ShadowShot : L'enfant Guerrier Read online

  “That’s good my boy. You did well. I told you that you were a warrior.”

  “No George you’re the warrior. I could not have done it without you.”

  “I had to wait for the right moment before I could get to my 380.”

  “Well it worked out well. Let me see the wound.”

  “No don’t bother. It’s a death wound. It’s a good wound. It did your job for you Jack, and you still get the money. All around it worked well didn’t it? That’s the way I like my missions to go. I got what I wanted. You get the money and we took out another bad guy. Do me a favor won’t you? Don’t sink us too close to each other. I want my grave to be a peaceful one. Funny thing is Jack, that’s the first time I ever really had to hold a pistol or shoot someone. I finally became a soldier in the field and die with sword in hand. Take care of yourself. You really are like a son to me.”

  He closed his eyes and died.

  I could have just sat there in the boat thinking about everything, but it was time to move. I said a prayer for him to the Great Spirit and went back to Nikolai. I had to take care of him before the sharks came around. I slipped a chain around his waist. I had thrown an engine block head in the boat so I tied the other end of the chain to him, undid my rope and threw the block overboard. I got my mooring anchor ready and motored about a mile away, and did the same for my Uncle George.

  I cleaned up the boat. I thought it was best to dump all three weapons overboard although I hated to let go of my old 38, and headed back to the beach. I wanted to be on the road before light. I didn’t have a problem loading the boat. If anyone was around I couldn’t see them.

  I was glad that I did not have to do George. I’m sure it gave him satisfaction that he took Nikolai out. I drove all night to put some distance from the boat launch. I thought about maybe dumping the boat. I would certainly be less obvious if anyone was looking for me, but my instincts and first hunch told me it was better to have it with me. I looked more like a fisherman crossing the border. I didn’t anticipate any problem in Mexico. I felt sure that Nikolai was traveling alone. So the only problem would be getting across the border with $300,000. If it was discovered, I could have a lot of explaining to do. I decided to dump the shotgun before I got to the border. I always brought down a cheap one with me and would get rid of it before going back into the States. I had some very clever ways of hiding things in the boat.

  I would buy some fresh fish and fill my coolers to make it look more like I had been fishing, which I had been before I met George. I’m in the habit of keeping a clean boat so I spread around some dried fish guts and some scales to give the boat that fished in look. I chose a small border crossing. One of the border patrolmen climbed up into the boat, looked around and checked the coolers. We talked fishing for a little bit and then wished me a safe trip home.

  First town I got to I bought a cheap 12gauge shotgun. I didn’t like being weaponless. I didn’t expect any problems but you never knew. I had a very expensive boat to protect. I was headed to my place in the Southwest, as I always left from and returned there on my Mexican fishing adventures.

  Having taken all necessary precautions and in the clear, my mind suddenly reverted back to George. I had a vision of myself pulling the trigger again. I really thought it was all behind me for good. Maybe it never would be, until someone pulls the trigger on me. It was almost too much for me to get my mind around.

  Maybe George was right. I was a killer. Maybe I should accept my destiny. I wondered if he had told me who I was years ago, if it would have made a difference. Would I still have wanted to drop out? I don’t know. At this late date, why did he feel it was important for me to know about my past? He did ask me if I wanted to know and I said yes. I said yes because it always haunted me not knowing. If everything really happened the way he explained it, should I think of myself as a bad person, or was I defending the country that I lived in then? They had hurt my family and I had taken my revenge on them.

  No matter my past, I didn’t want to get back into that life again. I never wanted to have to pull the trigger again. I never wanted to have someone holding a gun on me again or to be looking over my shoulder. I had been very lucky to come out of George’s Viking funeral alive and unscratched.

  The part I found scary was that I liked the action on the boat. I liked the rush that came with the adrenaline, the blood pumping heart beating faster, just before you knew you had to make your move or die. The feeling was something that a normal person in a normal life usually never experienced unless they were some kind of soldier. Of course what came with a soldier’s life was the daily taking of orders from someone who frequently knew a lot less than you did. And too often didn’t give a damn about your life.

  I had to work this out in my head to be able to put it away for good. That meant that I had to go over it again. It was my way to do it. But for now I thought I would just enjoy the drive and think about how I was going to spend the money.

  32

  THE MONEY RAT

  George had told me where the money and my dossier were the night I picked him up with the boat. The old scoundrel had actually gone to my place and hidden it under some lumber in the barn. The guy never ceased to amaze me.

  The first thing I did when I pulled through my gate was to make sure I had no visitors. It was a pretty private place but still it was my routine to check. I was walking toward the barn when a light bulb went on in my head. I had been having problems with packrats in the barn. I hadn’t even thought of it until this very moment. That couldn’t possibly happen to me. I couldn’t help but start walking a little faster as if it would matter. As I was climbing the ladder up to the loft, I had a vision of a fifty pound rat gobbling down the last stack of my money. When I got to the pile of lumber it looked untouched. There was a layer of dust over everything. I started to move the boards away thinking this pile of lumber had been there since before I had even bought the place. It looked like it hadn’t ever been moved. Maybe there would be nothing beneath it. But there it was a suitcase with a layer of dust over it. At first glance it looked okay until I pulled it free, and could see all the rat shit. One side of it had been eaten through.

  God I don’t believe this. There was my file. My life had been turned into a rat’s nest, no pun intended. There were still a few pages intact I gently lifted up until I could see another suitcase underneath. I held my breath as I lifted the larger suitcase, shook it off, and unzipped it. I guess the rat had only recently moved in. Inside were stacks of beautiful perfect hundred dollar bills. It was good that I got back when I did. How I lost $300,000 would surely have been a story to hand down through the generations should I ever have children.

  I was really pissed off about losing the file. In some bizarre way I wanted the file even more than the money. Money could be replaced although not that easily. The file could not. I had to laugh at my own thinking. Most people would not have agreed with me.

  I retrieved a few pages and segments and took them down to the house. George had gone to the trouble of replacing the dust over that pile of lumber covering his tracks in every way. But he was 100% city boy. The thought of pack rats had never even entered his mind. Well it could’ve been a lot worse. I could’ve lost the money too.

  Even though he said what he had told me was the basic gist of my life, I wanted all the details. I had wanted to go over everything. George was sick and tired though. As we talked he would often grimace in pain, so I knew there must’ve been a lot of little things that he breezed over. My whole life had been in that file. Now it was gone forever. If there were a copy somewhere I would never know. So close and yet so far. I was infuriated, and I vowed to wage all-out war on those dirty rats. It would be ethnic cleansing of Biblical proportions. I stashed my money in two different special places that were fireproof, waterproof, and definitely rat proof. Then I set about planning a tactical commando raid on my barn. I was tempted to burn it down but dismissed that idea as excessive. I would use poison traps and eve
n small caliber shot shell if I could get one in my sites. Then I would get cats. Only problem there was that I really liked cats. It wouldn’t be long before something else bigger would eat them. I even thought about some live traps so I could torture them. But of course, I didn’t really mean it.

  Time for me to mellow out. I put on some soothing music, drew a hot bath, and ascended into the warmth holding a nice bottle of red wine, no glass.

  I couldn’t complain too much. I now had $600,000 when before I was practically broke. It would have been good getting every little detail of my life, but then again maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t even good that I knew what I now knew. Exactly what good did it do me? Probably it would only make me angry over something that happened years ago, a lifetime ago. I had been able to forget about it for a long time. I could do so again. I would do so again. By the second bottle of wine I started to think the rat was a good omen. If I wanted to think like a Native American or a Buddhist I would probably believe that Mr. Rat had been sent to me for closure. If he had been a bad rat he would’ve eaten all my money. Instead he was a good rat who was sent to me. He had only made a nest out of something that I really shouldn’t have and didn’t need. So it certainly wouldn’t be correct thinking to try and hurt the rat. All of it seemed perfectly logical. I would not go to war with rats but

  I wouldn’t exactly sign a peace treaty or get some cats.

  I felt as though my life always seemed to be connected, if even slightly in a chain of events, one link followed by the next.

  I wondered where my life would be now if I had never gone to Europe. Suppose I had just taken a two-month summer vacation and come home. Probably then I would have gotten a job, married a local girl, and had kids. No, that wasn’t for me. Wherever my road was taking me, that wouldn’t have been one I would have wanted to follow.

  In the morning, I looked at what was left of the file again. There was nothing of importance, so I burnt it. I loaded up my horse trailer and took off to my neighbor’s house where I’d left my two valiant steeds and my dogs while I was on vacation. I figured I could use a good long horse ride.

  It seemed in the past that when things were just going well something would always change to push me into a new phase of my life. This time life had been good, but becoming stressful because of the lack of funds. Then the wind had blown another change and I had suddenly lost my only real friend, but now had more money than I knew what to do with. Maybe the chain of usual events in my life had reversed itself.

  33

  TAHITI

  I was back sitting in my home wondering what I should do with my life next. I had been thinking about looking up Sophia before I let myself drift back into time with thoughts of her rescue and the time spent with George in the Caribbean. George, Sophia, and Misha were the closest people to me in my life. Now George was gone. I would miss him. I hadn’t seen Sophia or even talked to her since the Australian rescue. I wondered if she would want to see me. I didn’t even know if I could find her. No, that wasn’t true. I could find her if I wanted. I was learning how when you really love someone you don’t completely ever let go of it. Was seeing if she needed some financial help, or making sure she was doing well just an excuse for me? Did I entertain thoughts of possibly rekindling our affair? No it wouldn’t work. Then she would’ve been right all along and I would’ve just been a fool to think otherwise. This way there would only be fond memories of the time we spent together. No doubt that’s how she thought of us now. Why did I want to put myself in harm’s way again? What is it with humans that make our hearts so much more in control of us than our brains?

  If I wanted to be in love, why not just ask Misha to marry me? I’m not positive but I think she would say yes. She really was an incredible woman. I shouldn’t say if I wanted to be in love because I did love her. I always enjoyed every moment we were together, but somehow I couldn’t say I was in love with her. I guess there is a difference in loving someone and being in love.

  I think she felt the same. Of course maybe that was because she knew I wanted it that way. Why couldn’t I say I was in love with her? The answer was simple. Sophia was still lurking around in my heart. This self-analysis was Hell. Ignorance is bliss.

  Misha and I had an open relationship. She was my main person and I was hers, although sometimes there were months between seeing each other, we never talked about other possible affairs when we were together. I knew that someday I would run the risk of losing her, especially if she knew I had spent time with Sophia.

  What ever happened to my old decision-making process of using pros and cons? Well I would not try to find Sophia. If I found out she needed some money, I would certainly help her. However, I wasn’t going to look for her. If she still had feelings for me it would just make it much harder on her. Besides she was probably married by now to some gray-haired gentleman her own age. But if I found out she was hanging out with some young man I’d have to kill them both. I laughed out loud at my own sense of humor.

  I had always been very generous with money, especially when I had some. One thing I intended to do for sure was to give Misha enough to be comfortable, no matter what road we went down together. She had given a lot of herself to me. The last few times we had seen each other money had been tight for me to the point of thinking about selling one of my homes. She had helped by pretty much paying for our trip.

  I called her up that night and left a message. It said, “Misha baby, good news. An investment has come through for me. I’m longing to see you. I know you don’t have vacation time right now but if you can take a leave of absence, I can make up any salary you might lose. Plus I can take care of all expenses. We can go anywhere in the world you would like. Try to get as much time off as you can. Jack.”

  I wondered if I should start thinking of myself as Johno. I didn’t think I would be telling Misha about my past. She was a gentle person, and I didn’t know if she’d be able to understand it. She called back the next day and said the trip sounded great.

  When she flew in I picked her up at the airport. We went to my hotel and had some drinks and dinner sent up to the room. We talked about where she wanted to go. Paris was her first choice. I hadn’t been back to Paris since I left the Company. It would be nice to go back with her, but I didn’t think it was wise.

  I said, “Misha darling, I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but George has passed away. It might be hard on me being in Paris now. Can we do that another time?”

  She knew that George and I were close. She said, “Oh Jack I’m so sorry.”

  I told her how he had lost the battle with cancer. He had a long and good life. I didn’t want this to be gloomy, so I changed the subject as quickly as possible. I asked her what her second choice would be. It was Tahiti. Misha was a beautiful exotic mixture of part Indian from Delhi, part Anglo New Zealander, and parts Tahitian and Malaysian.

  “Oh Jack, that would be wonderful. You know I think I have some Tahitian relatives there. It would be fun to look them up.”

  She jumped into my lap and started kissing me. “You know I’ve always wanted to go there, but I really wanted for us to go together.”

  “Misha, I’m glad that we are able to go there together, but first things first.”

  I went to my suitcase and brought out an envelope containing American Express traveler’s checks. They were made out to her inconsiderable excess of wages she would lose taking off work. I never used banks for anything. I was a cash only man for obvious reasons, but I thought that it would be safer for her to have this money in traveler’s checks. There was also an envelope with a key to a safety deposit box, which I had arranged for her to have. I had left $50,000 in it for her.

  She started to thank me, but I said, “Don’t say anything baby. Go get some sleep while I make flight arrangements. I want to come and ravage you when I’m finished on the phone.”

  Two days later we flew to Bora Bora and some of the other nearby islands. We were able to track down some of her di
stant relatives and had a really nice time with them. They were great people. It was the first time in a long time for me that I had actually had a sense of family, except of course with George.

  On three or four occasions I wondered why I didn’t go ahead and do it, ask her to quit her job and live with me. We could see how living under the same roof full-time would work and then get married. I would always talk myself out of it. I knew she would want to have kids and somehow that just didn’t feel right for me. It was not what I really wanted. I wasn’t even sure why. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I could be a good father. All I had to do was follow closely to Frank’s example. I remember he once told me if I wanted to be a good parent, it was just a matter of being your child’s best buddy first and their parent second. That’s how it had been with us. I told myself it wasn’t that I absolutely didn’t want to have children it was that I knew somehow it wasn’t the right time for me.

  George once said to me, “You know if a woman wants to become pregnant with your child she will always find a way for it to happen.”

  Therefore, in the end, even though I had to bite my tongue several times, I said nothing. We had a really wonderful trip and carried on with our relationship the way it was.

  34

  GEORGE FROM THE GRAVE.

  When I got home I started to feel a little bit like a chicken shit. Then came, the should of, would of, could of syndrome. I’d always had a pretty keen sense of intuition. I started to get a nagging feeling that I was going to lose Misha. On the other hand I still had a strong feeling that it was not the right time to ask her to live with me. I could always surprise her by flying to where she was and ask her to be with me forever.

  I had dropped quite a bundle on our trip and needed to refill my wallet. I went to my waterproof and fireproof, and very rat proof secret vault. I had wondered why George had wrapped the money the way he had. There were stacks of hundred dollar bills amounting to $10,000 in a bundle. Each bundle was wrapped in brown paper with some scotch tape around it. I was about to find out the answer to that mystery. I took the first packet off the top, closed it up, and went back to the house. To be able to go to your own private piggy bank and withdraw $10,000 spending money any time you wanted, was pretty novel. I poured myself a glass of wine, sat down and opened the packet. Neatly folded in the middle was a sheet of white paper with very small print. It was a letter from George.