|
I am standing in a dark hallway. The walls are close together, and there's a mustiness about it that inspires a twinge of claustrophobia within me. The floor is bare – wood paneling, and it looks as though it has seen a lot of wear in its obviously lengthy lifespan. There are doors all around me, but each one is locked as I try it. I walk forward, not afraid of what might be waiting for me. After a time, I come to the end of the hallway; another door. This one swings open with a creak as I turn the knob. As I cross the threshold, my nose is assaulted by a foul odor. It reminds me of urine, mixed with expired milk. Still unafraid, I examine the room I find myself in. It's of average size; I'd guess probably about 30 feet by 20. Like the hallway leading up to it, the floor is bare wood, again, well worn. The walls are grimy, and spaced at odd intervals are paintings, portraits done in the style of early colonial art, similar to those of the first presidents. The room is lit by an old crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room, covered in several layers of dust and dirt. In the flickering candle light, I can see dust and detritus scattered around the floor, gathered in the corners and seams of the boards. In the far wall there is a door. I walk toward the door, growing slightly uneasy. With every step, the smell grows stronger, and my heart grows heavier. For some unexplained reason, I know that what lurks beyond that door is pain and misery. I am filled with dread as I draw nearer to the door, and I am forced to tell myself over and over that I am not afraid. With that thought firmly planted in my mind, I reach for the handle. As my hand closes around it, a horrific scream fills the air. It goes on and on, for what seems like several minutes, but in reality is probably only a moment or two. All of my bravado gone, I turn the handle, and push the door open. The smell intensifies instantly, becoming almost overwhelming. This room is different from the others. The floor is concrete, and as my attention shifts toward the center of the room, my breath catches in my throat. It's the chair, from the warehouse, the exact chair, down to the dried bloodstains in the wood and on the concrete. This time, however, it isn't empty. Sitting in it is Aaron. As I walk toward him, and his physical state becomes apparent to me, my heart stops. He is chained naked to the chair; the shackles around his wrists and legs are colored red with the blood leaking from where they've worn through his skin. I can see cuts and bruises all across his body; some are minor, while others look as though they might have been inflicted with a machete. There are spots and welts all over as well, burn marks from cigarettes and hot pieces of metal. I can clearly see where his arms and legs have been broken, and from the looks of it, several ribs as well. Patches of his hair are missing, and as he looks up at me, I can see that his eyes are mostly swollen shut, and his nose is broken beyond recognition. His lips are cracked and swollen, and as I draw closer to him, he tries to speak. His voice is a rasp, and I can't make out the words he's saying. As I reach his side, he says one more word. I can understand this one, barely. "H- help." At a loss for words, I begin to examine his restraints, and as I do so, a loud booming laughter fills the room. I stand, looking for the source. It seems to be coming from a dark corner of the room; I can see a shadow moving within, but I can't quite make out who's there. My fear and pity for Aaron are replaced by rage, a rage so powerful it fills my heart and my mind, and I can think of nothing but killing, killing this person who's caused such harm to someone so innocent. I start toward him with murder in my heart, intent on ripping him limb from limb, causing him every bit of the pain he's inflicted on my Aaron, before I finally end his life and the threat he represents. My pulse pounding in my ears, I reach a point where I can begin to make out details of his appearance. Not much is clear, but I can see his eyes, red like the embers of a fire, looking out at me, daring me to make a move, to protect the one I hold dear. I roar, an expression of all of the hatred within me, as I begin to run, ready to pummel this person, to beat them to a pulp. As my pace quickens, I hear a gunshot ring out; he was holding a gun, and I didn't see it. My muscles tighten up, prepared to feel the sting of a bullet penetrating my skin, and it takes me a moment to realize that the bullet didn't hit me. Suddenly cold, a shiver runs up my spine, and my blood turns to ice. I stop running, and turn toward Aaron. He's slumped forward, and at this angle I can just see the blood running from a small hole in the back of his head. I turn back toward the man standing in the darkness, as he speaks. "I just wanted you to see that." His voice is cold, and I can hear anger just below the surface. It's a calculated anger, passionate, but restrained; controlled. I can see the gun now, and this time it's pointed at me. As his finger tightens on the trigger, and his cruel laughter once again fills the room, I scream, out of fear, out of anger, out of primal rage, but mostly out of helplessness. The gun goes off, and with a start, I wake up. As that terrible room faded from view to be replaced by my hotel suite, I became aware of Justin, awake, and watching me closely with his arms wrapped around my chest. "You were having a nightmare…" he said, hesitantly. "Yes…" was my reply, as I turned my head to look at the clock resting on the nightstand at the side of the bed. 3:42 A.M. was what it read. Sighing, I relaxed into bed once more, and Justin, still holding on to me tightly, put his head down on my shoulder. Reaching over, I ruffled his hair for a moment, then said, "Don't worry about me bud. I'm ok." "You kept saying his name, over and over again. What did you see?" "I was dreaming about him. It was terrible. He was hurt so badly, and there was nothing I could do. And those eyes…" "What eyes?" "It's not important; just a dream." "You screamed at the end, right before you woke up. I've never heard anyone scream like that. It scared me." I turned toward him, wrapped both arms around him, and held him tightly. I could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders, and the outlines of his shoulder blades as I rubbed his back. "It's ok Justin. It was just a dream; I'm fine now. Go back to sleep. I want to get an early start in the morning." Sighing, he closed his eyes, and I continued to rub his back as he drifted off to sleep. After a while, my thoughts returned to Aaron, and what I had seen in my dream. What did it mean? Was my dream prophetic? A sign of what would happen when I got to the place he was being held? No, that couldn't be. In my dream, I had been helpless to stop the malevolent being whose laughter was even still echoing in the back of my mind. I had my suit now; I would be prepared to deal with anything I might encounter. Still I worried. I wondered where he was. Was he hurt? Was he afraid? Did he believe that no one was looking for him? These questions ran circles through my thoughts, always returning to the forefront of my attention, never resulting in any rational answer or closure. After a while, I glanced once more at the clock sitting beside the bed. 4:17 A.M. Sighing, I focused on the music playing gently in the background, in an effort to clear my thoughts so I could sleep. I recognized the song: Claire De Lune, the third movement of Suite Bergamasque, by Claude Debussy. I became lost in the lilting and whimsical chords wending their way through our hotel suite, and soon thereafter I too left the waking world. This time, however, no ominous visions of pain and malevolence presented themselves to my unconscious mind. The phone sitting on the stand next to the clock rang promptly at 6:30 A.M. As I answered it, barely awake, a voice on the other end said, "Good morning, this is your wakeup call. Would you like room service this morning sir?" "N-no thanks." I replied, with a yawn, as the line clicked. Replacing the phone on its base, I pulled myself out of bed. Justin was still sleeping; he had a peaceful expression on his face, as his chest rose and fell with each breath. I walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower. By the time I was finished, Justin was sitting up in the bed watching T.V. While he took his shower, I placed a call to the front desk, alerting them that I was leaving, and thanking them for accommodating us on such short notice. I had all of my things gathered and ready to go as Justin was finishing his shower, and after he got dressed we left the room, heading to my car. We got into the car, and returned to the 405 freeway in silence. After a while, Justin spoke. "Thanks for talking to me last night." "You're very welcome; it was no problem at all. You're a special kid Justin, and I care about you. I understand what you're going through, and I'll be here for you if you need me." We drove on in silence, and a short while later, my cell phone rang. My heart raced as I answered it. Could this be news about Aaron? I hoped so. The caller ID screen was filled with scrolling letters, numbers, and symbols – the call was being scrambled. There were only a few people who could contact me in that fashion, and the only one who was likely to be calling me was Dave. "Hello Dave," I said. "MIKEEEEYYYYYY!!" was the response. "Don't call me that Dave. You have news." It wasn't a question. He wouldn't contact me if it wasn't important, and right now there was only one thing that I considered to be important. Deflated, he spoke. "You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were always this boring." "Sorry about that. I'm not much in the mood to be entertaining right now." "It's ok. Listen, I've got a lead on where Aaron is being held." "What have you got?" "Have you ever been to Australia?" "He's in AUSTRALIA?!" "Nope. Gotcha. HAHAHAHAHA!!!" "Dave…" I said, starting to get angry. "Ok, ok. Geesh. When this is all said and done, you and me are gonna party. For DAYS. I'm starting to think you've forgotten how to have fun." "DAVE!" "Alright. I've been rattling fences and calling in favors left and right, and at first it seemed like no one knew anything. But then, one of my contacts in Thailand called me and tipped me off to a possible lead involving one of their child prostitution rings. I sent a couple of my own men to verify, and they sent me back some low resolution pictures of several children being sold at auction. I compared the faces in the photos with the one you gave me from your security cameras, and my computers found a 78% likelihood of a match on one of the faces. I told my men to find out everything they could about the boy, and that I'd pay them handsomely for any information, and one of them actually got inside the organization and was able to speak with the boy face to face. He couldn't break him out, but he asked the kid to tell him something to pass along to you, that only he would know, to verify that he is who we think he is. He said, "A scout is hungry." I don't understand it, does it mean anything to you?" While he was telling me all of this, my eyes had begun to water. A tear rolled down my face, and I wiped it away with my sleeve. My voice shook as I answered him. "Yes… that's him." "How can I help you Mike? I have resources – more even than you, when it comes to the criminal world. They are at your disposal; you have only to ask." "Thanks Dave. May I speak with your agent? The one who saw Aaron?" "Absolutely. The plane bringing him back to the states arrived about four hours ago. I'm sure he's sleeping, but I can wake him up for you. Would you like to speak with him in person?" "Yes please. It'll take me another twenty minutes or so to get home, but I'll get on a plane as soon as I arrive; I should be at your house within two hours." "Alright, I'll see you shortly." Justin was looking at me expectantly as I closed my phone and put it back in my pocket. "That was a contact of mine. I asked him to check with his informants to see if he could find any information about Aaron. He told me Aaron is being held in Thailand, by a child prostitution ring. As soon as I talk to his source, I'll be on my way there." "GREAT!! You can save him, right? You can bring him home?" "I'll do my best. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to him." "You'll get him back. If anyone can, you can." "Thanks." "What should I do while you're gone?" "I don't know. Get yourself settled in, relax. Jenifer will get you anything you need, and answer any questions you may have. Oh, that reminds me, some members of her family will be arriving today, I believe, so you may run into them from time to time. I think she said her sister's son will be here too… He's only a few years younger than you, if I remember right. Maybe you two could find some trouble to get into together. I'm sure his mom would appreciate being able to get her business taken care of without having to watch him all the time." "Maybe I will…" "It's up to you. I don't want you to be stuck at home bored while I'm gone." "I'm sure I won't be, one way or the other." A few minutes later, we pulled into the driveway. Jennifer met me at the door. "I don't have time to talk right now Jennifer. Get my jet ready, I want to leave right away. I've got news about Aaron." "That's great! I don't understand how though. We still don't know any more than we did last night." "I can't tell you how I got the information, but I trust the source. Have the jet prepped for me, I'll be taking a trip as soon as it's ready. A pilot won't be necessary; I'll be going alone." "Sir?" "Please don't ask questions Jennifer. You know there are some things I keep to myself. This is one of them." "Alright sir. Give the mechanics about a half hour." "Thanks Jen. You're the best." "And don't forget it. Sir." Laughing, she turned and went back inside the mansion. I pulled my briefcase out of the trunk of the car, and walked through the door with Justin. I spoke to the air. "Moose." The sound of a yawn echoed through the hallway, and a sleepy sounding voice answered, "Yes?" Chuckling, I continued. "I need you to page Eric and have him assemble a team for insertion into hostile territory. They're to be geared for espionage. No more than six people; I don't want this to be a large operation. Non lethal weaponry in addition to the normal stuff, expect a hostage situation. They're to be geared up and ready to leave in five hours." "Very good sir. Am I to assume you've found Aaron?" "Yes, I think so." "Excellent sir. I'll pass the message along." By this time, we had arrived at one of the guest rooms in my mansion. "Justin, this will be your room. If you have any problems, let Jennifer or me know, and one of us will take care of them for you." "Thank you." "The jet won't be ready for a few minutes yet, is there anything you'd like me to show you before I leave?" "Where is your room?" "I'll take you to it." I continued talking as we walked – pointing out things as we passed them. Once we arrived, I said, "This is my room. If I'm not in my office, or with someone else, this is where I'm likely to be. Feel free to come and talk to me any time, about anything. Don't worry about waking me up if I'm asleep." "Thanks. I'll try not to bother you too often." "It's not a bother! I'm serious. You're important to me, and you belong here now. ANY time you need something, never feel like you'll be interrupting me or bothering me if you talk to me about it. I promise, I'll never be upset by you coming to talk to me. I'd like to continue this conversation, but I'm sure the jet's ready by now. We'll talk when I get back from Thailand, ok?" "Ok. Thanks, and good luck." "Thanks." I ran to the jet with my briefcase in my hand. As I arrived, the mechanics were just pulling the last of the equipment off the jet in preparation for takeoff. I started climbing the ladder to enter the plane, and one of the mechanics ran up and got my attention. "Mike! Mike, wait." Pausing, I answered. "Yes…" "Are you sure you don't want to take a pilot with you?" "Yes, I'm quite sure." "Well, would you at least file a flight plan? What if something happens?" "I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine." "Well, if you insist sir. Have a safe flight." "Thank you Mr. Van Hesson." As I finished climbing the ladder, he pulled it away from the body of the jet, and joined the rest of the mechanics at the back of the hangar. I closed and latched the door, and set my briefcase down in the small cabin area of the jet. It was barely large enough for 2 people; I had designed it personally for speed and stealth. It carried no weapons, but travelled faster than even the SR-71, with a max speed of about 2,500 mph. It was loaded with stealth technology, and even the best radar couldn't detect it under ideal conditions. I sat down in the pilot's seat and started the preflight sequence. As the jet ran through its checks, I scanned the sky for other planes or objects, and found none. The hangar opened up directly onto the runway, so I didn't need to taxi at all; it was built to launch right from the hangar. Once the hangar was completely cleared of equipment and personnel, I fired up the thrusters and pushed them to their max. After a very short takeoff roll, I was in the air. As I turned and headed out toward the ocean to build speed and altitude, I put the plane into stealth mode. After a few minutes, I had reached 60,000 feet, so I pointed the plane toward my destination. Once it had reached its max speed, I put the autopilot on, and went into the cabin, where I changed out of what I had been wearing. I opened the briefcase, and somewhat wary after what happened last time, I envisioned myself wearing the suit once again. Unlike last time, I experienced no discomfort whatsoever, only that same feeling of being immersed in warm bathwater. As I returned to the pilot's seat, I got an idea. I disengaged the autopilot, slowed the plane down, and began taking it through some evasive maneuvers. I wanted to see how the suit enhanced my ability to fly. Growing more confident, I went through several dives and rolls, pushing and exceeding my previous limits with more and more extreme maneuvers. It seemed that the suit enhanced my reflexes for flying as well, and increased my physical tolerance of G-forces. Pleased, I resumed my previous course and speed, and re-engaged the autopilot. After about an hour, I landed the plane on a small private runway outside of Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. I envisioned myself wearing a dark trench coat and climbed out of the jet, after first shutting everything down, and locking the controls. As I walked toward a building in the distance, I was greeted by a very tall, thin man. He looked to be middle aged, and to the unwary stranger, I'm sure he would appear very frightening. His face was thin and gaunt. Its skin looked like it was stretched painfully across very sharp points where his cheekbones were. His eyes were sharp, and set deep into the recesses of his brows, so that he appeared to be gazing out at me from the back of a deep cave. His nose was long and pointed; thin, like the rest of his face. A long and grizzly looking scar ran from the top left side of his face, down and across his left eye to where it ended near the base of his chin. His whole demeanor was cold and calculating, and it was easy to see why people feared him. Suddenly he smiled and spoke, and his whole attitude became warm and inviting. "Mike! It's so good to see you. You really must visit more often. My kids have almost forgotten who you are! My wife keeps asking me when I'm going to bring back that handsome charming young man who sent her the wine. What am I supposed to tell her? Huh? And by the way, that's some bird you've got there. You're gonna have to tell me where you got it." He said all this very quickly, on one breath, as he pulled me into a hug. "It's good to see you too Dave," I said, as I extricated myself from his embrace. "I designed the plane myself. If you want one, I can have one made for you, for the right price." "I don't even want to know." "Yeah, well, the plane's nothing. I brought along a new toy I want to show you." "Oh? Do tell." "Not here. Let's find someplace quiet to talk." "Absolutely," Dave said, as he turned back toward the building, and we both began to walk. To the casual observer, that might have seemed an odd request, considering that we were surrounded by mountains and hills, and not even a bird was chirping on this cold July morning, but to anyone familiar with the dark and less reputable places in the world, 'quiet' was slang for private. He took us into his den, a dark room that smelled of smoke and booze. There was a couch and a few recliners around the room, and it was one of these that I planted myself in as I spoke. "First, thanks for having me on such short notice. I appreciate the help in finding Aaron. My own people are great, but they just don't have the intel that you do when it comes to the criminal world." "Not at all. You know how I feel about you. I'm just glad I could help." "Yes, I know Dave, and I really, genuinely, appreciate everything you've done for me over the years. I'm sure I don't say that often enough." "No, you don't, but I forgive you," he said, smiling. "You're all heart. Now, let me show you what I brought. Check this out." Standing, I envisioned myself disappearing, blending into the environment. As soon as I thought it, my body appeared to fade from the room. Surprised, Dave spoke. "Woah. Where'd you go?" Laughing, I returned to view. "This is Talos. I've been working on it for a while." "That's pretty cool. So that thing can make you completely invisible? What about infra-red?" "Yes, completely invisible. That's not all though. It's like a combat suit. It enhances everything about me, and protects me from harm." "That's awesome. How does it work?" "It's kind of complicated…" I began. "Never mind," he interrupted. "I take it you're planning on going after Aaron on your own then. I know I can't change your mind, but be careful. What would I tell my wife if something happened to you? The guys that have Aaron are tough. They've been doing this a long time, and my sources tell me they're expecting someone to come after him." "I won't be going alone. I'm bringing some security guys with me. I'm hoping I'll be able to keep them all guarding the exit, while I do the work, but if something happens and I need them, they can probably get me out of a jam." "Well, that's something at least. You know how my wife is. If something happened to you, it would inevitably be my fault. I don't want to deal with that," he said, with a wink. "Well, since it would inconvenience you, I'll be sure not to die, how's that?" "I appreciate that. Now, do you want to talk to the guy who found Aaron?" "Yes." "Alright, I'll have him join us." While he spoke into a communication device he pulled from a pocket, I returned to my spot in the chair. A few moments later, a man walked in through the door. He looked to be a few years old than I, about 24 or 25. He was built like a fighter; short, around 5'4", but obviously well muscled, and he was covered in scars from old injuries. His nose looked like it had been broken several times, each healing more poorly than the last, and he was missing a tooth. There was a wicked looking fresh cut running down his neck and into his shirt, along with some recent bruises and a black eye. He wore blue jeans, and a leather jacket, open, over a stained white t-shirt. Standing once again, I extended my hand to him. "My name is Mike," I said, as I waited for him to shake my hand. He said nothing as he returned the gesture, and I sensed that he didn't like me, or didn't trust me. Suddenly, almost before I knew what was happening, I let go of his hand, and turned to the side as I blocked a knife he had tried to stab me with. Adjusting quickly, he followed through on the motion and continued past me, executing what I'm sure would have been a devastating knee strike to the inside of my right thigh on his way. As soon as he was past, he pivoted, once again attempting to slash me with the knife. I dodged the knife, and threw a strike of my own, a hammer-fist against the back of his knife hand, causing him to drop it. As it skittered away from him and out of sight, he dropped back into a perfect fighting stance, light, on the balls of his feet. I mirrored his stance, and waited for him to make the first move. Suddenly, he lashed out with a bone-shattering front snap kick that would have caught me high up near my diaphragm, had I not already been moving, crouched low and lunging forward. Grabbing the leg he had kicked with and using it to lift as I went, I slammed him down onto the ground hard enough to crack the linoleum, and held him there with a forearm across his throat. He attempted in vain to remove my arm with one of his, while the other was reaching around behind him for something. After a moment, he found what he was looking for, and brought the knife around, thrusting it toward my exposed side in a powerful stab. The blade shattered as it encountered the suit, and he stopped struggling after that, astonished. After a moment, he smiled uneasily, and spoke. "The name's Rock." I watched him warily as I let him up, and spoke to Dave. "Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" "Apparently, he wasn't satisfied that you could be trusted. He does that from time to time. You're the first person he hasn't sent to the hospital. Or worse." Rock nodded, confirming what he said. "Well, do you trust me now?" I asked him. "No, not really. But it don't look like there's much I can do about it, now does it?" he said, with a sneer. "No, it doesn't. Why don't you tell me about Aaron, and you can go back to whatever you were doing?" He snorted with disdain, then spoke. "I trieda get 'im out. That's how I got this," he said, indicating the wound on his neck, and the bruising. "What makes you think yer gonna have any better luck?" "Beat you, didn't I?" I said, indicating the remains of the knife. "That's a neat trick. Wanna tell me how you did that?" "No, I don't. Tell me about Aaron. How did he look? Was he ok?" "He didn't look good, that's fer sure. Someone beat him up pretty good from the looks of it. He was awake though, and he could talk to me ok. He was scared. He was askin' fer you, but I didn't know who you were then." "Tell me about the facility he was being held in." "He was in a cell. Looked almost like a jail actually. Him and one other were in one, and there was a bunch more lined up with his, in rows. There musta been about a hundred of em, I'd say. Only a couple had kids in em though. Maybe six. I don't know. I didn't have time to count." "What about guards? How many did you see?" "There was lots of guards. I musta passed like 50 of em just on the way to his cell. I got no idea how many of em there were in the rest of the place. They all got armor and guns. Like I said, I tried to get him out. I was lookin around fer a key or something to get him outta the cell when they got wise to me. A bunch of em came after me. I killed one and busted up another, but there was too many, and I had to run." "Thanks for trying. That boy means a lot to me." "Not enough to keep em safe though, in't that right?" In a flash, I was on him. Before he could even start to defend himself, I'd knocked him flat and gotten him into an arm bar. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I tried to protect him. I didn't realize how much danger he was in, or I would never have let him out of my sight. Who the hell are you to tell me how much I care about him? I love him. I'd go after him even without this suit. I'm going to get him back. I'm going to succeed, where you failed." The emotion in my voice made it shake as I spoke. Angry tears were running down my face, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. "That's enough Mike. Let him go kiddo. He's not your enemy. Save it for the bastards who've got Aaron." I let Rock go, and sat up, still sobbing. The image of Aaron sitting in the chair, from my dream, kept flashing in front of me. I could see his broken ribs, his broken nose, the bruises, and the blood, and it was more than I could handle. Slowly, nursing his now sore arm, Rock knelt down in front of me, facing me. Very gently, more so than I would have thought him capable, he took my face in his hand, and pointed it up toward him, until I was looking into his eyes. He didn't speak for a few moments; just kept looking down at me. It seemed like he was staring straight through me. Finally, he broke eye contact, and leaned in, so he could speak to me without Dave hearing. "Finally. Your anger is real. I can see also frustration and fear. These are real. You're very guarded most of the time. That's why I didn't trust you before. I didn't see YOU at all. Only a mask. I can see you now though, and you're alright. You DO love him don't you?" It was a question, but it was clear he didn't need an answer. "Yes… Yes, I can see that too. And he loves you, you know. He needs you Mike. He needs your love. Don't mention this to Dave. He has no idea." His voice was different, not gruff and southern like it had been before, now it was smooth and soft. It reminded me of silk. Shocked, all I could do was nod. Releasing my face, he stood up and spoke, at a normal volume this time. "Get up. Yer stronger than that." I wiped my eyes, and regained my composure. "Alright. Rock, how do I get to the facility you found?" "I'll tell you where it's at on the way. I'm comin' with you." "I've already got a team ready for the job. I don't need any help." "I said, I'm comin' with you," he repeated, with a low growl. "Well… I guess one more couldn't hurt. Is that ok with you Dave?" Chuckling, he replied, "That was the plan from the start Mike. Do you really think I'd let you go alone? I'm too old to go around beating up Asians, but Rock here is perfect for the job. Tough as nails, and he fights well too." "I suppose that's settled then. We should go soon. I've told my team to be ready to leave within two hours." "Alright then. It was good talking to you Mike, and I'll look forward to meeting Aaron in a few days. And then, we can sit down and have a nice long conversation about just how much one of those spiffy jets might run me." "Sounds good to me Dave." Dave walked us out to the jet, and waved as we climbed up into the cabin. Closing the door, I spoke to Rock. "There's only room for one up front, you'll have to wait back here." "That's fine." I started the jet's engines, and ran through the preflight sequence. A few minutes later, we were cruising silently through the atmosphere at slightly more than four times the speed of sound. I set the autopilot, and went back into the cabin with Rock. "So, what's with the hillbilly routine?" I asked. "I haven't always been called Rock. I used to be a different person, with a different life. It suits my interests to keep my past hidden from the people around me. The attitude is part of my disguise, and so are the speech patterns." "Fair enough." "What about you? Why do you hide so much?" "I have nothing to hide. My life is an open book. Just ask the media." I laughed, to cover my nervousness. He was getting too close for comfort. "No… no. That's a lie. I can tell when you do that, you know. You might think you're hiding yourself from everyone, but not from me. I sense… great pain. You're alone. You lead an empty life." "How do you know these things?" I whispered. "I barely know you. We just met an hour ago." "I've always been very good at reading people. I used to work for the CIA. My job was to interrogate national security suspects. I was very good at my job. Later, my skills were… enhanced… in an effort to create a team of human lie detectors, better than any machine, and better than anyone that had come before us." "Why'd you stop?" "Several years ago, I found myself in an impossible situation. I had to commit an evil act, to prevent a larger evil from occurring. The CIA was never a kind and gentle organization. But there were some lines I thought it would never cross. Lines I thought I would never cross. After that, I became disillusioned with the whole group. Everywhere I looked, it seemed like the people whose job it was to prevent evil were so deeply engrossed in it that they couldn't even recognize it anymore. So I left. The CIA doesn't like its members quitting. They go to extreme lengths sometimes, to keep people in the fold. I knew that I was in danger, so I disappeared. I faked my death, and created a new identity for myself. Since then, I've been Rock. Good at beating people up, and mispronouncing words. And nothing else." "Why are you telling me all of this? You're risking a lot here. How do you know I won't sell your information to the highest bidder?" "I know." "And what about Dave? Would he sell you out?" "No. Dave is a good man. The same cannot be said for some of the people he associates with, however. My anonymity protects me from them, more than it does from him." At that moment, a beeping sound came from the cockpit. "That's the five minute warning. I'd better go turn off the autopilot. We'll be landing soon." A short while later, we disembarked from the jet. Waiting for me, were Jennifer and Eric. "Was your trip a success sir?" "Yes. Jen, Eric, this is Rock. He'll lead us to where Aaron is being held." I watched carefully as Rock and Eric shook hands, waiting for Rock to attack him like he had me. Fortunately, the moment passed without incident. "A pleasure" he said, after shaking both of their hands. "Eric is my head of security, and Jennifer is my personal assistant. If you need anything while you're here, just talk to her and I'm sure she'll be able to accommodate you." I shifted my attention over to Eric. "Is the team ready?" "Yes sir. I've included Cole and Sam. They both asked for the job. Said something about making sure the boss doesn't get himself killed. I'll be leading the team personally. Everyone is geared up and ready to go. Just say the word." "Jen, is the plane ready?" "Yes sir. It's fueled up and ready to go. A pilot is standing by, with preflight complete. You can leave as soon as you're ready." "Excellent. Rock, if you'll follow Eric and I, we'll get going." After a short walk to the second hangar, we were ready to go. Eric and Rock had both boarded the plane, and seated themselves. I was about to join them, when I heard a voice calling out to me, growing nearer. "Mike!" I turned around, to see Justin running flat out towards me. "Mike, wait!" He slowed down when he got to me, and came to a stop a few feet in front of me. I gave him a moment to catch his breath, then spoke. "What's the matter kid? Is everything ok?" "Yeah. I just wanted to come say good bye, and good luck." As he said that, he ran forward, and pulled me into a tight hug. I returned his hug, and a few seconds later, he looked up and said, in a small voice, "Be careful please. Don't do anything stupid." "Don't worry about me Justin. I'll be fine. Go on back into the house. It's cold out here; you're not even wearing any shoes." "Ok. Bye… I'll see you when you get back." As he headed back to the mansion, I turned to Jennifer. "Jen, do me a favor, and watch out for him while I'm gone. He's going through a difficult time right now, and he needs to stay busy. I suggested to him that he spend some time with your nephew. It might do them both some good." "Will do, sir. And I agree with him. Don't do anything stupid." "I don't plan to. I'll see you soon, hopefully." "Alright sir. Good luck." I boarded the plane, and took a seat in the cabin with the rest of the men. As I watched the tarmac fade from view, I started thinking about how things would go when we got there. The more I thought about it, the angrier I grew. I could feel it again, the rage I had felt in my dream. I wanted to kill every single one of those sons of bitches. I would punish them for what they did to my angel. "Sir?" It was Cole. "Yes?" "Your eyes sir. They're… glowing." "What do you mean?" "See for yourself." He pulled a small signaling mirror out of his pack, and handed it to me. In it, I could see my reflection. Everything was normal, except for my eyes. They were glowing an angry red, like bubbling lava, boiling at the heart of a volcano. I was still wearing the suit, but I had it set to look like a combat jumpsuit, the same as everyone else was wearing. It must be affecting my eyes, I thought to myself. Just then, I felt Rock directly in front of me. Just like he had done at Dave's house, he took my face in his hand, and brought his face close to mine, so only I could hear. "Don't lose yourself Mike. It's a hard thing, to take a life. That rage will fuel your drive, but don't let it consume you. You're not an evil man. What will Aaron do if he learns that you became one in the process of freeing him? Don't dishonor him that way. Stay the good man who loved him before he was taken." I could feel my anger slipping away at the thought of Aaron. How could I do wrong in his name? I would be betraying everything he believed in me for. I couldn't do it. Slowly, all thoughts of murder and revenge left me, to be replaced by love. "Ahh. That's the answer", I thought to myself. If I had to kill, I would do it out of love for Aaron. I looked at the mirror I held once more, and was not a bit surprised to see that my eyes were now a pale blue color, almost white, like the very heart of a blue topaz. As Rock returned to his seat, I handed the mirror back to Cole and settled in to wait for the next few hours to pass before we arrived. |