Diary of an Assassin (23 page)

CHAPTER 61

Henri threw the cigarette down and sprinted for the parking terrace. He pulled out his weapon and ran until his legs felt like
they were full of battery acid. As he ran up the ramp, he saw that the attendant in the booth noticed the gun and immediately picked up the phone and called someone.

Henri didn’t stop running until he got to the first level of parking. He looked for any moving
vehicles but didn’t see the one that had just driven up. He jogged through the lot, looking down all the rows. He didn’t see them. He began climbing the ramp to the second level.

A car was coming down and nearly clipped him
. They honked. He kept going, not even glancing back as the man rolled down the window and swore at him. Henri got to the top of the ramp and to the second level. He scanned the rows, his breathing loud, his heart hammering.

He slowly
examined the rows up and down. A family, a couple—young—a single man…he didn’t see what he was looking for. There were two more levels of parking and he ran up the ramp to the third and then to the fourth. He leaned against the entrance to the terminal on the fourth level, panting, and slowly looked at every car. At the far end of the lot, parked in a dark corner, was the car he had seen. The man and woman were still inside.

He sprinted with everything he had left. As he got closer he could see that the driver
held something: it was a firearm. The driver’s side window was open and Henri leapt through it.

He jumped on Gustav and grabbed his wrist with both hands. His own weapon dropped into the passenger seat.

“Run!” he shouted.

The girl climbed over
both of them, screaming, and squeezed headfirst out of the driver’s side window. Gustav saw her leave and roared like an animal. He grabbed Henri with his free hand and pulled him farther into the car. The engine was running and he put it in reverse and backed up until he hit the wall.

Gustav put it in drive and began down the ramp.
The car would scrape against one side of the barrier and then drift to the other. Henri was still pushing Gustav’s weapon against the seat. He flung his elbow back and it impacted against Gustav’s cheek. The weapon came up and fired, nearly shooting him in the face. Henri had to hold on with both hands again to keep the gun down.

The car was picking up speed as
it raced down the ramp. Gustav hit another car, which was driving up, and the impact flung Henri against the dashboard, but he didn’t let go. They pulled out of the ramp and onto the road leading to the interstate. Henri could feel Gustav press the gas pedal all the way down.

“I’m ready to die, are you
, Henri?”

“Stop the car.”

“No.”

“You’ll kill us both.”

“You have an illusion of control but in reality you have no control over your life. That is why people are so miserable, no? They believe they have control and keep trying to change things, but if things do not want to be changed, there is nothing you can do.”

“Gustav, stop the car
!”

“Let go of that feeling of control
, Henri. There is nothing more freeing in the world.”

Henri glanced out the windshield. They were on the opposite side of the road and cars were speeding toward them.

“I understand, Gustav,” he said pleadingly. “I really do. Now please stop this car.”

Gustav let go of the steering wheel and the car began to drift one way and then the other. “No. Let us answer the great mystery together.”

Henri heard honking and the screeching of tires. He let go of the gun and grabbed the steering wheel. He twisted to the right as far as he could as the gun came up and fired three shots, all tearing into his flesh.

The car
spun and then was thrown to its side. It was upside down on the pavement and scraping from the momentum as a shower of sparks flew around them.

It came to a stop in the middle of the lanes. Henri felt the warm flow of blood as it came over his eyes and mouth. He couldn’t move but he could see Gustav as he
attempted to crawl out through the broken glass of what used to be the windshield. His leg looked broken, a piece of bone sticking out through the shin. The gun was nowhere he could see.

Henri
heard sirens. He reached for Gustav and got ahold of his shirt. Gustav slapped his hand away, and crawled out. Henri watched his footsteps as they ran off, and disappeared.

CHAPTER 62

Dave
Cullimore stepped out of his car onto the residential street and glanced around. Sunlight pierced through the dark gray clouds that had been over the city for the past week. The rain had let up and left the pleasant smell of wet pavement and grass.

He had parked
two blocks from where he needed to be, so he stepped onto the sidewalk and began to walk. Children were out in yards and a group of teenagers were playing street hockey in the road. He stopped and watched as a boy stole the puck by pushing his teammate out of the way before walking on.

The house appeared like any other
. He stood in front of it for a moment before walking through the yard and up the porch. He had a temporary card, which had been left on his desk, and he took it and tried to figure out how to scan it on the little box. He remembered he’d also been given a small key and he took it out and opened the box. He figured out the scanner and the door clicked. He turned the knob and it opened and he went inside.

He was surprised
to find photos of a family up on the walls. He wondered if the family knew their pictures hung in this house or if they were actors that had been hired specifically for this. A couple of dishes were in the sink but they were clean and no food clung to them.

“You’re late.”

Dave turned to see a woman in a business suit rise from the couch. A holster underneath her jacket revealed a black handgun.

“Sorry,” he said. “
I took the long way.”

She walked past him into the kitchen. “Follow me. He’s upstairs.”

Dave followed behind her to a massive wooden door. As she opened it, he knew it was actually metal from the way it scraped against the linoleum. She held it open for him and he started up the stairs as she shut the door behind her and followed. At the top, he waited for her then she brushed past him and led him to an office down a hallway.

Santos Aras sat at a large desk going through some papers. He didn’t look up when Dave entered
, and the woman shut the door behind him. Dave stood silently as Santos finished reading a document.

“Sit down,” Santos finally said. Dave took a seat across from him. “I don’t appreciate tardiness. It’s unprofessional for someone that’s been with the
agency for so long.”

“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” Santos leaned back. “You have a good career with the agency. You’ve been promoted twice in the past five years, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Three promotions actually. Sir.”

“That’s impressive. You got a retirement waiting for you after twenty years of service; you got people under you. Why do you want to come work for me?”

“I believe Starlight to be the forefront of national defense, sir. When I was approached by your recruiter, I jumped at the chance. I’d actually been waiting for it.”

Santos nodded. “What do you think it is we do here exactly?”

“I think we defend the nation from internal and external threats. We move without bureaucracy and without adherence to international conventions.”

Santos took a deep breath. “You’re an idealist. I have no use for an idealist. Get out of my office.”

Dave’s stomach dropped. “Sir? I don’t understand.”

“Why do you think we invaded Iraq after September 11?”

“Um, we thought they had WMDs and that
Saddam was a threat to our allies and connected to various terrorist networks.”

“Looking back on it now, Mr. Cullimore, was any of that true? Answer me honestly.”

“No, sir. None of it was.”

“We invaded Iraq because there are companies that make enormous profits off war and because we wanted a cheap new source of oil before China got it. Presidents don’t decide when to go to war,
their advisors do. They slowly steer the president in the direction they want him to go. Only the more naïve ones think they’re actually making the decisions on their own. Advisors and lobbyists are who determine what this nation does, and both can be bought and traded as easily as cattle. Those reasons you just listed were an illusion that we weaved. We’re magicians; that’s what we do. We build grand illusions and the entire world is the stage we perform on. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The fact that we went to war, that thousands of brave soldiers died and thousands more are missing limbs or have brain damage, the fact that hundreds of thousands of civilians including women and children are dead, and that we did it all for money, is a hard damn fact to accept. If you try to sugarcoat those facts, to justify them or treat them like it was the only possible way, then you have no place here. We deal with truth so that those people out there eating their TV dinners, and numbing their minds in front of cable news, don’t need to deal with it. If you can accept that we are going to do not just horrible things, but evil things, in the name of this country, then you have a place here. If not, go back to the agency and tell them it didn’t work out. I’ll make sure you don’t lose your job.”

Dave swallowed. “No, sir. I’m ready. Whatever you need.”

Santos smiled. “Good. You should also know we occasionally take private contracts. We are not funded by any government agencies. We would have to make financial disclosures if we were. Our private contracts vary, but they must be considered a national security risk in some fashion. We don’t just kill civilians. Recently, we had a congresswoman who proposed a bill that would regulate investment banks out of business. This we couldn’t allow to happen, and she was dealt with. I would have passed on that particular contract but I was not in charge then. But I followed orders and helped get it done. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Suzan is outside. She will get your permanent passcodes and IDs. You’re going to be directly under me. I am the king, emperor, president, and CEO of Starlight. But you can never call me by name again unless it’s just me and you. I’m referred to only as the Messenger in all outside communications and conversations. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’ll talk again after your training in eight weeks. Go see Suzan now.”

He rose. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“That’s yet to be seen.”

Dave felt his heart fluttering as he walked out of the room. He glanced back once and saw Santos turned
, facing the window, staring out into nothing.

EPILOGUE

As the plane began to descend, Henri felt his ears pop from the change in pressure. He reached across with his left hand to the box of juice on the tray in front of him. His right hand was next to the box but it was painful to move, even six months after his physical therapy had ended. The orthopedic surgeons had told him that he would likely feel pain in his shoulder joint for the rest of his life. After taking three bullets directly to the acromion, he was just glad to still have his arm attached.

After landing, he took a taxi deep into the heart of Algiers. The city was a bustling mass of humanity, but it was beautiful. It sat on a crescent beach
and the buildings were an eclectic mix of Arabian, French, and Spanish with a little native African thrown in from the local architects. The driver spoke fluent French and speaking his native tongue made Henri relax a little. His stomach was nothing but knots and butterflies. But as one instructor in the military had told him, it’s all right to have butterflies as long as they’re in formation, traveling in the same direction.

Henri enjoyed the architecture and the people and the smells of the city as they drove
, eventually leaving the city and ending up in a little town close by. He wasn’t sure how long they had driven for when the taxi suddenly came to a stop, but his anxiety had decreased very little. The last time he was here…was something he never thought about. And now, being back, he wished he didn’t have to come.

Once he’d paid and stood outside, he
looked at the little slip of paper in his pocket and confirmed the address against the numbers on the side of the building. He was in the right place. The building was square with rounded pillars on top, almost giving it the appearance of a mosque. He went inside. The lobby smelled like cooking rice and lamb and he remembered that he hadn’t eaten since this morning.

Ornate rugs decorated the floors
, and the walls had ceramics on display. It was an upscale building, at least upscale for this town, and Henri guessed it was filled with professionals. He took the stairs rather than the old elevator and went to the third floor. He walked down the hallway to the flat he was looking for. He put his ear to it…silence. He tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

Once
he was inside, a putrid stench hit his nostrils. He checked his pockets but didn’t have a handkerchief or napkin to cover his nose with, so he simply breathed through his mouth as he took the pistol out of his waistband.

He walked
cautiously so as to prevent the floors from creaking. A door was to his right and he glanced inside. It was the bedroom. Seated on the bed, nude, was Gustav.

His hair was much longer and Henri saw several bottles filled with urine around the bed.
Fecal matter stained the carpets and walls.

Henri
scanned the room for weapons. A handgun was on the nightstand.

“I was wondering what took you so long,” Gustav said.

“Vous êtes un homme difficile à trouver.”

“No French. I do not like it.”

“It’s your mother tongue.”

“I prefer English. It is more direct. More closer to truth.”

Henri took a deep breath and looked over the room. “This has to end, Gustav. You’ve run for a year and I missed you everywhere you went, but I knew you had to come back here. I knew that you couldn’t stay away for too long.”

“Do you remember the bodies, Henri?”

“Yes, I remember. My unit was in charge of disseminating misinformation about the incident.”

“The incident? Is that what they called it? We slaughtered them, Henri. We killed women and children because they wanted to be free and they fought us.”

“We had orders and we carried out those orders. We were just kids.”

“Would you do it now?”

“No, I would quit.”

“I remember the bodies were stacked so high I didn’t think we could fit them all on the trucks. It was nearly an entire village. The village fought us. They chose to die rather than surrender to their
invaders.”

“Some called us invaders and others called us liberators.”

“Liberate from what? Replacing one tyranny with another is not liberation.”

“What do you want me to say, Gustav? I cannot change the past.”

“Do you know that that is not my name?”

“I did
not. What is your name?”

“I don’t remember.”

Henri was silent a moment. “Come back with me peacefully.” Gustav began to laugh. “With your condition, you can maybe stay at a government hospital instead of the prison. You’ll be taken care of there.”

“That girl I had with me. What happened to her?”

“She is doing fine. She left school and moved to another state. Alaska I think. I asked her a lot about you.”

“What did she say?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No.”

“Why did you take her, Gustav? You could have gotten away if she hadn’t been with you.”

He didn’t respond. Instead
, he took a deep breath and sat up straight. “Do you have snipers on the roof across the street?”

“No, I came alone.”

He turned and looked at him. A dark beard covered his jaw. “You came alone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to die?”

“No. But I don’t think I will.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you will kill me.”

Gustav nodded. “Bad decision.” He threw himself at the pistol.

Henri raised his weapon and fired four rounds as quickly as possible as Gustav got off two. They both hit their targets:
the heart. Henri was flung back into the front room. He lay on the carpet as he sucked in air and tried to get back his breath.

After a few moments, he rose, and ripped off the Kevlar vest underneath his shirt. T
wo indentations were over the heart: one on the left ventricle and one on the right.

Gustav
lay on his back on the bed. Henri walked to him. He took out his phone to call an ambulance, and Gustav grabbed his hand, pulling it down. Henri didn’t let go. Instead, he sat on the bed and they held hands as life left him. He went limp a moment later, and Henri reached down to him and closed his eyes.

He stood up and was about to leave when he saw a little red book on the nightstand.
The initials “IR” were stamped into the front in gold lettering. He picked it up. It was a journal. He turned to one of the entries and read:

December 13
th

I still hear her at night. I wake up and I think she’s still here
so I go to the kitchen or to the bathroom to find her but there’s nothing but empty space. I’m responsible for her death. I had a chance for us to get out, to get away from Starlight and the killing, but I didn’t take it. I thought we were doing God’s work. But killing is never God’s work. I can see that now. I wish I’d seen it before.

She died quickly, two shots to the heart. She was on assignment in Cuba and I got word through the Messenger of what had happened.
They wouldn’t tell me why she died or what assignment she had there or who killed her. They couldn’t even get the body back for me, only telling me that it would be buried in some cemetery near Havana.

Then I called the Messenger
, crying, and begged him to return the body so I could see her one more time. He said he would do that for me. That it was dangerous but he would do that for me. It would be a favor and he would ask me for a favor one day and I couldn’t refuse. I promised him that if he got the body back for me I would do anything he asked.

She’s buried next to my grandparents in Palmyra.
One day I’ll visit her. It’s my fault she’s dead, and I can never get her back. My wife. My love. How can you ever fill a hole like this? Every day is the worst day of my life and I don’t think I can make it through. I would give anything just to see her one more time. To hear her laugh. To have her argue with me.

I like to think she died defending somebody.
It would be just like her to do so. She defended the helpless and felt they needed someone to stand up for them. I believe in fate, and I believe someone needed to die that day. I just wish it hadn’t been her.

The journal entry went on like this. Henri flipped through a few more pages and then closed the book and put it down. He looked once more to Gustav before leaving, and shutting the door behind him. When he got outside he saw a trash bin on the street near some palm trees. He took out his badge and his gun, emptied the clip, and threw them in the trash.

A breeze was blowing and children were playing soccer on a tennis court across the street. He watched them a long time, listened to them laughing and teasing each other. One of the boys looked to him and smiled and he smiled back.

Then, he walked away.