Guardian (12 page)

 

Chapter Twenty

M
ike finished his ninth Sudoku puzzle as a bit of turbulence rumbled down the fuselage, causing the last number to curve up into the box above. He lifted the pen and sighed, closed the puzzle book and slipped it into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of him. He turned and looked out the window over the wing. Only about another hour before they would be on the ground in Tel Aviv.

“How's the view?”

Mike turned from the window and found Uriel sitting next to him.

“What now?”

“Things are changing.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a new variable in this equation I cannot see yet.”

“I'm starting to think this wasn't such a good idea.”

“What's that?”

“Getting on a plane and heading into the lion's den.”

“Remember—­”

“The mark is not a curse, and this has to happen, and I need to be a part of it. Right on all three points?”

“You forgot one.”

“What's that?”

“You need allies going forward.”

“How the hell do I get allies in all this?”

“Through conversion.”

“Conversion?”

“To your side.”

“How the hell am I supposed to convert ­people? Storytelling? Fat chance there. Glenn still doesn't believe me and I have doubts anyone else will, either.”

“They need to witness.”

“Witness what?”

“What did it take for you?”

Mike thought about Semyaza throwing dead bodies at him. “Fuck me.”

“Don't go all doom and gloom on me. I'm sure it'll all work out in the end.”

“You're sure. As in, you don't know.”

“I know very little.”

“Great.” Mike sipped from a can of Budweiser on his tray table. “Any other vague news you want to tell me?”

“When did you start drinking again?”

“Recently. But in moderation. I've got it under control.”

“Keep it that way.”

“You don't have to worry about it.”

“Right.”

He set the can down. “What's on your mind?”

“How are you going to find him?”

“Kharija? I don't know yet. I have to see what Kitra has found out. Maybe talk to this guy from the order they caught. Other than that, I figure if Kharija wants me to hunt him so badly, he'll toss out a few more clues.”

“He wants you to chase but he also wants to catch. There's a trap if you follow the trail he leaves.”

Mike nodded. “True, but that's the risk I have to take, right?”

“Just remember to keep it simple and don't do anything stupid.”

“Gee, thanks. Any other top-­notch advice?”

“Perhaps stupid is the wrong word. Try not to react based on emotions.” Uriel pointed at the beer. “That's the result of you dealing with the deaths of Greengrass and the others. It's your way of dealing with the rage, because you know unchecked rage can cause you to act against better judgment. You have to be on a stronger guard now because Kharija and his master are hoping for you to do the wrong thing.”

“I know.”

“But the alcohol also weakens you. Stay in balance and remember that every move being made has a specific goal motivating it; capturing you. You can't avoid this fight but you also can't play into their hands.”

Mike took another sip. “This isn't my first rodeo.”

“It is, against this type of opponent.”

“Semyaza—­”

“Was an out of control force. He didn't scheme and calculate. This one plays chess. Think of it that way.”

Mike nodded. “I get your point.”

“You also have to get other emotions under control.”

“Like what?”

“Like your guilt over your daughter.”

Mike gritted his teeth. “She'll be okay. Kharija won't find her.”

“I am not referring to any danger she may be in.”

“What are you talking about, then?”

“All of this has reawakened feelings of failure in you. Regret. Would haves, could haves, should haves, correct?”

Mike kept his mouth shut and stared at the back of the seat in front of him.

“You have to free yourself from these emotions or they will hold you prisoner. This is not a time to descend into navel gazing.”

“Easier said than done. I'm pretty damn good at spinning shame cocoons.”

“It
is
easy.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Confess.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Uriel sighed. “Spill your guts, Mike. Say it out loud and free yourself from its weight. Offer it up.”

Mike laughed. “I haven't been to confession since I was . . . hell, seventeen?”

“So?”

“I've done a lot of bad shit. Might take a day or two.”

“Well, considering this is a dream and we're technically outside of time and space . . . shoot.”

Mike readied another smart-­ass remark but the words failed to form. He looked from Uriel to the beer. His chest tightened as he considered his feelings. He went to grab the Bud but stopped when he noticed his hand trembling.

Don't let this fuck with you,
he thought, and withdrew his hand.

Mike chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds before he spoke. “I haven't seen or talked to my daughter in a long time. Last time I saw her, she was no taller than my knee and had pigtails and laughed at just about everything. She's a teenager now and I don't know what she looks like. I don't have any idea what my daughter looks like. What does that say about me?”

He grabbed the beer and polished it off. “I was a shitty husband and am a shitty father. I chose the job over them. Instead of them, I have ghosts that rely on me to nourish them with my guilt for, you know, killing them. I gave my family up for a life of death.

“But look at me now. Racing across the world not because Kharija had a bunch of ­people I know killed, but because he threatened my daughter.”

Mike chuckled and rubbed his eyes.

“I'm so fucking stupid. I chose a career of death over life with my family.”

“It's the paradox of the guardian,” Uriel said. “You cannot have that which you protect. You chose your life and separated from your family to ensure their safety. To this point it has been a wise decision, especially taken in comparison to Kharija. He did not separate his loved ones from his life and look where that has gotten him.”

Mike chewed on that for a moment. He hadn't seen the similarities before.

“A true guardian severs all ties that may hinder him in the performance of his duties,” Uriel said. “When one loses sight of their true obligation, disaster ensues. Again, look at Kharija. Look at his former order. They grew lax and lazy. And what has resulted? Semyaza's escape. Kharija's betrayal. It goes on and on. All involved on that side, including the one controlling Kharija, at some point failed or refused to serve. They lost sight of their true purpose. And they fell as a result.”

“What do you guard, Uriel?”

“Whatever I am told to.”

Mike smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

“Do you feel any better?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn't say all the regret magically vanished.”

“It is not supposed to. Take a board full of nails. Now pull all the nails out. What remains?”

“Holes.”

“Precisely. The board is your soul. Even as you pull those nails of sin out, they leave a mark. A memory. It will always be a struggle for you. What matters is facing it and accepting it. What matters is penance. You have looked at your actions, demonstrated detestation and regret, and you've expressed a desire to have done things differently. Your penance will be your ser­vice.”

“And this ser­vice will make me feel better?”

“It will set you free.”

“Great.” Mike wished he had another beer. “Freedom is servitude. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Please return your seats and tray tables to their full upright position,” Uriel said in a woman's voice.

“What?”

Mike opened his eyes and found a stewardess leaning in toward him. “Sir, we've started our descent into Tel Aviv. You have to return your seat and tray table—­”

“Got it.” He adjusted the seat and secured the tray table. With a gulp, he finished his beer and handed the empty can to the stewardess.

My penance will be my ser­vice.
Sure, shouldn't be too difficult.

A
s soon as the plane landed at Ben Gurion International, Mike pulled out his phone and checked his messages. The text from Glenn popped up first. Once Mike read it, he called his boss as the plane taxied to the gate.

“Deputy Cheatum.”

“Glenn, I just got your message. Where is he?”

“Phoenix. I'm on my way to pick him up.”

“How'd they catch the asshole?”

Glenn rattled off the story about the surveillance cameras at Greengrass's house snapping pics of their man and the TSA grabbing him at the airport. As he spoke, Mike couldn't help but get pissed off. The FBI had spent more time and effort on installing cameras than on ensuring there was enough manpower to protect Greengrass and his family. Technology's great, but not when it fails to prevent a bunch of murders.

They didn't take the threat seriously enough, and remembering Uriel's words about guardians, Mike knew they were lax.

“We caught a break this time,” Glenn said.

“So what are you going to do with him?”

“What do you think I'm going to do with him? Take him out for drinks?”

“Do me a favor and keep him on ice until I get back.”

Glenn was silent a moment. “That's a lot to ask. I need this guy to disappear yesterday before someone asks the wrong questions.”

“I know. If you can't I understand. But I want some time with him.”

“I'll see what I can do. Let me know once you're set up with Joseph.”

“Will do.”

Mike hung up and breathed a little easier. The man who'd directly threatened his daughter was in custody. One guy down. One to go.

K
itra stood near the gate waiting, arms crossed and lips tight. When Mike walked out of the tunnel, the Israeli waved and motioned for him to come over.

Mike nodded and shook her hand. “Good to see you again, Kitra.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“If you say so. Come, I have a car waiting for us. Any checked luggage?”

Mike motioned to the backpack slung over his shoulder. “No, just this. I'll need a gun.”

“No worries. I have you covered.”

Kitra led him out of the airport to an idling Mercedes.

“Driving a German car in Israel?” Mike said. “Tacky.”

Kitra smiled. “If only we made cars as nice as our firearms.” She opened the door and Mike climbed into the backseat. Kitra got in next to him and patted the seat in front of them. “Take us to the hotel, Ehud.”

Ehud pulled out and merged into traffic. Mike remembered him from Iraq. Part of the rescue team.

“Nice to see you again, Ehud,” he said.

“Likewise.”

Mike glanced out the windows and noticed a trail car fifty feet behind them.

“He is ours.” Kitra extended a pistol to him, grip first. “Beretta M9A1, if I am not mistaken.”

“You are not.” Mike took the gun and popped the clip out. Fully loaded and one in the chamber. Kitra handed him a shoulder holster to go with it. “Thanks.”

“I have a room booked for you at the Hilton. I doubt you will have time to enjoy the amenities but I wanted you to feel comfortable upon arriving. I know the time shifts can be draining.”

“No worries, Kitra. I'm ready to find this guy right away.”

“Let us get you checked in first. I also want to talk to you. In private.”

“Sure.”

Mike wondered what Kitra had to say that she couldn't say in the car. He figured it was something she didn't want Ehud to hear. But still, he got a vibe Kitra wasn't happy about something.

I
n the hotel, Mike dropped his bag on the bed and headed to the bathroom to wash up.

“I am going to have some food sent up from room ser­vice,” Kitra said. “Want anything?”

Mike turned the water on. “A cheeseburger, if they have one.”

“That is not kosher. You can order a hamburger with cheese on the side.”

“That's fine.” Mike soaped up his hands and splashed hot water on his face. “You won't be offended if I eat it in front of you?”

“As long as you do not try to kiss me after you eat it, I will manage nicely.”

Mike laughed, rinsed his face and dried off. He walked out of the bathroom, pulled the chair from the desk and sat down. Kitra was already sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So, why did you want to talk to me alone?” he asked.

“In Iraq, I never asked why this man Kharija kidnapped you. It was none of my business. But now he has come to my country in an effort to bait you into chasing him. An effort that has now succeeded. I need to know why this man is so interested in you, Michael.”

“Why didn't you ask me before?”

“Because Glenn asked for a favor in Iraq and I believe in helping out old friends and repaying debts. It did not involve Israel, and so Israel did not need to know. But ­people have been killed on Israeli soil by Kharija, and so now Israel needs to know. I need to know.”

“You recently called me when Kharija popped up in Haifa and told me I had an open invitation to come hunt him with you.”

“Yes, but at the time, you declined, and then shortly afterward ­people were killed trying to apprehend him. ­People covered in tattoos that seem to belong to the same secret group but for some reason are fighting each other. A secret group Kharija is also a member of. And Kharjia, we already know, wants you. So forgive me if I insist on hearing the backstory now.”