by K. L. Nelson
Other teams in the U.S. and around the world were having similar success protecting the targets of The Pact. Ted’s program was supplying agents with real time location data at an alarming rate, and Pact assassinations were being thwarted with impressive results.
As soon as local police arrived to secure the scene, Dax radioed that his team was available. Almost immediately they were back in the SUV responding to another location. “It’s not going to take long for them to realize they’re giving us their locations via PactNet,” Dax observed as he weaved through traffic.
“They have no other way to communicate,” Emmett replied. “They can’t shut it down or they lose everything.”
“So what would you do if you knew agents were coming?” Dax asked hypothetically.
“Be ready,” Angela replied.
Tension grew in the car as they realized their next bust may not go as smoothly as the last one.
Emmett had another thought. Killing the suspect was fine, if the suspect left no other option. It saved an innocent life. But if there was no one in custody at the end of the day, the operation would not be nearly as productive. They needed a better plan.
“I have an idea,” Emmett said as they rolled up to the next location. “Let’s see if we can hook this guy and real him in.” At the back of the vehicle, Emmett pulled out some equipment.
Dax looked at him and nodded. “Are you sure?”
Rashad and Angela looked at Emmett and his equipment in disbelief.
“What,” Emmett said seeing their bewilderment, “you guys don’t carry rappelling gear in your cars?”
Emmett got in position on the roof of the building while the others quietly moved the neighbors to safety. The sniper’s target was a man named Gerard Keller, one of the chief officers of NASDAQ. Dax and Angela knocked on his back door and informed him of the planned attempt on his life. He was eager to go with the agents to safety. Meanwhile, Emmett spent some time taking measurements. When Dax and Angela returned, the three agents went upstairs to the apartment. Rashad carefully inserted a tiny camera under the front door. The image inside the apartment fed to each member of the team and gave them information needed to complete the risky operation. No one liked what they saw.
“Are you getting this Emmett?” Dax asked into his com.
“Affirmative,” Emmett replied. “What’s worse than a sniper?” he asked, posing a riddle.
“A suicidal sniper with a hostage and a bomb who knows you’re coming for him,” Angela replied.
The image was horrifying. The man was not only set up to kill his target, but there was a terrified woman tied to a chair with a bomb strapped to her body. Rashad estimated the explosives would take out everything in the apartment and several adjoining ones. The building would become unstable and may come down.
Dax moved his team back down one floor. “What do you think, Emmett? We’ve got him holed up. Let’s back out and wait for the bomb squad.”
“One problem,” Emmett replied, “once he figures out we’ve got his target, he’s going to blow the building. I don’t think that woman wants to wait around for the bomb squad.”
“I don’t want to lose an agent today, Emmett,” Dax protested.
“You won’t,” Emmett replied. “Rashad, is that what I think it is sitting on the table?”
“Affirmative, Emmett: XC-5 detonator.”
“Ok listen up. He can only do one thing at a time. A knock at the door from the FBI will make him go for his gun. Make sure you’re out of the way when bullets come through the door. He won’t be expecting me. It’ll give me time to ruin his day, but we have to time it just right. Go on my mark.”
Dax, Angela and Rashad went back up and approached the apartment. “In position,” Dax whispered.
Emmett took one last look over the edge of the roof and checked his knot. Then he backed up to the mark he’d made and took a breath. He broke into a run for the edge and shouted “Now!” as he pushed off, sailing over the street five stories below.
At that moment, Angela pounded on the door and said, “FBI! Open up!” As expected, bullets came through the door. The agents were unharmed, keeping well out of the way. Dax swung the ram at the door and breached it, keeping the sniper’s attention away from the window.
Emmett’s rappel line snapped taut and pulled him into a swing directly at the window of the sniper’s apartment. He crashed through it, hitting the man broadside and knocking him to the floor. Rashad was ready with cuffs as the others entered and helped wrestle the man into submission.
When they lifted the man to his feet, Emmett reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his suicide pill. Holding the pill in front of the man’s face he asked, “Looking for this?”
“I am afraid you’re going to have a long, happy life my friend,” Dax said. “I hear Guantanamo is nice this time of year.”
The man still didn’t quite know where the agent in black had come from.
***
The J. Edgar Hoover FBI building on Pennsylvania Avenue was alive with activity. Analysts filled the situation room busily receiving reports from the field and relaying intelligence to keep the operation running. Maddox couldn’t remember a time when there was so much activity from a single operation.
Skye stood in the adjoining conference room staring at the screen on the wall. She was working with Ted to glean information from PactNet. It was clear from the chatter that they knew they’d been hacked, and their operation was a sinking ship. It was only a matter of time before they pulled the plug. Skye and Ted worked purposefully to get what they could before that happened.
“There,” Skye said, pointing to the latest text message to appear. “Who is that?”
Ted typed furiously. “He’s not in the U.S. Give me just a second…”
PactNet suddenly went blank. “No!” Ted cried. He kept typing for several minutes. “I may be able to pull up the data history from the main frame…”
It was not to be. Someone on the other end had shut down PactNet and completely scrubbed all the data. It was gone.
The final message that had caught the professor’s eye had been ominous. Ted had seen it too. He looked up at Skye, unsure what to say.
The message read,
“The professor who translated our language must be brought to the director.”
The Pact, whoever was left in it, knew Skye wasn’t dead. And they were coming for her.
Chapter Twenty Two
Vuradech hobbled into camp well before dawn. The others did not even know he was gone. When all were awake, he gathered them in a circle and began to relate the ethereal events of his night.
“There are wonders in this forest,” he began. The others leaned forward to hear his tale as tears filled his eyes. Searching for the strength to form the words, his breath quivered. Finally he proclaimed, “I found your mother last night.”
The children looked at each other in disbelief. “Father,” Bodicca said reverently, “Mother has been gone for many years.”
Vuradech looked into the face of his daughter longingly, for he saw Galem in it. “My Bodicca, you are right. She has been gone a very many years. Last night the forest called to me out of my sleep. I walked through the night not sure why I travelled, only knowing I must. After a great distance I found the reason. Your mother visited me from the Otherworld. She came to me and we spoke through much of the night. But it was too short…” He broke into sobbing again.
Bodicca put her hand on her father’s shoulder. She had seen him cry only once. It was at her mother’s funeral. Otherwise, he had always been the picture of strength and composure when she was around. She knew he spoke the truth now. “What did mother tell you?” she asked. Her brothers and Hadrian held their breath and gazed upon Vuradech to hear his next words. If the gods had permitted one of their own to breach the curtain from the Otherworld, her message to mortals must be of utmost importance.
When Vuradech gained himself, he related the words of Galem to his family
. “As Hadrian hath witnessed, the noble line of our people has been destroyed from the earth. We are the only Picts of nobility left. Last night I didn’t fully comprehend the tragedy of our consequence. But the events of the night have opened my eyes to much. Your mother has helped me understand our lot and what we must do. She showed me what would happen if we rebelled against Cinaed as I so firmly believed we should. If we mounted a rebellion, I tell you that many would die. My children, Hadrian…” he fought to steady his breath once more, “…all of us would die.”
“Father,” Harbald protested, “Cinaed must pay for what he has done!”
“He cannot pay for it by shedding more blood, our blood. There would be no justice in our foolish crusade against a kingdom a thousand times our size. Believe me my son; I have the same convictions as you. My blood burns within me to rain death upon the house of Cinaed. But wisdom has spoken to me that there is hope for us in another land, and only death in this one. There is one thing that has saved Pictland, and it will continue to save us. It is sticking together. When the Angles invaded many years ago, the signal pyres brought us together in strength to overcome the enemy and stand victorious on the field of battle. Because of that signal, we were able to bring death to our enemy by deception.” Vuradech arose and retrieved a needle. Dipping it in ink, he wrote the word ‘signal’ on each member’s neck. “This is to show you are a member of the pact that we start this day. It signifies that we stand together to accomplish what we set about to do. Surely we will gain advantage in the world if we hearken to the signal when the enemy approaches, wherever we may be.”
Vuradech took the Chain of the Matriarchs from his neck and had each of his children and Hadrian stand in a circle with their hands holding to the chain. He had them repeat the words of the pact:
I enter a pact to uphold the line of the matriarchs at the peril of my life. May I always be found defending a sister or brother above others in achieving advantage in the world, and if I divulge the secrets of our society, may I suffer a torturous death in justice to our cause.
Vuradech took the chain and put it on Bodicca’s neck. “You are the hope of our line. Your children will bear the reign of the pact, as it has been with our people from the beginning.”
Though young, the girl seemed to understand the weight of her authority. She knew the monarchy of her people had always descended matrilineally, through the woman. As such, kings had right to rule because of their mother, not their father as it was in other kingdoms. This law came from the ancients who inhabited the land for thousands of years, who came out from the great tower after their language had been confounded. The woman, it was told, held the power to give life to all things. She alone carried the key to power within her, because all things that live come from her.
Young Bodicca knew the legend of her namesake, Bodicca the Brave, the first ruler of the ancestors of the Picts. When she arrived with her people on the island after the long journey from the Confounding, they found fierce giants inhabiting the land. Bodicca the Brave majestically wielded the Sword of the Enchantress, forged in the blood fire of the sacrifice offering of Wren, to defend against the horde. They had scarcely landed on the shore when the giants attacked. Horrid, animal-like beings, the giants drooled great puddles of acidic slime on the ground wherever they walked. They carried huge clubs formed from entire trees they had plucked from the ground, which they swung with massive force. Bodicca was undeterred. Facing the extinction of her people at the hands of these brutes, she drew the Sword of the Enchantress and ran at one of the giants. Leaping in the air, she landed a blow directly into the belly of the creature. The wound opened as Bodicca fell to the ground, her sword covered in blood. Slowly the giant reeled and fell to the ground, causing the very earth to shake. Bodicca turned around in time to miss the deadly swing of a massive club intended to remove her head. Springing up, she slashed open the next giant’s leg and crippled him. At every stroke of her sword, Bodicca caused death and injury to the giants. Seeing Bodicca’s godlike bravery, the others in the camp took courage and rushed the giants. Many were lost that day. But because of the valor of one woman, the people saw that they could fight against an impossible foe and win.
As Bodicca, daughter of Vuradech, touched the heavy silver chain around her neck, she knew how her ancestor must have felt facing those giants. She silently vowed she would not fail her people in their time of need. She would be brave like her ancestor and bring honor to her name. As she lifted the chain off her collar bones, she felt like Bodicca the Brave was watching her from the Otherworld. She couldn’t help but feel that when the time came, her ancient ancestor would be there fighting beside her.
Neither Vuradech nor any of his little band ever saw Fidach again. They took their journey south and passed through many lands, keeping to the trees where possible to avoid those who would seek their demise. After several days they came to the great water. They obtained passage on a vessel bound for the kingdom of the Franks. On the other side of the great water, the land seemed to be in complete turmoil. It was not like Pictland at all. People were everywhere. And none of them were smiling except the ones who wanted to steal from you. Vuradech, Hadrian, Harbald and Taezali all thought the same thing when they witnessed a man stealing from a beggar on the street one day: If you and I were in Pictland right now stranger, I would remove your head from your neck with one blow. Suddenly Bodicca approached the thief. The men stumbled over themselves to stop her, but they were too late.
Bodicca’s doubled hand flew right through the jaw bone of the man, completely knocking him off balance. He had clearly not expected a young woman to pack such a wallop. As the man held his face to see if it was still connected to his head, Bodicca spoke her mind:
“On my honor you will return this man’s goods, or you will feel much more of my fist than that!”
It was a tongue the man had never heard, but he knew exactly what she was saying. Slowly, he dropped the stolen items and ran away.
Bodicca’s four companions stood agape as they watched the thief get owned by Bodicca. “Yes, my friend,” Hadrian finally said to Vuradech, “she’s definitely your daughter.”
The Fidachians counseled together concerning the strange new land they had come to. They resolved to learn everything they could about this people and their customs. They would learn their speech, but keep Pictish as their native tongue. Neither would they teach Pictish to anyone but their children. They found that being able to communicate in an unknown language could be a great advantage in this harsh and lawless land.
Over the years, Bodicca grew into a beautiful woman. Vuradech was proud to give her hand to an accomplished advisor to the emperor. Not only was the young man gracious and kind to his daughter, but his craft interested Vuradech greatly. Vuradech thought this marriage might prove quite useful. On the night of the wedding, the Fidachians surrounded the young man and told him of their plight. They smiled warmly as they told him they would kill him slowly if he ever divulged their secret. Faced with a torturous death at the hands of this tattooed warrior family, the young man thought favorably on entering into their pact and becoming one with them.
Vuradech had been correct that the marriage was an advantage. His new son in law was a conduit directly to the emperor. What’s more, the young man was in charge of advising the sovereign concerning his great wealth. He taught Vuradech about gold and how to increase one’s holdings. He gave Vuradech the same counsel he gave the emperor himself. It was not many years before the Fidachians were controlling vast portions of wealth and wielding great power among the nobility.
“If I can’t be king of Pictland,” he told Hadrian one night when they were old men, “surely this is the next best thing!”
Hadrian sighed. “Do you ever think of our home?” he asked.
Vuradech grew sad. “I think of Fidach every single day,” he replied. “I wonder what has become of our people. They must be Gaels now.”
“Did we do the right thing?” Hadrian asked hypot
hetically.
“We did the only thing,” the old chieftain replied. “Does the man take the path, or does the path take him? Surely we must walk life’s road, no matter where it goes. If we refuse to live, have we not died already? We are the only Picts left, my friend. Here, our people have a future. True it is a very different future than we imagined. But perhaps it is even more glorious than we thought. Bodicca is starting a little family of her own. The boys have taken wives. A new generation has risen to rule. The world has run out of the need for us old men. Maybe it’s time to let a younger lot take over.”
That night, Vuradech reached into the Otherworld and felt the soft touch of a familiar hand. He finally felt whole again, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
His children gave his body a Pictish king’s burial.
Chapter Twenty Three
FBI safe house
2:15 a.m.
Skye opened her eyes in terror at the sound. Someone was in the house. She held her breath and listened. Perhaps her brain was playing tricks on her. She hadn’t slept well since the sting, and she was starting to feel the effects. She wondered if the stress was getting to be too much. Her mind raced as she lay in bed listening. The wood floor in the house would let her know if anyone was there. She liked wood far better than carpet. It was impossible to sneak up on anyone on that creaky floor. Before tonight, she didn’t realize just how useful that would be.
Another sound came, and now Skye knew she wasn’t alone in the house. Her heart raced as she slowly retrieved the handgun Emmett had given her. Holding the gun and a flashlight, she silently slipped out of bed and knelt on the floor. She thought of dialing 911, but this was going to be over long before help would arrive. Instead, she sent Emmett a one-word text: “intruders.” Hopefully the notification would awaken him. If it did, he would still have to drive clear across town. Even in the middle of the night it would take fifteen minutes. She was glad to have the gun.
