by Ethan Cross
Once Yazzie was gone, Liana felt like she could breathe again. She respected her commanding officer, and he had always treated her fairly. But there was something about being alone with him that made her uneasy. Returning to the search, she examined the areas where Frank had tracked in the blood that had been covering his whole body. Using a piece of Scotch tape wrapped around her hand, she searched the fabric for any particles he had left behind. She didn’t find much beyond dust and sand, which could have merely blown in through an open window. There were, however, some small white specks that looked to her like salt.
Then, checking around the mattress, she noticed the edge of what looked to be a yellow piece of paper that someone had stuffed beneath. Pulling it free and checking over her shoulder to make sure that she was still alone, Liana unfolded the thin yellow slip to reveal it as the business portion from a carbon-copy receipt book with the name Red Bluff Trading Post stamped across its top. The handwritten notes on the sale bill were too faded to read, but Frank’s message was not in the list of purchases but rather the happy face symbol finger-painted in blood.
29
The brothers walked in step together toward an old shed behind the abandoned Red Bluff Trading Post. Marcus still found it surreal that the man beside him had once been his enemy, and now, there was no one else he would rather have by his side. It was amazing how much things could change within a relatively short span of time. Enemies could become friends, and the people closest to you could just as easily turn away.
Oddly enough, Ackerman was perhaps the only person in the world whom he trusted. Relatively speaking, of course, in the sense that he knew Frank would always have his back. His brother would stand by him to the death. Once, he would have said the same about Andrew, but something between them had changed since the Director had started grooming Andrew for management. Marcus sensed that Andrew was learning all kinds of secrets that he couldn’t share with any of them. Every time they talked, he felt the tension, the secrets and lies slowly erecting a barrier between them. And Maggie…he couldn’t bear to think of all the ways he had pushed her away.
Ackerman, as if reading his mind, said, “We’ll find her, brother.”
“I know that. I just have my doubts whether or not she’ll be breathing when we do.”
Ackerman had nothing to say to that. Instead, he said, “What wonderful toys did you bring with you this time?”
Marcus thought about that. He had packed the four-door Jeep Wrangler with as much hardware as it could carry and had unloaded the cases into the shed before Emily departed in the Jeep. Opening the slide door of the shed like a snake oil salesmen revealing his wares, Marcus said, “We have four MP5s, a .50 cal sniper rifle, a few different types of grenades, C4, and a crap ton of ammo.”
“But did you bring the items I requested?”
In reply, Marcus grabbed a rolled up blanket from atop the stack of black weapons cases and spread it out to reveal the series of items that his brother had instructed him to bring. The first was a bone-handled Bowie knife that Ackerman had acquired during the Thomas White investigation. Along with it was a sheath designed for concealment beneath the shirt in the small of one’s back. The second was a pair of push daggers that had once belonged to the Gladiator, a killer the team had recently hunted in San Francisco. The third was a bit of an enigma to Marcus, and it had actually stirred some troubling realizations about the items and how his brother had acquired them.
Marcus said, “Frank, what are all these things to you?”
“I’m not sure I understand your question, but they are basically the only possessions I have in this world. I don’t count Theodore as a possession. He’s more like a lamprey clinging to a great white shark.”
A mental image of his brother playing with the small Shih Tzu puppy brought a smile to Marcus’s face and a small chuckle to his throat. Emily had felt that it would be good for Ackerman to have another life over which he needed to care. And Marcus had to admit that the animal and Ackerman had formed some sort of strange kinship that seemed to help Frank. The puppy was currently back home in Rose Hill, VA with their technical director, Stan Macallan.
Ackerman—who refused to call Stan by his real name—added, “Are you confident that Computer Man is capable of caring to Theodore’s needs?”
“Stan has a doctorate from MIT. I think he can handle a little dog for a few days.”
“I still feel we should have left him under Dylan’s care,” Ackerman said, referring to Marcus’s son.
“His grandpa doesn’t want a dog in his house. He’s allergic. And he’s pushing eighty.”
“Shih Tzu’s are actually very hypoallergenic dogs. They don’t shed.”
“Stop avoiding the question,” Marcus snapped. “Are you keeping these things as trophies from other killers we’ve beaten?”
Ackerman smiled and shrugged. “They certainly carry with them many fond memories. The bone-handled Bowie knife has pierced the flesh of many, but in particular Mr. Craig—our old friend from the CIA—and our father. The push daggers are, of course, the weapons you used to finish off the Gladiator.”
“Yeah, I get those. But what about Judas’s watch?” Marcus asked, referring to an accessory retrieved from the body of the Judas Killer that should have been collecting dust in an evidence locker somewhere instead of sitting among his brother’s keepsakes.
Ackerman’s eyes lit up at the mention of Judas’s timepiece. “Have I not shown you this one? You’re gonna love it.” Ackerman slid the titanium gray watch over his wrist, and then, with a twist of the watch’s crown, he pulled out a long thin wire hidden inside. He added, “All of you thought it was merely a clothing accessory, but I knew better. Our old friend Judas was full of surprises, including a superbly crafted garrote concealed in his watch. I’m not sure of the material, but the wire is quite sharp.” When he released the crown, the garrote automatically retracted back into the watch.
“I’m not sure how I feel about you keeping trophies from our cases.”
“Other than my books and a few articles of clothing, these trophies, as you call them, are all that I have in this world.”
Marcus detected a hint of sadness in his brother’s tone and said, “That’s not true, Frank. You have me. Dylan. Maggie. You have a family. People are more important than possessions.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Ackerman said, “You didn’t mention Emily or Father as part of that family.”
“Thomas White is not part of our family. He’s a sperm donor and that’s all. And Emily…”
“Is planning to leave the Shepherd Organization.”
“She told you?”
“As she was leaving.”
Marcus hadn’t wanted to have this conversation with his brother until after they had found Maggie, but he had found that more often than not things didn’t work out the way he planned, at least not when it came to his personal life. He said, “Frank, listen, she has to do what’s best for her daughter.”
Ackerman’s face remained stone. “I don’t have possessions because they are pointless. Or at least, the emotional attachment you normals have to your possessions is. I’ve learned over and over that everything you have can be taken away in the blink of an eye. These weapons are useful tools that have been tried and tested in battle, and yes, the remembrances they stir in me bring a smile to my face. But I don’t need these things. If they were lost to me, I would simply find other tools to replace them. It’s the same with people.”
“So all of us humans are as replaceable to you as a new knife?”
“Don’t be overly dramatic about it. I’m merely saying that both possessions and people can be taken away from you. There’s no sense crying about it. One must simply carry on and make due with the resources at hand.”
“You’ve been crying about her leaving?”
“What? No. Stop being obtuse.”
Marcus said, “That’s funny coming from you. And you can drop the hard-ass routine with me. I know you care a
bout her.”
“I find Agent Morgan to be a very capable and fascinating person. The world is a better place because she’s in it. But that doesn’t mean that my world will grow dark just because she’s not part of my personal circle of acquaintances.”
“Well, hypothetically speaking, if you did care about Emily on any kind of deeper level, you would have to understand that things were never going to work out between the two of you. There’s too much history there.”
“Is that why the two of you have been keeping plans for her departure from me? Do you both share in the assessment that my behavior toward Agent Morgan has somehow implied—”
“Okay, okay. Now who’s being dramatic,” Marcus said, his hands held up in surrender. “The point is that Emily bit off more than she could chew with this lifestyle, and she’s chosen to go back into counseling. Considering how often I get to see Dylan and how terrible I feel about that, I can understand where she’s coming from. Once Maggie is safe, she’ll be leaving the team. That’s happening. You can talk about it or not. You can care or not. That’s your prerogative.”
Ackerman fixed him with the kind of laser-beam gaze that he hadn’t seen directed his way in a long time. Ackerman whispered, “Don’t ever patronize or coddle me, little brother. Emily is a beautiful woman with the type of exotic features that I’ve always found attractive. I would be lying if I claimed to have never experienced a stray thought. But believe me, I am fully aware that the sins of the past can never be truly erased in the minds of men, and that a woman like Emily could never love a monster like me.”
“That’s not at all what I meant.”
In a tone that implied there would be no further discussion on the matter, Ackerman said, “We’ve wasted enough time on this subject. With Emily taking the Jeep, how do you intend to reach Canyon’s ranch? We should have stashed the trailer full of wool and cocaine up in the mine and drove the tractor part of the equation back here as another vehicle. I told you that was a poor use of our resources.”
“I can’t drive a big rig. How in the world did you learn? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I’m sure it would just bring up some horrible story from your past.”
“Actually, Father taught me. It’s one of the few pleasant memories I have of him from my childhood. I had a natural aptitude for it. It was one of the few times that I felt like he was actually proud of me. I should teach you.”
Marcus couldn’t help but smile as he looked at his brother’s face and saw an edge of excitement at the prospect of teaching him to drive a big truck like their sperm donor had taught him. He said, “If we make it out of this alive, I’d be happy to learn. In the meantime, we’re covered. The Director actually came through for us on that.”
Ackerman looked skeptical. “In what way?”
“Let’s move all of this hardware into the main building, and then you can help me assemble my new toy.”
30
After the building of Marcus’s “new toy,” Ackerman took one look at the strange portable vehicle and said, “It looks like a dirt bike and an four-wheel ATV had a baby and then sent it to military school.”
The more he considered the strange motorcycle’s various uses and the design, although utilitarian and compact, the more he felt it did provide enough stability and power for a variety of off and on road applications. The pieces had all collapsed and fit easily within the back of the jeep along with the weapon cases and ammo boxes. He and Marcus had assembled the small fat-tired motorcycle in less than five minutes. And with practice, Ackerman was sure he could shave that down to less than two. He could think of many, many uses for such a “toy,” and many of those uses had nothing to do with transportation.
Marcus said, “It reminds me of some kind of GI Joe vehicle.”
“I’m not familiar with Joe.”
“The action figures. They were my favorites when I was a kid. Those and the Star Wars figures.”
“Father didn’t allow me to have toys. He once told me that toys rot a child’s brain.”
Marcus made his uncomfortable time-to-change-the-subject face and said, “The bike is called a Moto 2x2 Tarus. At least, I think that’s the name. It’s made by a Russian company and currently only available in Eastern Europe.”
“Then how did it come into our possession?”
“The Director sent me to a place in DC called Savoy & Sons Pawnbrokers They showed me to their private armory of illegal weapons and told me to take whatever I needed.”
Ackerman feigned offense and said, “And why wasn’t I invited on this weaponry shopping spree?”
“You would have picked up a ninja sword or something equally ridiculous.”
His expression and tone growing serious, Ackerman said, “Don’t ever underestimate the usefulness of a katana. But Im fine with the Bowie knife. It’s more my style.”
“While we’re on the subject, what are you going to do with the fishing line?” Marcus asked, referring to the spool of Hi-Seas Grand Slam monofilament fishing line that Ackerman had specifically requested along with his “trophy” weapons. The line was thin but tough, knotted well, and could hold up to four hundred pounds.
Ackerman replied, “Its uses are too numerous to list. After you leave, I’m going to re-wrap our hostages using some of the fluorocarbon line and the burlap sacks I found in the trailer. But since you’re keen to discuss weaponry choices, you won’t be able to carry much more than an MP5 and your sidearm with you on your assault.”
Marcus nodded. “I’ll be going in light. Besides, you’re the distraction. You need the fireworks more than me. But remember, no killing unless there’s no other way.”
Feeling the perfect segue into a subject he had been wanting to breach with Marcus for some time, Ackerman said, “Speaking of which, I would like to revisit our policy regarding murder.”
“That one is pretty much a commandment, not like a guideline where we can make amendments.”
Ackerman noticed his brother’s Brooklyn accent become more prominent whenever the conversation became heated. He had also noticed a certain way that the accent could indicate when his brother was lying to him, which often came in handy. He said, “I wasn’t suggesting that we rescind the policy. In fact, I was thinking that we should broaden our definition of the life forms protected under the divine directive.”
With a roll of his eyes and a crack of his neck, Marcus replied, “This had better not be about eating your dog again.”
“You took those comments out of context. I was merely putting forth the idea that I would be considered a monster if I decided to kill and eat my dog. But the same people who would judge such an action harshly have no problem consuming cows and pigs, which by the way are just as intelligent and trainable as canines. Don’t you find that a bit hypocritical.”
“That’s totally different than killing and eating your pet because you find it annoying.”
“Your culture has placed an idea in your head that some creature’s lives are more valuable than others. If I had the newborn offspring of a domesticated animal like a puppy or a kitten and a baby piglet, between the two, which would you prefer I bludgeon to death with a baseball bat?”
“You’re telling me that going through the drive-thru at McDonald’s and ordering a quarter-pounder is the same thing as killing puppies?”
Cocking his head in contemplation, Acking considered the merits of the analogy. “Yes, I am saying that. Explain to me why a dog’s life is more valuable than a pig’s. Both are classified as vertebrates and mammals with comparable IQs. Why is it not hypocritical to stuff your face with bacon and hamburgers, while curling up your nose in disgust when I hypothetically suggest eating my dog?”
“I don’t know, Frank. It just is. Maybe it is hypocritical, but somewhere back in time, our ancestors decided that pigs and cows and chickens were good livestock and dogs were good companions and helpers.”
“And you’re willing to accept your ancestor’s views on the matter without question?”
Marcus rubbed his temples. Likely another headache coming on. Ackerman wondered when the last time was that his brother had slept. Marcus replied, “I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore. Are you suggesting we become vegans?”
“I was actually thinking lacto-ovo vegetarians. Something where no animals have to die for us to live, but we also have easily accessible protein sources.”
Marcus cocked an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”
“I’m always serious. Let me ask you this… Why can’t we just run around killing people?”
“Lots of reasons. It’s wrong, number one.”
“From whose perspective?”
“God’s perspective, and pretty much everyone else too. Killing someone is universally considered inappropriate. Murder takes away everything that a person has and will ever have. If you believe in almost any kind of god, then by taking a life, you’re interfering with God’s plan.”
“Didn’t the same God create the animals your society tortures in order to consume their flesh?”
With a sigh, Marcus offered, “Fine. If we survive this, we can discuss joining PETA or something.”
“Lacto-ovo vegetarian. It means that we would still eat eggs and dairy products but abstain from consuming animal flesh.”
“I know what it means. When this is over, we can talk about it further. Right now, I need to get ready to leave and you need to prepare yourself for visitors. It won’t be long before they search that jail cell and find the invitation you left for them. You need to be ready.”
Ackerman smiled. “I’m always ready.”
With another look of skepticism, his brother said, “But ready for what exactly?”
“Whatever comes my way.”
“Do you have any plan at all for dealing with Canyon and his men? How are you going to keep them busy long enough for me to find Maggie?”
