Agent out of Time (The Agents for Good) (10 page)

I stood up and walked off to where my rented Jeep sat, as nature did its work behind me in its own savage fashion.

Chantry had been right about something. I couldn’t pull off this operation all on my own. Deshavi most likely would need to be carried and there was no way I would be able to fight off the jailers and alerted authorities, who were in pocket with the jail owners, while carrying and dealing with Deshavi. I needed a wing man to either carry Deshavi or keep the others at bay while we escaped.

It wouldn’t be easy then either. Any kind of airlift would be out of the question, as it was strictly monitored Russian airspace. The local authorities were likely in on it and received payoff money to keep the business of the private prison a secret so they would be of no use to go to. The best and really only option left was to make our way overland towards the south. The problem with that option was that Siberia was a vast wilderness and winter was fast approaching.

We would likely have to hole up somewhere for the winter. The winter could be more deadly to us than the prison rescue itself. If we made it through the winter to the spring it would be a testament to the will to survive. Chantry had said that there were agents, who would volunteer for such a mission, but I had roundly refused the much needed help. In all likelihood this rescue mission was a suicide run and my consciousness couldn’t justify the death of those agents in a private war of my own.

To be on this mission one had to be personally invested in it beyond any bond of friendship or monetary gain, which is why I had come here. I stopped the car and got out the sea breeze instantly ruffling my long white hair. I made my way up the quaint walkway strewn with flowers in pots and others trailing along the walkway itself.

I stared at the door for a long moment. I had no right to come here and do this, but in a way I had no choice. I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened softly to reveal Ella standing there gracefully. She reached a hand up to curl some of her hair back over an ear. It was an endearing gesture from the articulate woman and I started to turn away and head back to my car.

I couldn’t do this to this woman!

Her son was all she had. I couldn’t take him from her. I only knew too well what that felt like and I wasn’t going to allow her to experience that private hell because of me.

Her hand caught my shirt front in a tight grip and I stopped. I couldn’t look at her for fear that my eyes would give away too much to her perceptive gaze.

“Caleb has something happened to Deshavi?”

I nodded.

She tugged on my shirt, “Come inside.”

I turned my pained gaze to her, as I backed up a little, “I can’t!”

Her grip on my shirt tightened further and she tugged harder. “Yes you can and you will!”

I let her pull me inside. I could’ve easily broken free of her grasp, but my desperation for Deshavi’s plight was just too great. We set down at the kitchen table and her eyes asked the question of what had happened.

“Deshavi has been kidnapped.”

Her breath escaped her and caring woman that she was she reached her hand out to consolingly grasp mine on the table.

“She’s been shipped overseas. I’m not sure how long she will stay alive. They… Are… Terrible things have been done, are being done to her even right now.” I finished on an up swell of emotion, as tears streaked down my face.

Ella was out of her chair and standing before me, as she pulled my head against her, as I let myself express how raw my pain was at the latest savage turn my life had taken. She held me tightly and cooed in a low voice, as a mother would for a child woken out of a nightmare, only my nightmare was not stopping. After several moments and the expenditure of all my emotion she drew back a little and I looked up at her.

I’d completely drenched the front of her dress, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her own face was wet with tears, but her voice was steady in its clarity. “You’ve come for my son?”

Yes, but I’ve changed my….”

Her fingers covered my mouth stopping my words. “He’s in the back.”

I shook my head, “I don’t know if I can rescue her from where she is, even with his help. Even if we do the likelihood of us surviving is far less than us not surviving.”

She nodded jerkily, “And yet we still have to try don’t we. I’ll wait here while you speak to Trent.”

I stood up, but hesitated to go out the back door towards the beach. “You’re sure you want to risk this?”

She’d sat down at the table and looked up from it to me, “My son is a brave man. A good man. I like to think I had some part in those finer aspects of him, but the truth is that we are who we are by the choices that we make. For many years my son has fought for the protection of this country and its freedoms. He has seen hellish things and has had to do hellish things in the continual fight to maintain that freedom that so many enjoy. I don’t think many people in this country realize at what cost their freedom comes. I do! I fought every skirmish and war my son’s been at in my prayers for him. When he retired early I rejoiced and praised God for it. But my son was like a warrior without a cause. He sulked around here like a little lost puppy dog. I was on the verge of telling him to reenlist, when I decided to try one last thing. I sent him to be with his grandfather hoping that Ted might be able to instill some purpose in him. Trent came back with your girl and I saw the spark of purpose that I’d grown accustomed to seeing back even brighter than ever in his eyes. I am convinced that your Deshavi and my son were meant to be together from the beginning of time and to that end they are to experience what God has ordained for them to have together in this life! I am not going to allow the world or whatever spawn of hell that wishes to dictate a heartbroken future for my son over what was meant to be a joyous union founded before time began! I claim the pure honorable joy of that union for my son and your granddaughter and I will not be moved, as Jesus is my source of strength and the Holy Spirit is my comforter! Now go talk to him!” She finished, as she pointed authoritatively at the back door.

I obeyed and opened the door and stepped out. There was no resisting the faith that woman possessed.

My eyes took in the beach and the sea that was beyond. I saw Trent leaning over a car that had the hood up. I made my way over to him. He glanced up at me from across the engine compartment, as I let my eyes run admiringly over the car for a moment. It was a Shelby Mustang in vintage condition. It was even in my favorite color, which was blue.

I met Trent’s gaze, “You have a very fine horse.”

He smiled slightly and then let the hood down. He leaned back against it, as he wiped his oily hands off on a rag, “Why are you here?”

He’d asked so I told him. I told him in greater detail than what I had told his mother. He stared at me the whole time in a mixture of anguish and anger. I well knew the double feeling of torment myself. We stood there quiet for a long moment.

“Can I have an hour to think about it?”

I nodded.

There wasn’t a doubt in me, whether or not he was going along. The time to think about it was simply code for; ‘I need to tell my mother’. I left him alone then and headed back to the house intending to go on through and wait in the car.

Ella was waiting for me at the door, “What did he say?”

I made a big mistake then as I said, “He needs a little time to think about it.”

“Time to think about it!” She exploded.

She stormed out the back door headed for her son. Oh boy, I’d just blown it up for Trent.

Her shouted words came through clearly over the crashing of the surf on the beach, “Time to think about it! I didn’t give birth to a sissy minded pragmatic oddsmaker! Your girl needs you and if you think I’m going to let you…”

“Whoa hold up mom! I’m going!”

“Oh, well then why didn’t you say so?”

“I wanted to inform you of my decision first.”

“Oh.”

Less than an hour later I was pulling away from the beachside cottage with Trent beside me in the car. I looked over at him, “Your mother…!” I just shook my head leaving the rest unsaid.

“Yeah!” He commented dryly, “She can be a real force of nature when she wants to be.”

Ella watched them drive off until they were out of sight before she closed the door. As it latched she turned her back to it and sank down to the floor inelegantly. Her emotions let loose, as her shaking hands grasped together, as her head fell forward onto them.

“Oh dear God have mercy on us and on poor Deshavi!” She sobbed out, as all her fears overwhelmed her masked veneer of control.

Chapter Ten

Stiff

“What’s your plan for getting over there?” Trent asked.

“Simple, we’ll arrive the same way that she did, in wooden crates. It’s all been arranged.” I said.

He looked at me questioningly, “By who?”

“An old friend of mine.”

“Weapons?” He asked.

I nodded and glanced over at him, “I think you’ll like the selection.”

He looked at me for a long moment, as if he wanted to ask a question, but he held off on asking it.

“One more thing, for the duration of this mission don’t refer to me as Caleb Longtree.”

“What should I call you then?”

“Call me Shalako.”

He looked at me strangely, as if he couldn’t figure something out.

“Incidentally your name for the length of this mission isn’t Trent Rogerson anymore.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Ring, Ring Sackett.”

Trent straightened up, “That’s a character name from an old western writer’s book!”

I nodded, “You have good taste in books.”

“This all sounds very secret agent type stuff?” Trent asked suspiciously.

I smiled, “You have no idea.”

I pulled up to the hanger bay and got out of the car and approached the big hangar doors that light shined out of into the night. Chantry standing there in the light, quietly acknowledged each of us. “Shalako and I believe it’s Ring.”

Trent looked suspiciously at Chantry before asking speculatively, “Borden Chantry?”

Chantry’s eyebrows rose slightly as his eyes came to me, “I see we have a fan of the classics with us Shalako.”

“It would appear so.”

Trent looked from one to the other of us, “Are there more dudes like you hanging about with these retro names?”

“Quite a few actually, not to mention a sizable number of lady agents. When this is all over and if you find yourself still wanting to partake in meaningful, as well as dangerous activities, give me a call. We’re always eager to add quality personnel to our family of agents.”

“What exactly do you do?” Trent asked.

Chantry smiled, “We like to think of ourselves as agents for good. In the course of doing good things we often find ourselves embroiled in all sorts of conflicts that lead to interesting situations and outcomes.”

Chantry’s gaze turned to me, “We especially could use the mentoring influence of more RED agents!”

“What’s a RED agent?” Trent asked curiously.

“Retired Extremely Dangerous.” I answered for Trent.

“I’ll think about it Chantry.” I said in response to Chantry.

“That’s all that I ask. Now gentleman to your weapon selection.”

We approached the tables full of gear. Trent looked up at me in surprise, “Not even Seals get this kind of selection!”

I nodded, “Chantry has always prided himself on sending his people out with the best of everything.”

We made our selections, as well as the other things we would need, and then we headed for the crates. There were two of them; each of us would occupy one of them.

Bile rose up in me as I stared at the crate. My Deshavi had been stuffed into one of these and shipped halfway around the world. Chantry’s hand squeezed my shoulder and I pulled my thoughts away from their grim focus. He was holding something in his hand. It was a detonator. I looked up my gaze questioning.

“The crates are seamed with a very powerful explosive. There’s enough to provide quite the diversion if needed.” He said, by way of explanation.

I took the tiny detonator, “Thank you Chantry for everything!”

We shook hands.

“I’ll be monitoring the situation, as best as I can, from the sky. I see a lot of praying in my immediate future too.” Chantry said.

“We can certainly use it!” I said, before stooping down and crawling into the cramped confines of the crate. The side of the crate was nailed shut.

The closeness of the interior of the crate was a hard thing to except for one who loved and needed the great wide open spaces of the mountains and valleys between them, but there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to rescue my granddaughter.

Oh God the pain! I hadn’t bothered to keep track of time, fearing that if I looked at my watch it would only make this torture drag out longer. I needed to stretch my legs out so badly! I groaned hating to have to admit it, but I was getting old. I might not be able to move when they opened up this crate. That wouldn’t be good!

The crate abruptly jostled and then it did it again. The plane was coming in for a landing. The landing was rough and I gave the pilot no praise, as a flight specialist. The crates were painfully unloaded from the plane and thumped down hard onto the tarmac. And then nothing.

Absolutely nothing for hours!

It had been warm in the crate on the way over the pacific, but now it was decidedly hot. Then in the distance I heard it, the rotor beats of a chopper. Voices sounded from outside, as the chopper sounds got louder and louder, until it had to be directly overhead.

This was an exclusive club we were joining. It had cost Chantry fifty thousand dollars per crate, which hadn’t included shipping. That was a lot of money to pay to have someone tortured to death. The rumor in the underworld was that no one had ever been freed from the place we were destined for and on average inmates, despite their health going in, lasted no more than six months, with most lasting only about two months to a couple of weeks. Suddenly the crates shot up into the air and grimly I acknowledged to myself that they had taken the bait and that I now had another several hour wait ahead of me. At least it wasn’t hot now.