Assignment- Danger A SpyCo Collection 4-6

by Craig A. Hart

  Higgins cleared his throat. “I’m listening, sir.”

  Zmaj edged forward so close that the two men were nearly touching. “You are listening, Higgins, but are you hearing me?”

  “I think so, sir.”

  “I’ve kept that clock to remind me to never choose anyone who doesn’t choose me. To not let feelings get in the way of doing what must be done.”

  “A sound philosophy, sir.”

  Zmaj shook his head regretfully. “The words of a condemned man ring hollow.”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “I know, Higgins.”

  “Sir?”

  “I know you’ve chosen someone—something—other than me. And I simply cannot have it. As much conflict as my father and I had, he was still my father. Did you really think you would escape the fate that claimed my own father?”

  “Sir, I…I don’t know what to say. I assure you—”

  “Silence!” Zmaj’s face turned white, then red, then purple in the space of a second. “You could at least accept my discovery of your treachery like the man I thought you were, Higgins. I know what you were planning to do with the gathering IRA troops!”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Speak once more unbidden and I will remove your tongue! I’ve known for a long time about your past with the IRA. A good Irishman, deeply involved at the height of The Troubles. You never accepted the agreement, did you, Higgins? Always hoping to make a comeback. The fact that all of the most well-trained and connected IRA soldiers, past and present, were going to be gathering here must have seemed a golden opportunity to relaunch a major offensive in the interest of your beloved isle. Admit it! You were going to take my army, weren’t you? Weren’t you!”

  Higgins’ face was white and covered in a sheen of sweat. He looked as if he might burst into tears, vomit, or fall over dead. “I swear to you, sir. I would never turn on you. I…I thought I could leverage the army for the good of Ireland. I never intended to target you, sir. Surely you can’t believe I would wish you harm.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe, Higgins. Only the facts concern me. And the fact is that, no matter your motive, you went behind my back. I trusted you—put more power into your hands than I’ve ever given anyone—and you used it for your own purposes.”

  Higgins remained silent, no doubt remembering Zmaj’s threat.

  “Ah, Higgins. I will admit to seeing the irony in your situation. You are loyal to a fault, and I understand this decision must have caused you great anguish. I’m even willing to believe you somehow convinced yourself this would ultimately benefit me in some ways. And, perhaps, it could have. But that doesn’t change the fact you didn’t choose me. Why not come to me, Higgins? That would have been the proper thing to do. I would have said no, of course, but you could have asked.” Zmaj shook his head briskly, as if pulling himself together. “But now we must take action. Come, Higgins. Follow me.” Zmaj began walking toward the office door, with Higgins following on shaky legs.

  They exited the office and came out on the landing of the great staircase, with the Pollock painting just behind them, providing a wild backdrop to Higgins’ quaking form. Below, in the yawning foyer, milled a growing number of men and women—the Wolf’s army was gathering. Every few minutes, another would arrive and begin making the rounds: shaking hands, hugging, and recounting old war stories. A buffet stretched along one entire side of the room, providing food and drinks that the visitors eagerly devoured.

  The Wolf leaned against the balustrade, gazing down at the lively crowd with almost paternal affection. He looked up when Zmaj appeared from the office, then straightened and smiled.

  “I had no real doubts they would show, but it’s still a relief to see them arriving in such numbers.” Then he saw Higgins and seemed to sense something was off. “What is happening, Zmaj?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Zmaj said. “Just a quick bit of business to resolve.” He walked to the edge of the landing and clapped his hands loudly for attention. Aided by the room’s impressive acoustics, this sharp sound cut through the rumble of conversation, which slowly faded away. Zmaj cleared his throat. “Let me thank you all for coming. I truly appreciate it. We shall get down to business in a moment, but I trust you will indulge me in a piece of housekeeping. As you may have heard, I run a tight ship in my organization and do not tolerate disloyalty of any kind. This man—” Zmaj reached back and, grabbing Higgins’ arm, pulled him forward and into view of the watching crowd “—this man has been found to have plans contrary to those I laid out. Therefore, even though he is the longest serving member of my staff, he must be punished. Come, Higgins.”

  Slowly, the two men made their way down the massive stairway, with Zmaj’s hand never releasing the disgraced valet’s arm, the other clutching the railing as his malformed legs wobbled him down the steps. As they neared the bottom, Higgins whispered, “Please, sir. Not the tanks. Not the tanks, sir.”

  “Oh, yes, the tanks. It is only fitting. But don’t worry, Higgins. I don’t intend to let you die. As I said, I am willing to believe you ultimately intended everything to work out for my benefit. So I have decided to spare your life. Now move, Higgins; we can’t keep our audience waiting.”

  Higgins didn’t struggle, even as Zmaj guided him toward a large tank containing a swirling group of piranhas. As the head valet, he had seen others get this treatment, but no doubt never expected to be the victim. Yet he had to know resistance would only worsen his fate.

  “Just one hand, Mr. Zmaj. Please. You wouldn’t do both hands, would you? I couldn’t work without at least one hand.”

  Zmaj smiled and let out a gurgling chuckle. “Relax, Higgins. I’m not taking either of your hands.”

  “Just a finger, then! Oh, thank you, sir. I’ll never forget your mercy. And I really do deserve this. I am truly sorry, sir. I never intended to betray you. It was all for the good of the organization and Ireland.”

  “Of course, of course.” Zmaj waved away Higgins’ words and then turned and called out to a couple of his employees who stood at attention along the wall. “Bring the stepladder and two rubber straps. Move!”

  The men hustled away and returned seconds later with a stepladder and straps. Zmaj took the straps and then indicated the men should set up the ladder beside the tank.

  “It is time, Higgins. Climb the ladder.”

  Higgins climbed. He was shaking so badly that he almost fell more than once, but finally, he stood on the top rung.

  “Sit down, Higgins.”

  Higgins sat and Zmaj handed him the straps.

  “Tie these around your upper legs.”

  “Sir?”

  “Your legs. They’re tourniquets. You don’t wish to bleed to death, do you?”

  “My…legs, sir?”

  “Why, yes! I told you I wouldn’t take your hands.”

  “Oh, sir—”

  “Do it!” Zmaj waited all of two seconds, but when Higgins didn’t comply, he gestured wildly to the two men. “Tie his legs! And hold him!”

  The men fastened the straps tightly just above Higgins’ knees and then gripped him as best they could from their positions at the foot of the ladder.

  Higgins, apparently deciding struggling might not be that bad of an idea after all, made a move to jump from the ladder.

  “Hold him!” Zmaj shrieked. “Hold him!”

  The men struggled to maintain their hold.

  Zmaj was practically dancing in place with rising excitement and a sense of righteous anger. “Remove his shoes! Turn him! Put his legs in the tank!”

  The men grappled with the frantic Higgins, at last managing to remove the shoes and turn the older man on the top of the ladder. Higgins tried to hold his feet out of the water, but his captors forced them down.

  Once they hit the water, it was all over. The piranha swarmed to the live flesh, biting, tearing, the sheer weight of their numbers pulling the legs deeper into the water.

  Within seconds, the tank was dark with
blood. Higgins’ initial screams lapsed into a series of unintelligible grunts, choking sobs, and deep whimpers. At last, he fell into a state of semi-consciousness and slumped over, in danger of falling entirely into the tank.

  “Pull him out,” Zmaj said.

  The two men did so, and as Higgins’ legs came into view, the watching crowd of hardened vets gasped. From the knee down, the valet’s legs were completely devoid of skin and muscle. Only bone remained, partially shrouded in the shredded rags of the man’s pants legs.

  Zmaj took a single cursory look and then waved for the men to take Higgins away. Then he went to the stairs and ascended, eschewing the use of the lift to avoid any appearance of weakness. Once at the top, he assumed his original station on the landing. The Wolf hadn’t moved. Once more, Zmaj cleared his throat and gathered himself to address the stunned crowd.

  “I apologize for that little interruption, but it was a pressing matter. Now, let me properly thank you all for coming to my humble abode. And, even though you came as a result of a call put forth by this gentleman—” Zmaj indicated the Wolf “—I sincerely hope you all know he did so on my orders. He works for me and, therefore, so will all of you, were you to accept my terms.”

  Zmaj sensed, rather than saw, the Wolf make a move forward. Zmaj half-turned and, seeing the look in the Wolf’s eyes, knew he wasn’t planning to second the proclamation.

  “Even now,” Zmaj continued, “you see the Wolf approaching, as if to dispute my claim that he works for me. A man of great pride, he is, but in this case, he is lacking his normal level of good sense.”

  The Wolf continued forward, the look of annoyance morphing into cold fury. His eyes advertised his intent to kill.

  “If he was in possession of his faculties, ladies and gentlemen, he would no doubt be aware that even now some of the best marksmen in the business have him in their sights, with orders to bring him down if he touches so much as a hair on my head.”

  In response, little red dots appeared in a cluster on the Wolf’s center mass. The Wolf stopped and looked around quickly, trying to find the shooters’ locations. Then he looked back at Zmaj and said in a low, ice-cold voice,

  “You’ll pay for this, Zmaj. No one takes my army and gets away with it.”

  “You all probably couldn’t hear that,” Zmaj said, addressing the audience. “He said I would pay for this and that no one takes his army and gets away with it.”

  “So help me, Zmaj, I am going to rip the head from your body.”

  “He says he is going to rip my head from my body! Should we give him even more reason to hate me? I think we should. Before I proceed, Wolf, please know that should you take one more step, the marksmen have a standing order to fire.” Looking to the back of the hall he shouted, “Bring the beast!”

  A quiet murmur spread through the crowd, which parted as a pair of handlers came forward, leading a snarling wolf at the end of two restraining poles.

  “Ghost!” the Wolf screamed but did not move. “Zmaj, I will tear out your heart!” There was no need for Zmaj to repeat that to the assembly.

  “I am sure many of you hoped to see my sharks in action when I punished Higgins. I could not see killing my longsuffering servant, but I have no use for this snarling filth. And Zmaj aims to please. Open the hatch!” Another servant ran forward and pulled back the Lucite hatchway. The sharks, anticipating a meal, circled the area.

  “When I first met your former colleague, he felt it would be a delightful demonstration of his superiority to have his animal attack me. Now it is my turn to experience delight! Do it, now!”

  The animal handlers dragged the wolf, now whimpering, having no doubt realized the situation. Reaching the edge of the opening, they used the poles to push the frantic creature into the water. A moment later, they withdrew the poles, now empty. In the bloody water, the sharks reached a frenzy. Zmaj never took his eyes from the anguished Wolf. The huge man was suffering terribly watching the demise of his pet, but he stood firm.

  An uneasy ripple of laughter went through the crowd. The scene of intense drama had been taking on a comical side, which was just what Zmaj wanted. But with the execution of the animal, he had shifted the mood again. The Wolf, on the other hand, appeared ready to burst from his own skin. He had to know Zmaj was trying to make him look foolish and weak in front of the soldiers and the Wolf had never been one for self-deprecating humor.

  “Now, you all might be wondering why I staged all this elaborate drama. And the answer is because I wanted to fully introduce you to the world of Zmaj.” This, of course, was not strictly true, but Zmaj was nothing if not adept at making lemonade from life’s lemons. “I will admit I am a hard master. I expect loyalty, diligence, proficiency. And yet I am generous to those who fulfill those very requirements. Take the unfortunate Higgins, for instance. I rewarded him handsomely over the years. He made more per year than a lot of CEOs—his family was well-provided for, and shall continue to be. And all I asked in return was complete loyalty without subterfuge. And that is the choice all of you face tonight. I stand before you, offering the opportunity of a lifetime. Join me, choose me, and you will be made wealthy and notorious beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “This has gone far enough!” the Wolf said, control slipping from his fingers. “We share a common passion, brothers. It is for Ireland we fought and for Ireland we will continue fighting. This monstrosity of a man understands nothing about our history. How could he hope to feel the fire that runs through our veins? I called you here, yes. But now I see the error in that decision. I was taken in by this Judas. I now call on you all to leave this place and regroup at my factory, where we will begin planning the resurgence of our army!”

  “Our friend the Wolf freely admits to being duped. How will you be able to trust him? He will face much more devious men than am I. In fact, the only crime I stand before is self-promotion. I did not have you all come under false pretenses. Can the same be said of the Wolf?”

  A murmur ran through the crowd. The Wolf let out a roar of fury and leaped toward Zmaj, who spun away with surprising agility as several shots punctuated the thickening atmosphere of the room. The Wolf twisted sideways, turned by the force of the bullets striking his body. As he fell, the soldiers below sent up a cry; some in dismay, others in shock, a few in approval.

  Zmaj wasted no time. Stepping forward, he raised his hands like a messiah and roared out, “Now is the time! Choose, my friends! Obscurity or me—ZMAJ!”

  As he spat out the final syllable of his name, scores of uniformed soldiers appeared around the perimeter of the room, all armed to the teeth and looking ready for blood.

  “You must choose now. Will you join me or will you not? If not, you may leave now. If you stay, I will assume you accept my complete and utter authority.”

  Suddenly, a short, nondescript man appeared on the landing, apparently having come from one of the doors leading into the heart of the castle.

  “Mr. Zmaj!”

  “Yes, what is it, Wilkins—I’m a little busy.”

  “It’s the chopper, sir.”

  Zmaj turned and gestured to one of the men who had helped subdue Higgins, who ran up the stairs. “Take over here, will you?” Zmaj whispered. “Either they’re in or they’re out. If out, let them think they’re free to leave and then kill them before they leave the grounds.”

  The man nodded and left to engage the restless crowd.

  Zmaj turned back to Wilkins. “You’ve heard from the pilot?”

  “No, sir. The chopper crashed.”

  “Crashed!” Zmaj scowled. “That has to be Moore.”

  “So we assumed, sir. Anyway, they crashed into a sheep pasture near the Cliffs of Moher.”

  “And you have a trace on them?”

  “There’s a tracker on the chopper. Unless they’ve left the site, we know where they are.”

  Zmaj frowned. “They’re no doubt waiting for a ride into Dublin, which probably means the other SpyCo agents are on the way. This mi
ght just work to my advantage; I wanted to get them all together. Fine—have my pilot prepare my personal chopper and recruit as many men as will fit on it. Then load one of the trucks with more personnel. It won’t arrive at the same time as the chopper, but it will be nice to have reinforcements on the move, just in case.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man moved off swiftly to carry out his orders.

  Zmaj smiled and rubbed his hands together. “I can feel it this time,” he muttered. “This time I will succeed in cutting the head off SpyCo.”

  18

  Lyndsey Archer leaned against the side of the chopper and looked out into the night. The landscape rushing beneath them was barely visible, except for patches of lights scattered here and there. She thought about Burke and hoped he was all right. It was telling, at least to her, that Burke was always the first thing on her mind during a crisis. Where he was, how he was, what he would do in any given situation. More than she realized, he had managed to infiltrate her life to an uncomfortable level. Not that she disliked it; in fact, their increasing intimacy was a welcome change to the volatility they’d grown somewhat accustomed to. Perhaps they’d simply grown tired of fighting…or perhaps Burke was finally growing the hell up. Lyndsey smiled. She couldn’t deny that part of what attracted her to Burke was his playfulness and his boyish, impulsive way of dealing with life. At the same time, this had led to some of their most vicious arguments, especially when it came to Burke’s roving eye. Lyndsey valued faithfulness, but somehow had not been able to break free of Burke, even when he didn’t meet that criteria. She managed to forgive him those trespasses and put up with his other less desirable qualities. In all honesty, Lyndsey knew she had her own issues. She could be controlling and petty at times, just the sort of things that would drive a man like Burke to near insanity. This didn’t excuse his straying, of course, but Lyndsey knew Burke wasn’t a monster. In fact, in many ways he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She never felt more alive than when they were together. They had a lot in common and enjoyed the same things. Even politics wasn’t an issue. They would regularly finish each other’s sentences and laughed at the same off-beat humor. By most measures, they were perfect for each other.