ShadowShot : L'enfant Guerrier Read online

  “Forgive you for what.”

  “For not telling you sooner. It was just that we thought with everything that happened it would be better for you. When I married Frank he agreed. There was no reason to tell you that I had been married before.”

  “You mean before my accident, and that’s why I didn’t remember or know?”

  “Frank loved you, could not have been more of a father to you even if he had been your real father.”

  “Mom you must tell me. Who then was my real father? I want to know.”

  “Yes you should know.” Her voice started to trail off. I was afraid she was falling asleep again, or was it more? But then her eyes opened and she said, “He was a brave man but he died in the war. We all did what we could to save France, all of us. Please say that you forgive us for not telling you sooner.”

  “Of course I forgive you. I know whatever you did you did out of love for me, the three of you. But I would like to know now.”

  “He was so smart and intellectual.” She smiled and it was still that beautiful smile that she always had. “Maybe he’ll be waiting for me. I don’t think Frank will like that but perhaps the three of us can get on well.” She started to laugh but began choking. I gave her a sip of tea and when she felt better, her eyes closed.

  “Jack. Listen to me. There are things you should know about yourself. We always thought that to keep them from you, would be best but.”

  I could see it was becoming hard for her to talk. She had to start the sentence again.

  “I see that it’s in your blood. You must.” And that was it. She couldn’t finish the sentence. She had a very shallow breath but was still with me. I went to call old Doc Benson.

  “Doc it’s me Jack. I’m here with Mom. She’s looking really bad. She fell asleep while we were talking. Come over right away.”

  “Thank God you’re there Jack. She should have let me put her in the hospital, but she wouldn’t go.”

  “I know. She told me all about it. What should we do now? There must be something.”

  “There’s nothing now. The best thing is to get her to the hospital. She won’t like it, but it’s what we have to do. I’ll send an ambulance. I’ll go with them. I’m at the hospital right now.”

  “Doc thanks. Hurry up please.

  It took him about 45 min. to get there. The ambulance guys took her pulse but she didn’t wake up.

  “Jack it doesn’t look good. She’s in a coma. She may not wake up I believe she’s getting close.”

  When we got her to the hospital I said, “I’m not budging from the room. I’ll sleep right on the bed. I folded down one side of the bed, put my arm around her, and held her. “Mom I’m here with you. You’re not alone. I love you. You’re the best mother any kid ever had.”

  I started to cry and buried my face in the pillow. I knew I should be thinking about all the wonderful times that we had together, but instead all I could think of is that I had failed her.. Could anyone have a stronger mother?

  The nurse came in I had known her as a child. She put her hand on my shoulder,

  “I’m sorry Jack. We all did everything we could for her.”

  “I know you did.”

  “Jack the doc wants you to know he is sleeping downstairs, so he’ll be here in the morning with you.”

  “Thank you”

  She closed the door and left the boy and his mother alone. After awhile the tears came again but this time a strange thing happened. She squeezed my hand. At first I thought it was some kind of a reflex. I checked the machine but everything was still the same. Her eyes were closed.

  I told her, “Mom I love you.” She squeezed my hand again twice. I looked over at the clock it was two in the morning. I started to think about all the wonderful things in our lives that we had shared and I fell asleep.

  Next morning I was awakened by Doc, standing over me. “Wake up Jack.”

  I was about to ask him how my mother was.

  “Jack she’s gone. I’m really sorry.”

  I looked at her. I was still holding her hand. She had slipped out of her coma and into Heaven. She had waited till the last minute before telling me I should come home. Maybe then she waited for me to fall asleep last night, to save me the trauma of seeing the machine stop registering her life. It would have been like her to do that. I know that she knew I was there with her. I was going to miss this wonderful woman.

  “Doc, she wants to be cremated. Will you help me attend to whatever needs to be done?”

  “Jack of course. We already talked about it, I’ll take care of everything let me drive you home.”

  “Doc, give me a moment. Thank you.”

  It’s a hard thing to try and say your last words to your mother when you know you’ll never see her again. You want to believe that maybe she’s looking down on you and hearing you.

  “Mom you and Grandma and Frank were the best family any kid could ever have. I always thought we’d have many more years together. I wouldn’t have stayed away as long as I did if I had known that you were going to leave me. I love you all so much and I’m going to miss you for the rest of my life. I hope that I will always be the man that you all wanted me to be. If any of you want to look in on me from time to time, even if it’s to kick my butt, feel free. I know I can always use any help I can get. You’ll always be in my prayers. Good by Mom.”

  That night was a long and lonely night for me. I read her will. She didn’t want a funeral, but if neighbors and friends wanted to come over one afternoon for a wake of sorts, and it was okay with me, that would be fine. That’s what she had done for Grandma. When Frank had passed away we had a funeral, but I couldn’t allow myself to think about that, not now. It would be just too much for me to handle. There was no woman that I loved and none that loved me. I had no friends. There was only my job and of course George. I guess he was my only friend, a friend that I could only trust half the time.

  Doc Benson called late morning and asked if he could come over.

  I said, “Yes come for lunch. I’ll see if I can rustle up something.

  He said, “No don’t bother.” His wife Betty had cooked up some lunch for us. When he showed up, he had to make two trips from his car to the refrigerator. She didn’t want me to starve.

  “Doc said, “Well you know Betty, she’s a good cook. It won’t be European but hopefully you’ll like it. You always have in the past.”

  “Thanks Doc. I’ve been missing some good home-cooked American meals.”

  Doc I read the will last night. She definitely doesn’t want a funeral, but if you, Betty, the neighbors and her friends would like to come over, let’s set a date in a few days.”

  I sent Doc back with what was one of my mother’s best outfits. I knew she’d want to be dressed to the nines. She always had a lot of style. She was to be cremated that afternoon. Doc said he would bring the ashes by the next day. He put out the word Sunday that all were welcome to come by the house. She had left a list in her will of items that she knew her friends would like to be passed on to them. She knew I would have no interest in these items. I rounded them up in the living room and those people came over on Saturday. Doc’s son was Mother’s lawyer. He read the will.

  Betty said everyone was going to bring a dish. I wanted to make sure there was enough, so I made arrangements with a local caterer. I knew mother would not want it to be a somber affair, so I hired a three-piece mellow band and brought out all her old French records. I explained to everyone how she wanted this to be a party and a happy farewell, and that’s exactly what she got.

  That night I thought I had been a little bit too hard on myself. I didn’t exactly have any friends, but there were people like Doc and Betty and some others, along with a few of the kids I grown up with that came around on Sunday. They could have been friends if I was going to be here but I was not. In the next few days the arrangements were made for the house and property and I started back to Europe.

  After a few days of being in m
y apartment in Paris, I checked in with George.

  He seemed genuinely sympathetic. I guess we all go through losing our parents, unless they lose us first. I had to work out some guilt, the old should’ve of could’ve and would’ve. I knew that my mother had not put any guilt on me for not being there earlier, so somebody had to do it. That left only me to lay it on my own shoulders.

  I got through the guilt part. The grieving would take longer. I remember Frank telling me once around the campfire that the Native Americans believed the only thing that is truly yours in your life is your body. Your spirit belongs to the Great Spirit. The white man goes on grieving for as long as he can. The Native American shows his grief with wounds of sorrow, or sometimes what they call a giveaway. They would give away every single thing that they own, and the tribe would give back their second best horse or a cooking pot, something so the person could still survive. In other words they show their grief by inflicting pain on their own body, or giving away every single materialistic object that they own. Sometimes they would do both. Then it was over and they had to get on with their lives. There was no time to lie around feeling sorry for yourself.

  I also remember once reading that Humphrey Bogart, who I always admired, said people don’t grieve for the person who died. They grieve for themselves. In some ways this made sense to me.

  I hadn’t really had time to think about it until I got back to Paris, but what did my mother mean about my paternal father? Was a man other than Frank my genetic father? Did I want to know about this?

  My mother and grandmother were not trivial people, but they were both very secretive. Did she mean to say that my father was an American soldier? Or was he French, English, or what?

  I had hoped that perhaps in the letter to me or in some other way she had left a message, but there was nothing. I even spent a little time looking in some of the nooks and crannies, and a few little secret places that I knew where she had stashed money. But there was nothing. Not a single word about what she was trying to tell me before she died. Christ this was like a damn movie, where with the person’s last breath they let the hero know some earthshaking news. Well I had lived this long without knowing what she was talking about, and it may be that I would have to continue on that way. I thought maybe when I had more time there was some way that I could check into it. Not now.

  Now it was back to work. George had a job for me that sounded good when he came up to my apartment.

  I said, “I hope you remember.” Then I broke into a little tap dance, “No Americans, no French, no English, no women, no children, and no rush job.” I made it sound like a song.

  He laughed and said, “I see that you’re back. That’s good.”

  I wanted him to know that I was ready to get back to work. I think that showed him I was. No rush jobs meant that I wasn’t going to get on a plane and make a hit the next morning. I needed time to plan, to check things out by my own standards. That was our deal and he knew it. So far he stood by it.

  Our cover was that we were friends and both party hounds. We were often seen together, so it was all right for me to go to his place or vice versa. However, if we were going to have a conversation about work we had special rooms, not much bigger than a walk in closet that had been set up especially for conversations about work. It would always be swept before we started to talk. I don’t really know if George’s real name was George but it was too late for me to go by anything but Jack. Before I had gone to work for George I had met too many people to change my name.

  12

  HANS

  He said, “Okay this is what we’ve got. There is a German in Germany who is an ex-Nazi, probably still a Nazi and was definitely a bad boy. He managed to slip through the Nuremberg trials by faking his death. However, the Israelis found him. They don’t feel that it would be best to kidnap him and bring him back to Israel for trial. They believe the most expedient thing to do is just make him go away permanently. Probably because the Germans seem to be getting less apologetic for their behavior during the war and seemingly going back to their more arrogant nature. Which brings us to us.”

  “We have made shall we say an exchange of favors. We will take care of this little matter. Which brings us to you. We’d like you to do it. It shouldn’t be particularly difficult and to appease your high moral standards this guy was really scum during the war.”

  I didn’t have to hesitate. I just said, “How much?”

  “$25,000.”

  “That’s fine. Let’s have the information,” but I couldn’t help wondering what he was charging the Israelis.

  Nevertheless $25,000 was still a lot of money. Besides the normal reasons for not liking Germans for what they did in the war, I always seemed to have some hidden dislike for them. I suppose it was the “you vill do that please” arrogance.

  I had cultivated some of my own trusted information sources who were working outside of the Company. It cost me money, but it had always proven to be worth it. This creep had been a very bad German during the war. He had taken off to Argentina before the third Reich fell, seeing the writing on the wall. He laid low, came back with a new face and identity, and the wealth that he had when he left Germany. So he had plenty of money and was well placed. No wonder the Israelis thought the easiest thing was just to eliminate him. That was fine with me.

  When I arrived in his city. I started to check out his movements. I wanted to find the perfect place to take him out. Everything was pretty much as I was told it would be with him. Then on the second day of tailing him, he did something strange. He started heading into what you would call a quiet seedy rundown industrial area of the city, at first I thought this might work out well. Perhaps he was going to find a hooker. Maybe I could just get it done today and be finished with the job. Then my curiosity got the best of me, that instinct that something was going on that I should know about. The voice in my head said, “Stay cool, see what he’s up to Jack.”

  He didn’t seem aware that he was being followed. I guess the course that I had taken in Spain paid off. He pulled up in front of a single garage door. I backed into an alley where I still had a view of him from my vehicle and pulled out my binoculars.

  He got out of his car, looked around and pressed the button, then got back in his vehicle. About 3 minutes later an old woman swung the garage door open. He seemed to be yelling at her like maybe what took her so long.

  There was no one around. There were no windows I could look through. The only thing I could do was wait.

  About 20 minutes later a van pulled up. The guy in the passenger seat got out to ring the bell, leaving his van door open. As he got to door there was a commotion. A little girl literally dove out of the van landing hard. There was a moment when I couldn’t see her. The van was blocking my line of sight. Then she was running with her hands tied, limping, but still running as hard as she could. The guy at the door took off after her. It didn’t take much for him to catch her. He slapped her a few times, picked her up, just as the door opened to the garage. He carried her into the building, kicking and screaming, but he had his hand over her mouth. The van pulled in and the door closed up.

  I was so angry. I was shaking. I had to stay cool and make the right move. That little girl could not have been more than 10 years old. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was happening. The only weapons I had were my trusty 38 with a silencer and a 9 mm auto backup. I knew there were at least four of them in there if not more. Even if I could get in it wouldn’t do to barge in guns blazing. I pounded the dashboard with my fist I was so furious. It made me sick to think that I had to leave that poor little brave girl, but it wouldn’t be for a long. I knew what I had to do.

  Leaving, I made a mental note of how to get back to this place. I went looking for my own little hideout. I secured a very discreet place where I planned to bring the German. Kidnapping him was the only way I could think of to save that girl or possibly girls. It would have been really easy to just take him out. That wouldn
’t help the little girl though.

  The next evening I waited for him in a sub level garage as he went to his car. I had parked my vehicle next to his with my trunk unlocked. As he was about to get into his car I was behind him, jabbing him in the neck with my hypodermic needle and kicking the back of his knee. I put my gloved hand over his mouth and took a quick look around. There was no one. I dragged him over to my trunk, threw him in, and took him to his new temporary lodging.

  He panicked when he came to. I slapped him a few times to shut him up. We were in a small room with two chairs and only one light bulb. Actually it had been a freezer once with thick walls, and just what I wanted. He started speaking in German. I just shook my head not understanding his language.

  He said, “You’re English, American? You know I have money if this is a kidnapping. I will pay you what you want. Just don’t hurt me. Let me go. No one will say anything about it.”

  “Well I don’t think so.”

  “What do you want?”

  “For starters you can tell me your real name.”

  “Who are you? Are you Israeli? An American Jew? No? Then what?”

  “I’m somebody that doesn’t like to see pigs like you destroy little girl’s lives.”

  “Oh that! Is that all?”

  I could see he regretted mentioning the Israelis. He seemed relieved that this was just about the little girls.

  “I don’t know how you found out, but I will pay you well, very well. You must tell me how you found out about shall we say my little sport. I will need to know that.”

  I thought, Christ what an ass he was. He thought he could just buy his way out of this like it was nothing at all.

  He went on to say, “They are only trash. They have no life at all anyway.”

  That really pissed me off. I produced a pair of shears. It was time to get serious with this guy.

  “What are you going to do with those?”

  He was handcuffed to the back of the chair. I went behind him and gagged him again. I said that this is my little sport and very calmly snipped off a little finger. I wasn’t really sure that I could do it. I’d never done anything like that before, but this guy was really scum. I figured if I didn’t think about it and just did it I could do it. He was whimpering. I went around to face him. I put my finger to my lips and took the gag off. First I could smell his fear. Then I could smell his urine soaked pants.