Running From Destiny, page 15
part #1 of New Beginnings Series
Sonic meowed in the passenger seat, and Amanda patted his head. “We’re almost there.”
He looked out the window and yowled.
“No, I’m not just going to walk up to the front door. I don’t need to give the director another excuse to get mad at me.”
She parked a block from the Fitzsimmons’s home and pulled out her binoculars, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of Anya, just to put her mind at ease. Maybe she was compelled by the oath she’d given to her father, but she had to know that Anya was all right.
She saw Melinda in the kitchen, doing the dishes. And then Amanda saw quick movement in one of the windows that overlooked the staircase. Melinda turned, dried her hands on a towel, and disappeared from view.
Moments later, the front door opened, and Anya appeared.
Sonic made that chirping sound that indicated excitement.
“I know, I see her.”
Anya skipped toward her mother’s car and leaned against it, waiting. She wore black shorts with a black halter top, a pink belt, and pink earrings.
Sonic gave a long, drawn-out meow that Amanda translated to, What the hell is she wearing?
“You know what, Sonic? She’s young, and she’s only now figuring out who she is. I’m just glad to see that she’s okay.”
Sonic narrowed his eyes and gave a sniff of annoyance.
“Agreed. She does have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Right on time, Agent DeCarlo,” said Leticia. “The director will see you.”
She motioned to the door and Amanda walked inside.
Fitzsimmons gave her a brief nod from the far side of his L-shaped desk. “Have a seat, DeCarlo.”
As Amanda sat down, he studied her with a look of… what? Disdain? Curiosity? Concern? She wasn’t sure.
“All right, DeCarlo, you wanted some time, you got it. What’s up?”
“Director, you look troubled.” Amanda modulated her voice to sound honey-smooth, almost flirtatious. That’s something he wouldn’t expect. “I’d be fascinated to hear what would ruffle the feathers of someone as cool as you.”
He frowned at the attempted small talk. “All the normal issues with being in charge of a dozen things at once. Nothing you’d be able to help with.”
Amanda leaned forward, putting her elbows on his desk. “Why did you block my transfer to the FBI?”
She spied the faintest glimmer of a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
“Why did you feel the need to get Top Secret clearance from the Department of Defense without asking permission? That level of screening is expensive—and not necessary for your job description. You work with need-to-know information on a per-assignment basis, no more.”
Amanda sat back and gave the director an unblinking stare. No flirtation now.
“Director, I’ve been with the project for a very long time. Longer than anyone else. I’m sick of being a lone wolf. I want to move up, lead teams again, manage groups of agents. I can’t seem to do that here, so I figured a change of venue was in order. They do the DoD security clearances here in Fort Meade, so it was easy for me to sign up with the intent of a transfer. However, I got notified this morning that my transfer was denied because my current supervisor had frozen my work transcripts. So here I am.”
Fitzsimmons rubbed at his nose, covering the lower half of his face. Other than that, there was no change in his demeanor whatsoever.
“Listen, Agent DeCarlo. I understand what you’re saying, and I’ll admit that your transfer request came as a surprise.” He leaned forward, jotted down a set of numbers that looked like a GPS tracking ID, and pushed the paper toward her. “But I need you for a special assignment. I have several people tracking this guy, but he’s been extremely elusive. Several times he’s been within arm’s reach and has evaded capture. He’s like you. You know…”
Amanda arched an eyebrow. “Has special skills?”
Fitzsimmons opened a folder and handed her another sheet of paper. “This is the latest T-39 tracking report on the target. As crazy as it seems, this guy has been hopping all over the place. Notice that he evidently has an affinity for India. He keeps going back there.”
Amanda frowned, tapping at the timestamps. “I don’t think these times are right. You have him going from India to Guam in five minutes.”
“Let’s just say that’s part of why we’ve had trouble capturing the bastard. He’s a proven menace, and he’d kidnapped my daughter—”
“He did what?” Amanda’s entire body tensed and a spark flashed at the tips of her fingers, accidentally scorching the T-39 report.
The director backed away and for just a second, Amanda thought she saw a fiery light in his eyes. “She managed to escape him, but he needs to be put down for what he’s done. If you can take this guy out of action, I’ll release your work records. This is personal for me.” He leaned across the desk. “He raped my daughter, and I aim to have this guy burning in hell before he gets a chance to do this to anyone else.”
A flame of fury burned in Amanda’s stomach. He raped her?
She gave a quick nod. “I’ll do it.”
As Leticia pulled up the file on the target and waited for the printer to finish spitting out papers, Amanda tried to put herself in Fitzsimmons’s shoes. How would she act in his place?
What had happened to Anya wasn’t an excuse for Fitzsimmons to freeze Amanda’s transfer, but she had to admit, if she were him, she’d be pulling out all the stops, legitimate or not, to get the guy.
She wanted to get the guy just as badly as the director did.
When Leticia handed the printouts to Amanda, she looked down at the target’s name.
Jason Rogers, I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done.
The Training Begins
Ramai wadded up a piece of paper and tossed it at Jason. “Get your head out of the clouds and study the alphabet tables I gave you.”
Jason shook his head in dismay. “How am I supposed to learn Hebrew and Arabic all at once? This stuff looks crazy to me.” There were hundreds of sheets of parchment arrayed in front of him.
Ramai laughed. “Don’t forget about Devanagari and Cyrillic. You best be grateful I’m taking it easy on you.”
“Easy?” Jason squawked. “Nothing about this is easy.”
Ramai shrugged. “You’ve not even looked at Chinese or Korean.” With a chuckle, he added, “And I hear cuneiform is making a comeback.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously. This seems a bit much.”
“The prophet Mohammad wasn’t even able to read or write before he sat down and wrote the Quran,” Ramai replied. “Yet in the Quran, he clearly states that he was given the knowledge on how to do it.”
Jason’s hopes rose. “You mean there’s a shortcut?”
Ramai threw another wadded paper at him. “You aren’t a prophet, and you’re going to learn the hard way.”
Jason frowned. “But what’s the point, Ramai? You speak all these languages already. You don’t need my help with that. I’m supposed to be your apprentice, right? So shouldn’t I be helping you with something?”
Ramai gave Jason a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, me boy. I’m not used to explaining that which is obvious to me. Your working on the languages will help us both. Zahseen, I’m the keeper of the prophecies. For me to do my job properly, I’m constantly poring through the wisdom of the seers of the past—looking for hints of what is to come.” He panned his arm across the room and all its books, scrolls, and clay tablets. “This is only a tiny portion of my library, and I only have two eyes. I’ll need someone to help me in the days to come.”
“Even with four eyes, there’s far too much stuff in here for anyone to read it all,” Jason countered.
“Oh, I’ve read all of it at one point or another. After enough time, you retain a memory of where things are. And it certainly helps that many of these prophecies are like an interwoven maze. The threads of destiny connect in patterns that you’ll eventually discern. You just need practice. Your mind must be prepared.”
“If you mean studying, I already know how to study. I got a scholarship to one of the best schools in the world.”
Ramai looked skeptical. “Then prove it. Whatever framework you lay now in your studies will expand exponentially upon entry to our special society. Study that which I gave you until your brain cramps. And then, study some more. Believe you me—you’ll be thanking me when it comes time for your tests.”
“So the more I study this stuff before my tests, whatever they are, the more my powers will grow at some point later?”
Ramai waved the question away and stuck his nose in a book. Clearly he felt this conversation was done.
With a sigh, Jason looked at the nearest chart of letters. “A… aleph… aliph… B… bet… ba…”
Jason yawned and stretched his arms. He had fallen asleep on Ramai’s bed, but Ramai was still up, reading yet another book.
“Who is Anya?” Ramai asked, without looking up.
Jason froze. How did Ramai know about Anya?
As if reading his mind, Ramai added, “You spoke her name while you slept.”
I dreamed about her?
“She’s a Rom,” Jason said. “I wish my mother had gotten a chance to meet her.”
“A girlfriend?”
“Sort of. She left me before I got shot in the shoulder. She thought she wasn’t good for me.”
“Was she?”
Jason felt a hollow in his stomach. “I think she’s perfect.”
Ramai put his book down. “You don’t have time for a relationship, Zahseen. Dating some lass from your past isn’t wise. Once you are part of our society, there’s a danger in having close relations outside of it. The other side could use her against you. But…” He paused, tapping his bearded chin. “You might consider a long-distance correspondence.”
Jason brightened at the idea, but there was one problem.
“I don’t have her email address.”
“Email?” Ramai sputtered indignantly and gave him a sour look. “Write a real note, Zahseen, like people have done for thousands of years. None of this e-garbage. You can get it to the lass while she’s sleeping. Just write.”
Jason swung his legs out of bed, grabbed a pencil and parchment, and began to write. It took him several attempts to find the right words—words that showed his interest in her while not sounding desperate. Words that didn’t promise more than he could give, and didn’t give away anything that her father might use against him.
When he was done, he looked up at the clock and made a quick calculation. “I’m ready. Can I take her the note? It’s just past midnight where Anya lives.”
“Not so fast, Zahseen.” Ramai wagged his finger. “You only think you know where this girl is. How do you know she isn’t on vacation? Or in a gathering of people who might not take too kindly to a man popping in magic-like?”
“Okay… then what do you suggest?”
Ramai closed his eyes and splayed his fingers. “Close your eyes and concentrate on her image in your mind…”
Jason focused on her dark hair, her pale skin, her full lips.
“As travelers,” said Ramai, “we can picture a scene and go arrow-like to it. But we can do more than that. With concentration, you can get a feel for the atmosphere of where you’d be going. If a party is going on, you should hear the music. If it’s daytime, you should feel the sunlight. Just calm yourself and attune to the power you’ve inherited.”
Jason relaxed and sent his senses across the miles. His breathing slowed, and he tried to do what Ramai suggested.
He sensed the inky darkness of night.
Is it working, or am I just imagining what I want to be true?
He concentrated harder.
He sensed walls nearby, felt the presence of a window. And then his throat tightened as he detected a familiar scent.
Anya.
He felt a moment of disorientation as he blinked and found himself back in Ramai’s living quarters. His mentor was studying him with a smile.
“It worked, didn’t it?” said Ramai.
Jason took a deep breath. There was no sign of the scent that he could have sworn had filled his nostrils just seconds before.
Ramai grinned. “Aye, I can see it done worked like a charm. If it’s safe, go visit that young lady friend of yours. Just be cautious. I’ve had me share of angry fathers chasing after me with a shovel when I snuck past a locked door into a girlie’s bedroom.”
Jason laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to leave her the note and go. I won’t do anything stupid.”
And with only the smallest effort, he found himself streaking across the world toward Anya, letter in hand.
In a Dwarf’s Footsteps
Jason struggled with his Hindi as he spoke to one of the fruit vendors in the market. In the end they resorted to a form of charades to negotiate the price on some mangos.
But just as they settled on a price, Ramai walked up. And with only a few words of Bengali—the merchant’s mother tongue—he sealed a deal for half that price.
As they walked through the market together, Jason asked what Ramai had said.
“It’s not what I said, but how I said it,” his mentor replied. “To get the hometown price, you have to negotiate like a native.”
“So says the man with the Scottish accent.”
“Hey, don’t you start making fun of me accent. I don’t even want to tell you what you sounded like trying to speak Hindi.”
As the words left Ramai’s mouth, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and for one long moment the cacophony of the market faded away. Ramai leapt in front of Jason, knocking them both to the ground.
As Ramai rose, two crushed bullets tumbled from the folds of his pristine white robe.
Was he shot? was Jason’s first thought.
Were those bullets meant for me? was his second.
But Ramai was uninjured. He picked up the pieces of metal, pocketed one, and held the other next to the mango. With a wave of his hand, he spoke a few words that Jason didn’t recognize, and the mango opened itself up, swallowed the bullet, and re-sealed itself. Then it began to vibrate and glow.
The rest of the world continued to move in slow motion as Ramai held the fruit high. It vibrated faster and glowed brighter until the dwarf looked as if he were struggling to hold on to a miniature comet. Then at last he let go, and the brilliant ball of light streaked toward a building nearly half a mile away.
As the projectile made contact with its target, a puff of greasy black smoke rose from the building and the loud rolling thunder of its explosion rocked the market.
Time returned to its normal pace.
Some shoppers raced toward the explosion while others stood staring in shock or ran in the opposite direction.
Ramai beckoned their escorts to come in close, then grabbed Jason’s elbow. “Zahseen,” he said. “Take us to our would-be assassins.”
In the blink of an eye, Jason brought their entire entourage to the crumbling remains of the building. Clouds of smoke obscured much of its base, but that didn’t dissuade Ramai’s men. Three of them ran into the wreckage. Jason was about to follow, but Ramai pulled him back.
“Wait, Zahseen. I sense none alive within the building, but let’s be certain.”
Two minutes later, the guards came back, covered in soot.
“Revered Master Ramai, there are eight bodies on the top floor. All Western men, all wearing the same dark clothing, no identification, and all heavily armed.”
Ramai looked at Jason and frowned. “You have enemies you aren’t aware of.”
“There’s no way the US government could have found me here.”
“Zahseen, I wasn’t asking a question. I’m telling you this with a certainty. You have enemies you aren’t aware of.” He poked his finger into Jason’s chest to emphasize the point. “You won’t be going anywhere without me. You hear me?”
“I hear you, Ramai.”
Ramai turned back toward the market. “Good. Because I’m afraid this is only the beginning. Tomorrow, we’ll be discussing some of the dangers only the prophecies dare speak of.”
Jason knew he should be thinking about these threats. But now that the danger had passed for the moment, he could only think about one thing.
Ramai blocked a bullet.
How?
India
In the back of the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter tracking the GPS location of the target, Amanda reseated her pistol in the shoulder holster and double-checked her supply pack.
The pilot came over the intercom. “Agent DeCarlo, good news. We can place you much closer to your target. Current weather shows a thick fog blanketing the area outside Jodhpur Park. Prepare for your mission insertion at Rabindra Sarobar Lake. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
Amanda had memorized the map of the area. Lake Rabindra Sarobar was much closer than she could have hoped.
An alert signal flashed on her communicator. She shrugged on her pack and flipped up the communicator’s visor to see the incoming message.
NATSAT Confidential Field Communications
-- DESCRAMBLER SESSION VERIFIED --
-- Communication instance #48ABF3AD --
Spotter Verified target @750 yds, elevation 12 feet, 0 wind.
Two shots launched from M107 .50 cal, vapor trails looks good
Target down
Mortar fire incoming
<< COMMUNICATION INTERRUPTED >>
NATSAT Confidential Field Communications
-- DESCRAMBLER SESSION VERIFIED --
-- Communication instance #9AB3FD2A --
<< MESSAGE RECEIVED>>
8 of 12 down – cause of death – RPG/Mortar fire.
Target not down
Repeat – Target not down.
Retreating to FOB Jackrabbit
