General Sharer turned back. "Put those weapons away before someone gets hurt." She looked at the nametag of the guard nearest her. "Frazer, if you'll look at the information on the screen, you will see she's authorized to carry any weapon; so is my other guard. Next time, she'll give you a second to turn off the scanner. That way we won't upset anyone and no one will get hurt."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll turn off the scanner for her and the other Kazak."
Sharer proceeded down several hallways and corridors until she stood in front of a middle-aged female captain sitting at a metal desk with several electronic devices.
"Marshia, would you please scan Lynn's eyes for her security pass and allow her to enter a password?"
The scan took only a minute. Marshia slid my security card into a computer slot, and I entered "Clare&Gabe" as my password, which met the minimum requirement. My password seemed appropriate. From there we proceeded to a door that required an eye scan and my new password. The room inside was loaded with computers, monitors, and other miscellaneous machines I didn't recognize.
"George, this is Lynn. She's my bodyguard."
"Hi, Lynn, welcome to the dungeon." He was a short, overweight chief master sergeant. Sharer pulled up a chair and sat down in front of a large monitor screen, which appeared to be some type of computer-aided design device.
"Hi Chief. Just ignore me." I grabbed a spare chair and moved it out of the way but in sight of Sharer. I was bored as usual, more so because George was the only other person in the room. Of course, I watched him. I suffer from extreme paranoia.
It was late in the afternoon before Sharer looked up. Considering she had just left the hospital and was still weak, her time at the machine was impressive.
"Time for lunch or dinner, depending on whatever they're serving right now," Sharer said as she rose. We wandered down several corridors to a cafeteria with tables for four. She walked through the line picking up food. When she saw I hadn't picked up any food, she turned toward me.
"Eat. I'm sure that won't distract you. You probably can eat without looking at the food." She shook her head.
To appease her I picked up a few items, to make her feel like she had some control-generals need that.
"We need to sit at a table against the wall where I can face the door, please." I thought that
please
was a nice touch. She deserved it. She had been very cooperative.
"I'd like to complain, but after that Assassin
...
Illusionist... I can understand your caution. Since it's my safety at stake, I'll try to help."
A few more hours in the
dungeon
and she finally called it a day. It had only been eight hours since we left the hospital. We walked out of the room, down a bunch of hallways, ending at the checkpoint. After sliding our cards through a slot, we exited the building. This was when she would be the most vulnerable. A car magically awaited her. I carefully scanned the people coming and going as we walked down the steps to the car and entered.
"We made it," she said with a grin.
"That is the time when you are at the most risk." I took out my cell. "Jessie, we'll be at General Sharer's condo for shift change."
"Don't you or Jessie ever relax?"
"Yes, after shift change." I managed a small smile. I remained calm while guarding a client, but my mind never relaxed. So in a way, her question was valid. She had a third-floor unit, which was nicely furnished and spacious for the Washington, D.C., area. I sat near the window and watched the street, while she showered and changed clothes. Afterward, she made coffee and put a cup on a small table next to me. Then she sat quietly listening to music and reading.
An hour later, someone knocked at the door.
"Just a minute," Sharer said and rose. I was up and raised a hand for her to sit. She frowned but did return to her chair.
"Who is it?" I asked.
"It's me, don't shoot, or you'll be changing shifts with yourself." I went to the door, unlatched the lock, and stepped to the side as I opened the door. "Is it safe?"
I stepped back and waved him in.
"Yes, I'm cautious. After all, Assassins did try to kill her. Although after seven years on the Hill with you, I should know your irritatingly happy voice. Sorry."I had to admit that maybe I was overdoing it.
On the way home, I stopped for a slow, relaxing Chinese dinner. Content with life, I returned to my condo, relaxed with an interesting mystery novel, and retired early. I had just gotten into bed when my cell rang.
"Lynn, is that you? It's Sharer. Jessie's been shot. I called 9-1-1. The medics are on their way." Sharer continued to rattle on as I tried to clear my foggy mind.
"Is the shooter dead?"
"I don't know."
"Take Jessie's gun and shoot him in the head. Now!" I didn't hear anything for a few minutes, then two shots.
"I
...
him
...
the head," she said through sobs. I wasn't sure if shooting the Assassin was for Jessie, me, or both.
"See what you can do for Jessie until the medics arrive. Then go with them to the hospital. You can't help, but you're going to be safer with them than alone. Call me when you know where they're taking him. I'll be there within thirty minutes."
Using the speaker phone, I had dressed while I talked and was heading for an available car by the time she hung up. I kept my speed reasonable, considering the urgency I felt. I didn't want to be stopped by some traffic cop and waste the time it took to deal with him. A few minutes later, Sharer called to say they were going to the George Washington University Hospital. I arrived twenty minutes later and found Sharer in the emergency waiting room. She looked terrible. Her face was flushed, her hair wild, and her uniform soaked in blood.
"They're operating on him right now. I thought he was dead. It was horrible. I decided to go to work early. We had just stepped into the hallway when Jessie pushed me against the wall and the shooting began. It sounded like a firing range. When I staggered to my feet, Jessie and another man lay on the ground. I stopped the bleeding in his arm and called you, using his cell."
"You did well, General. If you don't mind, I'd like to stay and find out Jessie's condition before we leave. You're as safe here as anywhere. Besides, I doubt they will try anything more tonight."
"I want to know too," Sharer said as she grabbed onto my arm. "I'm the cause of all this. If I hadn't begged you to come back, none of this would've happened and Jessie wouldn't be fighting for his life."
I had been taught on the Hill that all survivors blamed themselves for surviving. It was a natural instinct.
"Want someone to blame? Blame whoever is paying Assassins to kill you. He's the person that put you and Jessie in the hospital. You didn't shoot Jessie, you didn't push him in front of the Assassin, and you didn't pay to have yourself or Jessie killed. You and he are victims."
"Aren't you the least bit concerned about Jessie?" She looked mad and disappointed at the same time.
"Far more than you can know. You've known Jessie for a few months. I've known him for over nine years. The last two years on the Hill, we saw each other eighteen hours a day. He's a close friend and an adopted older brother. Yes, I'm concerned. The difference is that, unlike you, I don't feel guilty that he's fighting for his life. He and I chose this life, knowing that each time we stand next to someone we're guarding we risk death or injury. I've been wounded several times. The last time, a fraction of an inch was the difference between injury and death. Neither guilt nor rage benefits Jessie, you, or me." I thought it funny that when you have to articulate your feelings, they become very clear. Jessie and I love this life and accept the consequences. Ironically, when you discard the moral issues, the Assassins and the Kazaks have much in common. We are professionals. We are killing machines and it isn't personal.
"I'm sorry, Lynn. I've become fond of you and Jessie, and I'm feeling guilty he was injured and may die. You've learned to accept injury and death as part of your life. I may give the impression of being hard or cold, but I feel the death of every friend or coworker. More so of you and Jessie, who are risking your lives every hour of every day for me."
Not a minute too soon a doctor approached us. He looked to me. "You're a fellow Kazak?" he asked. I nodded. "Jessie-?"
"Jessie is his name. A Tiger his essence."
"Jessie was shot four times. One ripped a deep gash on the side of his head. One severed an artery in his arm. Two missed his heart but punctured his lungs. He's stable but in a coma. In my opinion, his odds aren't good. I'm sorry."
"Thank you, Doctor. He has no family that I know of except for the Kazaks. Please let Mr. Witton know if his status changes." I felt a lump in my chest. Jessie lay dying to save Sharer. I would make sure his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I gently turned Sharer toward the exit. "Time to go, General. He's in good hands. Do you want to go home to sulk or the office to work? I'd suggest work."
"Work."
***
As the days passed, Jessie remained in a coma. Sharer began to work herself out of her depression. Witton hadn't assigned anyone to replace Jessie, so I now had her twenty-four seven. She spent a lot more time at work, trying to avoid the condo. When there, I slept in a recliner off to the side, facing the door and the terrace. In school, we had been taught over the years to come awake at the slightest noise. But just to make sure, I rigged a bell on the door and on the sliders to the terrace. In addition, I procured thick drapes for the sliders and windows that wouldn't show our shadows from outside. I imagine I slept better than Sharer. Each morning, she insisted I eat breakfast with her.
"Are you bored?"
"Of what?"
"Of not sleeping in a bed, having no time off
...
guarding me?"
"That chair is very comfortable, and I'm probably getting more sleep than you each night. I've nothing I want to do, so I don't need any time off, and you're a pleasant person to guard. Besides, Mr. Witton will feel a little guilty when this is finished and let me fly off and visit my friends out west."
"You're incorrigible." She paused for a minute, frowning. "Yes, I imagine you get quite a variety of
...
clients, with difficult attitudes like mine at the beginning, and still you risk your life for them. Do they break your rules often?"
"Only once."
"Once? I did many times."
"You almost got killed. Usually I just quit."
"Can you just quit? Why didn't you quit me?"
"We take assignments from Mr. Witton without question; however, if someone won't cooperate, they obviously don't need protection. You-" I paused for a moment. "I was waiting to see if my rules were too rigid or unnecessary." More or less the truth.
"In other words, an experiment." She actually smiled.
"Caught."I smiled back.
"Yes, your rules may be rigid but, as I proved, necessary. Well, off to work, my shadow."
***
As time went by without incident, I knew they were planning something nasty. That was alright with me. I was bored and welcomed the opportunity to face Jessie's hired killers. I knew the day was going to liven up when she decided to do a little shopping at Crystal City and eat at one of their restaurants. The shops were a convenient drive from the Pentagon and to her condo.
As we approached the shops, I saw Russ, one of the three men who had used me like a disposable lab rat in the Nevada desert, approaching us. I thought I saw Marc off in the distance. I couldn't see Karl, but I would bet the three worked as a team. Now a Kazak and not a naive young girl, I knew Russ was a Liar, Karl a Ghost, and Marc an Illusionist. The thought made me rethink my impression of Assassins. They were cowards hiding behind the cloaks of professionals. Ironically, Russ didn't recognize me. He smiled as he approached.
"Ma'am, I'm collecting for the Saint Jude foundation." I could feel the truth of the lie. Fortunately, the rage I felt toward him and his friends counteracted my believing him.
Sharer reached into her purse, looking for money. I pushed Sharer off to the side and swept Russ's feet from under him. As he fell, I cut his throat. Marc had probably resorted to an illusion and would look like any other shopper. I still couldn't see Karl.
Sharer had stumbled when I pushed her and lay sprawled on the ground. I stepped over her-straddling her-drew my gun, and fired into the air. It had the desired effect. The crowd dispersed, giving me a clear view in all directions.
I scanned the area, looking for that vague distortion I knew Ghost Assassins produced when invisible. Karl would be behind that distortion. I knew that bastard Karl was too arrogant to leave. I slid a throwing knife into my free hand. Sharer had the good sense to stay where she lay. Then I saw the blurring. Although the crowd had dispersed, many remained huddled in doorways or behind benches and other objects. If I shot at the distortion, I couldn't be sure a bullet or two wouldn't miss and hit an innocent bystander. I let my gun slide past Karl like I was scanning the area without success. As it passed him, I threw my knife and rotated my gun back in his direction. As the knife left my hand, he became visible. The knife hit him in the chest, making his first shot go wide. It hit me in the shoulder. I put two bullets in him as he staggered backward.
"Marc, Marc, won't you come out and play!" I shouted. I still couldn't see him. I felt the shock and then pain as a bullet hit me in my side. I spun around and dove for the ground and rolled once, looking for him. When I didn't see him, I rolled again. The dirt and grass sprayed where I had been a second before. This time I saw the flash from his gun and knew where he stood. I rolled again and again, firing each time. I had rolled and fired six times before I realized Marc was either gone or dead. I lifted myself on my elbows and saw Marc lying on the ground. I took careful aim and shot him in the head.
I suddenly realized Sharer was screaming, while stabbing at her smartphone. "Help, someone get a medic!"
I managed to cut a piece off my shirt and held it against my side, while pressing on the wound in my shoulder. I hoped there were no more Assassins in the area, because I wasn't cranky any more.