Go home to Mom. I’ll take care of this.”

  “No cadet. Call the cops like I told you to in the first place.

  I’ve got this. Your mom and Nicole need you. You have to be

  strong for them.”

  “Dad I haven’t been a cadet for 6 years. Why are you

  doing this? I’ll handle it.”

  “Son, I’m dying. I found out last week and haven’t had a

  chance to tell anyone yet. I won’t live until this goes to trial. I

  did this. I’ll take the responsibility. Because when I’m gone the

  family needs you. I’m proud of you, I always have been.”

  Chapter 7

  We buried my sister. Three weeks later we buried my dad.

  I spent another three weeks with my Mom until it became quite

  clear to both of us that she didn’t need me.

  My mother, the perfect Army wife to the end. She loved

  my father, she was loyal to him. But she was strong. Army

  strong. How could we not have known this about her?

  She knew I had to get back to work. And I did. But

  Harper’s death stayed with me. I suppose knowing something

  like this can happen to any family made me more aware of how

  women are treated. I was always taught to be a gentleman, of

  course. But now I realize, it’s not just about opening doors and

  walking on the outside of the sidewalk.

  Being a gentleman is about how you treat a woman.

  Period. Physically and emotionally. It’s about being supportive,

  believing in her, cherishing her, as well as taking care of her. It’s

  allowing her to be anything and everything she wants to be,

  even if that changes on a regular basis.

  This realization as part of my maturing and growing up

  sure made being a soldier harder. I have lived and traveled all

  over the world. Following my sister’s death and my rise through

  the Army ranks I lived and worked in even more countries. With

  my new found perspective regarding the treatment of women, I

  noticed things I might not have noticed if Harper was still alive.

  We hear about females being denied education. We hear

  about them being forced to keep their face covered. We hear

  about genital mutilation and being stoned for wanting a divorce

  or committing adultery. But I never really thought about those

  things from a woman’s perspective. What it says to her psyche

  that she isn’t worthy of education, she isn’t pretty enough or is

  too pretty to be seen in public, her only value is to produce and

  raise children. What would it do to the very men in my company

  if they were treated that way? Would they be who they are now?

  Would they be able to fight for their country? I don’t think they

  would.

  Chapter 8

  Now I have to decide what to do with the rest of my life.

  The thing I do best is being a soldier. The only thing I can think

  of now is that I want to stop other women from ending up like

  my sister.

  It seems to me that for the better part of my forty-two

  years, I have been responsible for taking care of someone or

  some abstract ideal. I worked hostage situations, diverted coups,

  protected artifacts, and liberated refugees. I pulled more than

  anyone’s share of my fellow brothers out of bad situations.

  I was seldom home. I talked to my sister and my mom

  whenever I could, and wrote letters when I couldn’t. There

  hasn’t been time in my life for a woman. I wasn’t in one place

  long enough for any kind of relationship to take hold. My world,

  my relationships were my family and my unit.

  I’ve given Uncle Sam and my country twenty years of my

  life. That is if you don’t count the years growing up on bases,

  and training for my eventual career. Some would say my whole

  life was lived for the red white and blue. And I didn’t mind it,

  never really thought about it until now, when I’m just months

  away from retirement. What will I do now? Where will I live? I

  can’t think of a single place on earth that seems like home.

  So as my retirement from the Army approaches, I’m at

  odds. I’ve seen most of the world, even though mostly what I see

  isn’t on any tourist maps. I’m too young to retire from working,

  so I need to figure out what all this training will translate to in

  the real world, and where I want to hang my hat. Maybe if I stay

  in one place long enough, I’ll find that special someone who can

  put up with a guy like me.

  Nicole is tough as nails. She’s the antithesis of Harper.

  She and her husband Don live in Atlanta. They have tween

  triplets, Tanya, Tory, and Tristan. Try saying that three times.

  In my opinion, Nicole is a bonafide linguistics expert to get that

  introductory sentence out. I don’t know what they were

  thinking. It was just as bad when it was toddler triplets, Tanya,

  Tory, and Tristan. On top of raising those three, she’s a

  corporate CEO. I love her, Don and the kids dearly, but I’m not

  sure I want to live in the same town.

  Mom still lives in Annapolis. She still enjoys her wive's

  teas and officer cocktail parties. She’s lived in Annapolis now

  longer than she live
d anywhere else in her adult life. She’s

  active, healthy and has friends.

  I’m still wrestling with the guilt of not being around for

  Harper when she needed me. She’s the one who always needed

  me most. She’s the one who was always there for me. I know it’s

  normal. But damn it still smarts.

  I think I’ll drive around the country. I always called the

  United State home, but in all honesty, I haven’t spent much

  time here. As I drive around I’ll place ads as an investigator.

  Sure, I’ll spend some time taking photos of cheating husbands,

  but maybe, just maybe I’ll be in the right place at the right time

  to help someone. Maybe I can help someone trying to escape an

  abusive husband. Or help any woman, for that matter, who finds

  herself in need. I didn’t make it in time for Harper. But I’ll be in

  time for someone else.

  The End

  Also by Scarlett Braden:

  New Orleans' little darling, Lily Grace has disappeared. Abby and

  Trent join forces with their New Orleans friends to search for Lily Grace.

  Imagine the surprise when Abby’s fugitive ex-husband turns up in the middle

  of the case. In New Orleans, nothing is as it seems. Kidnapping, murder,

  corruption, and voodoo simmering like a big pot of jambalaya lead to

  unexpected surprises beyond every door and around every corner. Book 2 in

  the Providence in Ecuador series won't disappoint as it bridges the United

  States and expat haven Ecuador with loads of suspense.

  The race for power and control explodes when US Attorney Colleen

  McAllister puts away a Memphis kingpin. Colleen goes from the front lines, to

  a kidnapped pawn, dragging her explosive-expert husband into a deadly

  game of cat and mouse. Turf wars, corruption, gang activity, and confusion

  fill the streets as everyone is drawn to the vacuum the arrest creates.

  Trent, Pierce, and Frankie fly to Memphis to help. Can they succeed in

  rescuing Colleen, her husband Court, and all of Memphis when bombs,

  murder, and poison are the weapons of choice? Can they untangle the web

  of influence and corruption when the stakes are so high? First place in

  Memphis only means you are still breathing.

  Read Terror on the Bluff today, the third novel in the Providence in Ecuador