The Veteran

Chapter Nine

Another hour elapsed, and I made the call to Jones from the new burner phone.

"Mr. Jones, John Hunter,"

"Mr. Hunter, I'm here with my partners, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Williams. You are on a conference call, and you told us you don't have much time, so let's not waste it. We are prepared to offer you a position with our organization with a more than generous compensation package, including a $50,000 sign-on bonus. This offer is contingent on you agreeing to our terms, which we will spell out. Anything we say from this point forward is confidential and can't be discussed with anyone else. Considering you have a family, you may discuss this only with your wife but no others. Do you wish to continue with this conversation?"

I had thought about what this could mean for my family and me with our finances, but the terms were the ultimate deal maker or breaker, and I spoke, "Yes."

"Outstanding. We are a part of a multinational consortium whose responsibilities include working with governments to resolve certain issues that fall outside of the scope of their authority. We also work with corporations to help resolve situations considered a public relations issue, one of the reasons for our involvement with the QuickBuy Corporation and the string of robberies which has plagued them. They are one of many companies we assist. We also work with influential individuals who have issues that need resolution outside normal channels. Our services are unique, and we are well connected, as we assume you have determined on your own. Our calling on you wasn't accidental. After how you handled the situation, albeit barbaric as it was, we believe you could provide some raw talent that, once refined, would be of assistance to us."

"Ok, so you like how I handled myself, but that still doesn't answer the question as to why. I'm sure you have people who do this for a living, that are well-trained, well-educated, and have fewer liabilities than me."

"Very true. We do employ better-qualified individuals. What you offer is a certain level of anonymity we can't find from people in the industry. You have the proper training, and although you are older and not as honed as you once were, you have the raw talent we are looking for. So far, with everything that has happened to you, most of which we are aware, you have handled yourself we could say, quite creatively, and that's what we're looking for."

"So, let's say that I take this offer. What's the next step?"

"It's straightforward. You have to die." His statement was devoid of emotion.

"What the fuck do you mean, die?"

"You would cease to exist as a person, only on paper, that is. You will be given a new identity, free of the encumbrances of your current one. After that, you much complete certain training to continue your employment."

"So, what about my family? It's not like we can make them disappear. I'm sure my wife would not go for giving up her life, not to mention my kids. Making me disappear wouldn't be easy, I'm assuming."

"No, Mr. Hunter, it would not, which is why this position is not an easy one to fill and why our compensation package is as lucrative as it is. Asking someone to give up their identity has always proven challenging. We are selective with our prospective employees and invest a lot of resources into them from the start. As life-altering as this decision could be, we will give you 72 hours to decide, after which time, the offer will be rescinded, and you will have no further contact with us. Concerning your family, your wife and children would be given new identities under the guise of the Federal Witness Protection Program. We hope you will consider this offer, as we believe your life depends on it. We will be in touch."

The line went dead

Lose my identity? Lose all my connections with friends and family, except the wife and kids? Is this something I could do? Did I have a choice? Would they help to get the skinheads off our asses?

I had a lot to think about and discuss with Mary. We would all have to give up the life we had known, disappear off the grid, and become ghosts. I wasn't sure Mary would buy into it, but with this threat hanging over our head, including the Russians, we had few options remaining. The feds weren't proving helpful, and my buddies, as much as they wanted to help, were limited. I didn't like our lack of options.

Stopping for bathroom breaks and gas, the drive didn't take as long as I thought. I didn't venture far from the interstate, doing my best to blend with all the other travelers at the various interstate exits; grabbing food when I got gas, letting Jake take his breaks at the rest areas. I hadn't slept much the night before, so I kept a steady supply of coffee with me. It wasn't until I reached St. Louis that the trip became less monotonous. I had to leave the interstate and take a four-lane state highway for the remainder of the drive.

Wanting to see Mary and the boys kept my thoughts occupied. If she had decided to stay gone from my life, things would've been a lot different. I might not have been as careful as I had. We still had the BelyyaPrava problem hanging over our head, but at least we had been able to get the Russians to back off, at least for now. We would cross that bridge when we came to it. I didn't have any information on how the meeting with Nataliy Michenkov was going to work. I had little over twenty-four hours before they would notify me to set up the meeting, and I had a lot to do before then.

I reached the address Diego provided just as the sun was starting to set and stopped the SUV at the end of the driveway, which, judging from the distance, was about a quarter mile from the house. It was a farm with a large house, a couple of large dark shapes behind it, surrounded by lots of woods. It was about twenty miles outside Oskaloosa, Iowa, a small town about an hour southeast of Des Moines.

I couldn't figure out, for the life of me, why he had a farm, but he had done an excellent job of picking this place to safeguard Mary and the boys. It had been over a week since I had seen them, but it seemed like forever. I hadn't seen Diego in close to four years. This reunion should prove interesting.

As I expected, nothing was happening outside, and I turned into the drive. Knowing Diego, he would minimize all outside activity to keep any passersby curiosity at bay. As I approached the house, a curtain opened on one of the road-facing windows. I caught sight of Diego's face, and a few moments later, he stepped from the front door. He was armed with an AK and motioned for me to park around the back. He met me at the back door. I got out, followed by Jake, who put himself between Diego and me. They had never met.

Diego held up his hands in mock fear, "Whoa Killer. I'm not going to hurt your daddy."

"It's been too long, Brother. Way too long." He stepped in to give me a hug.

"Yes, it has, my friend. How are you holding up?"

"Apart from people wanting to kill us, I'm doing ok. Things have been quiet around here since those assholes left. I'm sorry I couldn't save Mac. I couldn't involve the authorities and had to bury him out back in the woods. I don't think anyone will come looking for him. He divorced a few years prior and was estranged from his kids. It sucks. He was a great dude. I wish he had listened to me. Everyone else left after the Russians were gone. It was getting too hot around here for them, and they couldn't hang bro. I pushed for them to stay, but no-go."

"You did what you could, Diego, and I appreciate that. You kept Mary and the boys safe. I couldn't ask for more than that. What happened to Mac?"

"He wasn't giving up without a fight, and they had us surrounded. He tried to pull some John Wayne bullshit and got himself shot. They executed him, bro. They are some cold-blooded motherfuckers. At least they didn't do it in front of Mary and the boys."

Mac had been our long-time friend but was always a little hot-headed when it came to confrontations. He never backed down from anyone, and now he had paid the ultimate price. I felt terrible for him, but he had made his choices, regrettable as they were.

"By the way, Mary and the boys are really excited to see you. Her parents, not so much."

That last part didn't surprise me. Although we could get along in the same room together, there was no love lost between us. I had accepted it as part of being in Mary's life. She hated that her parents were that way, but realized they would never change, regardless of our kids. Frank, her dad, had always been a hard case, Mary had a strict upbringing because of him. Jean, her mom, who was as stubborn as the day was long, was always looking for something to argue about and it didn't matter with whom. They made a good pair and had raised Mary well, but the age difference between Mary and I had always been something that stuck in their craw. They loved the boys with everything they had, treated them well, and spoiled them rotten. I was ok with that.

Mary had more of an issue with her parents than I did, and I was her sounding board. It was the cost of doing business with her family.

"Diego, I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for us, keeping Mary and the boys safe and all. I owe you my life, my friend. I could never repay this debt."

"What do you mean, debt? You saved my ass many times, so let's call it even, Compadre."

I nodded, and the back door opened.

It was Mary. She stood in the doorway, the light from the kitchen silhouetting her into the night. She was as beautiful as the first day I met her. She was tall, voluptuous, and always carried herself well, but like her mother, she was stubborn. The tears forming in her eyes, I hoped, from the happiness of my return. She took a few steps, I did the same to meet her, and then the boys came bolting out the door running past her, screaming Daddy, and Jake went running to her.

Damn traitor, I chuckled. As soon as he saw Mary, he forgot all about me.

That special moment was shattered, and she shook her head, wiped her eyes, and walked to me, wrapping her arms around my chest and burying her face in my neck. The boys were excited as well and wrapped themselves around my legs. I leaned my head forward, took her face into my hands, and kissed her deeply.

"I'm glad you're back. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, honey."

Another kiss, more hugging, and the boys begging to be picked up ensued. I scooped both up in my arms and stood, wincing when my left arm strained in protest from the bullet wound. Mary caught it and intervened, "Give Daddy a minute. He's been driving all day and is tired. He just got here, and you'll have plenty of time for play tomorrow. Go tell Grandma and Grandpa that Daddy's here." There were times when I thought Mary loved to rub it in her parents' face that we were together. She never failed to surprise me, one of the many reasons I loved her. Jake had other plans and put himself between us, vying for her attention, ignoring that I was standing right there. She leaned down to pet him, and he almost jumped into her arms. When we first rescued him, he was injured, and I was the one who tended his wounds, but he took a liking to her, although she resisted his affections. After the last few days, I wasn't surprised he was reacting this way, the comfort she provided far greater than what I could. She was the nurturer. I swear he looked at me like I had cut off his balls and was crying to momma.

Frank and Jean stepped from the door and approached. Most of the time, Frank never shook my hand and this time was no exception, "John, it's good to see you made it here safely." That was one of the nicest things Frank had ever said to me.

"Good to be here, Frank."

Jean acknowledged my presence and said hello, but neither ever had anything more than a than a casual greeting for me. They told the boys to come back inside and give Mommy and Daddy some time to talk. The boys moaned in protest and looked at me, "Do what Grandma and Grandpa say, and we'll be in, in a little bit."

Although my relationship with my in-laws was strained at best, I always supported their interactions with the boys, and we were all on the same wavelength concerning how to raise them. It was one of the few things we had in common, and I could live with that.

Diego said he would give us some time alone and he walked toward the barn. Diego wasn't a farm person, raised on the streets of Bogota, Colombia, so I had no idea what he was doing on a farm, let alone in the barn.

Mary looked at me, concern evident by her expression, "John, are you ok?"

"Not really, but I should be asking you that question. This past week has been rough for you, your parents, and the boys. It's been a while since I've had to deal with stuff like this and I can only imagine how you're feeling."

"Honestly, I'm scared to death. I keep wondering if someone is going to come to the farmhouse in the middle of the night and start shooting and kill us all. I've never been this afraid in my life, but I've had to keep not only the boys but my parents calm, as well."

I had done this. I had made my wife afraid. Before all this happened, she had never been afraid and always told me that I made her feel safe. I had destroyed that. I had taken away her safety net and replaced it with a blanket of fear I couldn't rid her of it, no matter what I tried, and every day, it worsened. I was still surprised she wanted me around. She could've walked away and stayed away. Her parents would've approved, and she would've been happier and safer.

She had a look of consternation on my face, "What's wrong?"

"I can't help but think I brought this on us. This is my fault. If I had walked away that day, ignored it and left, none...and I mean NONE of this would be happening."

"John, I've been doing a lot of thinking about this, and let me tell you one thing. Look, I really hate this shit, but you didn't bring this on us. You did the right thing. Although it was hard for me to understand and accept at first, I realized that without you doing what you did, a lot of innocent people would be dead, and those assholes would still be out there. You cleaned up some of the shit in this world, even if it was a small amount, I'm proud of you for it. Don't you ever think what you did was wrong."

With all that had happened, it was hard for me to accept it as 100% truth. For as long as she believed it, I would go with it. I had almost lost her and quibbling over minor details wasn't worth it.

"I'm not sure what to say, Mary. To be honest, those were the last words I expected from you. I thought we were heading for divorce, and I wouldn't blame you."

"Divorce? Are you kidding me? Sure, I thought about it for a split second because I was scared, but it kind of pisses me off that you think I would bail that easily, after going through what we have. Do you think I've fought with my parents about you all these years just to walk away because something bad happens? Yeah, it's some bad shit, but still."

"I'm sorry. I was worried I was losing you and maybe you're right. We do need to talk about a few things and figure out what we're going to do next. I have a lot to tell you, but I have to talk to Diego first about a few things to make sure we're all on the same page. I also need to call Viktor and tell him I made it. Why don't you head in the house? I'll be in a little while after I do that and unload the SUV."

"Ok, I'm glad you're back." She turned and headed inside.

I walked toward the barn, calling Jake to follow, but he was on the porch with Mary.

That's what I get for taking care of your ass. Damn dog!

I pushed the door aside. Diego was inside exercising, breaking a hard sweat. He stopped when I entered and approached me.

"Diego, I'm sorry about Mac."

"Yeah, me too. I wish he would've listened to me, man. He was always stubborn."

I could tell Diego was choked up about Mac dying. He and Mac had been close throughout the years, traveling around Europe, going to car shows, and hanging out a lot. I couldn't think of what to say, but he changed the subject.

"Anyway, glad you're back. What's going on?" I had seen him tear up once before, following a loss of one of our other teammates, Rod, who died on a mission in El Salvador.

"I'm doing alright, considering. I'm tired of running, Diego, and I'm really tired of people shooting at me."

"I hear ya, amigo. Same."

"We need to talk about a few things, but I need to know if this place is clean."

"Yeah, I swept it myself."

He was talking about the handheld receiver that would pick up any signal from electronic bugging devices. He was always a little paranoid about people listening in on him and took precautions.

"Diego, we are still up shit's creek, and the Russians have the paddle. It sucks about Mac, and I don't want to lose anyone else. I don't trust the Russians as far as I can throw them. I have less than 30 hours before I talk with Michenkov to arrange a meeting about this favor I owe them. I won't be able to follow through on it, and that will leave us in a precarious position. I don't believe the Russians will let us walk away, even if I do this. That's not their style. Their people are always on a short leash, either through blackmail or extortion, neither one I want to be party to. I also don't want Mary and the boys to feel like they are living in constant danger and fear. That's not fair to them."

"I hear you, my friend. Mac was good people. I'm not happy about this either," he said, "and it doesn't look like we have a whole lot of options left. With the skinheads on our ass, and the Russians having a hold on us, this is a lot to handle. Even with my contacts, it's going to be rough, and it's hard to say how long we can stay here. The Russians know we're here, the skinheads, given time, will figure it out, and I'm running thin on places to hide."

"Diego, there's something I need to tell you, and it can go NO further than this room. I'm going to tell Mary, who will help me explain it to the boys, but only the five of us can know. Not Viktor. Not her parents. No one. Understood?"

He ran his fingers across his lips in a zipping fashion, "Nothing from me, amigo."

I took the chance and decided to tell him about the conversation I had with Jones and what they were proposing, including having to disappear forever. He wasn't thrilled but agreed that working for them was a better choice than remaining indebted to the Russians and having to watch over our shoulders. He was neck deep in this as well, but wasn't on the skinheads' radar, as far as we could tell. If we could get the Russians to back off, he could walk away, free and clear. He was concerned more for us than he was for himself. That was Diego. He always looked out for others first.

I told him I needed his help in convincing Mary. She would balk at the proposal. This wasn't going to be an easy victory with her, and I had to figure out a way to convince her that going with the organization was in all our best interests, based on my experience with these types of situations. Diego agreed. We unloaded the SUV into the barn, leaving a few weapons in the SUV, and taking some to the house. As we walked toward the house, Mary stepped out and stared at our arms, now loaded with weapons.

"John, you know how I feel about guns in the house," she stated, arms folded as she stared at me.

"I know, but after what's happened, I'm not going to be without firepower. I've had too many close calls, and I'm certainly not going to leave these in the SUV or the barn."

"You make sure the boys can't reach them. I don't want them thinking they're ok to play with."

"I will. "

If we had started them younger, teaching them about firearms, we wouldn't have this problem. As it was, the boys thought guns were toys, and Frank, although I knew he had a rifle, didn't do much shooting, nor had I ever talked with him about handling firearms. It seemed like a taboo subject in their house, so I left it alone. At our home, Mary would let me bring my pistol in if it was locked in my nightstand gun case, the kind that required a key and fingerprint reader.

By the time we were settled in, it was approaching midnight. I could tell the boys were getting tired, eyelids drooping, yawning and I walked them up to the bedroom Diego had given them.

As they settled into their beds, Matthew asked me, "Dad, are you leaving again?"

"No, Matthew. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Are you sure?" Jacob asked.

"I'm sure, boys. I don't plan on going anywhere. Things are going to be ok."

"When do we get to go home?" Matthew asked, the creases on his forehead showing concern.

"I'm not sure, Matthew, but Mommy and I will tell when we can."

"I want to go home," Jacob said.

"I know you do. We all do, but we can't. We're trying to figure things out, and as soon as we do, we'll let you know."

I was sure those weren't the answers they wanted. I didn't know what was going to happen and I didn't want to cause more concern.

I sat down and told them one of my famous make-it-as-you-go-along bedtime stories, this time about dragons that live in the water, and they seemed to enjoy it. I watched them drift toward a deep slumber as the story neared its end.

I kissed them goodnight and walked to the door, turning the light off as I stepped into the hall.

"Sweet dreams, boys. I love you both very much." I swear they smiled.

I closed the door. I knew I wouldn't have any answers to their question about going home anytime soon. Their happiness and safety were my primary concern, and I felt the heaviness in my chest, knowing I had brought this on them.

I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a plate sitting on the table, steam rising from the microwaved food. Jean had made a roast, with fresh baked potatoes and fresh vegetables for dinner. This was my first home-cooked meal in a long time. MREs and fast food had been my primary means of sustenance for the past week and a half, and this meal was a welcomed reprieve.

Jean and Frank joined us in the kitchen with a look of annoyance on their face. My returned glance of "I don't have time for this shit" didn't help the tension in the room. For the first few minutes, I ate in silence with Mary at my side, resting her hand on my arm. Frank gave me several of his typical glares from across the table.

"John, Mom and Dad said they'll stay as long we need them to,"

I gave her an inquisitive look, knowing they couldn't leave when they wanted considering the danger of the situation. Mary was trying to help, but all I wanted to do was relax and enjoy my meal.

"That's good. I appreciate you being here with Mary and the boys," directing my comment to them.

"Of course. We're glad to help." Frank didn't say a word, continuing with his scowl.

I had been ambushed twice in the past week, made a deal with the Russians, lost a dear friend, and was now on the run from crazy white supremacists. It wasn't your normal dinner table conversation. I was glad the boys were in bed.

"How are you doing, John?" Jean, attempting genuine concern.

I wasn't sure if it was feigned, but I took it as it came.

"No worse for wear," I said, returning to filling my mouth with food.

Mary gave me a sidelong glance and smirk she always gives me when she knows I'm laying it on a little thick. She could tell I was beat all to hell, but I refused to let Frank and Jean see it.

"Mary told us you lost your job. What do you plan on doing now?"

I glanced back at Mary, raising one of my eyebrows, attempting to show my covert displeasure

"I'm not sure yet, but with my experience, finding another job shouldn't be too hard once all this blows over." I took another bite of food to avoid talking.

"How are you two situated for money? If you need some, we could loan you some until you find a job."

"We're fine. We'll be ok."

Now I was getting annoyed by the questions. Our financial status was none of their business, and I didn't want to give them anything more to hold over my head, considering everything that happened thus far.

"If you need anything..." she started to say.

"We'll be fine, Jean. Thanks for the offer." I feigned a smile.

As I finished eating, Frank put his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Jean and I would like to talk to you, now that the boys are in bed."

"Isn't that what we're doing now?"

Before he could respond, Mary interrupted her father, "Dad, John's had a stressful week, and yes, while I agree we have some things to discuss, I need to speak with my husband before anyone else."

Jean piped in. "Frank, she's right. They haven't seen each other in a while, and they need their time first. What we need to say can wait."

"Tomorrow morning we'll talk if your schedule's not too busy for us."

"Dad, that's not necessary."

Frank got up from the table and headed for the living room.

"John, I'm sorry." Jean spoke, "It's been a rough couple of weeks, and we just want to talk about a few things with you when you have some time. Frank will be fine. I'll leave you two alone now."

Mary reached and placed her hand on mine, "I'm glad, I mean, really glad you're home. It's been hell around here, especially with my parents. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger when you needed me to be. I feel like I let you down."

I put my other hand on top of hers, "You've never let me down," I said, "you did what you thought was right at the time, and I'm glad you took the opportunity to come to see your parents with the boys. I will admit it caught me off guard at first, but it helped me, knowing you were safe and allowed me to do what I needed to do. If you had been there, who knows what would've happened. It worked out the way it was supposed to."

Diego walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. He looked at us and smiled. I couldn't have asked for a better friend. He was the friend to me that I should have been to him. Since his first wife had died, he had become a hermit, working at his job and on his cars to occupy his time. He was an avid car nut and collected vintage street rods. He had a small warehouse full and was buying more all the time. He had remarried for a short while to a trophy wife, but that didn't last long. She hated his cars, his life, and his farm. He cleared his throat, "Viktor?"

I had forgotten to call Viktor, "Damn it, I forgot. I'm going to step outside and call him, and then Diego and I need to talk with you."

Diego gave me the "thanks for throwing me under the bus" look and shook his head.

As much as I hated doing that to him, I was going to need his help in convincing Mary this option was the only viable option long term. I pulled the burner phone from my pocket and turned it on. A text message from Viktor popped up with question marks.

Damn, Sorry Viktor.

I called him.

"John, I guess you are alive. You make me worry."

"I'm sorry, Viktor. We got so caught up in everything. I'm sure you understand. I lost track of time talking Mary and the boys. I made it safely, but we'll need to meet soon. Something important has come up that we need to discuss in person."

"It is ok, my friend. Pickle is not so bad now. Marusya and Illyana are safe now. That is most important. She is not so angry anymore. You tell me when and where we will meet, and I will be there."

Diego stepped out the door and mouthed for me to say hi to Viktor. I relayed that to Viktor, and he said, "You tell dirty Mexican, Viktor says hello."

It was a long-running joke between the two of them. Diego hated when anyone called him a Mexican, and Viktor knew this, calling him one just to piss him off. They had gone to blows more than once over it, as brothers often do.

"Viktor, I'll call you to set up a time. Thanks for everything, my friend. I couldn't have done it without you."

"You are like brother, John. I do anything for you," he said, 'I will go now as Marusya is making midnight snack. Be safe, John." and he hung up.

"Diego, Viktor said to say Hi to the Dirty Mexican" I added.

Diego's face flushed a bit, and said, "Asshole."

It was good to reconnect with my friends, my brothers-in-arms, even under these circumstances.

We had saved each other's lives countless times and never kept score. That was what we did.