Amir Shehata
amir.shehata@gmail.com
19,600 words.
DEATH SENTENCE
by Amir Shehata
1. Epilogue
It was a busy night. The cars were bumper to bumper on the streets of Chaunce the Capital of Strongland, a country that exists on an island in the Pacific Ocean, the Mountain Island. The island is not big enough to be called a continent, but is big enough to accommodate six small countries.
The pollution this cold September night was not as bothersome as it usually was. The sharp increase in population over the past ten years had created an environmental problem as well as a multitude of other problems, such as unemployment and poverty.
The coffee shops on the main downtown street were crowded. People came in seeking shelter from the unwelcoming cold, ordering coffee as well as small refreshments
A small group of friends sat in a coffee shop, named City Stars. They were laughing and having a good time. That was until Dan Bullworth turned the mood upside down, as he usually did, but his friends had gotten used to this attitude, and tended to ignore him.
Dan Bullworth pulled out a newspaper from his briefcase and read out an article to the rest of the four friends. That signaled the end of the fun time, and the start of a serious conversation.
The article told the story of six Stronglandian citizens who were mysteriously murdered in Vancouver, Canada. The strange thing was that there was no direct relation between them. They didn't know each other, nothing. The only obvious relationship was their nationality. The article suggested that it could possibly be a hate crime.
"This is outrageous," Dan said after he finished reading out the article. "I bet they are not doing anything to investigate this."
"Now how would you know that?" Bastian, one of the four said.
"Because that's how it is," Dan shot back. "These first world countries, they don't care about anything except their own interests."
"I don't know about that," Mark said. "As the article states the six Stronglandians were all Canadian citizens. And Canada is well known for it's largely fair treatment of all her citizens."
Dan scoffed then turned to Raphael George, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, gazing at the crowded streets, lost in a stream of thoughts that had taken him faraway from his physical location.
"What do you think?" Dan asked. "You're a police officer."
Raphael turned to Dan for a second, looking at him blankly, "I agree with Mark. The question we should be asking is what's the motivation behind their murder? We all know that Strongland is a small country. We are neither feared nor greatly respected. We don't attract the notice of the rest of the world. That said I wouldn't agree that it is a hate crime. That leaves us with a mystery."
"Spoken like a true police officer," Mark lets out a short laugh. "What do you think the mystery is?"
Raphael looked at Mark, a smile playing on his lips.
"If I knew what the mystery is, it wouldn't be a mystery anymore." Raphael said.
"Okay, smart guy," Mark turned his whole body to face Raphael, who remained relaxed in his seat. "What about our enemies?"
"We are at war with no one."
"There might not be any explicit fighting, but we know that there is plenty of contention between us and Eitoria."
"What do they gain by murdering six Stronglandians in Canada?"
"Who knows? They are known for their brutal methods."
"I think they see us in the same light," Raphael smiled.
"Where is your allegiance, police man?" Mark asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"It's not nationalism to go around accusing people without having strong evidence."
Mark threw up his hands at Raphael, and then turned around without saying another word. Immediately after, Raphael stood up and smiled politely saying, "as fun as this has been, I have to go back home. Work early tomorrow."
He picked up his jacket and headed out waving to his friends, who waved back. Once he stepped out he felt the cold of winter drill into this bones. He quickly put on his jacket and walked straight home. Despite the cold, people were out in the streets, taking care of their business. The sidewalks were so crowded, that it proved difficult for Raphael to walk on it without bumping into people, and having to continually apologize. He finally gave up and jumped on the street, avoiding the oncoming cars.
The continuous honking drove Raphael, who enjoyed peace and quiet, insane; however, this was the nature of traffic in Strongland. The drivers never followed traffic rules. They didn't stop at red lights and didn't obey the traffic officers. Simply put, it was chaotic, survival of the most aggressive driver. It surprised Raphael that he still wasn't used to this, even though he had lived in Strongland for his entire life
It took Raphael about ten minutes to get to the Metro station. The Metro itself was extremely crowded as it usually was. Once he put a foot inside the Metro station, he felt like he was part of a wave of people, being shoved into the Metro and outside the Metro at his station.
Once outside the station, it was only another ten-minute walk to his small apartment on the second level of an old building.
Inside the apartment he breathed in relief, finally some peace and quiet. The phone rang.
"Come on," he whispered to himself and picked up the phone.
Once he heard the voice of the person on the other side of the line, he involuntarily stood up straight in a military stance.
"Yes sir." Pause. "I'm on my way sir." He hung up and immediately headed to his room, opened a drawer in his desk and took out his Secret Service ID card. His family and his friends all thought that he was a police officer. That was partly true, except that it wasn't completely accurate. He was a Secret Service Agent, and this call was from his boss, asking him to get to the Secret Service Office right away. He put the ID in his pocket and headed out, making sure to lock his apartment securely.
On his way to the Office, he started thinking about the reason for this urgent call. The citizens of Strongland were divided into two groups, a majority group and a minority group. This was due to the history of Strongland.
A long time ago Strongland was divided into two separate countries. One could refer to them as Upper Strongland and Lower Strongland. Continuous war and contention had completely torn apart both countries, but Lower Strongland more so. After many years of attrition wars, Lower Strongland gave up and was merged into Upper Strongland forming the current Great Nation of Strongland. However, despite this forced unification the Lower Stronglandians have maintained the purity of their bloodline and so did the Upper Stronglandians. For many reasons and over four centuries the Upper Stronglandians have become the majority and they controlled the government, and held all the high official positions in the country. Although the racism was not in your face, it was there and felt by the Lower Stronglandians who no matter how hard they tried never gained the same rights and were never given the same opportunities as the Upper Stronglandians; so time passed by and people got used to this system of living. Lower Stronglandians could be differentiated easily from Upper Stronglandians due to their fair skin, light hair and colored eyes. They looked like they belonged to the European races, as opposed to Upper Stronglandians who were darker, with black hair and darker eye color. Despite their many differences their greatest was religion. Lower Stronglandians were all Chrisitans, Upper Stronglandians followed a sect of Christianity that had split many years ago, and didn't follow the core beliefs of Christianity. They referred to it as Christomans, after Toman who introduced this sect many centuries back. Raphael was a Lower Stronglandian.
Raphael started out as a regular police officer and worked hard on his skills to get accepted into the Secret Service, and finally he was, but he definitely was not treated as an equal. He was the only Lower Stronglandian in the Service and they made him feel that every day he went to work. And for these reasons he was surprised that his boss had called him. He was always given the routine paper work, or small routine assignments that didn't require any urgency. At times this aroused much anger in the usually calm and cool Raphael. He wasn't one to gloat, but he was one of the top ten skilled Agents in the Secret Service, yet he felt that his talents were not appreciated. However, every time this sense of unfairness attacked him, he reminded himself of his father's advice. Never let the Upper Stronglandians' treatment to you be a hindrance. Keep trying hard and you will succeed, and that was what Raphael did.
Raphael finally reached the Secret Service Office. He quickly climbed the stairs to the fourth level where his Boss' office was. He knocked on the door and waited until a calm voice sounded from inside, inviting him to enter. He did, and closed the door behind him.
His boss signaled him to sit down without saying a word. Raphael complied respecting the silence.
"What are you currently busy with?" The boss asked.
"Just a few routine reports."
"Two months ago we had sent one of our Agents to the United States to carry out a reconnaissance mission. Everything was going fine, until he completely disappeared off the radar."
"What do you mean sir?"
"I mean, he used to keep in touch with us through secret means and then he stopped. We can't get in touch with him." Pause. "His mission is extremely sensitive. The information he is to bring back is very important to us."
"What's the nature of the information?"
"That's not for you to know."
Raphael was taken aback by the shortness of the response, but he swallowed his pride and nodded.
"Your job is the safe return of our Agent. You'll be traveling to Seattle tomorrow morning. Seattle is where we last got a communiqué from our Agent, and this is where you'll start your mission. You should be able to fit in easily due to your Lower Stronglandian features."
Raphael could distinctly hear the racist remark, but completely ignored it. It has become such common place, that his boss was probably not fully aware that he said it.
"Is there any ideas about what could have happened to him?" Raphael asked.
"All what we have are speculations. He could've been arrested by the U.S. authorities, been in an accident, we simply do not have enough information to draw an accurate conclusion."
"Is there a possibility of defection?"
This question caused the boss to slam his desktop rather violently, while he answered, "No. He is an Upper Stronglandian. We never defect or betray our beloved Strongland."
"Sorry, sir I didn't imply anything by my question. I'm simply trying to examine all possibilities."
"Well, this is not a possibility," the boss regained some of his composure.
"Do I know this Agent?"
"You might have run into him before, but he doesn't work in your department, so I wouldn't think you know him personally. It's Joseph Prat."
Raphael did know Joseph Prat, and he didn't like him very much. He was an arrogant, self-righteous Upper Stronglandian, who never put any effort into trying to hide his racism.
"Yes, I do know him."
"Fine, then prepare yourself for tomorrow's departure. Please go to the technology department to get your assigned tools and weaponry for this mission. That's all."
Raphael got up and left.
Outside, he smiled. Finally, a true mission. Then his smile dissipated. Why did they choose to assign this to him and not an Upper Stronglandian officer? Was it because of his looks? America was known for its diverse nationalities, so an Upper Stronglandian can easily fit. Whatever the reason was, he was intent on proving his excellence. He walked off.
On his way out he ran into Kael Lord. He was a high ranking officer, whom Raphael respected greatly for his non racist attitude, but he was a few among many. Raphael nodded and smiled at him. Kael returned the smile.
"I heard you got a new mission," Kael said.
"How did you know?" Raphael looked at him surprised.
"I recommended you. I thought it was about time you had the opportunity to prove yourself."
That explains it, Raphael thought.
"Thank you sir. I will not let you down."
"I know you won't."
Raphael smiled again and left to the technology department, and from their to his apartment to prepare for his mission.
2. The Investigation
The view when Raphael stepped outside the Seattle Airport gates was completely different from the view that he was used to at Chaunce, Strongland's capital. People drove orderly and followed all the rules. The weather was colder than what he was used to. He could see his own breath.
Raphael got into one of these yellow taxes and told the driver the address he wanted to get to. It was the same motel that Joseph Prat checked into two months ago when he first started his mission. That was the only starting point Raphael had. He was hoping that some of the residents of this motel would know something about Joseph. Joseph had stayed in this area for close to two months, so he must have become somewhat of a familiar face.
After about a forty-five minute drive the taxi stopped in front of a beat up motel. The words "Motel Max" were written with lit letters on the entrance of the hotel, but not all the letters were working. That street didn't have much lights so on a dark night the hotel name sign would look like: "M t l x".
Raphael got out of the taxi and gave the driver his payment, and headed directly toward the entrance of the motel. Inside, he was met with a strange, sweet type of smell, that wasn't completely disgusting. He went to the reception desk, which was unoccupied and rang a bell. After a long two minutes and a few rings, a disgruntled employee appeared from behind a closed door and walked unhappily to Raphael.
"Yes," the employee said. "How can I help you?"
"Good day to you too," Raphael said in an American accent, skillfully hiding his Stronglandian accent he spoke with natively. "I'd like to rent a room here, please."
The employee looked at his book. "Room 301 is empty."
"Sure. That's fine."
"What's your name?"
"Raphael George."
The employee wrote down Raphael's name.
"Do you have any piece of ID?"
Raphael handed him his passport. The employee looked at it and copied down the passport number, then handed it back to Raphael, who replaced it in his pocket.
"How many days are you planning to stay?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"Well, is it going to be more than one week?"
"Could be."
"In this case I would like you to pay three days in advance."
"That's no problem." Raphael produced his Visa card, which the employee ran through the Visa machine.
During this whole process, there was a man sitting at a restaurant opposite the motel, watching Raphael intently.
The employee gave back the Visa to Raphael, and then gave him a key in a circular key chain with the number 301 engraved on it.
"Thanks," Raphael said and turned to leave, but then turned back to the employee who was about to disappear where he originally came from. "Excuse me."
The employee turned to Raphael annoyed then walked back to him in heavy steps, as if declaring his dissatisfaction.
"Did you see this guy before?" Raphael showed the employee a picture of Joseph Prat.
The employee looked at it quickly, then up at Raphael. "Yeah, he stayed at room 317."
"Did he check out?"
"No."
"So he's still here?"
"No."
Raphael looked at him questioningly, "then where is he?"
"I don't know. About a week ago he stopped coming."
"Do you know why?"
"Do I look like his bodyguard? How should I know? He paid three months in advance, and stopped coming. So the room is his until the three months are up."
"Thanks," Raphael said and left to his room.
■■■■■■■■
The man in the restaurant watched until Raphael disappeared from site then exited the restaurant and headed to the motel. Inside, he rang the bell continuously until the disgruntled employee came out, more annoyed than ever.
"What?" the employee said, silencing the bell.
"Who was that?"
The employee looked at the man, who was six feet tall in extremely good shape and his face carried signs of fierceness.
"Who was who?"
"The man who just checked in."
"What is that to you?"
The man took out a twenty-dollar bill and put it on the desk.
"I just want to know."
"His name is Raphael George," the employee took the twenty dollar bill.
"What room is he staying in?"
The employee didn't answer, so the man took out another twenty-dollar bill and put it on the desk.
"301," the employee took the money bill.
Just as he took it, the man produced a one hundred dollar bill.
"And now for the grand prize," the man said. "What nationality is he and what did he ask you at the end."
The employee eyed the bill greedily, and told the man everything then took the bill. The man simply walked out and got into a black Chevrolet, but didn't drive away.
■■■■■■■■
Raphael didn't waste any time. He carelessly put his travel bag on the bed in his motel room, opened it and took a smaller backpack, which he threw on his shoulders, then exited the room. Outside he secured a small matchstick on the top left corner of the door, such that the next time the door was opened, the matchstick would break.
He then headed to room 317, every now and then looking around to make sure that no one was following him. But he didn't notice the man in the black Chevrolet, who followed him from behind the tinted window.
Raphael reached room 317 and with the use of some lock picking tools, he had in his backpack he opened the door quickly and slipped in, quietly closing the door behind him.
The instant Raphael took a look at the room, he realized that it had already been searched quiet thoroughly. All of its contents were turned upside down, drawers opened, cloths on the floor.
So someone is after you, Joseph, Raphael thought.
Raphael examined the room and came to the conclusion that there were no signs of a struggle, which means the people that did this are also looking for him. Who could that be? Was it the American authorities? Someone else? The way the room had been searched and the fact that the receptionist didn't know anything about it, would indicate that it wasn't the American authorities.
Raphael felt a bit of frustration rise up to his throat. His boss refused to tell him about Joseph's mission. If he knew the details he would've been able to make an educated guess at who was after him, but he had to work with what little information he had. It was now a race, who would find Joseph first?
The next step in the investigation would be to ask around about Joseph, someone might know something about him.
Raphael exited room 317 quietly and started on his way out of the motel complex. As he passed his room, he immediately noticed that the matchstick he had set in place was broken and lying on the floor. Someone had broken into his room. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, and he readied himself for a fight. He listened carefully at the door and indeed heard ruffling and footstep sounds coming from inside his room. He drew up a plan of attack and waited beside the door.
It didn't take long for the intruder to finish his search and exit the room. Raphael waited until the man was one step outside the door, and with all his might punched him in the face. The man stumbled backwards into the room. Immediately, Raphael jumped into the room and closed the door behind him. The intruder was the same man that had been following Raphael since his arrival to the motel.
"It's bad manners to break into other people's rooms," Raphael said.
The man shook the effect of the punch off and smiled.
"And it's bad manners to hit your guests," the man replied.
Both the man and Raphael were in top shape. Raphael was a well-trained fighter, and had finely tuned instincts. His instincts told him he was facing an experienced fighter as well.
"Now that we are even," Raphael's smile faded. "Would you like to tell me why you found my room so interesting that you had to search it?"
"It looks like we're both after the same guy."
"I'm not really after anyone. I'm just here to spend a peaceful vacation."
"Yeah. Well then no harm done and I'll just be on my way."
Raphael blocked the man's way.
"Not before you tell me what you're looking for."
Suddenly the door burst open and another man rushed in knocking Raphael on his face. Before he knew it, both men were on top of him paralyzing his movement.
"Alright, Mr. Raphael," The intruder said as he produced a gun and aimed it at Raphael's head. "Why don't you come clean and let me know exactly what you know about Joseph Prat?"
Raphael decided, due to the difficult situation he was in, to tell them something as close to the truth as he could without admitting his involvement with the Stronglandian Secret Service. He started to open his mouth before the intruder interrupted him.
"Before you say anything, I'd like to let you know that we know Joseph is an Stronglandian Secret Service Agent. So it's only logical to assume that you are one too."
Raphael smiled despite the gun pointed at his head. "Well if you know that, then why the whole gun thing?"
"What do you know?"
"I just got here. I don't know anything."
"Does your agency have any information on his whereabouts?"
"If they did, they wouldn't have sent me to get him back."
The man then did something that Raphael wasn't expecting. With his fingernail he tried to scratch Joseph's face; as if expecting his features to be the work of an expert makeup artist. He tried this a few times, then he looked at his partner and they both let Raphael up. They still had the gun pointed at him. Raphael got up slowly, his eyes never departing the gun.
"What is this about?" Raphael asked.
"You're Lower Stronglandian," The intruder said. "It's surprising that there is any of your race in the ranks of the secret service. Obviously they didn't tell you the details of Joseph's mission."
Raphael didn't reply and tried to remove all emotions from the expressions of his face.
"If you're smart," the intruder continued. "You'd take the first plane back to your country, and tell your superiors that Joseph is dead."
"Obviously, he isn't dead," Raphael said.
"He will be once we find him," the man exhibited calm professionalism. "And you will be too, if you don't leave the U.S."
"Wouldn't you at least tell me what Joseph's mission was?"
The intruder smiled and exited the room calmly with his partner.
3. The Clue
Raphael felt the sensitiveness of the situation. He was in a race to find Joseph. Failure in this race meant a death sentence to Joseph. His boss wouldn't be very happy with this result, and most probably wouldn't be very forgiving towards him either. The best course of action was to continue as he previously planned.
Raphael exited the room setting another matchstick to detect intruders and walked directly to the restaurant opposite the motel. He sat at a seat at the counter. Momentarily, the waitress came by with a jug of coffee in her hands and asked what he would like to drink.
"Coffee, please," Raphael smiled an attractive smile.
The waitress filled a cup of coffee which was already set in front of him. By this time Raphael had taken Joseph's picture out and put it on the counter top.
"Do you know this man?" Raphael asked the waitress, who looked at the picture.
"Why is everybody asking about Joseph?"
Raphael sat up, feeling excited.
"Who else asked about Joseph?" Raphael asked interested.
"A couple of big guys, who have been coming regularly to the restaurant for about two weeks, right after Joseph seemed to disappear into thin air."
"Does one of them have a flat cut and was wearing a black jacket?"
"Yes, they just came in today. Do you know them?"
"We were introduced briefly."
"Is Joseph in trouble?" The waitress leaned forward interested.
"Not if I find him? What do you know about him?"
"He ate here almost everyday, but he didn't talk much. Before he disappeared with a few days, he started looking very stressed. He blew up at one of the waitresses here because she didn't put the right amount of sugar in his coffee."
"Do you remember anything strange he did? Anything worth remembering."
The waitress took a minute to think.
"Yeah, about a week ago, he seemed to get a sudden case of strange coughs. It was so hard that he fell on the floor," the waitress leaned forward again, lowering her voice. "If you ask me I think he was faking it."
"Why would you say that?"
"He didn't look sick, and then after he fell down, it took him only a few seconds to get better then walk out of the restaurant as if nothing happened. I never saw him again."
"That is strange. Do you remember where he fell?"
"Yeah. Over there, by this table."
Raphael turned to follow her stretched arm. She was pointing at a table that was at the far end of the diner, pretty much isolated.
"Thank you very much," Raphael took out a fifty-dollar bill and gave it to the waitress. "I really appreciate it."
"No problem," the waitress took the money.
"One more question," Raphael said and the waitress turned back to him questioningly. "Did you tell this to the others?"
"Not really. I didn't tell them anything about the coughing thing."
Raphael took out two hundred dollars and gave it to the waitress. "I would really appreciate it if you don't tell it to anyone."
"Don't worry. I never liked these guys anyway," the waitress was more than happy to take the money.
The waitress went about doing her job, while Raphael headed towards the table she indicated. Luckily it was unoccupied. He sat at that table and started running his hands over the under-side of the table, trying to find anything out of the ordinary. He felt a bump. He reran his fingers back and forth on this bump. It felt normal, just an abnormality in the wood of the table, but his instinct insisted that it was far from ordinary, so he sneaked a quick peak at it. It definitely didn't belong there. Next, he tried to remove it and it came out with some difficulty in his hand. He recognized the material. It was a material that the technology department at the Stronglandian Secret Service produced. It was easily shaped to any form and when it was stuck to a surface it took its color, and hardened to appear as if it was part of the surface. Joseph must have used it to hide something. Raphael was hoping it was a microfilm that contained the information that Joseph had acquired. He played with the material, spreading it trying to see what was inside it. To his disappointment, he didn't find a microfilm, but the Canadian flag.
While Raphael was busy thinking what that could mean, he was suddenly aware of some strange device that was stuck on the inside of his jacket. It was as small as a pin, but he was immediately aware of its nature. It was a small transmitter, which transmitted his voice and location. He looked up and saw the two men that attacked him earlier on their way to the restaurant. He had only one option...
Run...
4. The Escape
Raphael ran to the rear exit of the restaurant and out into a narrow alleyway. As he ran he took the Canadian flag and the material that it was enclosed in, and stuck it to the wall. Right away it took the color of the wall.
Raphael didn't know where this alleyway led to, but he had to get as far away from these two men as possible, and so he kept running as fast as his legs could go. He reached for that transmitter, the men hooked to his shirt during the fight, ripped it off and threw it away, cursing himself for not seeing this trick coming. Now that he thought back, these men didn't know Joseph's whereabouts, they wouldn't just leave him. And in fact they didn't. They kept their eyes on him through that transmitter.
His line of thoughts was shattered when a bullet hit the wall of a building to his left, causing small rocks to fly everywhere. He instinctively brought up his hands to protect his face. Raphael didn't wait for the second bullet. He abruptly changed his path and entered through another branch of the alleyway that ended in a wire fence.
The men saw Raphael turn right, but when they got there only a few seconds later, he was nowhere to be found. They stood there surprised. Suddenly, Raphael dropped on top of them like lightning. He succeeded in climbing up a ladder attached to the side of the building only seconds before the men made the turn into this alleyway.
Raphael dropped on the man with the gun, causing the gun to slip from his hand and slide a few feet away. The second man tried to reach it, but Raphael kicked his feet from underneath him. The first assailant was already on his feet and charged Raphael, followed closely by his partner. Although Raphael was a good fighter, it was obvious that he wouldn't be able to take on both men. His only salvation was the gun, which was everyone's goal at this point. With all his might he kicked one of them in the chest driving him back. The second man grabbed him from the back, but Raphael thrust his head back, breaking the man's nose. The man screamed in pain holding his bleeding nose. Momentarily free, Raphael dove for the gun, and reached it, but when he started to turn to aim the gun at the men, the man with the broken nose, furious, kicked his gun hand. However, Raphael, knowing that this gun was the differentiating factor in this fight, didn't let go, but the kick caused him to mistakenly fire the gun hitting some garbage cans. He tried to get up, but again the two men were back at him, one of them holding his gun hand up, and the other punched Raphael repeatedly in the face, causing very noticeable bruises. Raphael started to feel his head spinning. He was about to lose consciousness. But insisting on not give up, he drove his knee into the groin of the man who was immobilizing his gun hand. The man let out a yelp of pain, and held his groin, freeing Raphael's hand. Raphael aimed the gun at the man's leg and fired, but he was in a bad state of mind and he missed his target. The other man continued his relentless beating on Raphael, until finally Raphael's strength frittered away and he lost consciousness.
■■■■■■■■
Raphael gained his consciousness slowly, but he didn't make any outward appearance that would indicate that. He opened his eyes only slightly and took a look at his surroundings. He was seated on a metal chair and his hands and feet were tied to the chair. The room itself was small and empty of all furniture. When Raphael was sure that he was completely alone, he lifted up his head, only to be met with an excruciating headache caused by the repeated hits to his face. The attackers must have brought him here. When he tried to free his hands and feet he realized that they were securely tied to the chair, and there was no way he could free himself without something to cut these ropes.
Suddenly the only door to the room opened and the two men that attacked him entered. One of them had a bandage on his broken nose. Both of them carried the painful signs of the fight on their faces.
The man with the broken nose was the first to speak.
"You're a vicious fighter, Mr. Raphael"
"Thanks, you don't know how much that means coming from you," Raphael replied sarcastically
The man ignored his tone and continued. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Mr. X," then he pointed to his partner. "And this is Mr. Y."
Raphael smiled, "I guess that makes me Mr. Z. And all three of us make a 3-D access."
"Enough of the jokes, Mr. Raphael," Mr. X said. "Tell us what you found out."
"You heard everything through your little spying device, which was very smart by the way. So you know everything I know."
"No we don't. You found something and we want to know what that is."
"Beats me," Raphael shrugged innocently. "I told you everything I know."
Mr. Y took out a sharp dagger and started approaching Raphael in a threatening manner. Raphael looked at the dagger, which blade shone under the sun light coming through the only window, located behind Raphael. With a sudden motion, Mr. Y, slashed at Raphael causing a deep gash in his abdomen. Raphael groaned in pain, feeling the warm blood discolor his clothes.
"Look at what you've done," Raphael spoke up trying to hide the pain. "This was a brand new shirt."
Mr. Y was about to slash at Raphael again, but Mr. X held his hand preventing him from carrying out his plan.
"He won't talk," Mr. X said. "He's been trained well. But we're going to use some unconventional methods." As he spoke he took out a syringe from a bag that he came with into the room. "This serum will get the truth from him, before it completely destroys his nervous system." Mr. X turned to Mr. Y and continued. "Why don't you untie his left hand so we can inject this into his blood stream."
Mr. Y used his dagger to cut the ropes tying Raphael's arm, and that was his first mistake. Faster than lighting, Raphael grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it sharply, until he heard a crack as Mr. Y's wrist broke, and he screamed in pain. Raphael then snatched the dagger from his hand as it fell and stabbed him in his thigh, then used it to free himself from the ropes. All this happened in less than five seconds, and that is exactly how long it took Mr. X to recover from the surprise and try to approach Raphael and inject him with the syringe, but by this time Raphael had freed his other hand and his left foot. Before Mr. X could get close enough Raphael threw the dagger towards him and it sunk all the way to the handle in his shoulder. The syringe fell from Mr. X's hand and he fell backwards, grasping for breath. Raphael freed his last foot and started towards the door, but the sounds of running footsteps coming his way, made him change his plans. He headed to the window and looked through it. He was on the third floor of a building right on the ocean. It appeared to be an abandoned building, which at one point was used for storing shipments eventually destined for huge transportation ships. That explained it's close proximity to the water.
There was a large construction winch, which arm rose up to just below the level that Raphael was on. A thick metallic rope dangled down from the pulley end of the winch. Raphael planned his escape. It would take a lot of guts, but with a brave, powerful jump, he could probably cut the distance between him and the dangling metallic rope. From there he could swing to the winch's arm itself and climb down to the ground. He quickly made his decision.
Raphael took a couple of deep breaths, gathering all the valor he could muster and dove for the rope. The few milliseconds it took for his hands to wrap around the rope and halt his descent felt like forever. He held on with all his might, his weight swinging him back and forth uncontrollably. A moment he was above ground and another he was above the water. Then the worst happened. A couple of men associated with Mr. X's group appeared in the window, firing their guns at him. He decided to swing randomly to make himself a harder target to hit, but the men were good marksmen.
Raphael felt a searing pain as a bullet penetrated his upper thigh, then another penetrated his shoulder, and then he found himself falling. Luckily he was above the water. His body hit the surface of the ocean and started sinking. His attackers watched on thinking that they killed him, but the sound of police sirens approaching urged them to evacuate the premises.
Despite the pain and the blood loss, Raphael started swimming underneath the water trying to get away from the area. Strong currents soon pulled him farther from shore. The bullet wounds and the loss of blood caused his strength to dwindle. He rose to the surface of the ocean and found that the ocean current had pulled him quiet a ways from shore. He looked at the shore and realized that he wouldn't be able to swim back. It was too far and he was too weak. The current was still pulling him deeper and deeper in the ocean. Raphael started to feel his legs grow weaker. It wouldn't be long before he couldn't stay afloat any longer and then he would drown.
As the last glimmer of hope was about to be extinguished, he heard some voices coming from behind him. He turned around and saw a small fishing boat not too far away.
"Hey, help me," Raphael yelled. "Please... Help."
Raphael's continuous yelling attracted their attention and they started rowing their boat in his direction. The minutes felt like ages as his muscles started to relax and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay afloat. His sight started growing foggier and he felt himself losing consciousness. Just then the boat approached him and snatched him at the last second before he went under. Onboard the boat he saw an older man and what looked like his granddaughter, and then everything went dark as if someone just switched off the lights.
5. Sacrifice
Raphael didn't know how long he was out for. So many things went wrong in one day. It hadn't been four hours since his arrival to Seattle and he was beat up, shot at, stabbed, and God knows what would happen in the next few days.
The room he was in was dark, and Raphael couldn't see much, but he was sure it wasn't like the room he was in before. The bed he was sleeping on was comfortable, and the room was furnished. Then the memories of what happened last came flooding in, and Raphael was suddenly alert. He sat up on the bed feeling the pain of the wounds. He felt his thigh and his shoulder and found that his wounds had been attended to. They were properly bandaged. Who attended to him? It must have been the old man. Did he live in here alone? He had to get answers to these questions. First he had to find out what day it was. He was in a race to find Joseph, but what lessened his anxiety was that he was sure the others, whoever they were, didn't know Joseph's whereabouts either, and they seemed to put much hope on Raphael finding him and they getting to him this way.
Raphael got off the bed and turned on the light. His legs felt heavy and his whole body ached. He searched for anything to tell the date and found a calendar. The first look at the date displayed on it made him freeze. He has been out for two days. Suddenly, he got the sinking feeling that his mission was over. A lot of things could've happened in these two days. The others might have already found Joseph and killed him.
Raphael looked around and found that his clothes had been washed and dried. He quickly put them on, but his quick movements made his head spin. He steadied himself until he regained his equilibrium. Once he was okay again, he went out of the door, making sure that he didn't make any sudden movements.
The room Raphael occupied was on the second floor of a two level house. The first level seemed empty. Raphael walked into the kitchen and from the kitchen to the backyard. There was no one. He turned to go back inside only to find a little girl, maybe twelve years old, brown hair, green eyes, standing in front of him.
"Hello," he tried to sound as calm as possible, in order not to scare her.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes. Thanks for asking. Where are we?"
"Seattle."
"Is there an adult here? I need to leave."
"You can't," the girl said quickly and apprehensively, then she calmed down. "I mean you're still hurt. You need to rest."
"Thanks, but I have a very important job I need to finish."
As they talked, the grandfather came in.
"I see you're up and about. We were worried about you."
Raphael shook the man's hand.
"You saved my life. I'm forever grateful. You took a risk taking me in."
"You were hurt. Anyone would've done the same."
"Not everyone, sir."
"What's your name son?"
"Raphael. Raphael George."
"My name is Antoine," the older man said then pointed at the little girl. "This is my grandchild..."
"My name is Christine," the girl interrupted her grandfather.
"Hi Christine," Raphael shook her hand. "You're a very brave girl, helping your grandpa take care of a stranger." Raphael then looked up at Antoine. "Do you live alone here?"
Antoine hesitated for a second, then nodded. He gestured for Raphael to follow them inside the house.
"Why don't you come in and eat something with us? You haven't eaten in two days."
Raphael was really hungry. He needed to eat anything to get some of his strength back. So he followed them to the dinning room.
"What happened to you, son?" Antoine asked.
Raphael didn't want to answer. "Listen, sir, I really appreciate what you've` done for me, but I don't want to talk about it."
In the dinning room, the table was already set for three. They all sat down. Before eating both Antoine and Christine prayed for a minute, then signed the cross. Antoine gestured Raphael towards the food.
"Dig in," Antoine said.
They ate in silence and when they were finished Christine took the plates into the kitchen and Antoine and Raphael were left alone.
"I'll need to leave very soon," Raphael said. "Again I really appreciate all your help, but I need to get going."
"Why are you in such a hurry?"
Raphael didn't answer.
"When I was younger I served in the U.S. army for a few years," Antoine leaned forward closer to Raphael. "I can recognize a bullet wound when I see one. And the fact that you were in the ocean, wounded like that, it's not normal, you know what I'm saying?"
"I understand your concern, sir."
"Are you going to explain this to me?"
Raphael looked apologetic. "Sorry, sir. I can't do that."
Trying to change the subject, Raphael got up and walked around in the dinning room, stopping at a picture of Antoine, Christine and a woman who looked like Christina's grandmother.
"Is this your wife, sir?" Raphael pointed at the picture.
The man seemed uncomfortable, and Raphael didn't push it.
Christine entered with a simply decorated cake for desert. She set it on the table and sliced one piece for her grandfather and the other for Raphael. Raphael was already feeling the energy find its way back into his body, and intended to leave right after, not wanting to expose this nice family to any danger.
He sat down and took the fork and was about to eat a bite of the cake, when he noticed something written on the inside of the plate. It was one word, "Help". Raphael felt all his muscles tense up. What was that supposed to mean? They were asking him for help, why? The fact that she used this method to communicate the problem, meant that she couldn't talk. Someone was listening to them.
"That's a very nice cake, Christine," Raphael smiled. "Did you make it yourself?"
"I would've but we were busy the last two days with some new friends."
She is trying to tell me something, Raphael thought. New friends?
"I'd love to meet your friends," Raphael said. "Are they close by?"
Christine didn't answer, she simply gave a quick glance up and then got up and went back to the kitchen. Raphael looked up, without making it too obvious, and could make out a small camera, hidden in the ceiling lamp. It clicked in. They were under surveillance, and some how the others were forcing this family to get the information they wanted from him. They knew he wouldn't talk so they decided to use deception. But how were they forcing this family? Raphael looked at the picture of Antoine, his wife and Christine. He suddenly felt angry, more at himself than at anyone else, for letting this happen to this family. These people must have taken the grandmother hostage. This was the only logical answer, and he was to blame.
"I was thinking," Raphael said to Antoine. "I could use your help."
Antoine looked at him hopefully.
"I need to cross the border into Vancouver, Canada."
"Why do you need to go to Canada?"
Raphael decided to give the others what they wanted.
"I'm looking for a guy, and I think he went to Canada."
Suddenly, Raphael stood up and looked directly at the Camera and smiled.
"I'm ready to make a deal now," he said.
"Why don't you let the nice lady go and we can deal with each other. We don't need to get anyone else involved in this game."
"How did you know?" Antoine asked.
"Doesn't matter, sir. I'll make sure your wife is back safely."
Christine walked back in and behind her followed Mr. X and Mr. Y. They were accompanied with another two large men, holding an old woman, Antoine's wife.
"Ah," Raphael smiled. "My friends X and Y. Now that you know everything I know, you should let this family go."
"Oh, I like your compassionate side," Mr. X said. "But you've got to do more for us before we let them go."
"And what would that be?"
"Lead us to Joseph Prat. And I won't take no for an answer."
The two large men took out their guns.
"They will be staying here with this nice family until we finish this together."
Raphael felt trapped, but he couldn't let anything happen to this family; not after they have saved his life. He finally made a decision.
A decision he felt that could cost him his life.
"You got me, Mr. X. I'll do what you want."
6. Bread Crumbs
They crossed into Vancouver, Canada. Raphael sat in the backseat of a Mercedes Benz between Mr. X and Mr. Y, who had a cast around his wrist, while Mr. Y's chest was bandaged. Mr. X had a loaded gun shoved into Raphael's side. Raphael fiddled with his watch for some time, in a specific way that neither Mr. X nor Mr. Y noticed. Another big man sat in the passenger side seat. They referred to him as Larry. Raphael was pretty sure that none of these were their real names. He knew they were professionals, but he didn't know any of their motivations, and so they were at an advantage. They knew exactly who he was and why he was looking for Joseph. He had to even the odds a little.
"Why don't you park on the side?" Raphael said.
"Why?" Mr. X asked roughly.
"Well, if you know where you're going then by all means continue driving. But if you don't, then let me do my job."
"Park to the side," Mr. X ordered the driver, who complied coming to a stop on the side of the road just a few minutes away from the US/Canada boarder. The Peace Arch border crossing was behind them. Mr. X then turned to Raphael, and shoved the gun harder in his side. "Don't be a smart ass and try anything stupid."
"You're in control now buddy," Raphael said in a flat tone. "All I'm saying is that we have to figure out where we're going."
"Do you have any ideas?"
Raphael ignored the question.
"What do you want with Joseph?" Raphael asked.
"That's none of your concern," Mr. X replied roughly.
"I think it is," Raphael replied. "The way I figured it when you get what you want, you'll probably kill Joseph then kill me. So the least you can do is tell me why you want to get to Joseph."
"Look," Mr. X started angrily. "You're not in a position to ask questions. You just do what we tell you to do. And don't forget after you broke Mr. Y's wrist and almost killed me, we could've disposed of you, but we didn't"
"Aw, how sweet. But I think you didn't kill me because you still need me."
Mr. X opened the door and took hold of Raphael's collar and dragged him outside the car. He hid his gun under his jacket, but still had it pointed at Raphael.
"This gun has a silencer attached to it, so don't be a fool and try to run. Now why did we stop here?"
Raphael looked back at Mr. X and Mr. Y along with Larry who were all standing behind him.
"Well, Joseph is smart. The way I figure it, is he found that you guys were after him and he left town, but he also realized that our secret service will be sending someone to get him out of here and back to friendly territory, so he couldn't disappear without leaving behind him clues, bread crumbs to let me know how to get to him. The first bread crumb was the Canadian flag. The logical second, would be a clue to point me to the area in Vancouver he would be staying in." Raphael looked around him a bit lost. "The problem is finding out where he left me the clue."
"That makes sense," Mr. X said. "Where would that clue be?"
Raphael started walking and the rest behind him. He looked towards the Peace Arch park. People were enjoying the sun and the scenery in the park, others were walking to the ocean, where there was a beach, and enjoying the sight of the water over there. The only buildings visible were the border patrol buildings.
"The clue has to be some where obvious, but at the same time, wouldn't stand out as a clue."
As they walked, they passed a wall that separated the street from the beach park. It was completely covered in graffiti. Things like: John loves Salma; We are the best; JP loves SU; Was here in 1998; PB –the drawing of a heart with an arrow going through it– ST and many more things of that sort.
Raphael stopped in front of it and looked from one graffiti to the other intently. The others joined him, but they couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Finally after a long pause Raphael pointed at a graffiti that read "JP loves SU".
"This is it," Raphael said.
"What is it?" Mr. X asked.
"This Graffiti, JP love SU. This is the clue?"
"Care to elaborate."
"Come on guys. You gotta be quicker than that. You're professionals. JP stands for Joseph Prat."
"What about SU? What does that stand for?" Mr. X asked.
"I don't know," Raphael shrugged, then turned to some lady standing close by and asked, "Excuse me, what is SU?"
The lady looked at him blankly so he continued, "I mean does it stand for a place, a city, anything of that sort?"
"Surrey?" The lady said.
"The city of Surrey?" Raphael asked.
"Yeah."
"Thank you very much."
Raphael turned to Mr. X and Mr. Y and smiled.
"Now we have a destination," Raphael said.
They all headed back to the car and made their way to the city of Surrey. The car was equipped with a satellite navigation system that showed them the way. It took them less than twenty minutes to make it to the heart of Surrey, an area appropriately called Surrey Center.
■■■■■■■■
In the mean time, what Raphael, Mr. X and Mr. Y didn't know was that there was a second team that was dispatched to search for Joseph as well. This team belonged to the same group or organization as Mr. X and Mr. Y. Apparently, finding Joseph and disposing of him was a high priority and failure was not an option.
This team was indeed closer than Raphael and the others to Joseph. They already determined his whereabouts and had a plan of attack. Joseph, in turn, was a very intelligent and well-trained agent indeed and he also found out who exactly was after him. And he wasn't the merciful type. He wasn't going to wait around until they attacked him. He believed that the best defense is a good offense. His attack was planned tonight.
■■■■■■■■
"I'm hungry and I need to visit the men's room," Raphael said. Their car was parked in a mall's parking lot. They have been there for a few hours and they had no more clues to get them any closer to their destination.
"Are you twelve?" Mr. X said.
"Listen, your snipers did a good job at putting a couple of holes in me. So I need energy to recover."
"Who said we want you to recover," Mr. X said coldly.
"Ah, I see how this is going to be."
Mr. X took out a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Raphael.
"I don't smoke," Raphael said.
"Suit yourself."
"So are you going to tell me what you need Joseph for?"
No one replied.
"At least tell me which organization you work for."
Again no replies.
"I see you're the talkative type. Fun."
After a period of silence, Mr. Y looked at Raphael.
"So, we've been here for three hours now. What are we suppose to do?" Mr. Y was frustrated.
"For a bunch of professionals, you seem to depend too much on me. What if I'm leading you to a trap?"
"Then it'll be the last thing you'll do."
"Judging from the situation, it'll be the last thing I do either way."
Mr. X turned towards Raphael.
"Look Raphael," Mr. X said calmly. "We're not killers. We're here to do a job. You're not that job, Joseph is. So if you help us find him then you and the family that helped you are going to be fine. If not, we'll be forced to do whatever it takes to convince you to help us."
Raphael considered what Mr. X said. If he was only risking himself in an attempt to deceive these people, then he would have done it whole heartedly, but there were an older man, his wife, and his granddaughter at risk along with him. Any mistake from his side could very well cost them their lives. And these men were not bluffing. They really wanted Joseph for some reason, but he could not and will not just hand him over. What was the plan then? In complete honestly, Raphael knew what he should do next. In fact he already knew the clue that would lead them to Joseph. It was in the same graffiti, which led them to Surrey. At first Raphael, didn't pick up on it, but then he did. The SU in the graffiti was written in a strange manner, that it looked more like a logo, rather than two simple letters. Raphael believed that this logo belonged to a hotel, motel or something that was close to where Joseph stayed. He just had to get away from them long enough to figure out what that clue would lead him.
"Look," Raphael said. "There is a MacDonald over there, can I just go take a leak. You can get one of your goons to come along."
"Fine," Mr. X turned to one of the men with them. "Go with him. If he does anything suspicious, shoot him."
Raphael and the goon got out of the car and headed towards MacDonald. The goon had his hand in his pocket, where a small gun laid dormant. His finger was on the trigger ready to shoot at the slightest suspicious move from Raphael.
On the other hand Raphael was feeling the pain in the place of the wounds. He could not move fast enough to overpower this guy, who was very muscular, but that wasn't his plan anyway.
They were half way to the fast food place, when they heard sirens coming closer. Within a few seconds they could see four police cars, two fire trucks and two ambulances drive quickly, cutting through red lights. For some strange reason, Raphael knew in his gut that this had to do with Joseph. He needed to follow this police party and the only way he could do that was if he told these guys about his suspicions. But apparently he didn't need to. They already arrived to the same conclusions he did. Mr. X was calling them back. The goon motioned to Raphael to head back to the car and he complied.
They started the car and headed after the police party. They drove a good distance back, so as not to attract attention. Within less than ten minutes they saw what the police Party was headed to. Smoke rose to meet the skies. As they got closer they could see the source of this smoke, a small three-story building was partially collapsed and almost every floor was on fire. The fire trucks were already deployed and pumping water in an attempt to quench the fire. Some of the police officers were doing crowd control, while the paramedics were attending to the many wounded.
Raphael and the others parked to the side and got out of the car, staring in disbelief at the destruction. It looked like a war zone. There was no doubt in any of their minds that this building was bombed.
Raphael looked around trying to get a bearing of where he was. As he did, his sight fell on something that made a chill go down his spine. Although in his gut he expected this, but being absolutely sure had implications he was hoping not to consider. Across the street not more than a hundred meters, there was a restaurant that carried the logo, which was drawn in the graffiti. Joseph was here, and some how he was involved in this destruction, and the death of many. What was going on? If this was tied back to the Stronglandian government, it could be considered an act of war. He had to find out what was going on, and that meant he had to get away from these guys.
Raphael used the opportunity when all the others' attention was diverted towards the police efforts and start backing up, slowly merging into the crowds. Then he turned around and started running, hiding himself from the sight of his captors.
Mr. X was the first to notice Raphael's absence. He was about to issue his orders to the men to follow him, when his cell phone rang. It was a ring that was familiar to him. It indicated that it was a call from his boss. He answered the call. The conversation didn't last longer than two minutes, but after it Mr. X knew everything, and he got new orders. They were to eliminate all individuals related to Joseph. That meant the death sentence to Raphael.
"Eliminate him," Mr. X said to his goon. The goon didn't need to be told twice. He headed in the direction Raphael went.
Mr. X didn't need Raphael anymore. He knew that Joseph was close by and probably had a false sense of security, by now. But Joseph would soon find out that this was the farthest thing from the truth.
7. The Executioners
Raphael ran as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast considering his wounds. The police was all over the place and not before long he heard a female voice yell a him.
"Police. Stop."
Raphael didn't comply. He kept on running. The policewoman took out her gun from her holster and started after Raphael. Under normal circumstances Raphael would have been able to outrun her easily, but in his condition, she was able to catch up to him and tackle him down. They both rolled, coming to rest with the policewoman on top of Raphael pointing the gun at him.
"I told you to freeze," The policewoman said.
"Listen to me carefully... Your life is in danger," Raphael said.
"You're under arrest, anything..." The policewoman started but then a couple of silent shots hit her in the back, she fell forward on top of Raphael, but she wasn't dead. Her bulletproof vest protected her. However, her breath was knocked out of her.
Raphael spotted the goon Mr. X sent after him. His life and the life of the policewoman were in serious jeopardy.
"Get up," Raphael urged the policewoman, but she was still disoriented from the impact of the bullets.
Raphael looked up and saw the man taking aim, and his fingers were in the process of squeezing the trigger. With all his might he grabbed the policewoman and rolled both himself and her to the side. The bullet hit the ground they just cleared.
Raphael reached for the policewoman's gun, but she wouldn't let go.
"No," she said weakly.
Raphael didn't have time to discuss the situation. He forced the gun out of her hand and fired in the air a couple of times. There were too many people and he feared someone would get in the line of fire if he started exchanging bullets with the goon. The noise of the gun was distractingly loud and caused major panic among the crowd. The man quickly hid behind a car thinking that Raphael was firing at him.
"Let's go," Raphael said to the woman and helped her up. She was still having difficulty taking her breath. He was literally dragging her away from the line of fire. They hid behind a building, just as another two bullets missed them. Raphael stuck out the gun and fired in the general direction of the man. His goal was to get him to hide again. When he sneaked a peak, the man was in fact hiding behind a car. But the shooting had attracted the attention of the other police officers. They had located the man and were ordering him to lower his gun. But instead of obeying he fired on them. That was a stupid move. All the police officers fired at him at once, and he was instantly dead.
Once Raphael saw that, he decided to bail, before they came after him. He couldn't get arrested now. There was a bridge crossing over a narrow branch of the Fraser river, and he decided to make a run for it, hoping he could disappear in the middle of the crowd. The policewoman was starting to recover.
"Listen," Raphael said. "I'm not the bad guy here."
He emptied the gun of bullets and threw it away, before starting towards the river, hoping he could disappear in the panicked crowd.
After a few minutes of running, he thought he had succeeded, but he was wrong.
"Freeze," the same female voice yelled at him. He slowly turned around.
"I saved your life," Raphael said.
"Who was shooting at us?"
"I don't know."
"You're under arrest."
By this time they were in the middle of the bridge, right on top of the river. Raphael sneaked a peak over the bridge railing.
"Sorry, I can't get arrested," Raphael said, and then climbed over the fence.
"Stop," The police woman said, as she ran towards him. She was successful in grabbing a hold of him, but he had already jumped. Refusing to let go of him, Raphael's weight pulled her over with him. They both fell off the bridge and into the cold water of the river. They sank a few feet into the water and then made it up again for air. The strong current of the river was pushing them farther and farther away from their original location.
"Why did you do that?" Raphael asked the policewoman who was grabbing hold of him.
"I put you under arrest," she said firmly. "And I will carry out my job."
"Look I admire your job dedication, but you're after the wrong guy."
The water was extremely cold in the winter. The longer they stayed in it the more they risked hypothermia and certain death.
"I suggest we put aside any arguments and try to make it to shore," the policewoman said.
Raphael didn't argue with her. They started swimming hard trying to make it to shore, and after a lot of effort they finally succeeded. They laid there on the ground out of breath and extremely cold. Raw logs were stacked up high all over the place. A factory building was about one kilometer inland.
"You're crazy," the policewoman said.
Raphael didn't reply.
"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
Again Raphael didn't say a single word.
"Do you know that more than fifteen people died in this explosion?"
At this Raphael finally looked at her.
"Oh," the policewoman started. "A hit man with a conscious."
"I'm not going to say this again. I'm not the bad guy. I had nothing to do with this," Raphael defended himself.
"Well then let's go to the police station and let us do our job."
"Listen, if I go to the police, I know you'll arrest me, and I can't be slowed down," Raphael sat up, trying to warm himself. "I'm looking for someone, and the man who shot at us is part of a team that is also looking for the same man. They will do anything to get to him."
"Who's that man? And why is he so important?"
"I can't tell you that. But what I can tell you is that this explosion is somehow related. I don't know how yet, but I'm going to find out." Raphael looked directly at the woman, searching her eyes, wanting to find a glimmer of hope that she would help him. "And I need your help doing that, but without involving the police."
"I am the police. Why should I help you?"
"What does your gut say about me? Do I look like I want to hurt you?"
"You could be a good actor."
Raphael looked away. He didn't know how to convince her without giving up his identity. After a moment's thought, he got up and started walking away. She quickly scrambled up and went after him.
"Wait," she called after him. Raphael stopped and turned to face her. "I will help, but under one condition."
"What is that?"
"That we bring the person who caused this explosion to justice."
"I agree," Raphael replied without a moment's hesitation.
There was a moment of silence as their eyes locked. They had to make a leap of faith trusting each other.
Abruptly the ground exploded underneath them. Raphael pushed the policewoman away from harm's way.
"Run," Raphael yelled.
They scrambled for cover behind some stacked logs just in time as another stream of bullets slammed the logs.
"Who's firing at us?" The policewoman said.
"It has to be the same group of men."
"Is that the price I have to pay for helping you?"
"Do you know where they are firing from?" The policewoman asked.
Raphael had his back to the logs, and his eyes closed. She looked at him surprised.
"This isn't the time to nap," she said.
"There are three men, about seven hundred meters away. They are all carrying AK-74 assault rifles, and they know how to use them. The reason for their bad aim, is the distance and the fact that they are running towards us, which means they know we are unarmed." Raphael opened his eyes and looked at his companion. "They are now less than six hundred meters away. If we stay here we die."
"How did you know all that? I didn't even see them."
Raphael didn't answer. A new expression of determination painted on his face.
"Stay here," Raphael said, then picked up a small sturdy and sharp looking branch.
"What are you going to do?" the policewoman asked.
Raphael scrambled to his feet and ran away from his hiding location, drawing the men's fire.
Raphael made it to an area characterized with its thick bush and high trees. He ran in and disappeared from their sight. But they were determined to finish him off, and they followed him in.
Once the police officer saw that the three men went after him, she got out of her hiding spot and moved to get a clear look at where Raphael disappeared. As she approached the thick bush, she heard the sounds of struggle, then rapid fire followed by a few grunts. The struggle lasted for a minute or two, then complete silence.
The policewoman waited for few moments until she was sure there was no movement then headed into the thick bush after Raphael. She pushed the thick branches out of the way and was surprised to see four bodies lying there. She felt her stomach churn. Were they all dead? She carefully approached them, but stopped dead in her tracks when one of the bodies moved ever so slightly, then he got up on all fours. It was Raphael. Blood was splattered on his face and cloths, and he held one of the guns in his hands.
The police officer stared at him in disbelief.
"You killed them?" She asked.
Raphael tried to get up, but fell again, then supporting himself on a nearby tree he finally made it to his feet. He let go of the gun, which landed with a thud on the ground.
"It was us or them," Raphael said.
When the police officer examined the bodies she realized that one died of a broken neck, another had a sharp branch going through his heart and the final one died of three bullet wounds to his chest.
"You did this?" The police officer looked at Raphael in disbelief. "Who are you?"
Raphael lost his strength again and fell to his knees. She helped him up.
"We have to get out of here," he said. "They'll keep coming after us."
"I have a place we can stay at," She said.
"We can't stay at your place. They will find it easily," Raphael warned.
They started walking away.
"No, it's not my place. My husband owns a few apartments, which he rents out. We'll stay in one of them."
"What about your husband? He'll know that you're missing and he'll get worried."
"No, he's overseas on a business trip."
Raphael nodded and they walked away.
8. The Hunter
Raphael and the policewoman reached downtown. They both garnered some strange looks from passers-by because of their appearance. Raphael had noticeable bruises on his face, and his clothes were dirty, and so was hers.
"So where is this apartment you're telling me about?" Raphael asked.
The policewoman pointed at a high-rise just a few blocks away.
"It's on the ninth level," she replied.
They walked through a side street towards the entrance of the building. It was around seven thirty in the evenings and the weather was getting chillier, so there weren't many people on the street, as most found shelter from the cold at their houses.
Raphael looked at the policewoman, trying to judge if she was actually going to help him, or she would find the first opportunity to turn him in. He was taking a leap of faith trusting her.
"Listen... umm..." Raphael started and suddenly realized that he didn't know her name. "Sorry, what was your name?"
"Jaime. Jaime MacDonald."
"Listen Jaime. I don't want to drag you into this with me. So if you don't want to help, then I completely understand."
"I'm already in this with you," she looked at him slightly annoyed. "Don't you think?"
Raphael simply nodded. They continued their way in silence. Within a few minutes they were inside enjoying the warmth of the heated indoors. The apartment was small, only one bedroom, but it was well furnished. Raphael made a quick tour of the apartment examining it thoroughly in the process. Raphael was looking forward to an hour of peaceful sleep and he didn't want anything to interrupt that. He quickly washed up and sat on the couch. Jaime did the same.
"So are you going to tell me who you are and what help you want from me?"
"I'd really love to, but I really need to get even an hour of sleep."
Jaime wasn't happy at how Raphael brushed her off, and he noticed.
"Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I need to be rested and ready for whatever happens next."
He lay on the couch, then looked at her as he remembered something.
"If anything even slightly out of the ordinary happens, wake me up."
She nodded and then headed inside the bedroom and closed the door.
■■■■■■■■
Raphael didn't know how long he was out for, but he sat up suddenly. It was dark in the apartment and it felt empty. He looked at his watch and it was ten-thirty at night.
"Jaime," he called, but there was no answer.
He started to think that maybe she turned on him and decided to involve the police, but then that didn't make sense. If she really intended to do that, then he imagined he would be in custody by now. Where was she? The door to the apartment opened and Jaime came in. She was dressed in civilian clothes, a pair of blue jeans, a white sweatshirt and a black jacket. She placed a bag she had in her hand on a nearby table, headed to the couch, which Raphael slept on and sat there.
"Where were you?" Raphael asked.
"There are some clothes in this bag," she pointed at the bag she brought with her. "I think they should be your size."
"Thanks, but where were you?"
"Well, did you want the whole police department to send a search and rescue team after me? I had to go and report in."
"What did you tell them?" Raphael asked suspiciously.
"I told them that I tracked you down, but then you got away."
Raphael continued looking at her. He had his doubts about this story, but for now he needed to get on with the mission.
"Fine," he nodded and sat down beside her. He noticed a bulge under her jacket. It must be a gun. "Here is the deal. I'm here to find someone and take him back with me."
"Take him back with you willingly?"
"Yes. Take him back home."
"Where is home?"
"That's not important. What is important is when I started this whole thing, I thought that I was the only one who was interested in him. But apparently I was wrong. I don't know who these guys are and I don't know what they want with him. However, I need to find out."
"Why?"
"Let's just say out of curiosity."
"So what do you need me to do?"
"First, I need you to go through your police database to find out who these guys are."
"That's easy enough. Do you have any information on them? Their names? A physical description?"
"I can do better than that. I have a picture of two of them."
"Wow, and they let you just take their pictures?"
"I like your sense of humor," Raphael smiled.
"Thanks, I try to work on it," Jaime said.
"I don't think they even noticed."
Jaime gazed at him in an attempt to evaluate his personality.
"What?" Raphael asked after noticing her stare.
"I'm just trying to make up my mind about you."
"And what did you reach?"
"Well, you're highly trained in fatal combat. I only know a few people who receive this level of training."
Raphael got up and took the bag with the clothes that Jaime brought for him.
"What? You're not interested in hearing the rest of my analysis?" Jaime got up after him.
"Go ahead," Raphael turned to her calmly and smiled.
"Right when we got here, you sized up the place, figured out where the exits and windows are. You conducted a quick but thorough search for weapons and surveillance equipment. I would say all this is second nature to you. So I asked myself what kind of work could you do? Are you a hired gun? An assassin? Then it hit me, you're a highly trained foreign intelligence officer; secret service. How am I doing so far?"
Raphael didn't answer. He just looked at her, feeling that she already knew who he was.
"So the million dollar question is, which country are you from?"
"Are you telling me, after all this you don't know?" Raphael smiled sarcastically.
"I will find out eventually," Jaime said.
"So are you going to arrest me now?"
"Are you kidding," Jaime backed up and sat on the couch. "You killed three armed and very large men. I'm not stupid enough to have a straight out confrontation with you. Plus, I want to get to the bottom of yesterday's disaster, so I'm willing to play along." Then she leaned forward and spoke threateningly. "But if I get the smallest inkling that you are a danger to Canada's National security, you won't know what hit you."
"That's fair," Raphael nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me. I'll go put this on."
Raphael headed to the bathroom.
■■■■■■■■
Within the hour Raphael and Jaime were at the Coquitlam police department. It was closed, but Jaime had an access card, which granted her privileged access to the department. They sat in front of a computer and Jaime typed in her user name and password.
"Okay," she said. "Where are those pictures?"
"Do you have a USB cable?"
Jaime handed Raphael a USB cable from the desk drawer. Raphael took off his watch and exposed a USB connection on the side of the watch. He plugged in one end of the USB cable and gave the other end to Jaime.
"So this is a camera?" Jaime said "That's very useful for surveillance."
"It is," Raphael smiled.
Jaime plugged the USB cable in the computer's USB connection. Within a second the computer recognized the watch and they downloaded four pictures of the two men Raphael knew as Mr. X and Mr. Y. To Jaime's surprise the pictures were high quality.
"Ok, hold on," Jaime said and started typing on the keyboard. She started up an image recognition program and loaded Mr. X and Mr. Y's pictures into the program. It took the program a few seconds to process the data.
"Okay," Jaime said. "The program is ready to run it's matching algorithm."
She typed a few keys on the keyboard and pictures of people started appearing on the screen, slowly at first then it sped up until the images were hardly distinguishable.
"How long is this going to take?" Raphael asked.
"I don't know. It's a pretty huge database," Jaime said as she was getting up. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No thanks," Raphael smiled.
Jaime headed to the coffee machine at the end of the hall they were in. There were only a few lights on. The whole building was operating in a power save mode.
Raphael kept on watching the screen as the photos of different people flashed on it. That went on for another two minutes. Raphael rubbed his eyes with a sigh, but suddenly he sat up fully alert when the flashing images stopped, and a picture of Mr. X was displayed on the screen. He quickly clicked on it and remarkably little information appeared about him. Only his name, Abraham Moreyart, and his nationality, Eitorian, were listed.
It all fell in place. Joseph must have been sent on a reconnaissance mission to gather information about some Eitorian secret dealing with the united States. They found out about him and sent people to finish him off and that's when Raphael showed up.
My government must have known about this team of assassins after Joseph, Raphael thought. Why didn't they tell me, forewarn me about these dangers? Am I that dispensable? Or is it because I am Lower Stronglandian? Or were they setting me up for a fall. Sacrifice me in place of Joseph.
While he was in deep thought he suddenly realized Jaime's absence. She had gone to get coffee three minutes ago and hadn't come back yet. He glanced over the monitor to the end of the hall where the coffee machine was, but Jaime was nowhere to be seen. He cursed his stupidity for not picking up on that earlier on. Suddenly the power went out and the whole place was plunged into darkness. The only illumination was from the wash of the streetlights seeping through the windows lining the wall. The light painted irregular shadows on the interior walls. Someone was in the building and his target was Raphael himself.
Raphael got up and started walking to the exit. His goal was to find Jaime and eliminate the threat. He wondered if he would find her alive. If she was dead it would be on him. But there was no point in thinking about that now. He needed to be at the top of his game both for her sake and his.
His plan was simple; draw the assassin out of his hiding. It sounded straightforward, but the smallest miscalculation would probably mean his demise and hers. The first obstacle, which faced him, was how should he draw him out for a confrontation without being an obvious target.
It was pitch black in the stairwell. But when Raphael and Jaime were on their way to the computer center they came through the stairwell and Raphael had then memorized the layout of the place. Depending on the mental image he had of the stairwell, he headed downstairs in quick steps.
Raphael had climbed down two levels and had another two levels left to the ground floor when he heard the sound of a rifle being prepared to fire. Without a single second's hesitation he jumped over the rail and fell down the rest of the way. Just as he did, he saw the flash of a silent bullet fired narrowly missing him. He landed and rolled absorbing the impact. His legs ached from the landing, but he bore the pain and got up quickly moving away from the line of fire.
Raphael sprinted to the main exit and he could clearly hear the assassin scramble down the stairs to reach him. The police department building was located in a lightly populated area, so when Raphael exploded out of the building, it was very quiet with not a soul on the streets. He looked around trying to find a place to hide. The parking lot was the most logical refuge. He ran over there, but he wasn't fast enough. As the assassin exited, he glanced Raphael as he entered the parking lot and disappeared between the police cars. The assassin threw the rifle over his shoulder and produced.
The assassin moved between the rows of cars very carefully having his finger on the trigger ready to fire at any moving object. Raphael was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he disappeared into thin air. He was the fifth assassin to be sent after Raphael. An Strongland secret service agent couldn't be that good. Suddenly the assassin sensed rather than heard a slight movement behind him. He spun around, but wasn't able to react fast enough to avoid the two by four that swung at him. It hit his gun hand, causing his weapon to fly away and land with a thud a few meters away. It took the assassin one full second to realize whom he was facing. It was not Raphael, but Jaime. This in it self was very surprising to him, because he shot her. He was sure he didn't miss. Why was luck not on his side today?
"Surprised to see me, asshole?" Jaime said and swung the two by four at his leg. The assassin felt his leg buckle underneath him and he didn't fight it. He went down and rolled avoiding another swing of the two by four, which hit the ground barely missing his head. He then propelled himself up and with a skillful karate move he kicked the two by four out of Jaime's hand. Jaime took a fighting stance prepared for a full out confrontation with the assassin. But the assassin was not interested in hand to hand combat. He took off his rifle and was about to aim it at Jaime when a bullet lodged in his shoulder, propelling him back. The rifle fell as he screamed in pain.
"Alright, that's quite enough," Raphael said pointing the gun that had fell from the assassin at him. "Game over. You lost."
The assassin held his bleeding shoulder and gave Raphael a look of detestation.
"Are you going to kill me?" The assassin said.
"For now, you're more useful to me alive," Raphael said, then glanced quickly over at Jaime. "Are you alright?"
Jaime kicked the assassin's legs from under him, causing him to lose his balance, and with a practiced move she had both his hands behind his back and in cuffs.
"My shoulder," the assassin cringed in pain.
"You know," Jaime started. "After shooting me not once, but twice in the chest, I have very little compassion towards." She made sure that the cuffs were on securely, intentionally pressing on his injured shoulder. The man growled in pain.
Jaime hauled the man to his feet, displaying surprising strength, then she shoved him against a car, bringing up her knee and pinning him to the car. Raphael approached the man, still having his gun aimed directly at him.
"Why are you after me?" Raphael asked sternly.
The man just glared at him defiantly, refusing to say a single word.
"I'm not going to ask you again," Raphael warned, a dead serious expression on his face.
Again, no answer.
Suddenly Raphael lowered his gun and shot the man in the knee. The man screamed and fell to the ground.
"What did you do?" Jaime asked astonished at the sudden action, but Raphael didn't answer her.
"Last chance," Raphael said to the man.
"Alright," the man said through clinched teeth. "These were my orders."
"Are you from the Eitorian secret service?" Raphael continued his interrogation.
The man didn't answer. Raphael pointed the gun at his other knee.
"Alright," the man said. "Don't shoot. Yes I'm secret service."
"Why are you after Joseph?"
"I don't know. That's the truth. I'm just carrying out orders."
"Well then," Raphael smirked. "Take me to your leader."
9. Revelation
Raphael, Jaime and the assassin got into a police car, which Jaime had the keys to. Jaime took the driver seat, while Raphael and the assassin took the back seat. Raphael had the gun trained unwaveringly at the assassin.
"You're going to guide us to where you're so called Mr. X is at," Raphael said, then lowered his voice dangerously. "If you lie to me, it will be the last thing you do."
The man sat back and rested his head on the headrest. He was still in a lot of pain, but despite of that he smiled sarcastically.
"I can guide you, but you won't get there," the assassin said.
"What's that suppose to mean?" Jaime asked.
Raphael stared at the man, at the sarcastic smile on his lips, then he turned to Jaime and ordered, "Drive."
Jaime didn't need to be told twice. She turned on the car and stepped on the gas, peeling out of the parking spot and onto the street.
"What did you mean by that?" Raphael asked, but the man didn't answer. Raphael pressed the gun into the man's side. "Tell me now."
"Wherever you go, we will find you. How do you think we kept coming after you?"
Suddenly, Raphael realized the implications of what the man was saying. How were they able to track him down? No matter where he went, they found him. This could be only achieved in one way. They had tagged him with an electronic tracking device. But it couldn't have been in his clothes, because he had changed them. This only left one other possibility. They must have implanted it under his skin when he was under. His line of thought was interrupted when the car was rammed from the back, then the glass exploded as a bullet hit it.
"Oh God," Jaime said trying hard to keep control over the car.
"Tell me you're trained in high speed chases," Raphael said.
"Yes," Jaime said as she swerved to block the pursuant car from overtaking them.
"Use your skill to keep them behind us," Raphael said then aimed his gun at the car behind them and fired a few shots. They all hit the window, but didn't penetrate it. It was made of bulletproof glass. The car rammed them again. For less than a second, Jaime lost control over the direction of the car as it swerved violently, but then she turned the steering wheel sharply to compensate and quickly got back control over the car.
"Their car is much more powerful than ours," Jaime said.
"Got any bright ideas?" Raphael said, ducking as bullets hit the side of the car. Jaime was doing her best keeping the car behind them. She looked at the rear-view mirror and then she had an idea. She pressed a button on the dashboard and both back windows slid open.
"You'll have one chance to get this right," she said to Raphael. "I want you to show off your marksman skills, Mr. Secret Service agent."
Raphael didn't have time to respond. Jaime swerved to the left sharply, then pressed the breaks. The pursuant car quickly over took them to their right. She quickly sped up again so both cars were driving side by side.
"Shoot the tires," She yelled.
Raphael took aim and fired three quick shots, two of which hit the back tire, which exploded noisily. The car veered off sharply to the left and sideswiped Raphael's car, but Jaime reduced their speed, such that the front of their car was in contact with the rear of the pursuing car. She then turned the steering wheel to the right. This action pushed the rear of the pursuing car, causing the driver to lose control. So the car turned sideways and flipped violently. Jaime slowed down just slightly and turned avoiding the flipping car, then zoomed away.
Raphael looked back at the pursuing car, which had now come to rest, flipped on its side, in the middle of the road.
"Wooha," Raphael screamed in triumph. "You're an awesome driver."
Raphael then turned to the assassin only to find that he had been shot twice in the back and lay their dead.
"This is just bad luck," he punched the seat in front of him.
Jaime glanced back and saw the dead man. She quickly parked on the side of the semi-abandoned road they had been driving on.
"We have to get rid of him," Jaime said.
Without saying a word, Raphael got out and dragged the dead body outside, laying it on the side of the road. Jaime came out and looked at the dead man, whose wounds were still bleeding.
"Why do people, take on these jobs?" Jaime asked.
Raphael looked up at her and was silent for a minute.
"Someone has to do it," Raphael said quietly, then looked back down at the dead man. "I don't blame him. This was his job. In the eyes of his country, he is a hero. He died protecting it."
"This is crazy," Jaime said emotionally. "He didn't have to die. None of this had to happen."
Raphael grabbed Jaime's arm and guided her back to the car.
"It's a philosophical discussion. But I'm sure if Canada was in danger you would do whatever is in your power to protect it; to protect your way of life."
"Is this the case?" Jaime asked.
Raphael didn't answer. She shook him away from her roughly and stopped in her place looking at him.
"This has gone far enough," Jaime said in determination. "I will not go a step further without knowing the whole truth."
"I can't tell you that."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know the whole truth."
"I know you're from Strongland. I know your name is Raphael, but I don't know why you're here."
Raphael took in a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them and looked directly at her.
"You're right about all the information you know about me," Raphael said. "I am a secret service agent. I was sent to Seattle to bring back another agent who went missing. When I got there I found that these guys were also after him. You see our countries are not on good terms. My superiors didn't reveal why that agent was sent to Seattle, except to say that he was on a reconnaissance mission. All I know is that I need to bring him back home."
"These guys are Eitorian secret service."
"Yes, and that's all I know."
As he talked, Raphael took off his jacket and then his shirt, and was in the process of taking off his undershirt.
"What are you doing?" Jaime asked.
"They implanted some sort of tracking device under my skin. If we don't find it and disable it, they'll keep coming after us, until we're dead."
He took off his undershirt, exposing a muscular, trimmed upper body. He turned his back to her.
"Do you see anything strange?" Raphael asked.
She examined his back and indeed found a small surgical incision at the top left shoulder.
"There is something there," she ran her fingers over it, and felt a bump there. A moment later, she saw a very faint yellow glowing light from under Raphael's skin. "It's definitely a tracking device."
"Then we don't have much time," Raphael said. "We have to take it out."
"It's going to hurt."
"Just do it."
Jaime took out a sharp knife, flipped its recessed blade open and cut through the skin. Raphael felt the pain build up, but he contained his anguish. She kept working with the knife trying to extract the implanted device. After what seemed to be forever, a small two-centimeter tube fell out and on to the floor. Raphael let out his breath in relief. He put his cloths back on, not bothering to clean the cut caused by extracting the device. He bent down and picked up the tracking device, examining it carefully.
"We don't have much time," Raphael said. "Soon they'll know that they failed to eliminate us and send someone else."
Raphael headed back to the dead man and threw the tracking device with him. Then he got an idea. He bent over and did a quick search of the man's clothing. He took out his wallet. Inside it there was some money and a few cards. Finally, he found what he was looking for, a hotel room card with the name of the hotel this man was a resident of. Mr. X must be there as well, or at least that was Raphael's hope.
He headed back to Jaime who was leaning on the car.
"I'll take it from here," Raphael said in an I-won't-take-no-for-an-answer tone.
"What do you mean?"
"I know where they are. I'll finish this."
"What about our deal?"
Raphael got in the passenger seat without answering. Jaime circled the car and got in the driver's seat.
"What about our deal?" She insisted.
"I'll meet you tomorrow at the apartment we stayed at. If I don't make it there by three o'clock in the evening, then I'm dead. If I do, then I'll have the whole truth for you."
"How can you guarantee..."
"I can't," Raphael cut her off coolly. "You'll just have to take my word for it."
Jaime continued staring at him, then feeling there is no use in arguing with him much further, she turned on the car and drove off.
"Where do you want me to drop you off?"
Raphael showed her the address on the hotel room card.
"Is it close to here?" He asked.
"Yeah, it's about fifteen minutes away."
"Drop me off a few blocks away. I'll make the rest of the way on foot."
They drove for the next fifteen minutes in complete silence, until Jaime stopped the car. It was now two in the morning, and the streets were completely empty.
She put the car in park and then turned towards him.
"You have until tomorrow morning, after this, I'm taking everything I know to my department."
"Do you have a pen?" he asked.
She leaned over and opened the glove compartment and took out a pen and a paper. Raphael proceeded to write down an address in Seattle, Washington. He handed it to her once he was done.
"What is this?" Jaime asked.
"I don't have much time to explain," Raphael said as he was preparing to get out of the car. "A family lives there. They are possibly in danger because of me. Get in touch with the Seattle police and deal with it. If you don't the family will be killed."
He got out of the car, and started walking towards the hotel. She looked at the address in her hand, then back up, but Raphael was gone. He probably took one of the many narrow alleyways that characterized this neighborhood. Jaime started up the car and drove away.
■■■■■■■■
Mr. X was in his room, staring at a computer screen, which had a map of Vancouver displayed on it. He hit a few keys and the map zoomed in. The area he was looking at was the same area that Raphael and Jaime had faced the pursuing car earlier on. The red dot, which was not moving, indicated the location of the tracking device that was implanted in Raphael's shoulder. The fact that it was not moving meant that their target was dead.
Mr. X turned off the screen and sat back, letting out a sigh of relief, but suddenly froze when he sensed movement behind him. He spun in his chair only to see the live end of a gun pointed at him. He stared at the gun for a moment then looked up to see Raphael's unflinching expression.
"It ends here," Raphael said.
"You're a hard target, Mr. Raphael," Mr. X said in a calm voice contrary to the perilous situation he was facing.
"No more humor, Mr. Abraham Moreyart," Raphael said in a no-nonsense tone. "I'll ask this question once. Why are you after Joseph?"
"Don't pretend you don't know the answer."
"Last chance," Raphael cocked the gun and took a step closer to Abraham, who recoiled back in his chair.
"We are after him for justice," Abraham said. "In fact we already have him."
"Where are you taking him?"
"He's being transported outside the country as we speak," Abraham smiled triumphantly.
Raphael looked around the room, and found on the desk behind Abraham a lit handheld device, reminiscent to a palm pilot. Carefully, he approached the desk, still aiming the gun at Abraham, and threw a quick look at it.
"If I'm correct, you can track your convoy's location with this device," Raphael said.
The smile dissipated from the man's face.
"Pick it up," Raphael ordered. When the man didn't comply Raphael repeated his order more sharply. "Pick it up now and come with me."
Both of them headed out of the hotel room. Raphael walked behind Abraham, aiming his gun at his back.
"You shouldn't be too cocky, and leave yourself unprotected," Raphael said.
They exited the hotel room and got into Abraham's car. Raphael took the passenger seat while, Abraham took the driver's seat. Raphael kept his gun trained on the man.
"You'll never get to them," Abraham said insistently.
"We'll see about that. Now drive."
Abraham drove the car, taking the same route as the convoy transporting Joseph. The convoy was indeed not too far away. Within an hour they could see three cars driving in a single file, all big powerful SUV's.
"How many of your people are in the Convoy?" Raphael asked.
"Five."
"Get on the wireless and tell them to pull over," Raphael ordered.
"They won't listen," Abraham responded. "They have their orders."
"You're going to pretend that you have me and planning to deport me with Joseph. If I get the slightest sense that you're trying to communicate a hidden message to them, I will kill you," Raphael said.
Reluctantly, the man took out a cell phone and dialed a phone number; a moment later someone picked up on the other end.
"Yes, this is Abraham." Pause. "Park on the side. I have an extra bonus payload to deliver." Another Pause. "Yes, I got him."
The convoy started to slow down. Raphael jumped in the back seat.
"You will not get out of this alive," Abraham said bitterly.
"If you want to bet against me, then you'll take your life in your own hands. Don't forget, my bullet will be faster than any action you take."
By this time the convoy had come to a complete stop. Raphael pretended to be unconscious in the back seat. Three people got out of the car and headed to the car Raphael was in. They sneaked a peak at Raphael, then at Abraham, and then opened the back door and dragged Raphael out roughly.
Suddenly, Raphael was all action. He jumped to his feet and before any of them could react, he had grabbed the man closest to him by the arm and twisted it in a skillful, quick move flipping him over. The next second the gun was in his hand. The first bullet shattered the second man's left leg and the second penetrated the last man's shoulder. In less than three seconds all three men were on the floor, incapacitated.
There were two other men beside Joseph in the cars. They got out of the car stunned at the noises they heard. Everything was going according to plan, until now.
Just as they came around the car, the first thing they noticed were their injured friends. The second thing they noticed, after it was too late, was Raphael aiming the gun at them.
"Okay," Raphael smiled. "The first one, who wants to die should reach for his gun."
No one moved. By this time Raphael had taken the three men's guns.
"I want you to slowly, take out your guns with only two fingers and throw it in my direction."
The men complied. They were all flustered that none of them had anticipated this change in circumstances.
"Joseph," Raphael called out loudly. "Come out."
Joseph got out of the car. His hands were in cuffs, and his face was badly bruised. He had a noticeable limp as he walked. At first the situation was confusing to everyone including Joseph. The only two who knew what was going on, was Raphael and Abraham, who was now with the rest of his men under the aim of Raphael's gun.
Joseph looked from Raphael to the men, then he slowly started to comprehend what was going on. He bent down and picked up one of the guns on the floor near Raphael. With a single bullet the cuffs were shattered. Joseph stuck this gun in his belt and picked up another two.
"So you're the one our delightful government chose to send to get me," Joseph said cynically. "They couldn't send an Upper Stronglandian?"
Raphael didn't react to the racist remark. Although his plan had worked well so far, it could all turn unexpectedly, and he didn't want to risk it. In fact, he was getting sick of this whole mission. It was time to go back home.
"Let's get going," Raphael said as he backed up towards one of the cars not letting his eyes wonder away from the men, but all of a sudden Joseph did something Raphael was not expecting. He fired one of his guns killing one of the men.
Raphael's sight darted to the dead man, then back to Joseph.
"What did you do that for?" Raphael yelled alarmed.
Joseph didn't reply. He aimed his gun at another and prepared to fire. The men were increasingly afraid. They felt that this was their death sentence. This was it; the last moments of their lives. But Raphael jumped at Joseph and pushed him away. Joseph fell to the ground. He looked up furiously at Raphael.
"Are you protecting them?" Joseph roared in rage.
"No more death," Raphael said sternly.
Raphael looked at the men, who didn't understand why Raphael was against their death. After all, they had tried to kill him several times. But Raphael didn't believe in revenge. He didn't live by "an eye for an eye". He couldn't. His whole life would be miserable if he took this as his motto. He believed in getting the job done, and doing whatever it took to get there, but unnecessary violence was not part of his strategies.
His stare returned back to Joseph who was trembling in fury. Joseph's eye was full of hatred towards Raphael. How could a Lower Stronglandian treat him like this? He was upper Stronglandian, superior in ever way imaginable. Raphael had crossed the line, and had to be taught a lesson, a harsh lesson, a deadly lesson. Joseph started to raise his gun at Raphael, who was starting to turn away from him, heading towards the car.
Raphael, however, noticed the glistening of the gun under the moonlight and reacted instantly. Everything moved in slow motion.
Joseph aimed the gun at Raphael.
Raphael dove to the right, just as Joseph fired the gun.
Raphael instinctively returned fire.
The two bullets seemed to cross paths in the air.
Raphael felt excruciating pain in his shoulder.
Raphael fell to the ground.
And Silence.
Silence.
No movement.
Even the wind was still.
Blood.
Time Stopped.
10. Court Martial
Jaime waited in front of the apartment building. It was unlikely that Raphael would show up. Why would he? He owed her nothing, but she waited nonetheless. Her gut told her that he would come. Somehow she knew deep down that she could trust him. Maybe because he saved her life, or because of something she saw in his eyes. Honesty maybe. It was hard to describe.
It was close to six in the evening now. The area had become quieter as people made it to their houses for dinner. The few that roamed the street were wearing heavy clothes as the temperature had dropped radically over the past few hours. The dark gray overcast skies beckoned the start of snow. And indeed a single flake floated down, swaggering, carried by the gentle breeze, finally landing on Jaime's face and instantly melting.
Jaime looked up at the skies, and as she did, she noticed Raphael walking slowly towards her. He held his arm and his face was deathly pale. She quickly ran towards him.
"What happened?" Jaime asked, the concern she felt found its way to the tone of her voice.
Raphael looked at her, his eyes glazing over.
"I killed him," he whispered. It sounded like he didn't believe what he was saying.
"Killed who?" Jaime asked as she guided Raphael to the apartment building.
"Joseph."
Jaime didn't understand who Raphael was talking about. Who was Joseph? Was that the man he was after? Why did he kill him? But she decided not to swarm Raphael, who was obviously hurt until he had had some rest.
They went up to the apartment building, and she examined the bullet wound. The bullet had penetrated the front of his left shoulder and exited from the back cleanly. It was a matter of cleaning the wound thoroughly and patching him up until they went to the hospital.
After a few hours of sleep when Raphael gained some of his strength, Jaime decided to get a full explanation out of him.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Jaime asked.
Raphael looked up at her, and then got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He considered how much he should reveal to her, and then finally decided that he would reveal all. He told her about the assignment to bring Joseph back. He told her how his government didn't reveal any information about Joseph's mission. He told her about the final confrontation, and how he shot Joseph in the chest killing him instantly in self defense.
"I thought that was it," Raphael continued, staring at nothing, reliving the action he faced yesterday. "After we exchanged fire, he was dead and I was shot in the shoulder. The other men quickly regained control of the situation. They had my gun and I was at their mercy. I thought they would kill, especially after what I have done to them, but they didn't."
"What did they do?" Jaime asked. "What did they tell you?
Raphael looked down. The expression on his face showed a great deal of regret.
"They told me why they were after Joseph," Raphael looked up at Jaime. "I don't know if they were telling the truth or not. He killed six Eitorian spies and their families. He was also the one who killed all these people in the motel explosion. They were sent after him to bring him to justice."
"Do you believe them?"
"Both of us would have been on our way back to Strongland, if he hadn't tried to kill them all. He was so adamant about getting rid of them." Raphael punched the mattress in frustration. "The idiot. Why?"
There was silence for a minute, finally Jaime turned to Raphael.
"What are you going to do now?" She asked.
"I'm going back home to report on the mission," Raphael answered without hesitation.
"But what are they going to do to you?" Jaime asked.
Raphael didn't answer this question. He never did.
■■■■■■■■
Back in Strongland, Raphael stood at attention in a military court. He wore his official Stronglandian police attire. Three high-ranking officers sat behind a long brown oak desk, while two soldiers stood behind Raphael, one on his right, the other on his left. Both were armed. The highest-ranking officer, who sat in between the other two, read from an official paper the sentence that had been passed against Raphael.
"After careful deliberation," The high-ranking officer said. "We have found, you Raphael George Whinston, guilty of mutiny against the great nation of Strongland. Therefore you have been sentenced to death by hanging."
The sentence fell like lightning on Raphael. His whole life flashed in front of his eyes, his sister, her husband, her son and daughter.
"Do you have any last words?" The high-ranking officer said.
"What are you going to tell my family?" Raphael swallowed his fear.
"That you are missing in action," came the unflinching reply.
Raphael didn't find any comfort in the officer's response. He had no more words to say.
He surrendered to his fate.
The two officers him escorted him outside.
■■■■■■■■
The steady rocking of the truck and the constant hum of the engine kept Raphael mind's off the rope that would be wrapped around his neck in two days. When he stopped to think about it he could almost feel the rough material of the rope on his skin, but he kept his mind far away from these thoughts. He counted the number of bumps since they left the paved road, on to this rocky road leading to the Far East prison, prepared for inmates on death row. Another bump rocked the truck. This was number three thousand twenty nine.
Raphael didn't bother to look up at the gloomy faces sitting in the back of the truck with him. He didn't bother to think about the extreme cold of the desert at this time of night. He didn't want to think any more. What was the point? The only thing waiting for him was his death. His life had become meaningless.
Suddenly, something rammed the side of the truck and tipped it over. The truck was carried by it's momentum, sliding violently for a few meters before coming to a halt, the wheels still spinning. Raphael was on his back with two inmates who had fallen on top of him. Panic was rising. Everyone heard gunshots. There was a fierce gun battle taking place outside. The inmates saw this as the perfect, almost divine opportunity for them to escape. They scrambled outside the truck running in any and all directions, but most of them didn't make it too far, as they were shot dead.
Raphael had to do something. He decided to take his chance, better to die trying, he concluded. Outside it was completely dark, but he didn't care. He ran. He didn't look behind him to see what was happening. He didn't bother to watch the hooded men, with night goggles. However, it seemed like they were very interested in him, because once he jumped outside the truck and started running, they spotted him and called each other's attention to him.
"Here he is," the leader of the attacking party said. "Take him down."
Raphael felt a few bullets blow past him. His end was near. A bullet hit him in his back, shoving him forward. He fell on all fours, unable to breathe. His whole buddy felt extremely heavy; another two shots ended his struggle.
Then darkness.
Endless darkness.
■■■■■■■■
Raphael regained his consciousness in one shot. To his surprise he wasn't dead.
It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the bright spot light centered on him. The light prevented him from making out his surroundings. In spite of that, though, he could sense someone hiding in the darkness.
"Where am I?" Raphael asked.
Raphael tried to move his legs, but couldn't; his hand's but couldn't. He was completely paralyzed from the neck down.
"Don't waste your time and energy," a man's voice echoed. "You will not be able to move a single part of your body."
"What do you want from me?" Raphael said.
"You have been sentenced to death," the man's voice was cold and unemotional. "But we've decided to spare you."
"And who are you exactly?"
A tall skinny man, slightly balding, walked from the darkness into the circle of light.
"We are Strongland's last line of defense" the man replied and walked a full circle around Raphael. "From now on, Raphael George doesn't exist. Your family is currently holding a funeral for you. Everyone you have known in your entire life is convinced you're dead. You have no one but this Unit. You will be loyal to us."
"Really? You think so?" Raphael chuckled in-spite of his dire situation.
"I know you will. We've studied your file well, Raphael. We know you'll do whatever is needed to protect Strongland." Pause. "And when you know the threats that are facing our country, you will not hesitate to carry out your duty."
"How can I be sure you're telling me the truth?"
"Everything will soon be clear."
The man stood facing Raphael and looked straight into his eyes.
"Welcome to the Critical Mission Unit."
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