Chaos

by MacShayne

  Chaos

  A Mitch Crowne short story

  Written by: MacShayne

  (2018 re-issue)

  Copyright Page

  Copyright 2018 by MacShayne. Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2015 by MacShayne. Original Edition

  Edited by: MacShayne

  Coverwork by: MacShayne

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons (living or dead) are coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this eBook. You are welcome to share this story with friends and family, although I’d appreciate it if they would download a copy themselves. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes only, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favourite eBook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Discover other titles by MacShayne

  Mitch Crowne (book series)

  1. The Drifter

  2. Manhunt

  3. A Dangerous Man

  4. Killing Crowne

  5. Perfect Enemy

  6. Cold Case

  Other Books

  Once Upon a Time in Navajo

  Table of content

  Chapter 1: Crossroads

  Chapter 2: The Little Yellow House

  Chapter 3: What We Don’t Know

  Chapter 4: Brotherly Connection

  Chapter 5: Cherish Your Sins

  Chapter 6: Homecoming

  Chapter 7: Down Falls One

  Chapter 8: Damsel in Distress

  Chapter 9: A Knife in the Ocean

  Chapter 10: Where is the World We Deserve?

  Chapter 11: A Fiery Thunderbolt

  Chapter 12: Eye Of the Storm

  About the author

  Contact me

  Chapter 1:

  Crossroads

  Moscow, Unknown Prison, 4 January 2010

  ‘Legends are creatures that either make the tale or are the tale. Every tale is based on a specific character that understands it all. That kind who lives above the law, the kind that practices his own law. Maybe that character by the lack of a better word is the law. Do you think you are a legend? Do you think that you are the law? Because when you killed one of my dearest friends, it sure as hell looked like you practised some kind of law. Not ours, here in Russia, we have a government elected for that department. Last time I checked, America has the same. So what does that make you. A person without country? Please, enlighten me’, Groyetski told to the prisoner that was sitting opposite him.

  Ivan Groyetski was an elder secret agent that dedicated his life in capturing Russian state enemy number six. The person that was known as one of America’s best assassins came to Russia, killed an American ambassador and a Russian minister. Groyetski used to be an athletic and tall man. However, since he was cripple during one of his missions, he lost height as well as muscles. Now that his nemesis was imprisoned, he was about to retire. Groyetski led an attack on one of his enemy associates called Jeremy Clegane. His attack squad was killed, only he survived.

  ‘With the lack of a good explanation Ivan, I am what you always dreamed about, maybe still dream about. You know, when you work for a government, you stop thinking and only do, in the positions we call or in my case called work. Or duty? But, let me say that I stopped giving a shit when I stumbled into something. Something I couldn’t’t just ignore, something you will never know about’, Mitch told Ivan in a normal and sharp tone.

  Mitch Crowne didn’t speak for three months since the trade. He was traded for Eveline Turner months ago. Since Mitch was already imprisoned by Americans and became untouchable, the Russian secret service took Eveline Turner. The person that was able to track and trace Mitch and eventually capture him. Eveline Turner is a highly decorated agent which made her the perfect bargain to get the fugitive who was presumed death multiple times. Groyetski was at the scene when the trade was done by the two secret agencies that were involved. One was an American agency within the CIA. The other was a secret Russian agency programme that operated in the shadows. To protect the president, he himself didn’t knew about the existence.

  Mitch Crowne was approximately 1.87 metres long and weighed now 85 kilogram. He wore a grey jumpsuit and was cuffed on both his wrists and feet. This was the last day he would spend imprisoned in Moscow. Tomorrow, he would be transported to a maximised security prison in Siberia.

  ‘You know what Mitch, you seem to be a guy that can keep a secret. This week I’ll quit the job. You were the only person I still had on my list you know. 2001. Nine damn years ago you killed yourself into my life and now I can finally tie this up. Thank you for that.’

  ‘Thank you for the appreciation Ivan. Really appreciate your interest in me. I mean, I have no experience in wasting so much time since I never needed so much. Is that how you guys operate? Every target one agent.. for life...? No wonder you lost the cold war!’

  ‘I am way too old and wise to discuss these irrelevant and childish subjects with you Mitch. Thought you were better than that. Never said a word for three months. Don’t you feel dry in your throat? Or is it already filled with shit.’

  ‘Ivan, Ivan, you’re right. So start fucking asking the right questions!’

  ‘The syndicate, as we call it’, Groyetski said while waiting patiently for Mitch to start talking. Mitch began to laugh. Ivan sighed deeply as he looked at the exit. ‘Mitch. Tomorrow you’ll go to a place that doesn’t offer the same circumstances as here. You might want to do me a favour, and I might do you a favour’, Ivan said irritated.

  Mitch grinned. ‘Go f*ck yourself.’

  Ivan stood up and looked down at the person that still intimidated him. Mitch Crowne was a legend. In the world in the shadows, his name was on top of wanted lists throughout the whole western, Asian, African and Australian part of the world. Since Mitch went rogue, the CIA had to open up about the assassin for their foreign partner agencies. Before he left the room, he took a last look at the person that would always be named together with his own career.

  ‘I don’t know what your motives are Mitch. Never cared either. But, you have valuable information about an organisation that might help you to the good places in hell. I suggest you start using them.’ Ivan concluded before the door was opened. Before he disappeared in the hall he was interrupted by Mitch.

  ‘You better watch your back Ivan. They come for you and from my point of view, you’re going to have a short retirement.’

  Quibdo (Colombia), Restaurante Cocoa Gourmet, 1 January 2010

  Since Hungary 2007 (A Dangerous Man) he disappeared off radar. Jeremy Clegane was a tall slim man with blonde hair. He used to work for the British government and eventually married another secret agent named Ayda Houser (Killing Crowne). Ayda Houser was about 25 centimetres shorter than him. She was more skilled in combat than Jeremy. Jeremy was a skilled gunman and one of the best hackers in the world.

  Jeremy and Ayda eventually ended on Bora Bora where they tried to have a normal life. They stayed on the island for almost two years until both were so bored that they decided to take private contracts. No question asked, targets were taken out by the team. Only targets that of course concerned criminals. Eventually he received a phone call to do a friend a favour. Which he accepted. Before the heat was on to them, the pair disappeared again in 2008.

  They were waiting for dinner and talking about the city that they arrived in today, Quibdo. A population that was estimated at approximately 100.000. It was raining today but, both Jeremy and Ayda didn’t’t care about weather. Then again, this area was known for its extremely wet and cloudy climate.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s beau
tiful?’, Ayda asked Jeremy while dinner was served.

  Jeremy looked up and noticed that Ayda was smiling. She was looking at the locals that didn’t’t even ran through the streets. ‘In Europe they would run like little mousses you know’, she mentioned.

  ‘That sounds like a long time ago to me’, Jeremy answered while zipping his Gin Tonic.

  ‘Do you miss it?’ Ayda asked while she faced him. ‘I mean, the job, the adrenaline and the beautiful London.’

  Jeremy grinned. ‘I never really was a city boy. You know that. And I don’t miss anything. All I need is sitting at this table.’

  ‘You’re so bad at being Mr. romantic Jer’, she said while laughing.

  ‘Or, you don’t have a clue what romance is. I was good back in the day.’

  ‘You weren’t’t. Or did you always put the females in danger and then saved them to get their attention.’

  ‘No, I only picked you out of the water.’

  Both laughed. ‘So now that we both know that something, I mean some people don’t fit in well, what will be our game plan Jer?’

  ‘We need one alive’, Jeremy answered while the waitress came at their table. She put a tissue on their table and left in a hurry. ‘Wait, you...’, Jeremy said before he saw the text.

  ‘What does it say?’, Ayda asked after a few seconds.

  ‘Someone asks us politely not to waste body bags’, Jeremy said as he threw the tissue back on the table.

  ‘It’s Mr. Raymond’s signature. What does he want from us. How did he find us?’, Ayda wondered.

  ‘I don’t know, but, it seems that he has a job. That includes one of our old friends.’

  ‘Indeed. Does this mean we have to work together again with that scumbag Mitch?’

  ‘I’m asking myself if he betrayed you. Since you know stuff that is very useful to someone like Raymond.’

  ‘Can’t be true. He already knows what I know.’

  ‘Is Mitch up to something?’

  ‘What I’m asking myself is if we should even consider being interested. Working for Raymond means conflict. Conflict means that we risk our freedom.’

  ‘This answers one of your previous questions perfectly, doesn’t’t it?’, Jeremy said.

  ‘We don’t owe him nor Mitch anything!’

  ‘Mitch is not the one asking. So if Mr. Raymond wants us to help Mitch, than he really needs Mitch. This could be a simple job. Like a holiday trip.’

  ‘I don’t like Mitch.’

  ‘He’s not that bad. He’s just.. Mitch...’

  ‘He killed the vice-president Jeremy, without hesitation or regret.’

  ‘More like executed in front of everyone.’

  ‘So, are we interested?’

  ‘We are’, Jeremy concluded before both stood up and walked to the only other tourist looking guys in the restaurant. ‘Hello, want to join us for dinner?’, Ayda asked while Jeremy stood next to her.

  Santa Domingo (Dominican Republic), Downtown 11 January 2010

  Sandra Barros was 33 years old and living together with her fiancé Frederic Lauverré. Lauverré was of French descent and two years older than her. The two met by accident at a Black Eyed Peas concert. Sandra was 1.62 metres long and weighed 57 kilogram. Sandra is of Croatian descent and has lived in this country since 2005. She has short dark brown hair with a bob line.

  She also has one daughter and her name is Mia. Mia was ten years old and looked a lot like her mom. She also had thin eyebrows and the same eyes with dark brown hair. Neighbours mentioned that the older Mia became, the more she looked like her mother. The three of them lived together in one of the outskirts of the city in a bigger than average house which was owned by Frederic.

  Frederic was 1.74 metres long and a successful entrepreneur. He became rich as stakeholder in a few gambling sites that became enormous popular since the beginning of the decennium. He has adopted Mia as his own but, somehow he never became her guardian. Sandra never opened up about her past and Frederic respected her decision. He did know that it was somewhat traumatic. And he loved her anyways, as long as there wasn’t another that she was waiting for. Sandra lived in a huge apartment downtown when they met. Which she never sold.

  The three of them left his Mercedes SLK. The sun was shining sharp today which doesn’t’t occur that often. It was 29 degrees, a little above normal (24 degrees). They were going to a travel agency to plan their trip to Czech, a country where Frederic’s sister lives. Sandra and Frederic walked into the store while an old brown crown vic stopped opposite the street.

  It was driven by a Latino male in his early thirties. He had curly black hair in a ponytail. He also stepped out of the vehicle. He walked towards the Mercedes dropped his wallet. While bending over to pick it up, he placed a sender beneath the car. Thereafter, he continued walking south where he stepped in another, newer crown vic that was driven by someone else that wore a suit.

  ‘Do you have a tail’, he spoke in fluently American.

  ‘The package is sealed’, a third person in the back said.

  Moscow, Unknown Prison, 4 January 2010

  While Mitch was escorted back to his prison cell, a female ranking officer followed him into his cell. She had dark brown hair. It was cut short and she had blue eyes. She had full eyebrows and spoke Russian in an accent. Mitch guesses it was Czech or Slovakian. She took position behind Mitch. They were only with the two of them in his cell, very unusual for any prison standards.

  ‘You must be a very special person Mr. Crowne’, she said in an almost whispering voice. Mitch didn’t respond. ‘You were the only living person that exposed a little bit of a secret organisation that has been operative since the beginning of the early nineties.’ She placed her hands on his shoulders and lowered her head to Mitch’s left ear. ‘What would you do if you’d be free tomorrow? Would you simply disappear, or follow your instinct. The hunger, does it still drive you to bring them down?’

  ‘Your deep undercover, whoever you are. Get to the point before I blow a whistle.’

  ‘You only blow things up, we both know that. My superior ordered me to check if you still have the fire to do what you do best Mr. Crowne. We know you’ve received some specific treatments the last three months. Are you up for it?’

  ‘I don’t seek employment. Does your employer always hire such beautiful people?’

  ‘The question is, do you still like to bring down scum. No strings attached. We only supply you with information.’

  ‘Like I said. I don’t seek employment.. But, I might get bored within a few weeks.’

  ‘I take that as the right answer.’

  ‘Did I pass the test?’

  ‘Which test. You’re on death row inmate!’, she said as she slapped him in his face. ‘Be prepared, accidents still happen’, she said as she left the room.

  Kudiivka (Ukraine), Remote Road, 5 January 2010

  Jeremy and Ayda arrived in Ukraine two days ago. They were send to be at a meeting point called Kudiivka at 5 January eight o’clock in the morning precisely. Kudiivka is an area close to the Russian border. In the time they had, Jeremy and Ayda visited the city Kharkiv and made some arrangements.

  Besides visiting the opera, they bought artillery and body armours, new phones and false identities. Just for pre-caution. Eventually they arrived at the meeting point four hours earlier, to scope the surroundings and to create a getaway route.

  In the mean time, Mr. Raymond was flown to the meeting point by helicopter. For him it was priority to unravel the secret organisation in order to stay alive. He was an FBI Most wanted fugitive and former CIA operative that had been linked to numerous terrorist attacks and organisations. He arrived with his bodyguard Dembé one minute after eight.

  Ayda stepped out of the vehicle and walked towards the helicopter. Unlike Jeremy, she knew Mr. Raymond in person. Ayda wore black safety boots and dark blue jeans with a leather black jacket. Mr. Raymond wore a dark blue coat, a black hat and khaki trousers with brown polished shoes.
His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you once again Ayda. I knew you and your husband couldn’t’t resist the temptation of an adventure. Did you came prepared?’, he asked.

  ‘You know that I come armed at such a meeting. To be honest, there’s a red dot on your heart as of now.’

  ‘Jeremy Clegane. One of the best hackers in the world. Who would know that he can hit targets from a mile away. You know Ayda, I don’t mind it at all. I would be very displeased if you guys just showed up as the happy couple. Shall we go down to business?’

  ‘Business as usual Mr. Raymond. Or should I call you by your real name.. Reddington?’

  ‘You just have to listen miss Houser. I need you to break out a familiar person.’

  ‘And why would we help you? Why do you even consider hiring us. We’ve been out of business for a time now. Perhaps, we’ve became a little rusty.’

  ‘Yes you are. But, you know what.. I rather pick two unboxed lone wolves with the love and professionalism of a married couple than just a team of mercenaries.’

  ‘Do you mind if I didn’t understand anything you just said?’

  ‘If you break out the target’, Raymond receives a document from Dembé, ‘You will never have to worry about money ever again.’

  Raymond hands over the document to Ayda and walks back to his helicopter. Ayda opens the document but, looks up as Raymond walks away. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Everything you need is in that file miss Houser. All the instructions are there. And you also don’t have to worry about the money. It has been transferred a minute ago before you took the document. Don’t disappoint me.’

  Moscow, Unknown Prison, 5 January 2010

  Mitch Crowne would be sentenced to death. That was the only fitting punishment to his actions. He had been tortured for three months and below his face he looked like a monster. He was hanging cuffed in a shower cabin. Prepared for the trip to Siberia he was told. Mitch knew that he would never see Siberia. Siberia is for common criminals. Normal killers. Not for people like him. He would go somewhere else. A place where they would perform a last type of torture on him to get answers. It was the place Groyetski mentioned in their last conversation. Mitch Crowne had scars from stabbings and electrocutions and scars of burned flesh over his body. Only his face was spared. Of course they beat him a lot, he broke his nose, but, if you don’t want your captive to die of torture, you should not focus on the head too much.