by C. R. Daems
"Yes, you, Nasser, and Jaffar think the same."
We only had to wait an extra hour for Tony and his team to arrive and were in the air a half hour later. To my embarrassment, our Pilot stopped back to say hello to me, and the Steward, Manny, treated me like the VIP of the party. Tony sat down next to me part way into the flight. By then, I decided he and his team were not assassins. What else do I have to do?
"Raifah was right. You don't see the world the same as the rest of us. I have to admit that I was distracted by the Falls and failed to see his line of approach. But even if I had, I don't know what I would have done. Probably something that would have caused him to detonate the bomb-like draw my gun.
"After having thought about it for a half hour, your shouting only caused him to look, stopped him from giving Raifah his message, and permitted you to approach without alarming him. Even had I been able to grab the hand holding the detonator, I would have tried to subdue him. I would never have considered killing him, since he wasn't armed in the typical sense. I understand the eye, but why stab him under the arm?
"It contains all the nerves to the arm and also an artery. The knee was to keep him from jerking out of my grasp. The eye was probably unnecessary."
"How did you know they weren't firemen?"
"I can't imagine a fire on that platform and they wouldn't have firemen sitting around waiting for a suicide bomber."
"What if I had been there on tour and rushed in to help?"
"I might have made another assessment, probably not." Silly question. How could I tell? My mind somehow assessed the situation as I acted. So far, it had gone well. I know if I had to consciously reason it out, I would be long dead by now.
***
In Las Vegas, Raifah entertained a few Arabic officials in her suite and spoke at a dinner with a senator and several representatives. She walked through numerous casinos but didn't stop to play any of the games. The third night I took them to see Jianyu. "Master Jianyu, would you mind a small demonstration for me?" I asked. "Raifah al-Ayyub wants me to help with a curriculum to train special bodyguards."
He nodded agreement.
"Would anyone like to try a match with Master Jianyu? Tony? Nasser? Jaffar?" I asked. Jianyu had gray thinning hair, a frail frame, and was in his sixties.
Tony stepped up to Jianyu and threw six or seven punches in quick succession. None landed. So, he lunged in with a punch to the stomach. Jianyu swiveled right, caught his arm, and swept his feet from under him. He hit the wooden floor with a smack. Nasser stepped forward with a series of kick boxing strikes. Jianyu moved into him, hooked his arm under his leg, and pushed. Nasser landed on his back, though he did roll backward into a standing position. He gave Jianyu a head bow. "Very nice, Master Jianyu."
Jaffar stepped up. He began a left front kick and then in mid-kick left the ground and executed a flying roundhouse kick to Jianyu's head. Jianyu blocked the kick and let it drive him into Jaffar. When he reached Jaffar, he had his right leg caught in mid-air, had a foot behind the leg on the ground, and drove an elbow into his stomach. Jaffar left the ground with a wooof. He hit hard but managed to roll to a kneeling stance. He nodded to Jianyu.
"Raifah, that is the difference between experienced soldiers and a martial arts master or trained Kazak. Nasser and Jaffar are excellent fighters and would do well against most opponents, yet Jianyu was able to easily counter techniques he had never seen before against opponents larger and stronger than him." I said.
"Master Lynn neglects to mention that she would easily kill me in a fight. We," he waved at the other three, "defend ourselves by reflex but must think through an attack once we see a weakness. Master Lynn's recognition of your weakness and her attack are as close to instantaneous as humanly possible. Worse, for her opponent, she would always go for the kill or disabling technique, unless she forced herself to think about what she was doing."
"Yes. I had another demonstration in Niagara Falls. I may have to kidnap her and bring her back with me to Libya. I thank you for the demonstration," Raifah said. "Well, Master Lynn, are you going to develop a program for me?"
"No. But I will show you what must be done and let Nasser and Jaffar tailor it for your needs. Tomorrow we go to the Hill."
"Can I go along?" Tony asked.
"Yes, and your team can go if they are interested. Kazak training isn't a secret. Master Jianyu summarized it very well when we asked his advice when a friend of mine and I were interested in going to their biannual competition.
"Don't go. You'll find the Kazaks care little about you or your wants. You will spend your time learning how to live on only a few hours sleep, ignore pain, and to give up your life to watch over people, who also don't care about you."
***
I had the helicopter fly past the cliff the contestants had to climb to get into the school. When we landed, Master Johar met us.
"Welcome, Master Lynn. I see you brought me very interesting guests. Welcome to the Hill."
"This is Master Johar. He is the one who molds average human beings into Kazaks."
"Actually, what we do is spend years trying to find reasons to make the lunatics that climb the mountain go home. Master Lynn is proof that we fail now and then." He spent the rest of the day with us getting everyone settled. Dinner was interesting.
"Is this what the students eat?" Tony asked after pushing food around his plate.
"Oh, Jianyu forgot to mention that you learn not to care about food. It's merely fuel for the body."
For the next few days, we toured the school, watching students at various stages of their training. When we got to the students who had passed the final challenge. I had Jody and Megan along with their clients.
"Here we have the Hazard. It's used to improve your reflexes by simulating a variety of situations and the various types of Assassins. I walked over to the electronic control panel. "Tony, would you like to try it?"
Tony nodded smiling.
"First let Jody try it so you know what to expect." I had set it to include only a few thugs and innocent civilians and the speed of incidents at moderate. Jody walked into the hazard appearing not to be looking at the buildings, cars and other places to hide. Soon men jumped out from behind various object firing paintballs while others were bystanders. Jody never missed a target or shot an innocent person.
Tony, Nasser, and Jaffar each went through afterward. Only Jaffar made it through without being hit once. When I increased the speed and number of thugs, no one made it through without being shot twice. I increased it again adding Assassins. It had Raifah in stitches. They came out looking like psychedelic paintings.
"Megan your turn. I've increased the speed." I said for the benefit of those watching. Megan walked into the Hazard without hesitation. It was a good performance, and she finished without one fault. "That ladies and gentlemen is what the Hill produces."
I let Nasser and Jaffar be clients for a couple of days with the two male students, and Tony and his female agent clients of Jody and Megan.
We flew home on the plane chartered for Raifah. She came and sat next to me.
"Thank you, Lynn, for saving my life and for the tour of the Hill. Nasser and Jaffar can barely wait to return and begin developing a school for bodyguards. You were right refusing to develop a curriculum for me. Libya and the United States are vastly different environments. The school must be tailored to meet our unique culture. Nasser and Jaffar now have the basic knowledge to develop our school. After they got over the taboo of being with an unmarried woman twenty-four hours a day, they were interested in your one-year preparation course. That may be our first Challenge for everyone."
The next day, Tony and I watched Raifah board her aircraft for the trip back to Libya.
"It has been an interesting detail, Lynn. I understand now why you are a prominent member of the State Department's shit-list and how unfair. You shouldn't be higher than five." He smiled. "Thanks for the tour of the Hill."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Welcome back, Lynn, and thanks for next season's tickets."
"It's not much, but I do appreciate what you do for me. If I booked my transportation I'd wind up as freight on a UPS plane and come back with hotel bed bugs."
"I guess I'll have to continue to do your bookings. Mr. Witton would be really upset if you infested the building with bed bugs. Go right in, the boss is expecting you." She winked. I closed the door and took a seat in one of the padded leather chairs.
"I've heard you had a good time and I haven't received any complaints-yet-and you aren't injured. Whatever happened to the old Lynn?"
"Getting old I guess."
"Raifah sent another letter of appreciation. She keeps trying to bribe me into sending you to Libya for the rest of your life. I keep telling her you'd be stoned to death within a month."
"After I ran out of bullets."
"That was quick thinking on the suicide bomber. There are always complaints about the nine years it takes to train a Kazak and how few we graduate. Your handling of the attack on Raifah validated the Hill's curriculum and rigid standards. I hear you also lost your number one slot on the State Departments shit-list. I'm very disappointed."
"Probably moved me down because I'm slowing down. Just don't have that youthful pep." I loved trading barbs with Witton. He was a no nonsense man, but he had a good sense of humor and gave his people his full support.
"What do you think of stem cell and regenerative biology?" Witton sat back and took a sip of his coffee, looking disinterested except his penetrating eyes betrayed him.
"I know I can be trouble, but don't you think that would be a bit drastic. How about a little face-lift, so people won't recognize me. I'll be good."
"I look forward to that day. You don't care, do you?"
"No. I protect people, not morals. It seems to me that right and wrong are subjective. They depend on time and place and conditions then and there. I know what feels right and wrong for me, that's all I care about.
"Mr. and Mrs. Askam are biologists working on stem cell research. They own a company called BioCells and are funded by individual investors and don't depend upon government funding. In a sense, that makes them more vulnerable to fanatics since the outcome of law suits to stop federal funding doesn't affect them. To make matters worse, Vanaja Askam is an atheist and has written several articles and research papers that criticize the Catholic Church's position as rooted in the dark ages. Her hate mail has escalated recently and the Committee believes there is a real danger to her."
"What about her husband?" I asked. If they own the company...
"Her side of the business is involved in human embryonic stem cell research; whereas, his efforts are directed at adult stem cell research."
"What is the difference?" I asked, not that I really cared except in that it helped me identify the potential terrorist.
"Several groups consider embryonic stem cell research unacceptable on moral grounds. They believe that gathering the stem cells requires the destruction of a human embryo and is the same as abortion. The U.S. bishops have overwhelmingly approved a statement calling the use of human embryos in such research 'gravely immoral' and unnecessary "
"Is he also an atheist?" Again, I didn't care but.... Witton shrugged.
"That's unclear. He keeps a low profile. His articles have been neutral with respect to embryonic stem cells and religion. They have been confined to his goals and specific achievements. It's unclear whether it's to distance himself from his wife or to differentiate the research."
"Or to keep the fanatics away," I said. "She would certainly attract the attention of the full range of true believers and give the fanatics God's permission to punish her."
"It's alright if God chooses to punish her; however, you are there to make sure it's left to Him." Witton smiled.
"If He does, let's hope He doesn't take it personal that I'm guarding her."
"Let's hope He's patient and will wait until her time's up. She will meet you at her home in Northborough, Massachusetts, tomorrow morning.
***
Ann Marie booked me first class into Boston and had a limo drive me from Logan Airport to Vanaja's home in Northborough. It took over an hour mostly on Interstate highways. Finally, we exited onto Church Street in Northborough and a few minutes later onto Pleasant Street, a nice two-lane road with older, well-spaced homes on good-sized lots.
"Wait until I'm sure I'm at the right house," I said to the elderly driver, and handed him two twenties as a tip. I liked him. He had managed to keep the drive from becoming boring by pointing out various points of interest, and he didn't try to interrogate me.
The house looked like three buildings had been squashed together forming an "L" shape. On my right leg a two car garage, on the left leg a building with windows, and swashed in center another building that looked little more than an entrance. I knocked and a minute later a woman, about my height with light brown skin and long black hair tied back, answered the door. She stood there appraising me without saying a word. So, I returned the appraisal. She was dressed in a black Kurti with silver embroidery around the neck and ends of the mid-length sleeves. Although she was frowning in concentration, her skin was wrinkle free.
"You are the Kazak Lynn?" she asked. When I nodded, she continued. "You don't look like what I expected."
"Sorry, too late to change now. All my stem cells have already been assigned duty." I think the initial meeting is the hardest part of the being a bodyguard. It tends to be a contest of wills. If I wasn't careful, they would treat me like a servant. Governor Masson was the first and last. She gave a snort I took for a laugh.
"Well, come in and we can get acquainted. Mr. Witton did warn me that you have rules that weren't negotiable...and that you were worth the aggravation," she said with a smile that lit up her angular face and large almond eyes. "You can call me Vanaja."
I waved to the limo and entered the house. The squashed middle house opened up into a large open floor plan. With the kitchen, dining area, and living area in one great room.
"You drink coffee?" she asked as she made for the kitchen. I nodded while looking around. The rooms certainly weren't cluttered with things. The dining room table had place mats for four but nothing else. The kitchen countertops had only a few containers and a Keurig coffee machine. Similarly, the living room had some books and very few knickknacks, almost like it had been staged for sale. She gave me a cup and I followed her into the living room. She sat on the couch and I found a straight back chair facing her. She said nothing so I assumed she was waiting for me.
"My rules are simple-I go where you go." I usually liked "ignore me" but it didn't seem to fit here.
"That does sound simple but I suspect it isn't given Mr. Witton's comments. Can you be a bit more specific?"
"Let me put it this way. If you are out of my sight then I can't protect you. Therefore, I must be able to see you at all times."
"That must be difficult for eight hours a day." She frowned while looking towards the floor. I could almost hear her running over a typical day with me following.
"No, Vanaja, twenty-four hours a day, unless Witton sends me relief, which is unlikely." Very unlikely.
"That's impossible!" Vanaja said, her large brown eyes wide open.
"What time of the day or night do you believe those threatening you think it's unfair to attack you? While you're sleeping, working, eating? They will strike when they think you are most vulnerable and that will depend on who they are."
"Your right, of course. But twenty-four hours a day isn't possible. You must sleep."
"I'll sleep, possibly better than you, but I'll wake at any sound that isn't normal. I have many years of conditioning and training. You would consider it difficult to stay functional on four hours sleep for several days. It wouldn't affect my performance."
"Are all Kazaks like you?"
"We've all survived the Hill... The Kazak School. And while we've undergone the same intensive training, we
are all unique individuals and have our own idiosyncrasies. While I won't intentionally try to annoy you, I'm not here to make you happy. I'm not your slave or your pet, and I don't do tricks. I don't care about your morals, ethics, love life, company secrets, religion, politics, or past secrets. I have immunity, so if I shoot someone it is bad for him not me. I'm here to protect you and no one else, unless protecting that person somehow protects you. And I'm willing to risk my life and your good will to save your life." I thought that summed it up nicely. Vanaja sat there with her mouth open staring at me. Then she laughed long and hard.
"I like you, Lynn. You've managed to tell me very succinctly in only a few words what it would take most people hours to explain, and I doubt it would be as comprehensive." She laughed again. "So I guess it's not going to phase you when I protest and bitch at your rules?"
"Nope. Few of my clients like my rules before someone tries to kill them."
She checked her watch and stood. "Well, Lynn, it's time to go to work. Have you had breakfast?"
"Don't worry about me. I'll eat when you do."
***
It took less than twenty minutes to drive to her facility, located in the town of Shrewsbury, only a few miles away. The building was a single story brick building well isolated from its neighbors. The property had well-manicured lawns with well spaced maple and ash trees. A small gravel parking lot lay well off to the side of the building. The side leading to the entrance was mainly glass and gave a good view of the offices inside. Two large glass doors with BioCells, Inc. displayed on each door along with office hours and emergency numbers.
We entered into a good-sized waiting room with a leather couch, several padded armchairs, and a young, blond woman receptionist perched behind a white marble semi-circular counter.
"Helen, this is Kazak Lynn. Lynn this is Helen. She's our guardian angel. Helen, would you have a pass made up for Lynn. She's to have the same access I have," Vanaja said as we reached the counter.
"I'm pleased to meet you...Miss Lynn...or should it be Kazak Lynn?"
"Just Lynn, Helen. I'll bet your job is harder than mine," I said, thinking of all the people she had to deal with every day. I could be rude or ignore people, she couldn't. She gave me an award-winning smile that I bet could turn any man to Jell-O.
