Prologue
They came after me at midnight. The lights had been turned off in my remote cabin in the woods around eleven and I was sitting in the over-stuffed easy chair in the corner, away from the window, sipping my Black Russian, smoking and generally letting my thoughts wander pondering the dichotomy that is my life. A number of windows were open and the night sounds of the forest were soothing to the soul as were the gently lapping waves from the river in the distance.
Then it changed. The forest grew silent, scarily so except for a couple of crickets sounding the alarm by increasing the pitch and frequency of their legs being rubbed together. Nature has its own alarm system. To me it was like a bomb going off. The synapses in my brain started firing on all cylinders.
They were waiting for me to go to bed and fall asleep and now believed I had done so. I would then be an easy target. Otherwise, they would probably not have approached just yet. My experience told me that they had been there for hours having previously scouted the territory and watching my movements.
It would have been suicide for me to confront them in the cabin. My best chance for survival was outside, the cover of darkness and my intimate knowledge of the terrain being my allies. I had no idea as to how many of them were out there. But I knew they were there, stealthfully approaching and coming to kill me. My basic human instinct of survival took over and my extensive training came to the forefront.
My Bowie Knife was still strapped to my belt, the fishing had been good and the pan fried speckled trout had been delicious. I quietly opened the drawer of the end table to my left. I removed the loaded Glock, turned the safety off and shoved it behind my belt at the small of my back. Extra ammunition was shoved into a pocket in my jeans.
Ironically, it is a good thing that one tends to wear darker clothing in hideaways such as this. I would be harder to spot. Crouching down I made my way over to the fireplace and gathered the cooler burnt embers, away from the small pieces of still burning wood, and blackened my face and hands. I had to blend into the darkness of the night. I had to turn every variable I could into my favour.
Fortunately the cabin is built on two foot stilts to allow easy access to the plumbing and electrical systems running underneath. After the typical cold, hard winters this makes it easier to fix or replace the cracked plumbing pipes and any damage done by animals gnawing on the electrical wiring. On my belly, I slithered to the trap door, located in the back storage room, carefully avoiding all windows and unceremoniously lowered myself to the ground beneath. If the intruders saw or heard me I was dead. Not a pleasant thought.
I made no sound as I hit the ground due to the fact that everything underneath the cabin is damp and decaying. My edifice is built in the lowest part of the valley and is always wet. I didn’t even want to think about the various and sundry slimy creatures that would quickly start crawling over my body. The mosquitoes would start feasting soon and were already buzzing around my face. The aroma of rotting and mildewy vegetation filled the air, enveloped my senses and I stifled a cough. There were no discernable changes from in front of the cabin reassuring me that my movements had not been detected.
My heart was in my throat. One never adjusts easily to being hunted. I steadied my breathing as best as I could, taking my time to allow my eyes to adjust to the enveloping darkness. Nothing else still seemed out of the ordinary but every fiber in my body told me they were there. All my senses were on high alert and in overdrive.
It was not time for me to die. I hadn’t pissed off enough people yet and there was still some unfinished business to attend to. Whoever they were I wasn’t going to let them win this game tonight. They were on my territory, they believed they had the advantage but I knew I could out think them and I was not about to let anybody come into my house and win. The stakes were too high.
The barely audible sound of a pine cone being stepped on quietly emanated from my immediate right. A shadow, briefly danced straight ahead of me as an open area was quickly covered. I now knew that there were at least two of them and they were slowly approaching the cabin and they were taking their time. They still had thirty yards to cover. I processed the information and held my position.
Patience is a virtue, stay still, wait and let the hand play out are lessons from my past and I still did not move. Sweat was pouring into my eyes, my breathing was growing more rapid and the palms of my hands were damp. I wiped my hands on my pants legs but did not dare touch my face. I prayed that the black soot still covered most of my exposed extremities. The odds were at least two against one and I needed every advantage I could get. I wasn’t thrilled with the odds.
I am blessed with tremendous night vision and as I scanned the immediate vicinity, there he was, to my left, forty yards away, hunkered down with his back resting against a towering pine tree and not moving a muscle. He was a mere shadow changing the topography of the well known landscape. I was now certain there were three adversaries for me to take out. I didn’t like it one bit but there was nothing I could do about it.
A team of three assassins, well trained, with malicious intent and now my quarry. They must really want me this time was the thought running through my head. I knew they were highly trained and very good, as many of the others had been. But for them, sadly they would not be good enough. As best as I could, I calculated all of the variables and decided upon my plan of attack.
I decided to go after the one against the tree first. He was alone and furthest from the cabin. I guessed that his role in the planned assassination was to provide cover fire if things went wrong. He had chosen his position well, deep in the shadows enveloped by the large trunk of the pine covering his back with an unobstructed view of the front of my structure. I would only be able to attack from the side; usually never a good strategy to undertake.
My intense martial arts training, starting early in my life and continuing on, instigated and insisted upon by my father, kicked in and I quickly and silently made my way to a superior position behind and to the left of my target. The darkness, shadows and uneven terrain were my best friends and I used them covertly and wisely. In only this respect was I glad that I was on my home turf. After all, I was all alone with no one to rely on for help.
He was easily six feet two inches tall and weighed at least two hundred and twenty pounds. He was well built and cradled an M16 rifle in his arms and there was a holstered 357 magnum pistol strapped to his side along with a Navy Seal killing knife sheathed in his boot. He was dressed entirely in black with body armour covering his chest and crotch, camouflage paint obscured his face and hands and he was wearing night vision goggles. By his continence, he was confident in his abilities and I instinctively knew he had seen action before, a man to be reckoned with. All of his attention was focused on the front of the cabin, a fatal mistake for him but a big break for me.
The goggles worked to my advantage since they do completely negate peripheral vision and I managed to get to within three feet of him without being seen. Still sweating profusely, crouching, muscles tightly coiled, the Bowie knife already loosely held in my right hand I sprang at the killer. My left hand clamped over his mouth and with all the strength I could muster I yanked his head back exposing his neck. Simultaneously, in one practiced motion the Bowie Knife slashed across his exposed flesh nearly decapitating him. Air bubbles gurgled in his throat as his life force spewed five feet into the air from the severed arteries. Dark red blood, like a surging crimson tide evaporated into the darkness and sticky droplets of his blood clung to the surrounding foliage.
The struggle was as brief as it was violent. One does not give up one’s life easily. I then gently, silently lowered the now lifeless body to the ground and sheathed the knife. Thankfully, my attack had produced not a sound. I was covered in blood and my breathing now even more pronounced than ever. I knew I had to calm down and steady my nerves.
My mind was racing. What was my next plan of attack helping to insure my survival? Or should I just fade away into the bush and make my escape? Not an easy decision to make. I decided to end it tonight. I had never liked running away from a fight.
The other two attackers were ahead of me but still in close proximity, slowly advancing on the cabin. The night goggles were the key. Night vision goggles use any and all available light and magnify it so the wearer can see in the dark. I made the assumption that all three were wearing them. I prayed I was right. If I wasn’t my chances for survival were slim to none. I had no other back-up plan. I set my strategy in motion.
Using the same techniques as before I quickly made my way to the back of the cabin again. I knew I had the time. My would-be assailants were moving much more slowly than I was. They were planning on a slow, stealthy approach hopefully utilizing the element of surprise to their fullest advantage.
I found the hidden power switch and turned it to the on position. The gentle hum of the generator told me I had five seconds to get to the front side of the cabin before the system engaged. This was the moment of truth and I had to be ready. The Glock was in my right hand and I prepared myself.
The sudden blaze of six powerful flood lights instantly transformed the surrounding area from night into day. The two killers were spread fifteen feet apart just starting to ascend the front steps of the veranda. In all ways, body size, clothing and armaments, they were carbon copies of the man I had just killed; professionals intent on doing their jobs. The element of surprise worked to my advantage and my assumption had been correct.
Screams of intense pain immediately rang from their throats as they both simultaneously ripped at their night vision goggles and dropped their weapons as fifty thousand candle watts of light seared into their pupils and burned their retinas. They were instantly blinded and helpless.
At this point everything turned into slow motion for me. Many professional athletes experience the same phenomenon. Exploding from my position of cover I sighted my targets, aiming for head shots and fired off four rounds in rapid succession – two each. All four bullets found their marks. They both lifted off of their feet like marionettes being pulled on invisible strings. They were blown backward and then lay still on the ground illuminated by the bright lights.
I went over and checked their bodies to confirm what I already knew. The full load, hollow point, metal jacketed bullets had done their jobs blowing away most of the back of their skulls. Their faces had been obliterated. Large pools of blood were soaking into the soil beneath. Not a pretty sight for the faint of heart. I felt nothing. I consciously made the effort to steady my breathing and to relax.
I went back into the cabin and removed the night telescoped thirty-odd-six rifle from the gun rack. All of my weapons are meticulously maintained and always loaded. I can never afford for a gun to jam. There probably was a fourth one out there staying with the vehicle they came in and he would probably not approach.
With most of the area bathed in bright lights another attack would be foolish and he had in all likelihood fled by now. However, one cannot be too careful so I left the lights in the interior of the cabin off as I headed to the bathroom to clean up. I would pour another drink shortly.
Rapidly I discarded the blood soaked clothes and threw them into the bathtub. I then washed off the blood and the black soot and put on clean clothes. The next stop was the kitchen where I retrieved a glass tumbler from a shelf, opened the freezer door of the refrigerator and filled my glass with ice. I topped off the tumbler with vodka, added a touch of Kahlua, took a long swallow and headed back to my favorite over-stuffed chair.
With my cigarette already lit I reached for the satellite phone, since cell phone reception in this area is practically non existent and dialed the number that is etched into my brain, a number I had called too many times before.
As always, it was answered on the first ring. The voices have changed over the years but not the same mechanical yes. Not even a hello. I kept it brief as I had been first instructed to do many years ago. “Three attackers, all dead” I said. Click went the other end of the phone. I have never known whom or where I am calling. I just know that the number is answered twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
I had given up a long time ago trying to figure the mystery out. I had a theory though as to why they kept me at arms length. If anything ever went terribly wrong on one of my assignments they had total deniability and would plead ignorance about my activities. I was all alone. They knew where I was. They always knew where I was. My life was not my own. I settled back in my chair with my drink and cigarettes and waited for their arrival.
Once again my mind was wandering and I was reminiscing as to why the outdoor lights were here in the first place. A few years back a major family gathering was held with numerous family members and close friends coming and going over a five day period. The flood lights, four on the roof of the cabin and two in the trees, along with the extra generator, had been installed so the on-going party could continue well into each night. Frankly, I had been too lazy to have them removed and also because of the expense had just left them in place. A great party had now also turned into a personal lifesaver. This quirk of fate had in this instance worked to my advantage.
Age is an awful thing at times. A number of years ago I was diagnosed with high blood pressure – two hundred and forty over one hundred and thirty. Now two little pink pills and three hundred and twenty-five mg of aspirin per day keep me as right as rain. I hoped my medication was doing its job tonight.
Within ninety minutes, the distinctive sound of helicopter blades beating through the night sky was audible in the distance. I turned the lights on in the cabin and went out onto the front porch and waited for their arrival. I watched and listened as the sound of the approaching craft grew louder and louder.
Soon it was in sight, flying night lights on, pontoon landing gear equipped and finally the copter made a perfect landing in the water at the edge of the dock. The engine was turned off and the noise levels started to subside. It was difficult to see everything clearly since I had to look through the glare of the flood lights and then into the darkness beyond, backlit by the moon.
Three males exited the craft ducking down under the slowing helicopter blades. The pilot tied off the mooring lines, staying put, with the other two cautiously entering the field of light. They then stopped insuring I got a good look at them before continuing their slow approach. They both had on Dallas Cowboy Ball Caps and one was carrying a large bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka. The recognition signals, tried and true, never having failed over all the years, were either the wearing of Dallas Cowboy paraphernalia or a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka clearly displayed.
They were taking no chances tonight. Both recognition signals clearly on display. Am I getting that bad now they are making doubly sure before approaching me was a flittering thought. However, as a gift, a bottle of my favorite vodka is always appreciated and enjoyed. I started to relax a little bit.
For the record, I am a fanatical Dallas Cowboy football fan. I bleed blue and silver. My heritage is Russian but I was born in North America to very recent immigrant parents. I speak the language and grew up drinking vodka. At Sunday dinners there was always a bottle on the table. You poured a shot, drank it down, took a bite of a dill pickle and then had another shot. This was supposed to get your digestive juices going.
As the approaching pair was half-way through the circle of light I noticed the pilot had disappeared from view. “Shit, I’m getting sloppy in my old age,” I muttered under my breath.
Instinctively, slowly and unobtrusively as possible I started to reach for the Glock that was once again at the small of my back when the distinctive sounds of two sniper’s rifles cracked from the darkness. The faces of the two approaching men dissolved into a mass of blood, bone and sinew right in front of me. Probably mercury tipped bullets was an unconscious thought. Large caliber bullets had entered the back of their heads and had come out the front. They were blown forward by the impact and they lay dead sprawled face first in the dirt highlighted by the flood lights.
With full adrenaline pumping and the instinct for survival hitting my nervous system I found myself, on the deck, rolling to my left, gun extended, accomplishing the feat before the bodies of the two unfortunate souls hit the ground. Lying prone I made myself as small of a target as possible as I desperately tried to find the shooters and return fire. From the darkness a bullhorn boomed, “Red Dog, Red Dog, Red Dog!” “Please Sir, Red Dog!”
Words from thirty years ago, my first recognition code which has not been used in over twenty years. It is difficult to think clearly as your heart is pounding through your chest. I tried to clear my head and think as my eyes continued to scour the darkness beyond the illuminated area. I quickly reasoned that if I was the intended victim they could have easily taken me out first rather than shooting the other two players in this deadly game. I had to make my decision now. There were nervous trigger fingers out there and I was clearly exposed.
Red Dog had been my choice for the recognition signal. It came from my university days when I worked for a large brewery in the summers. I drove a fork lift truck in the warehouse. Workers yelled out Red Dog when a foreman was approaching giving you time to hide the bottle of beer you were drinking and to extinguish the cigarette you were not supposed to be smoking. Ten to twelve beers during a shift was not unusual and many long term employees had more than twenty. You could easily tell which ones by the size of their protruding stomachs.
I made my choice and cautiously stood up being careful not to make any sudden moves, with my gun at my side tightly held in my hand with its safety still off, and stared out at the unseen voice.
“May we approach, sir,” came the response to my actions. I nodded yes but I was uncertain as to what was really happening and tried to prepare myself for any eventuality. They held the upper hand and had already demonstrated they were expert marksmen and prepared to kill.
Six of them cautiously stepped out into the fringes of the light and then held their positions. They were all dressed for night combat, heavily armed and their guns were trained on me. They were in a semi-circle, fanned out, twenty yards between each of them, real pros taking no chances. It was impossible for me to take them all and they knew it. I was out of choices and now totally committed to my present course of action. I knew if I showed any hostile intent what-so-ever they would shoot me without hesitation. I stood still not moving a muscle.
The one with the bullhorn was in the centre of the formation and slowly approached to within ten feet, stopped and said, “Sir, I have been instructed by the boss to offer you his sincerest apologies for the unfortunate set of events that have occurred this evening. There was a leak and corrective action has been effectively taken. Would you please holster your gun and may I come join you in the cabin for a de-briefing?”
I nodded yes and did as I was asked. Slowly I placed the glock at the small of my back, turned and opened the door. I entered the cabin followed by the young man. Wet work had occurred in other parts of the world this evening, was a fleeting thought. Seemingly out of nowhere, three non-descript vans entered the area, people exited wearing hazmat type apparel and the process of sanitizing the area began. The armed men fanned out, formed a perimeter around the property and secured the area.
I went straight to the kitchen and poured another drink, out of habit I lit a cigarette immediately without offering either to my new guest. Experience had taught me that he would refuse both. Sitting down at the kitchen table, the gun extricated and clearly placed in view, I motioned to the young agent to join me. He lay his weapon down beside mine, pulled out a chair and sat down. He let me enjoy a few sips of my beverage before getting down to business. As is usually the case there was no small talk.
Turning his tape recorder on the young agent asked, “Starting from the beginning tell me what happened?”
“I had turned the lights off in the cabin around eleven and I was in the corner enjoying my cocktail and a cigarette when the night sounds of the forest changed. Nature’s alarm system let me know that people were out there.” The agent looked at me in bewilderment.
I explained, “Many years ago I was on safari in South Africa at a private game reserve called Sabi Sabi. It’s on the edge of Krueger National Park. We were driven around in open air range rovers, no doors, no windows, closer than I ever fathomed one could get to wild animals; lions, leopards, hippos, elephants and many other species too numerous to mention. On the first day I asked the ranger as to why we could get so close to the animals without spooking them?”
His answer and following demonstration were a revelation to me. “The animals are so use to the vehicles; they do not associate people with them. That’s why, for our guests’ safety, we don’t allow you to stand up or leave the vehicle except on my instructions. Here, let me demonstrate.”
Pulling up to a grove of trees, he stopped and got out of the mover and took a number of steps into the bush. In an instant the sounds of the wilderness noticeably changed and a few certain birds began singing the tunes of alarm. He turned, came back to the Land Rover, got back in and soon everything was back to normal.
He turned to our group and said, “Nature has its own alarm system when the norms change.” A lesson learned, well remembered and put to good use tonight was my thought.
I then recounted the balance of the evening’s events. The young man’s face and countenance remained stoic. Not another comment just the recording of my rendition of the evening’s occurrences. Unless I was with the “boss” all of the debriefings over the years had followed this same pattern.
As I concluded a knock came at the door and another well-built, serious young man entered the cabin carrying a case of my favorite vodka with his rifle slung over his shoulder. He placed it on the kitchen table and said, “With the boss’ compliments and he wanted me to say how very sorry he is for any inconvenience this situation may have caused you.”
He then just turned and left. I was incredulous; I had never received a case before! The leak must have been very personal to the “boss.”
Organizing my thoughts I then asked my interrogator, “How long were you here before the helicopter landed and what the hell just happened?”
“We found and permanently stopped the leak six hours ago, we’re confident nothing will have to change, it was a one time thing and then we deployed. We arrived approximately an hour before the helicopter landed, sir. As a one mile radius of your location was reconnoitered the get-away vehicle was located, the appropriate remedial action was taken with the driver and then we approached, sweeping the area to within a quarter of a mile of your cabin. At that point we were not quite sure a second killing team was on its way and so we maintained our positions and waited. When we heard the helicopter approaching we took up positions where we could best protect you. The rest you know”.
“And the helicopter pilot?”
“He will not be flying again, sir.”
“Do you always have to call me sir?”
He just looked at me not blinking, said nothing, a fully grown young man but to me just a kid. I’m lucky to have a full head of hair, extremely thick, salt and pepper but mostly grey now. One of the few vestiges of vanity that I have.. I’ve never really gotten use to being called sir.
With no more questions left to ask he abruptly left the table, pocketed his recording equipment, secured his weapons, went outside and I followed. The last of the bodies had been loaded into the vans and the helicopter was lifting off. He got into the last van and drove off without saying another word. I would probably never see him again. From experience, I knew the morning’s sunshine would not reveal any clue as to what had transpired this evening. The cleaners were very good at their jobs.
I went back into the cabin, turned off the floodlights with the indoor switch, freshened my drink liberally, grabbed my smokes, went outside and sat down on the front steps of the veranda. I sat, drank, smoked and waited for the fast approaching dawn sky to cast its first faint light in the distant horizon. My favorite time of day at this locale and I finally started to relax a little. But just a little, my nerves were still on edge and my rifle was at my side and my glock nestled in the small of my back.
My initial thoughts were on the events of this evening contemplating why violent death has no emotional impact or takes no toll on me what-so-ever and never has. It’s like an empty void. My instinct for survival is strong but that’s about it when it comes to overpowering emotions. Some things do touch me, I do believe in community and giving back, there are people I do care about and love but guilt, angst, worry, etc. are not found in any fiber of my body. Psychologically, I guess, I have a very different make-up than most people. Probably one of the main reasons as to why I have survived for so long in this double life I have been forced to live.
But my thoughts, as often times happen, started drifting back even further, to thirty years ago. To when my life was more peaceful, to when there was no killing and I was a different person. To the birth of when all of this madness began. A life that is impossible for me to leave. Back to the beginning, back to Los Angeles, everything always seems to center around L.A.