by Peter Hoole
“Leon,” the Englishman began “Have you ever been to Los Angeles?”
Chapter Two
Trudging through the dense bush had always been difficult. It was a track Emmett had walked so many times, it had become second nature, but that didn’t make it any easier. He could remember each turn, each shrub. He knew how many steps were between his car and the peak – two hundred and twenty-five - the distance to the ideal location.
And though he’d practised with a similar object, the package he now carried seemed much more cumbersome than what he’d prepared for. The discomfort didn’t concern him, because he was about to prove his worth.
“You’re changing the world now.” Emmett reminded himself of his mentor’s words. “What you now know about where the world has been, and where it is, and where it will be… you are part of it. Once your task is complete, you will have guaranteed your place in the future.”
Emmett reached the opening between the trees. He stood and gazed down upon the view he’d seen so many times before. It was a view he had etched in his memory.
“I don’t know when we will need you.” He remembered the words from his last encounter. “But we need you to be ready. When the call comes, you will need to take action.”
Pierre, Emmett’s mentor, had told him everything he needed to know. Where to set up and what to bring. Most importantly, Pierre had taught Emmett how to use the equipment.
Emmett gently lowered the package onto the ground, next to where he had marked the hole dug on a previous visit. Kneeling, he brushed away the dirt and loose branches he’d placed over the wooden cover.
The flimsy piece of balsa wood came away easily, exposing the hole. Only about a foot and a half deep, the hole measured just over five feet in length and two feet in width.
He removed the blanket he’d wrapped around the package, and carefully placed it into the hole.
It fitted perfectly.
Emmett’s body relaxed. His job was mostly done.
Now, all he had to do was wait.
He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait long.
After placing the balsa over the box, Emmett spread the dirt and leaves back where they’d been.
After Emmett restored the camouflage, he stood and took one last look at the view. The large building opposite was relatively quiet, save for a few workers. There was little to no noise emanating from the building. No people were evident, and if it had not been for the workers in front, Emmett may have assumed the building was vacant. It appeared just as it always did at this time in the morning.
Emmett paused and considered his impending actions. There would be many lives affected by his activities, both in the long and short term. Indeed, many lives would be lost. The guilt of affecting so many lives did, at times, strain his conscience.
But Emmett was committed to the cause.
He was committed to the plan.
How could I not be, Emmett thought as he smiled.
He had turned to walk away, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered the throw-away cell.
“Pierre?”
“Emmett,” his mentor said. “How did you go? Did you get it?”
“Yes, I did”
“Is it in place?”
“Yes”
“And you’ve timed yourself? How long does it take?”
“It can be completed in twenty minutes.”
“Really? That quick?” Pierre asked, seemingly impressed by Emmett’s efficiency.
“I have practised,” Emmett replied, smiling again.
“Excellent! Well, it won’t be long now.”
“Has the time been set?”
“Indeed it has. I will notify you soon.” Pierre paused briefly before he spoke again, and Emmett thought he was making an effort to sound sincere. “Emmett?”
“Yes?”
“Well done.” With that, Pierre disconnected the call.
Emmett hadn’t expected praise. When Pierre had brought Emmett into the plan, he hadn’t proven to be the father figure Emmett had expected. Instead, he’d been a harsh teacher, who had, on more than one occasion, publicly and painfully belittled Emmett in front of others.
While Emmett had always been imposing figure. Standing at six feet, he had always towered over his classmates. Everything he tried, he was the best at. Despite this, Pierre always seemed to find a way to make Emmett feel as though his achievements meant nothing.
But all that seemed so long ago.
Emmett turned to once again look at the view.
A loud noise filled the air, and Emmett steered his gaze away from the airport terminal.
From the north, a plane was coming in to land.
Emmett held his hands close to his eyes and formed them into an imaginary telescope.
Again, the secret smile crept across his face.
A target that big should be easy to shoot down.
Chapter Three
Darcy woke with a start. The loud shrill of the alarm emitted by her cell-phone was enough to force her awake. She struggled for a moment, because she hadn’t slept well. Her thoughts had dwelled on the email she’d received the previous day. Paul hadn’t given her much information.
Hi Darc,
Still Down Under
Keep these safe.
I’ll be back in a couple of days.
Trust me… this is huge.
P
Darcy had to send a reply from her phone, asking Paul what she was looking at, as when she’d opened the files, all she’d seen were pixelated images. The only exception had been the last file, which opened on a blank screen.
Paul had always been competitive, but Darcy had thought he trusted her. Why he couldn’t have sent a bit more information with the pictures, Darcy didn’t know. She didn’t even know why he was in Australia.
She had thought about it all night. Even the presence of Caleb, her long term partner, the previous night hadn’t been enough to distract her.
After getting a nudge from Caleb, she turned off the alarm. She reached her arms perpendicular to the bed, and spread them wide, as if she was creating a half snow angel above the bed. On the down sweep, she managed to nudge Caleb back.
“Humph,” Caleb grunted, as her firm touch roused him.
“Come on, time to move, soldier,” Darcy said
“Hmmm… couple more minutes…” Caleb groaned as he rolled over.
“Couple more minutes?” Darcy exclaimed, now wide awake. “I thought you Army guys were made of sterner stuff?”
“Hmmm…” Caleb grumbled. “Marines, you mean?”
“Okay then, Marine boy. Up and at ’em” Darcy chuckled.
With a groan, Caleb sat up on the side of the bed and picked up his watch. It was 6:00am. Why the hell am I getting up this early? Caleb thought to himself.
For the most part, Caleb had had a great time since enlisting in the Marines, but the last couple of months had been trying. Starting as a grunt, straight from the enlistment office, Caleb had flourished under the regime and philosophy of the Corps. This reflected in his work, and it didn’t take too long before he was recognized among the elite. He had established himself as one of the best fighters, marksmen and leaders the Corps had seen. His range of missions varied, with Caleb being one of the first Marines on the ground in Africa, and his work during the conflicts in the Middle East had been seen by his superiors as outstanding. And those were the engagements he could discuss.
After his first few years, Caleb had attained the rank of Captain and been tasked with forming his own team.
Caleb had sourced the best of the best. There were five team members at the start, but eventually that grew, with the success of missions in Beijing, Pyongyang, Havana and even more friendly places such as London, Berlin, Sydney and Wellington. Eventually, Caleb had more than a two dozen team members situated across multiple locations.
The nature of their work wasn’t what Caleb had initially expected it to be. Most of the time, they were charged with getting into a building, f
inding some information – sometimes stealing equipment – and then returning with the information to their direct supervisor.
‘Aggressive hacking’ was how Caleb had come to refer to it. That’s not to say the work wasn’t dangerous. On all but one occasion, the mission had called for lives to be taken, and there were also lives lost. While Caleb lamented the loss of life, he was still a solider, and he accepted the truth that sometimes, soldiers die.
For the first few years of their missions, Caleb and his team answered to Michael Dunleavy, the then Chief-of-Staff to the President. Caleb was initially honoured by the job. He had been a long-time admirer of the President, and had always seen the leader of the country as a revered position.
After a time though, Caleb had become increasingly concerned about the missions they were being asked to perform. At first, they were simple, and it was easy to interpret why they had been considered necessary. “Go to Beijing, and bring back the information,” Caleb was told.
He understood that.
China, while not officially an enemy combatant, still held many secrets the United States needed to know.
But Britain, Australia, Germany – and others – they were supposed to be trusted allies. Why was he being asked to go there and steal information? Wasn’t it breaking some treaty or something?
Over time, as happens with all administrations, Dunleavy left the oval office, citing stress and burn-out. For several weeks, Caleb and his team had received no further instructions. While not unusual, the fact was that the only person Caleb had ever received orders from in the past, was no longer in the job. Caleb had assumed that he would be contacted by the next person to take on the role, in due course.
After a time, he’d started receiving his orders straight from the top – directly from President Hawkins. In fact, it was Caleb who Hawkins was on the phone to, when he’d been abruptly cut-off. The reason for Hawkins’ call was never apparent to Caleb. The only part he remembered was when the President referred to “The Source”. That was all the information he had received, and for the past few months, Caleb not been able to figure out why it was so important.
Later that evening, news broke of Hawkins’ assassination.
After that call, Caleb hadn’t received any orders. Not from the new President. Not from his Chief-of-Staff. Not even from his old commanding officer.
For some unknown reason, Caleb and his team had been cut-off, and now he needed answers.
As he rolled out of bed, he contemplated his next move.
It’s been long enough, Caleb thought of the months that had passed, time to figure it out.
“You okay babe?” asked Darcy.
“Sure...” Caleb replied easily, wanting to assuage the worry he could hear in her voice. “It’s just... work.”
Caleb hadn’t told Darcy much about the details of his work. He told himself it was because he wasn’t allowed to tell her. But deep down, he knew it was for his own self-preservation. If Darcy knew half the things he’d done, half the number of people he’d killed, Caleb worried how Darcy would view him.
The thought of possibly losing Darcy was more than he could bear. He would do anything for her, even if that meant keeping things from her.
“I know just the thing,” Darcy said with a wink.
“Oh really?” said Caleb, winking back. The memories of their previous night of love-making wasn’t far from his mind.
“Wait right here,” Darcy ordered as she left the bed, “I’ll be right back.”
She left the room, and Caleb leaned back against the bedhead, wondering what she was up to. When she reappeared, a couple of minutes later, she was carrying a blueberry muffin in one hand, her laptop in the other.
“Oh baby, you know me too well,” Caleb said, offering her a bright smile.
“Anything for you, babe,” Darcy said, her wink even more playful than before.
She handed the muffin to Caleb, and settled back on the bed.
Darcy opened up the laptop while Caleb enjoyed the muffin. When she looked down, her hair fell down over her eyes and Caleb suppressed the urge to push it back for her. When the screen fired up, he noticed it was open on an email Darcy had received and he swallowed a mouthful of the muffin, staring at the screen.
“Babe...” Caleb said, straightening up to get a better view of the screen, “where did that come from?”
“Ummm...” Darcy began, studying the screen, “Paul sent it yesterday.”
Caleb put down the muffin and took the laptop from Darcy, despite her protests. He looked at the description on the last attachment. “Paul? Why would Paul send this to you?” Caleb asked.
Darcy shrugged. “No idea... he sometimes sends me stuff as a back-up, in case his computer gets fried.”
“Did he tell you what it’s about?”
“Nope. All the information I got is in there. That’s all he sent.”
“Darc... this is important!” Caleb snapped.
Darcy’s eyes widened. “Okay, Caleb... I get it... What’s so important?”
“I’m not sure yet... but... do you know what that is?” Caleb pointed to the last attachment.
“No idea. It didn’t do anything when I opened it... just showed me a blank screen”
“Shit,” Caleb said.
“What? What is it?” Darcy asked, sounding anxious.
Caleb paused, and took a deep breath, feeling the adrenalin beginning to pound beneath his skin. “Darcy... that’s a tracking program...”
Chapter Four
The tall, strongly built man walked down the corridor. As he passed the hundreds of people who were coming and going, Leon suffered his first tinge of remorse.
While his role in the plan was minor; more-or-less tying up loose ends and acting as back-up, Leon knew he was making his contribution. And that contribution was not a positive one for these people.
He steadily made his way towards his destination, not wanting to draw any attention.
He remembered his training, particularly the reasons he was chosen by the Englishman. He was, in the Englishman’s words, normal. As far as the description went, Leon had to agree.
Prior to his first encounter with the Englishman, Leon had worked as an orderly at Miami General. He had always had ambitions of improving his social standing, and when he’d enrolled in college, he became the first of his family to do so. He even planned on doing some post-graduate studies after he finished, possibly in marine biology or something similar.
Then, at just nineteen, in the infancy of his degree, he’d met Josie.
Josie had quickly become the love of his life. They were inseparable and after a brief courtship, they married. This was against the advice of pretty much everyone, including his family.
Still at college, Leon continued to do well, achieving excellent scores in most classes and his plans remained firmly on track, despite the slight detour of adding a wife to his path.
Then, towards the end of his freshman year, Josie fell pregnant with their first son, Aaron. Leon’s son was born in the December of that year, his daughter Lilly following the year after. Though he only had a year and a half left to obtain his degree, Leon had few choices left. He asked his family for help, but after their objections to his marriage, he wasn’t surprised when they refused to give him any financial help.
With a wife and two young children to support, Leon was down to his only viable choice. He left college and took up work, wherever he could find it. He eventually ended up employed as an orderly, a job he despised, but none-the-less appreciated for the steady pay check it provided. After all, work wasn’t easy to find, especially for an unqualified college dropout.
For several months, Leon toiled in his work, hating every moment of the menial occupation. Over time, he started to come to terms with his lot.
Then, he met the Englishman. He was approached at work, and offered a free meal and Leon couldn’t see the harm in accepting.
It was over that dinner when the Englishman offer
ed Leon an opportunity. An opportunity that would not only change his life, but would ensure his family would flourish well into the future.
It was an opportunity Leon simply couldn’t refuse.
After accepting, Leon began devoting much of his time and energy to the wishes of the Englishman. It was during this time when Leon came to realise and appreciate the true nature of the work required of him.
Last night was the first time he’d been set a task that didn’t require direct supervision. The Englishman had made all the decisions previously, and pulled the trigger if required.
The night before was the first time Leon had done it himself.
It was the first time Leon had killed a man. He was surprised he hadn’t felt any remorse.
Perhaps it was his conditioning. Perhaps it was the thought of setting up a viable future for his family.
Perhaps it was his rage at the journalist, who had dared to threaten that future.
Or, perhaps it was just his nature, but Leon had been surprised by just how easy it had been to pull the trigger.
He pondered this as he walked to the departure gate, approaching the security inspection.
Remember your training, Leon thought.
Leon slowed his breathing, deliberately returning his elevated heartbeat to normal.
He thought about his family, and the future they would have. The prospect calmed him. He even managed a smile when he handed his bag and laptop to the bored, middle-aged blonde who was responsible for placing items on the belt.
His carry bag disappeared into the X-Ray machine, and Leon walked through the security scanner, knowing there was nothing in his bag or on his body which would cause the security officials to stop him.
His last remaining concern was the final sweep. He hoped the bomb he’d handled recently hadn’t left any residue on his skin or clothing. Leon picked up his bag from the rollers – it had passed through the X-Ray without any issues – and proceeded towards the waiting security officers. To his relief, he simply walked past them, unhindered.
One more step, he thought.
Needing only to clear the customs line, Leon readied his passport. He opened it, repeating the contents to himself, one more time.
