He heard something out in the glassy sea and saw six rings emanating on the still waters. Darla stopped and put her finger to her lips. They arrived at their favorite rock, and she looked at him then tilted her head at it. He put his coffee on one side of the rock and gently lifted Darla onto its flat surface before grabbing his coffee and joining her on the other side.
She held up her hand to stop his ascent then spoke quietly, “Don’t say anything. Just wait.”
Harold stood and silently sipped his coffee while he struggled to stay awake. In a few moments, he heard the waters ripple again. Six manatees broke the surface.
Darla whispered, “They’re here around this time every day.”
One of the manatees slowly approached the shallows. The large sea cow floated just beyond the rock, a few inches from the sandy bottom.
“Go say hello,” said Darla quietly.
Harold looked at her, and she stuck out her index finger towards the water. He wanted to avoid another tense exchange, so he put down his mug and slowly waded out until the water’s surface began to lap at his shorts. Although the Caribbean was not cold, the early morning was chillier than he liked. The cool waters cleared his cloudy mind. He was contemplating turning around when the manatee navigated to within arm’s reach.
Harold reached out, and the mammal nudged his hand with its nose. Its stiff whiskers poked at his hand. The moment was surreal. In an instant, Harold forgot everything. He stood in amazement at the large, gentle creature who saw him more as a friend than a threat. He didn’t know how long he had stood there, but the manatee dropped its head just below the surface and slowly swam out to deeper waters and greener pastures.
The sun had cleared the horizon by the time he joined Darla. Although he felt a little chilled, the sleepiness had completely cleared from his mind.
He reached over and kissed Darla on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. That isn’t why we’re here. I just thought you could use a pick-me-up before we have our little chat.”
Harold pulled his feet up close to his body, wrapped his arms around his knees, and let himself relax. “Okay, I give up. What do you want to know?”
Darla traced his strong right arm with her index finger and then pulled it away. He followed her hand and then gazed into her face. The sadness Harold had seen before looked back into his eyes.
“You’re not the only one to see ghosts. I was haunted by my victims for many years.”
Harold’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “What do you mean victims?”
“Well, that’s how I saw them. All of them deserved to die, or at least deserved to be stopped, and that was the only way I had been trained to stop them. Unfortunately, those people never had a chance once they were in my crosshairs. So yes, I would call them my victims.”
Harold silently stared out over the water.
Darla’s left hand passed along his face. “What are you thinking?”
He gave a slight shrug. “I don’t know. I just never pictured you as a killer.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Neither do I. Most of the work I did in intelligence involved identifying targets in the field.”
“So what? You are one of those geeks that sat behind a desk looking at satellite images and then one day decided she wanted to be a field agent?”
“No. I was always in the field. Satellite images can only take you so far, especially in countries like Afghanistan. Being a woman with olive skin, dark eyes and hair, I could blend in when I needed to with the population. Besides, a burqa can conceal many things. I liked my job because I never had to pull the trigger directly. The people I identified had not just killed one or two innocents but whole families and villages. Many were planning, or had planned, attacks on our homeland. I felt like I was doing God’s work protecting the country.”
Harold raised his hand. “Wait a minute. When I met you, you told me you were an analyst and spent time in Northern Africa.”
She patted his knee. “My missions were need to know, and you didn’t need to know, yet.”
Harold stroked her ponytail and spoke as he looked back out over the waters. “I’m not sure I understand what this has to do with me. Suddenly I need to know? I’m out here in the middle of the Caribbean with arms dealers and spies. This is not what I went to business school for. You were doing what you were trained to do, and what you wanted to do. I’m not.”
Darla took her head off his shoulder and turned and looked at him. “Just because you’re doing what you are trained to do, and doing it for the right reasons doesn’t mean you don’t face consequences. I know what your nightmares are like. I had them myself, and sometimes I still have them.”
He looked deeply into her sad eyes. “I had no idea. Why are you still doing this work if you’re going through what I’m going through?”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, Garcia and your dad are to thank for that. Garcia pulled me into the church, and your dad gave me a chance to redeem myself.”
“Humph,” said Harold. “Despite what he claims, Garcia doesn’t seem to be the religious type to me, and if I’m being honest, neither do you.”
Darla’s forehead wrinkled up into a scowl. “I’m not sure what your beliefs are, but I can assure you there’s a history over many millennia of warriors who believed in God.”
“What, like the Knight Templars or something?”
“No, they were heretics. I was thinking David, Gideon, Sampson, and the modern-day Mista’arvim. These people have helped the innocent.”
Harold gently clasped her strong hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Garcia just surprises me; that’s all. So, how does going to church work into your life as a spy?”
She allowed her hand to remain in his as she continued. “It isn’t about church. It’s about forgiveness. Once I allowed myself to believe in something greater than myself, it was not a hard leap for me to accept the fact that a God would provide a way for people like me to be redeemed. It wasn’t just the death that was eating away at my soul, it was the nightmares. It got to the point where I was waking screaming on almost a nightly basis. I had to re-battle the very enemies I had already defeated. At first it seemed fun to defeat the ghosts of my enemies, but then everything changed. I honestly thought I might end up going nuts.”
“So, what changed?”
Darla took back her hand, put her arm across her chest, and held her injured arm. She pulled her legs in close. “She was an eight-year-old girl or at least she looked eight years old. She was really a small angel. I had been tracking an al-Qaeda target for two days. He finally ended up in a village deep inside the mountains of Afghanistan. I radioed his location to my contact at the appointed time. By that point, the target had been in a house for two hours. Nobody else was seen coming in or going out. I painted the side of the house with the portable laser, and a drone strike was called in. It was a good clean hit with no civilians close by. Or so I thought. Before the dust had settled, a woman came screaming from another street. She ran into the rubble, and men joined her moving rocks. In a few minutes, they pulled the dead body of a small child out of the rubble. I had no idea that there had been a sleeping girl in the house the entire time.”
Harold reached over to kiss her strained forehead and gave her a long, gentle hug. He leaned back, and Darla’s face appeared to relax a little, and then she continued.
“It was one thing to fight the demons that were rolling around inside my head, but everything changed after that little girl. They pulled me out of the field until I was cleared of intentionally targeting a civilian. Then one night, she appeared to me. It was almost as if she had waited for the investigation to end.”
Her eyes began to tear up. Harold reached up and wiped away the first couple drops that ran down her cheeks. Darla looked at him with tears pooling. “She wasn’t like the other things that haunted me when I slept. From the moment she showed up, she told me she forgave me. She would say things like, ‘It’s p
eaceful here, much better than the place I left.’ That just made me feel even more guilty. I thought my mind was just trying to justify killing a little girl.
“I guess other people noticed I was having issues because I was reassigned stateside. That’s how I met Garcia. He had me keep a watch on your family. We had some idea that one of your dad’s competitors was attempting to color outside the lines in an effort to take out your company.”
“Wait,” said Harold. “Do you mean to tell me that you were still part of the CIA when I met you?”
Darla took a slow breath. “I had quit over your dad’s suicide. Garcia talked me into staying with the investigation as an asset.”
“So, what happened? How does this little girl’s death tie into everything?” he asked.
“Garcia introduced me to your father before the suicide. Both had struggled with what I was going through. Garcia had his own demons from the field, and your father carried the burden of knowing his weapons were used not only on the guilty but sometimes the innocent.”
Harold’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Dad never told me about any of this. I guess he didn’t want to worry me. So, what happened?”
“I had given up trying to figure out what was real, a dream, or a nightmare. I had just hoped the nightmares would end. I’ll confess, I was ready to end them myself if something didn’t change. I had been to church, so I knew the whole Jesus thing, but I didn’t think it applied. Your dad took me to the church to talk with his minister to see if he could help. By that point, I decided I would much rather accept something on faith instead of always looking for a solution where there was none. Garcia was key in helping me apply what I learned and work through forgiving my enemies.”
Harold scratched his head. “So what? You just forgive your enemies? They disappeared from your dreams, and your nightmares ended? I’m not sure I buy that. Dad drove me to church my whole life, and I have forgiven a lot of people. I even forgave John for the hell he put us through. He’s dead. There isn’t anything else he can do to me. Still, John seems intent on hanging around, and last night Haidar joined him.”
“That’s not the only enemy I’m talking about. You must forgive yourself as well. We both know that killing someone evil makes us feel just as evil. You see, you still need to forgive yourself. For me, I learned to accept the fact that, for whatever reason, this is who I’m supposed to be. I don’t understand it, and there are days I don’t like it, but for now, it’s who I am.”
Harold sat silently, trying to comprehend everything she had shared with him. A question formed in his mind, “Why do you call the little girl your angel?”
A slight smile formed on Darla’s face. “Because she’s the one who taught me the most about forgiveness. After I forgave myself for the other deaths, I would still have nightmares. At first, the demons from my past would try to taunt me and make me angry, but I had grown tired of the game and refused to give in. Over a period of days and weeks, they begin to drop off one by one. I guess my mind was so busy with them that I’d forgotten about the little girl. Then one night, she appeared in my dreams again. She told me she forgave me, and I should forgive myself too. I woke up crying and asking God to show me how to forgive myself for killing someone so beautiful.”
Harold reached over and gently rubbed her left arm. “So, is she gone now? Are you finally at peace?”
“I’m at peace, but she’s still around. I knew she was someone special when I saw her in my room one day when I wasn’t asleep. It was here on the island while John was still alive. Just after Joshua left, John was trying to decide if he could trust Joshua or if he should have him killed. I talked him into trusting Joshua. When I was done, I locked myself in my room and cried.”
“Why?” asked Harold.
She looked into his eyes once more. They were filled with regret. “Please don’t ask me those questions,” she said in a pleading voice.
Harold thought he could figure out the answer and decided he should let it go. After all, it was in the past.
Darla continued, “I was on the floor, my face in my hands, weeping. I felt something touch me, and I jumped. I looked up, assuming it was John or one of the other men. Instead, my little angel stood next to me. I was very confused and wasn’t sure what to think. I was afraid I was losing my mind at a time that I needed my wits about me the most. She told me not to fear, that I was forgiven, and everything would be okay. She reached over and hugged me. I really can’t explain it. When I reached out, she was gone, but I could still feel her near me. I sat there and thought about what I had learned about love and forgiveness when I was at the church with Garcia and your dad. I decided to keep going, and in the end, we succeeded.”
Harold let out a long breath. For several seconds, neither said a word. He finally asked, “Have you seen her since then?”
Darla turned and looked out over the water. “A few times. I felt very guilty about you attacking Haidar. I know I didn’t cause myself to get shot, but I’m the reason you went berserk. She appeared last night and reminded me I’m loved and that I should talk to you. I went to sleep, and a few hours later, here we are. You need to let go of your demons. It isn’t your fault. You’re not the one who went after them. They came after you. I don’t know why you’re the way you are any more than I know why I am the way I am. But, if I can accept who I am, so can you.”
Harold responded in a raspy voice. “But that’s part of the problem. I don’t know who I am. I know I’m not some sort of superspy or some superhero that stepped out of the comic books. This is real life. How do I incorporate what I can become with the way I want to live my life?”
Darla leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t know, honey. I just know you need to take things on faith and live one day at a time. We can figure it out together. I know your secret, and now you know mine. Just promise me one thing—you will forgive yourself for those two killings. If you do, you can make the nightmares stop. As for the rest of it, you may need to lean more on faith and less on questions you can’t answer.”
Harold wanted to believe her. He wanted to be the man that she was describing. “Okay, I’ll try.”
She maneuvered around to get her good arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay as long as we can be together.”
He put his arm around her, pulled her in close, and whispered, “I hope so.”
Chapter 23
Harold sat at his father’s old desk inside his office on the Sweet Revenge. His fingers ran across its bloodstains. He looked out the window and wondered what his dad would think about where his old desk sat now.
“Missing daddy, brat?” John’s familiar voice made Harold cringe.
Harold kept looking at the window. “You know, a friend of mine gave me some great advice. She said I should just forget about you. What’s done is done after all. It’s not doing me any good to let you inside my head just because I killed you. In fact, you might even argue that you killed yourself.”
John’s familiar cackle brought the same chill down Harold’s spine. “I think you have me confused with your father,” snarled John.
“That’s not going to work anymore. We all make our decisions. Dad made his; Joshua made his, and you made yours. You could’ve gone into hiding. Heck, you could have even given yourself up.”
John’s deep laugh echoed around the room. Harold finally turned to face him. The familiar ashen face and hollow eyes stared back at Harold. The embedded gun had returned to the side of his head.
Harold ignored his repulsion and continued speaking, “I’m being serious. What did you think would happen when you came to our house? Did you really think you could kill all three of us? And then what was your plan? Face it; you were driven by your own rage. Your hate had eaten you alive, and you were dead long before you stepped through the door of my house. I know that, and you know that. You can hang around here and waste your time, but I’m done fighting you or worrying about you.”
; The lips of John’s specter twisted into a smile. He hissed and said, “Fine. I’ll leave you to my compatriot. Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
“You can take Haidar with you,” Harold shot back. “I can’t change what happened, but in the end, he wanted to die too. If anything, I was more merciful than Chuck would’ve been. Either way, the past is over, and I’m moving on.”
Flames shot from John’s eyes, and his words reverberated in Harold’s mind, “Who said I was talking about Haidar?” With that, the specter disappeared.
Harold’s world turned dark. The alarm clock seemed to echo in his head, and he opened his eyes. The familiar roll of the yacht reminded him that he was at sea. The clock showed 7:30 a.m. Harold sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around. The cabin was quiet, and the ocean outside the windows was calm and beautiful. Although the deserted key was only a day’s trip by ship, Garcia kept everyone aboard the yacht for an extended period to keep the team focused on the important work at hand. He had left Darla and Harold aboard ship most of the first day while he joined Alice at Crossroads Key in preparation for the meeting with Chuck and Nigel. Darla repeatedly discussed with Harold how he would simply confirm the electronic transfer of funds into the CIA’s offshore account, but he was left out of the loop about everyone else’s role. He only knew that they were to deliver two boxes of weapons and ammo for quality assurance. At least, that was how Garcia explained it.
Boredom, agitation, and stress quickly rolled over Harold. Today was the big day, but he was to continue sitting still while others worked. Garcia told him to enjoy the time off, but he had been either relaxing or talking for far too many days. Somehow knowing he would finally have something to do in the afternoon only made the morning that much more maddening. Harold looked around his cabin.
“I need some air,” he said to himself.
He showered, dressed, and began his climb up to the top deck. Mid-deck he passed Frank arranging a place setting at the circular table. Harold greeted him and asked that his breakfast be served upstairs.
Harold and the Angel of Death Page 24
