Book of Bravery

by James Burke

  He looked out his window down upon the Great Plains with unfocused eyes. He held his Atomos phone to an ear while waiting for the private investigator Day to pick up at the other end. When the connection was made he drew down the window shade.

  ‘Hello Mr. Marx,’ Day said.

  ‘Did you link up with my associate’s men?’ Marx asked about Alfonso Lazcano’s own mercenary types, the tough hombres.

  ‘Yes, two teams in separate vehicles. They are now tailing the subject who entered California some 20 or so minutes ago,’ Day said. ‘I’m on my way back to Reno and will see you at the airport after I pick up your two guys from my place.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you soon enough,’ Marx said before ending the call.

  He picked up his iPad and revisited a breaking news report he saw earlier. Its headline read: ‘Cult Leader Brings Forward Doomsday Prediction, New York Now Only Has Three Days.’

  Marx could only sigh and shake his head at what was Chuck Goyette’s first media interview since the Rome earthquake. Out of frustration, Marx regathered his phone and dialed it. Someone at the other end picked up; a Temple Science Ministries staff member.

  ‘I want to speak to Mr. Goyette, it’s Aaron Marx calling,’ he said.

  The staff member handed the phone to Goyette who was with his team behind a stage inside a jam-packed sports stadium,

  ‘Greetings and salutations from Los Angeles. How are you today Marx?’ Goyette asked.

  ‘Somewhere between frustrated and baffled. I’ve been reading the news and according to at least one New York publication the schedule has been altered,’ Marx said.

  ‘I presume you are talking about that article with the sensational headline,’ Goyette said. ‘But yes, the doomsday schedule has been brought forward because you’re the one zipping off to China earlier than expected. Thank you for the notification by the way,’ he added.

  ‘There have been complications. It certainly wasn’t done on a whim and to be honest it completely slipped my mind to tell you,’ Marx replied.

  ‘Look I don’t care for lame excuses or fibs. You should have consulted with me first,’ Goyette said.

  ‘Get over it. It’s happened now so just tell me your amended schedule,’ Marx said, now not even trying to hide his sullenness.

  ‘Marx how about you just follow the news like everyone else? I see no point repeating myself to every Tom, Dick and Harry. You’re the delivery boy, so just get War to the Far East, as you’re supposed to, and let nature take its course,’ Goyette said. ‘This venture is bigger and more finely tuned than you think. I’m surprised the demon kings failed to spell that out for you.’

  A large chant in the stadium began, making it hard for Marx to hear Goyette and vice versa.

  Some 10,000 people in front of the stage were now chanting: ‘Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!’

  ‘What is that appalling racket?’ Marx asked.

  ‘Oh, that’s the sound of well-earned adulation,’ Goyette said. ‘But look, I for one have no doubts you’ll also be an outstanding king of the pit and that you’ll be as cruel as the best of them.’

  ‘This is straying from what I want to discuss,’ Marx said.

  ‘I just wanted to say you could’ve got so much more if you negotiated with a bit of gusto,’ Goyette said. ‘The demon kings of the pit are not really that bright. Anyway, your loss.’

  An exasperated Marx could hardly restrain his ever-increasing hatred for Goyette.

  ‘I got what I bargained for,’ Marx said.

  ‘Ha yes you did; driven by a fusion of terror and near-ancient grievances no doubt. Either way returning to Hell must be a horrid predicament, king or no king,’ Goyette said.

  Marx tried reining in his emotions which he knew could send him over the edge if he let it. He breathed in deep, waited a few seconds till he could reply in a steady manner.

  ‘Yes, and a multitude of words Mr. Goyette is no proof of a prudent mind,’ Marx said.

  But this only made Goyette burst out in laughter.

  ‘Dear me, resorting to pilfering Greek proverbs now are we Marx? How pitiable,’ he said, chuckling away. ‘Now my people are waiting, and I dare not test their patience anymore. Time to go. Just do your bit and just get War to the East,’ Goyette said as he hung up.

  Goyette gave his phone to one of his assistants who in exchange handed him a microphone. The crowd on the other side of the stage were still chanting his name. He walked up some steps onto the stage and made his way to the front into full view of the crowd who gave him a rock star reception.

  He lapped it up.

  ‘Well Hello Los Angeles! My oh my, this truly is west coast hospitality at its finest. Isn’t this a great occasion?!’ Goyette yelled. ‘No matter what has happened half-way around the world in Italy, it is still a great day if you are a member of the Temple Science Ministries!’

  The crowd roared back in the affirmative and a new chant began circling the stadium. ‘Survivors! Survivors! Survivors! Survivors! Survivors!’

  Moms Know Best

  Tina did most of the talking for the bulk of the trip right up until her mother called her cellphone to check on their progress.

  ‘He’s a Reno friend,’ Tina said in response to her mother’s question about who was driving the vehicle. ‘Don’t worry mom, he’s a very responsible driver plus a super nice guy,’ she said shooting a grin at Quintus at the wheel. ‘We’re still an hour and a bit away, so maybe we’ll be too late for lunch. Yes mom, okay mom.’

  She lowered her phone and looked at Quintus.

  ‘Do you like Thai food? Bangkok Thai to be precise? Not so spicy. Mom wants to know if you would like to have a late lunch with us.’

  ‘Thank your mom for me but I gotta keep driving to San Francisco.’

  ‘You hear that mom?’ Tina said into the phone and then listened to her mom’s reply. ‘Mom said a man’s gotta eat. She’ll have some food there at home for you.’

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Sounds like you better count me in then.’

  ‘All right mom Quintus is in, so we will see you soon. What? Ha, ha, err okay mom, I’ll check,’ Tina said. ‘My mom wants to know what kind of name is Quintus?’

  ‘It’s an old Roman name.’

  ‘Quintus is Roman, mom.’

  That got some laughter.

  ‘Mom has never met a Roman before,’ Tina said through chuckles.

  For the last 30 seconds of the call Tina and her mom said goodbyes in Thai. After ending the call, she looked to Quintus.

  ‘My mom is the best cook in the world. You’re one lucky guy.’

  ‘I’m sure I am. Did you tell your mom about what happened at the diner?’

  ‘No not yet, she’d worry too much if I just blabbed it out over the phone,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell her in person after we arrive.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Quintus.

  ‘But given the events in Rome and what that’s all about she was pretty cool, calm and collected,’ she said.

  ‘You speak any other languages apart from Thai and English?’ Quintus asked.

  ‘Some Mandarin. Enough to get by, only a bit. How about you?’ she asked.

  ‘Some Spanish and bits of pieces of others.’

  From what she could see, Tina knew Quintus was great. Going by his aura he was unsurpassed. But he was very guarded in what he said. So far, he had offered few details about himself. She wanted to know more but she was too well mannered to intrude so she just stayed on the obvious topic of conversation.

  ‘Hard to believe the end of the world might be soon,’ she quietly said.

  ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ Quintus said.

  In a bid to lighten the mood, he asked Tina about her art education studies. And from that she was gladly surprised to find that they both shared a love for the Renaissance and the culture that it created. Quintus of course experienced that glorious period, not that he could share that with Tina. For decades he actually helped drive the Renaissance with his arc
hitecture, first in Florence and then through Italy and elsewhere in Europe.

  Quintus spoke in moderation, saying about as much as he thought she could accept. In turn, he listened to her talk about her admiration for the likes of Raphael, Andrea del Sarto and of course, everyone’s favorites, Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci.

  The flow of the conversation stopped when Quintus noticed the pickup truck’s temperature gauge was higher than usual. It wasn’t extreme, but he didn’t want to risk it. A month earlier, the radiator needed repairs which he did himself, but he wasn’t overly confident in what he did. After passing through the town of Colfax he pulled up at a small gas station that was devoid of customers.

  ‘I gotta check under the hood,’ Quintus told Tina as he parked the pickup. ‘And get some backup coolant while I’m at it. Won’t take long.’

  ‘Okay, sure, do what you gotta do,’ she said.

  ‘You like anything from inside the gas station’s store?’ he offered her as he stepped out of the vehicle.

  ‘No, I’m good. Hope you don’t mind me not coming out, I have to speak with some friends who have been messaging me all day,’ she said. ‘With the diner shooting and fears of the Apocalypse they’re freaking out somewhat.’

  ‘No problem,’ Quintus said before he popped the hood to check on his engine’s coolant levels which all seemed in order.

  After he dropped the hood, he went into the shop where he was greeted by a young shop clerk armed with a price gun.

  ‘Excuse me, I’m after some coolant,’ Quintus said.

  ‘Yeah over in that corner. I haven’t been there yet so it’s still reasonably priced. So be quick, I’m bumping everything up by 70 percent today,’ the clerk said. ‘With the world going to end, the boss reckons prices are set to skyrocket.’

  Group Chat

  In the parked pickup, Tina was talking on her phone in a group chat with four of her friends; three girls and a guy. All were engrossed in their conversation.

  ‘I tried getting on the website for Temple Science Ministries earlier today and couldn’t,’ said one of the girls.

  ‘I heard it crashed with so many people trying to visit it after Rome,’ said another.

  ‘Hey everyone! Chuck Goyette is actually live on TV right now from Los Angeles,’ chipped in the third girl.

  ‘I’m not going to watch him just out of principle,’ the guy friend said. ‘Goyette gives me the creeps. He is the Walmart version of the Antichrist.’

  Laughter.

  Tina was so occupied with the conversation she didn’t notice two vehicles — a van and a SUV, both black — park to the left side of the pickup. Nor did she register two men get out of the van and quickly approach.

  It was only when they yanked open her door did she realize she was in trouble. They grabbed her and hauled her out of the pickup’s cabin.

  ‘Make noise and you’re dead, do as we say, and you’ll live,’ one of them said to her in accented English.

  As they dragged her towards the van her phone spilled out of her hands. Her online friends yelled hopeless concerns until a thug crushed the phone under the heel of his boot.

  A hood was placed over Tina’s head. The last thing she saw was the murky blackness of the thugs’ auras.

  After forcing her into the van they waited.

  Gold Tooth

  Carrying his coolant purchase Quintus exited the store and promptly saw that Tina wasn’t in the pickup. A split second later, he saw thugs around the van which Tina was inside with her head covered. She sat near the open side door. Beside her a thug — with a gold tooth — had a pistol thrust into her ribs.

  Quintus had by this stage stopped in his tracks. He counted seven thugs, one of whom was behind him. The one with the gold tooth smiled in a not so friendly manner.

  ‘Machotes, you’ve caused an awful mess and now we gotta clean it up,’ said the thug with the gold tooth. ‘No matter. It’s our job. Nothing personal okay? So, take three steps to your left, and then get down to your knees,’ he ordered.

  Quintus may have performed wonders at the diner the night before, but he couldn’t repeat them under these circumstances and risk Tina’s life. There was little choice but to do as instructed and hope to do something when odds improved.

  After dropping the coolant, he stepped to the side and got to his knees. As he put his hands on his head the thug behind him approached and walloped him on the head. Quintus went down semi-stunned. Sprawled on the ground, the last thing he sensed was a needle jab into his side and something being injected inside him. That something knocked him out.

  CHAPTER X

  In The Shade of The Crow

  It was mid-afternoon, and the Crow was parked in a quiet corner of the Reno Tahoe International Airport. Marx was outside it, standing in its shade while talking on his cellphone. He was busy cajoling Kristen back in New York City in a bid to try and stop her from resigning as his personal assistant.

  ‘Listen to me, I simply can’t have you just finish like this,’ Marx said sharply. ‘I realize you have fears, but you have a job to do and an obligation to me. It’s just not acceptable.’

  While Kristen replied, he kept an eye on Day’s van just some 100 feet away. It was parked beside a hangar. Inside it Day counted the cash he was given for delivering Vacher and Irfan who were now up in the Crow.

  After a minute, Kristen finished what she had to say. None of it swayed Marx but he acted otherwise to get what he wanted, so he softened his tone.

  ‘Look Kristen, I’m certainly not happy. I thought you were made of sturdier stuff but the best I can do is meet you halfway,’ Marx said. ‘Which means I want you to come to China with me, with Ivan and some of the team, for the three or so days of business,’ he said. ‘You won’t be in New York in case that rumored earthquake does eventuate and then when we fly back I will take you to wherever you want in the USA, to your family’s home and then you can finish up with no more qualms from me,’ he said. ‘That’s not even a week, very generous considering I’m meant to have a month’s notice.’

  Kristen’s ten-second reply to his offer was noncommittal.

  ‘Fine, think about it some more Kristen and get back to me with a proper answer. You have an hour to do so,’ Marx said. He ended the call without a goodbye.

  Marx looked up as he heard Day’s van start and then watched it drive away. One of his mercenaries, positioned on the ground at the front of the aircraft, then alerted him that two other vehicles were approaching from the other side.

  A van and a SUV.

  It was Alfonso Lazcano’s crew.

  Inside the van were Quintus and Tina, both of whom were still out cold. They had black bags over their heads and their hands tied with heavy-duty cable ties. Despite some rough handling, they remained unconscious while they were transferred into the Crow.

  Mad Man Raving

  Quintus was unsure how long he and Tina had been airborne for when he became conscious. He first became aware when someone grabbed his legs and dragged him out from the plane’s cargo hold and into the main passenger’s cabin.

  That someone then pulled the black hood off his head. It was Vacher. The Frenchman’s face was contorted with loathing. He roughly pushed Quintus into a sitting position on the floor and propped him up against a seat.

  Quintus was still woozy and disoriented from the drugs. His hands were behind his back, restrained by the cable ties which bit into his wrists.

  Vacher stepped back and, through bleary eyes, Quintus managed to see someone else; a seated man, dressed in a suit, drinking liquor from a tumbler.

  ‘What a miserable specimen,’ said the man who of course was Marx.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Quintus asked with a slight slur.

  ‘Speak only when told,’ Vacher hissed.

  ‘No, no, let him have his say. He’s earned it,’ Marx mockingly said.

  There was an uneasy moment of nothing but the sound of the jet’s drone before Marx spoke again.


  ‘It was only a matter of time before we met once more Quintus,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know you pal,’ Quintus said while avoiding Marx’s gaze.

  ‘Don’t lie,’ Marx shot back.

  Quintus closed his eyes and quietly sighed. He didn’t want to entertain any thoughts on who this guy was, but that would prove impossible — the guy looked very familiar.

  ‘You know full well who I am. I was starting to think we’d never cross paths in this lifetime. It certainly took a while, but all things come to those who wait,’ Marx said. ‘And those who know how to hustle.’

  Marx began laughing. It was an evil cackle. Nothing joyous about it at all. It was a familiar, grating, sound for Quintus. He looked up at Marx laughing away and then accepted who the suited man was, but he didn’t want to openly admit it.

  Nothing good came from meeting Meng’s reincarnation in the past, yet he was not afraid. There was something fatalistic and even purposeful about it all, as odd as that might sound.

  When the laughing stopped, Quintus spoke firmly.

  ‘Do what you want with me or get whatever it is off your chest but just leave the girl out of it,’ he said.

  ‘Leave the girl out of it? You and I both know that is not going to happen,’ Marx said curtly. ‘I’ve waited hundreds of years for this!’

  ‘Touch her and —’

  WHACK!

  With a downward swing, Vacher struck Quintus hard across the face, leaving a welt on his cheek.

  ‘No need for that yet Vacher, in fact you can leave now,’ Marx ordered.

  After giving Quintus a three second death stare, Vacher went up front to join Irfan and the others.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse him, he’s somewhat upset by what happened at the diner with you kicking him around the place. He doesn’t know you two have a shared past,’ Marx said. ‘You know who he was, don’t you?’

  ‘No and I don’t care.’

  ‘Oh yes you will, coz he was Andrei Vasiliev; that geriatric neighbor of yours back in Boise, Idaho.’