tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8033475494879531492024-03-08T09:16:13.555-08:00Jethro Wegener's WritingsJethro Wegenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881594631362938425noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803347549487953149.post-18217676704691300022012-04-25T19:18:00.002-07:002012-04-25T19:20:22.331-07:00New Character Coming SoonHis name is unknown.<br />
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His description is only known to those who hire him and if they ever decide to tell anyone what he looks like, they'll die.<br />
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He's a rumour, spoken of only in whispers in the halls of police stations.<br />
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He can find you anywhere. He can find your family anywhere. Hiding from him is futile. If he has been hired to kill you, then you die.<br />
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He is perhaps one of the most dangerous men in the world.<br />
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Good thing he only works for cops.<br />
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Find out why when my next story comes out! <br />
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<br />Jethro Wegenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881594631362938425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803347549487953149.post-43860239822996445942011-11-09T23:26:00.000-08:002011-11-10T22:07:36.029-08:00The Last Assignment<span style="font-size: large;">The first short story is a tale of espionage. Enjoy.</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I was just about to turn in for the night when my doorbell rang. I used to be a spy during the Cold War so the first thing I did was grab a gun, a Walther PPK, from one of the drawers in my bedroom. I had a weapon in almost every room in my house, a habit that I had picked up long ago.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Who is it?' I called out from the side of the door.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'It's Harry. Open up old friend,' a voice called to me.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I smiled and opened the door, holding the gun behind my back. It was indeed Harry. Harry Walters, a short, overweight man in his fifties, was actually named Nicolai Pavlov. He was a Russian scientist during the Cold War when he decided to defect. Since his weapon's research was cutting edge at the time, I was sent into Moscow to extract him and bring him back to the States. The extraction went smoothly and he changed his name, gained some weight and lost some hair. He also told us some every useful things about the Russians and even helped us to develop a very powerful weapon that he originally wanted to give to the Russians. We became friends over the years.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Ah, Sean! How long has it been my friend?' Harry asked, sticking his hand out for me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Too long,' I said, taking his hand and ushering him into the house. I tucked the Walther into my pocket and closed the door behind him. 'Would you like a drink, Harry?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Yes please. Scotch if you have any.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I smiled to myself as I poured us both a Scotch. I remembered the first thing that had struck me as odd about Harry when I met him. He hated Vodka with a vengeance. He later told me it was because he had grown to despise Russia because of what it had become.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'What brings you here at this time of night?' I asked, passing him his glass and sitting down.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Do I need a reason to visit my friend?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'You do when you look as worried as <i>you</i> do.' He did look worried. There were bags under his eyes and his normally neat hair was a mess.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Harry sighed. 'The past always catches up to us, my friend.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'What? Has someone from the old days found you?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'There is no need to concern yourself with my safety. I came here to thank you for getting me out of Russia.’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'You have thanked me, Harry, many times. There is no need to do so again,' I smiled and downed the rest of my scotch. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I just felt I should say it one last time. You remember where I was hiding when you came into that home to find me? I had been there for three days. If I had spent another in there, I would have gone mad. You saved me and I must thank you for that. The only wish I have is that you could've saved my family.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> This made me sit up. 'I never knew you had a family.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I did, once upon a time. The KGB, they took them from me. That is what made me lose faith in Russia.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I never knew. I'm sorry.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'It cannot be helped,' Harry said and I saw the tears in his eyes. 'It was a long time ago. I shall never forget them, though. I don't think anybody could forget the loss of their family. Look who I'm talking to. You know as well as I do, don't you?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I nodded. I had lost both my parents in a car accident when I was young. I shall never forget them either. 'Would you like another drink?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'No thank you, my friend. I must be going.' Harry rose out of his chair and extended his hand once again.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Really? Don't you want to stay a little longer?' I asked as I shook his hand.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'No, I can see that you are tired. Besides, I have said what I wanted to say. Goodbye, my friend.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Goodbye.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I followed him to the door and let him out. As I went to bed, I wondered why Harry had said his goodbye as if it was the last time he would ever say it to me.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I awoke to the sound of banging on my door. I checked the digital clock beside my bed. It was two am. I swore as I dragged myself to my feet and picked up my Walther again. I did the same thing that I had done earlier with Harry, only this time the reply was a complete surprise to me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">'It's James Henderson. Open the door Flynn!' James Henderson had been the head of operations at the CIA when I was sent to get Harry out. A weasel of a man only concerned with rising through the ranks, I had despised Henderson from the moment I saw him. Last I had heard, he <i>had</i> actually risen through the ranks at the Agency. Normally, I chose not to pay attention to idiots so I had no idea how far he had risen.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">'What do you want, Henderson? It's two am in the morning,' I said angrily.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">The look on his face told me all I needed to know. 'It's about Walters.'</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">It was raining by the time Henderson and I arrived at Harry's apartment. A couple of cops stood outside the building, looking pissed. I would've been too if the CIA had just marched in and took my case. Henderson paid the cops no attention and just carried on into the building. He hadn't said anything to me on the way over so I supposed that I'd find out soon enough.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> We arrived on Harry's floor and the first thing I noticed was a stern looking man standing outside the door to Harry's apartment. The next thing I noticed was that the lock on the door had been forced open. Inside, it looked like a hurricane had been through the place. Various things lay scattered around the apartment, from draws to their contents.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'What happened here?' I asked as I took in the damage.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Looks like a robbery,' Henderson said, 'they came in expecting the place to be empty and were surprised to find Walters. He's in the bedroom.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I went through to the bedroom and just stopped at the doorway. Harry lay at the foot of the bed in a pool of his own blood. He was lying face-up and I noticed stab wounds on his chest. Thankfully, his eyes were closed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Jesus,' I said softly as I looked at the body of my friend. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Nasty, isn't it?' Henderson asked, coming up behind me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I ignored his remark. 'What did you bring me here for?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I brought you here because it appears as if Walters was a Russian spy.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Bullshit,' I said firmly, looking Henderson in the eyes. 'Harry was no spy. He hated communism and what it did to his country! The man hated Vodka for God's sake! What kind of a Russian hates Vodka?' I was shouting now, backing Henderson into a corner. 'How can you say that Harry was a communist agent?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'We found evidence that he was in contact with certain members of Russian intelligence,' Henderson said, his back pressed firmly against the wall.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Let me see.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Henderson pointed to the dining room. I walked over to the table there and saw what Henderson called evidence. A couple of old code books from the Cold War days, a few letters and a couple of order documents stamped with Soviet insignias. I almost burst out laughing.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'You call this evidence, Henderson?' I sneered.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Henderson appeared behind me. 'No, I don't.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> That surprised me. 'What?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I don't think that Walters was a spy. I'm not <i>that</i> stupid. I knew Walters, but the higher ups didn't. They want this wrapped up fast. I don't think that they would be able to stand the embarrassment of either situation.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Okay, I see. One situation is that Harry was a spy and we never found out and the other is that they lost a valuable asset.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Exactly. Now, to the reason why I brought you here. I want you to find out what happened here and whether or not Walters did work for the Soviets all these years. You know why? Because I don't want the embarrassment of having helped get a Soviet agent out of Russia so that he could inform on us. You have two days, Flynn, starting now. I'll clear everyone out while you work.'</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">When everyone was out of the room, I started to replay the conversation that I had had earlier with Harry in my mind. He had to have known that he was close to being killed. The goodbye he had said to had sounded like the last because he knew it would be. I figured that "goodbye" wasn't the only reason Harry had come to see me. He must have given me some clue as to his killer's identity. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> One thing that struck me as important was that Harry had wanted me to remember where I had found him hiding. Harry had been hiding in a rather small hidey hole under the floor of a cupboard. I went to the bedroom and gingerly stepped over Harry's body. I didn't need to open the cupboard as it already stood open. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> What had they been looking for?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I wondered as I bent down in front of the closet. <i>The same thing I was looking for, perhaps.</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I felt around the floor inside the cupboard and found what I was looking for. I pulled up a piece of floor and stuck my hand inside the hole. I came out with a large brown envelope. I got up off the floor and went back to the dining room.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I pulled out a chair and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the table. The first thing to come out was a business card. It was from a man named "John Springsteen", a private investigator with an office downtown. I shoved it in my pocket and turned my attention to the second thing out of the envelope, a stack of photographs secured with a rubber band.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I took off the rubber band and starting going through the photographs. They were surveillance pictures. A strikingly beautiful women appeared in each one of them. She was obviously the one that was being watched. I had never seen her before. I would've bet money that the pictures were taken by the private investigator. That was my next move.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I got downtown at dawn. It still hadn't stopped raining. I parked my car and looked up at the grubby building that the PI's office was in. I wondered why Harry had hired this guy as I got out of the car and dashed into the building. I went straight to the third floor and knocked on the PI's door. The door swung open as soon as I touched it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I'd smelt the scent of death many times before but it's something you never get used to. My hand went straight to my gun but there was no need. The office was empty, except for the body of the PI. He lay in the middle of the office, blood pooled around his still form. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I took my eyes away from the body and looked around. The office was only one room and it was a mess. Whoever had killed Springsteen had gone through all his files and tossed them all over the place. There was a broken coffee cup near the door, probably thrown by Springsteen in defence. There was only one file on the desk. I picked it up. It was an empty client file. Harry's client file. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> <i>That's how they found him,</i> I thought, putting the empty file down again.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> The woman in the photographs just became very important. I was glad that I'd kept one of them instead of giving them all to Henderson to look over. I pulled out my cell.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Henderson, it's Flynn. I have discovered how they found Harry.'</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">After Henderson arrived at the office, I headed home. He had no news on who the woman in the photographs could be so I had no new leads. I was tired and I needed rest. That made going home my best choice.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> They came at me just as I was closing my front door. The door was kicked inwards and I was flung backwards. I landed on the floor with a thud as two armed men rushed into my apartment. In less than a second, I had my weapon out and was firing blind. I was trying to buy time to get myself into cover.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> The two men dove out through the door into the hallway as I pulled myself along the floor towards my bedroom. My clip ran dry just as I reached the door way of my bedroom and I pulled myself into cover as fast as I could. Bullets tore up the floor where my feet had been.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I leapt to my feet and ejected the empty clip, slamming a fresh one home as yet more rounds tore up chunks of my floor and wall. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The firing stopped and I heard the sounds of men reloading. I waited a bit and then came out of my bedroom, staying low.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I found a target and almost immediately drew a bead on him. I fired, aiming for centre mass like I'd been trained to do. The man's chest exploded, blood spraying everywhere, as I drew back into cover.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I reloaded my weapon again. One down and one to go. There was one problem, I needed the other one alive.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> The man fired twice more and then stopped. I peeked my head out of cover and saw nothing. Then, I heard the footsteps. The bastard was running.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I ran to my door and out into the hall. I saw the man heading for the stairs at the other end of the hallway. I assumed a firing stance and took aim. I fired, my round catching the man in the leg. His knee shattered in a spray of blood and he screamed as he fell. His weapon flew down the hall, out of his reach.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I didn't have much time. I raced down the hall and grabbed the man by his collar. Grunting with the effort, I pulled him back towards my apartment. He was swearing and cursing up a storm. I recognised the language. He was speaking Russian.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I pulled the man into my apartment and closed the door behind me. I pulled the man's face towards mine.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Answer my questions and you live,' I said in Russian before I smacked him in the head, knocking him out.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">When the Russian assassin finally awoke, I had tied him in a kind of cross shape on my bed and his leg wound was bandaged. My Walther was tucked into my belt and a bucket of water lay at my feet. A hose ran from the bathroom faucet to the bucket and in my hand was a towel. The Russian took this all in and I could tell from his expression that he was scared.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Who sent you?' I asked in Russian.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> The man shook his head. I sighed and wrapped the towel around his head. I then started to pour the bucket of water over the towel, being careful to evenly distribute the liquid between the man's nose and mouth. I was Waterboarding him.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Waterboarding is a form of torture designed to make the captive think that he's drowning. Your lungs burn and you brain screams for you to get oxygen even though you're actually getting enough. The psychological effects of such a thing are enough to make anyone talk after enough of it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> After the bucket was empty, I pulled the towel off the man's head. He coughed and spluttered, gulping down huge lungfulls of air. I repeated the question and got the same answer. I filled the bucket again and set to work. It took four buckets for him to answer my question.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> He told me that he worked for a man named Petrovich. I knew the man. He had been big in the KGB because he had never let one person defect from Russia, until I took Harry out. I should have guessed. Of course Petrovich wanted revenge, he should have been at the top of my list of suspects.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I asked the assassin all the questions that I had. He had found me by following me from the PI's office, which he had been watching. His orders had been take me to Petrovich. I assumed Petrovich had reserved the pleasure of killing me for himself. No, the man didn't know who the woman in the photographs was. No, Harry wasn't a Soviet spy. Yes, he knew where Petrovich was. I got him to tell me where and then I knocked him out again before calling Henderson to come clean up. I told Henderson everything that I had found out and he told me not to go after Petrovich.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Why not?' I asked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'After the KGB fell, he moved into government,' Henderson explained. 'He has diplomatic immunity.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I don't work for the CIA anymore. That means that I can get this bastard, whether he has diplomatic immunity or not. Did you find out who the girl is?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Henderson sighed. He knew from prior experience it was useless to argue with me. 'No, I haven't. But then I haven't been getting very much co-operation here at my end. I'll keep trying.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I hung up and cursed. I shoved my cell into my pocket and my gun into my waistband. I grabbed my jacket as I left the apartment. In the hallway, a couple of cops were examining the blood on the floor. They were the same ones who had been standing outside Harry's building earlier. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> At first they didn't recognise me and drew down on me. For one horrible moment I thought I'd have to take them down but they relaxed when they figured out who I was. They scowled at me as I walked past. I heard one of them calling it in as I headed down the stairs.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I arrived at the restaurant where I was told that Petrovich was dining and parked outside. I entered the restaurant and immediately felt out of place. It was clear that everybody in the place had money, lots of money. A rat-faced little guy appeared in front of me with a disapproving look on his face. I looked at myself in the mirror beside me. I could understand why he looked at me like that.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'What do you want here, sir?' He asked. I never thought anyone could make the word "sir" sound like an insult.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I looked around the restaurant before answering. 'I'm with him,' I said, pointing to Petrovich in the corner.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> As the man looked to where I was pointing, I pushed past him and went straight to the Petrovich's table. I sat down with a big smile on my face, noticing that one man seated at the table next to us tensed up. Petrovich's bodyguard, I guessed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Tell your man to relax, we have some business to discuss,' I said, the smile still plastered all over my face.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich nodded to his bodyguard. 'What business?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Killing business. You killed my friend and you tried to kill me.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich laughed. 'Why would I do such a thing?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Pavlov was the one that got away. I was the one that helped him.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'You think that I want revenge for something so trivial, Mr Flynn?' Petrovich said with a smile. 'To answer your question, no, I would not.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Then why send your men after me?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I didn't.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I studied his face. I believed him, every word he said. 'Someone did.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Perhaps we should go outside?' Petrovich asked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Your monkey stays here,' I said. 'I'm armed, by the way.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich nodded to the bodyguard and stood. I followed him out into the rain. Once outside, I took my gun out of my waistband, shoved it in my pocket and angled it so that it was aimed at Petrovich.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Who sent your men after me?' I asked.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'The woman the unfortunate PI was following,' Petrovich said, turning his back to the restaurant.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'This woman?' I asked, showing him the photograph. He nodded. 'Who is she?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'She's Pavlov's daughter.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'What? Don't lie, Harry told me that his family was dead. Killed by the KGB.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'No, we didn't kill his family. We took them from him, we didn't kill them.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Of course, Harry had used that exact word, <i>took</i>. 'But why would his daughter want him dead?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'You'll have to ask her that.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Suddenly, someone came up behind me and clamped a hand over my mouth. In the hand was a cloth soaked in chloroform. I was out in seconds.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I awoke pissed off and in pain. I was tied to a chair in the middle of what I guessed was a warehouse. Crates and boxes were stacked up against one wall. About ten feet in front of me stood a table with two chairs. Seated in the chairs were the woman and Petrovich and standing to the side was Petrovich's bodyguard. I cursed my stupidity.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Hey!' I yelled. 'I'm awake! Let's get on with the torturing!'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich smiled and stood up. He had my gun in the pocket of his dinner jacket, I could tell by the bulge. 'Good morning, Mr Flynn.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> The bodyguard stayed where he was while Petrovich and the woman came towards me. I started testing the ropes that bound me. If I was careful, I could get free.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'So this is the famous Sean Flynn?' The woman said.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Yeah, I'm Flynn. What's it to you?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'I'm Svetlana Petrovich, formerly Svetlana Pavlov. You helped my father abandon my mother and I.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Is that why you had him killed?' I asked in disbelief. 'He <i>abandoned</i> you?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich came and stood to my left and Svetlana stood right in front of me. 'Yes, that is why I killed him. He abandoned us. My mother died of a broken heart and I grew to hate him. He hurt me more than anyone could ever know and he betrayed his country. He deserved to die as much as you do.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> I had to buy time. 'You<i> </i>killed him yourself?'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Of course. My darling taught me how to kill,' she said, running her hand over Petrovich's face. 'Now, I shall apply what I have learnt once again. To kill you.'</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Brainwashing. I should've guessed. Petrovich and the KGB had taken Harry's family to use as leverage against him. When Harry defected, Petrovich started to fill Svetlana's head with lies about her father. Years of such lies made her hate her father and think that everything was his fault. Her mother's death, her pain and suffering at the hands of the KGB, everything. After years of lies, children can even go so far as to kill their own parents. The KGB had been the masters of brainwashing.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Now was my chance. I wrenched my hands upwards, the ropes falling away as I leapt forward and elbowed Svetlana in the face. In an instant, her smile disappeared and blood started to pour from her nose as she flew backwards.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Distracted by what I had done to Svetlana, Petrovich just stood there as I punched him in the face and lifted my weapon from his pocket. I dropped to one knee and shot the bodyguard in the head before he had a chance to fire. A neat little hole appeared in the man's head and he fell backwards as I turned my attention to Petrovich.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> Petrovich went for a weapon so I shot him twice in the chest. Blood stained his once nice shirt and I spun around. I trained my weapon on Svetlana. She looked at me with pure hatred in her eyes. She had a holster on her hip.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> 'Don't,' I said but she went for the weapon anyway. I fired, expending the rest of my clip into my friend's daughter.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">* * *</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">After I had found my cell and called Henderson, I went and stood outside. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining. I looked up at the sky and sighed. It had been a tough night but, then again, my nights had never really been easy. </span></span><br />
<br />
<i>This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.</i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"> </span></span></div>Jethro Wegenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881594631362938425noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-803347549487953149.post-26735395406482406692011-11-09T23:17:00.000-08:002011-11-10T22:10:51.729-08:00Introduction<div class="MsoNormal"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-SG</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size: large;">Greetings! My name is Jethro and I am a writer. <span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;">I was born in South Africa in 1993. An avid reader, gamer, and collector of movies from both Bollywood and Hollywood, I have been creating my own stories for as long as I can remember. It was my passion for the written word that had me reading everything from Mitch Albom through Andy McNab to Timothy Zahn from a very early age. I moved to Singapore in the year 2000. Read my work and feel free to comment.</span></span></div>Jethro Wegenerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881594631362938425noreply@blogger.com0