SOLITARY LEADERSHIP
“And if it will make no peace with thee, but will make war against thee, then thou shalt besiege it.”
–Deuteronomy
07:39 Sunday
Rahat, Israel
It was an American weapon. The shape of the barrel, the grip, the magazine . . . and the shooter. “My men are growing impatient, Eli,” the American said—though he spoke perfect Hebrew.
“Not a problem.” Eli could feel his voice growing hoarse from the cool morning air. He kept his eyes on the pistol the American played with. “Their loss—not mine.”
“If I don’t walk away with what I came for, you’ve got plenty to lose.”
“You’re quick to make threats.”
“I’m faster to carry them out.”
Eli smiled. Then he laughed. Who was this American that could demand information without fear? And yet, who was Eli to refuse him? The man—or Brady, as he called himself, would surely kill him if he wasn’t satisfied. But what would keep him from killing him if he was? “When you’re ready to talk business, I’ll listen.”
Brady smiled. He reached into one of the deeper pockets of his black leather jacket and pulled out a wad of cash—and a thick one at that. “I’m all business, Eli.” He handed him the bundle.
Eli fingered through it, then turned to Brady. “What do you want with him?”
“None of your concern. Will you take me to it?”
Eli sighed. “Put the gun away. I have young children.”
Brady put it behind his jacket and stood. “I’m ready.”
Eli swallowed. Brady seemed somewhat sincere. But he couldn’t be trusted. He led the American to the middle of the small, boarded-up house and through the hatch that led to the basement. The voices of his children could be heard from the room across as they climbed down the stairs.
“A baby?” Brady asked.
“None of your concern.”
They went through another door that led them to Eli’s office. He walked to his desk and opened the drawer. In the corner of his eye, he could see Brady walk from the door and closer to his desk. Then he picked up a few of his books and flipped through them. “What this?” Brady asked as he held up Eli’s Bible.
Eli stepped forward and snatched it from the hands of the American.
“I didn’t think you were the type.”
Eli kept his eyes down as he searched for the papers. Who was Brady to speak as he did? At last—he found it: an envelope at the bottom of his drawer. He turned to Brady and squeezed the envelope. “You must never tell him it was me.”
The American reached for it. “I give you my word.”
“That’s not worth much these days.”
He furrowed his brow and took the paper from Eli’s hands. “Mine is.”
Dust fell from the ceiling.
He could hear his breathing grow more rapid.
Then he heard it: the planes.
Then came the horrific sound he had learned to fear more than anything.
Eli lunged forward and knocked Brady to the ground just as the sound had reached its peak. Everything became so much darker. Something exploded . . . something collapsed. Eli could feel incredible pressure on his legs—then they were numb. He could see the sky—but it was filled with black smoke . . . from his house.
A deafening roar came from above again and then the firing of guns and raining of bullets. Searing pain entered into every part of his body. He tried to move his legs but he couldn’t feel them. He tried to turn over but something was keeping him down.
Then . . . there was screaming.
The cries of his children only a few rooms away. Had the Palestinian planes destroyed everything he loved?
He cried out in his pain.
The smell of smoke gagged him until there seemed to be not a breath of air to take in. The other smell was terrible. It was a mixture of burning rubber and blood. The cries of his children had faded—but they weren’t dead. They couldn’t be. His baby boy, only two days old, his two daughters . . . they couldn’t be.
The smoke had filled the sky so that everything was black. He could hear the blaring sirens of the IDF and the screaming of women and children on the streets.
But then he felt something move beneath him.
Brady.
The American tried to crawl out from under him. Eli tried to move—but he could still feel only his arms, and one he was sure was broken.
The American groaned and grunted until he had worked his way free from the rubble. He would run away—just like everyone else—and leave Eli to die alone, only a few rooms away from his dying wife and children.
But no . . . Brady hadn’t left. He was trying to lift whatever had fallen on Eli. He cried out as he tried to lift it—but it was in vain.
“Brady . . .” Eli said.
But the man’s grunting drowned out his quiet call.
“Brady . . .”
“I’m going to get help!” He said and began to run away.
“Brady!”
The man stopped. He knelt beside the man. Brady was so young and his eyes wide with the newness of what he had just experienced. His face was tense in anticipation for Eli to speak. His face was bloody and covered in dirt.
“Brady . . .” Eli used all of his remaining strength to lift his hand, raising the small book that he had never let go of. “For you.”
Brady looked at the book and stood again. “I’m going to get help.”
“No!” He knew it was too late for that.
The American knelt back down and eyed the book. He took it from Eli’s hand
Eli let go and let his arm hit the rubble beneath him. “My children . . . my wife . . .”
Brady nodded. “I’ll find them. I promise. They’ll be ok.”
Eli smiled.
Then all the pain faded away—and he was far from Israel.
***
One month later
19:48 Monday
Sydney, Australia
He was more confident than the others and would be hard to break. The shorter of the two figures led and when they came to the locked door, he pulled a key from his pocket and wedged it into the hole. He glanced back at the tall, almost arrogant kid behind him to make sure he hadn’t left. He could sense the uneasiness of the amateur. He could see right through his egotism and into the fear that was at the point of making him do something foolish.
Not now, kid, he thought. Don’t screw up now! He felt for the pistol in his holster just as the door opened. The “kid” followed him through. The moment he stepped in, he began to feel for a light switch.
“Don’t bother,” The elder of the two said in Japanese. “I flipped the breaker.”
The younger one turned away from the wall and squinted as he tried to look through the darkness.
“Now, what’ve you got for me?”
“Do you mind me asking why we’re doing this in a church?” The kid said in the same language.
“Because I make the decisions, and this is where I do business.”
“Isn’t that . . . a little disrespectful?” The kid’s face held a smirk that the elder didn’t like.
He pulled his pistol out and cocked it. “Let’s just get this over with, kid.”
He smirked. “Kid? Do I look like a teenager to you, Ichiro?”
Ichiro pointed his pistol toward the wall and looked down through the sights. “No,” he said, and then let his smile escape. “but you act like one. Have you got it, or not?” He dropped his pistol to his side.
The kid licked his lips but somehow appeared confident. “I promised the money when I approve of the product.” He held out his hands and eyed Ichiro’s pockets. “Let’s see it.”
Ichiro smiled and shook his head. “Wrong answer.” He held his pistol at arm’s length and held it up to where the kid was between his sights.
“Hey, you said you wanted the money, and I’m the only one who can give it to you.” The kid finally let his fear show through. He held up his hands.
“I’ll find someone else. You missed your chance, kid. Any last words?”
He swallowed hard and sighed.
“I guess that’s a no.” He pulled his finger back and the hammer went back with it. A pop sounded in the large church building. The kid stepped back, looked at Ichiro with a blank face, and fell to the ground. He groaned loudly and seemed to almost weep.
Ichiro’s deathly frown turned into a smirk and a roll of eyes. He extended his hand toward the dying kid.
The wounded looked into his eyes and sighed. He took his hand and stood. “You got me,” He said in a gruff tone.
He holstered his pistol. “You bet I did,” Ichiro said. He walked toward the door with the kid right behind him.
“Ok, what was it? Was it when I held up my hands?”
He smiled as they opened the door and exited the building. “No, but that wasn’t exactly your finest.”
The kid ran around him and stopped in front, forcing him to stop. “C’mon Will, what was it?”
Will looked away for a moment. “Because if you had the money you wouldn’t have been so nervous.”
“What makes you think I was nervous?”
Will smiled and sighed. “It was when you were looking for the lights.”
He sighed and turned away. “Wouldn’t anyone? And why in a church?”
He went around him and kept walking. “Because it’s where I do business.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got a ride to the HQ at the end of Pier St.,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
The kid sighed and they went their own way.
***
It rang for five seconds. The longest so far. A hoarse voice came over the phone. “Chase.”
Will sat forward and leaned on the desk in front of him. The room was dark—but he wanted it that way. “Yes sir,” He answered.
A long sigh came over the other end. “I never should have gone back.”
“What are you talking about?” Chase asked.
“Pakistan. I never should have left.”
“This isn’t the end. I promised it wouldn’t be.”
The voice sighed again and his tone grew even more intense. “Then you were wrong to promise. This is the end. Not for you, but for me.”
“You’re wrong—”
“It’s not what we thought it would be. I’ve come to accept that. Now it’s your turn. I’ve seen you with the others. You could’ve taken my place any day, but you didn’t. Now I’m asking you to.”
Will took a few deep breaths. “It was never supposed to come to this.”
“Let go of what happened in Seattle. I’m paying for what I knew was wrong.”
“What you knew was wrong? I thought you were stronger than that.”
“Me too. But prison brings out the worst in everyone.”
“I can talk to someone—”
“No, or they’ll put you away too.” For the first time, his words were clear. He quickly lowered his tone.”But there’s still a good fight to be fought.”
“Don’t give up yet!” he whispered.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for you. This is what you need. This is what the LAU needs.”
Will sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. “I never wanted this for us.”
“I know . . . I know.”
Click.
Will put his phone away. He sighed and stood. “It’s done.” He turned and faced the woman who stood behind him.
Her face was solemn but she held a small piece of hope in her eyes. “It was his choice.” She said the words softly, and low. “He knows what’s best for us.”
Will nodded and turned towards the door. “I know.”
The streets were dark and quiet. The two walked side by side until they reached the end of Pier St. A second car waited for them by the curb. Its headlights flickered on once the driver had seen them.
Will reached to open the door for her, but the driver of the car had already stepped forward. He clicked the door open and shut it behind her just after she climbed in, leaving the two men in the darkness.
“What did he say?” The driver said. His face held no expression, it was his mere voice that gave away his fear.
Will took a deep breath. He didn’t want to tell him any more than he had to . . . at least, not right now. “He’s ready.” Will pulled the door open and took his place beside the woman. They made eye contact and immediately he could see that she knew.
The black sports car pulled up to a desolate parking garage. The driver scanned his ID before the doors opened. He parked the car and the three emerged and walked only a short distance away to an elevator. They pushed the button for the last floor, and the silent doors slid open. The elevator took them to the third floor, then after three spate scans from each individual, it fell to the floors below. No, there weren’t just three floors. There were three above ground and seven below.
Their headquarters were named Triphibia, meaning, triphibian, an object—or as they concluded—an operation that can operate on water, on land, and in the air.
At the last level, the doors opened once more, revealing the two men that sat around a long table, their voices hushed.
The woman and driver sat across from each other—closest to Will. The other two men leaned forward. “Did he do it?” one man asked.
Will smiled. “He did.” He flipped a switch, lighting the large room so that he could see their faces clearly. He leaned forward and put his hands on the table. “It won’t be long now.” He pushed a silver button on the glass table and a map appeared. “J. N. Harp Prison.” He said as the five leaned over the map. “The entrance, the cell, and his exit. He doesn’t want our help or I would get Julia to turn off the power. He asked that all we do is wait for him to give us the signal.” He pointed at the cell. “From his suite to his exit is approximately 500 meters. He’ll have to get through the guards, the cameras, and the door to his cell.”
“What’s it made of?” The “kid” asked.
“Steel. But you’re not removing it, you’re . . . replacing it.”
The kid raised his eyebrows.
“It won’t be an in and out job, that’s why we’re going to have a disturbance at the other end of the prison.”
The driver leaned in closer.
“Nate, I need an accident at the other end.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“A noise . . . and explosion?” The kid asked.
Will cocked his head. “I was thinking more of an escape.” He pointed to one of the cells beside Dailey’s. The guy in this cell has conveniently moved out, so we’ll be filling the gap. And Mr. Phillips, I’d like you to—”
“Just Greg.” The older man said with raised eyebrows.
Chase nodded slowly. “Yes sir. If you don’t have any objection, you’ll be a mile from the car in our getaway. Would you be willing to fly it?”
“Whatever you need.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The kid sighed and leaned forward. “What about you?”
Chase studied his face. There was a hint of bitterness in his eyes that told him he needed to explain. “Dailey’s call was recorded and is currently being analyzed to find a code. They’re expecting an army to show up at the front door and remove Dailey from the prison. They have been ever since Seattle, that’s why we’ve had to wait so long. If no code is found or broken, the prisoner will be transferred to a prison in New York where he’ll be surrounded by more sophisticated security and in harsher conditions, giving him almost no communication or exposure to people on the outside. But as of now, Dailey is of no importance, and if they find him escaping, these men will shoot to kill.” He eyed the kid. “I’ve got to make sure he gets out of there alive.”
No more was said, and it seemed he understood. Will flipped off the lights when the others had left and closed the door behind him. The large, quiet building didn’t seem quite as welcoming without the others.
After the others had left the building entirely, He found himself walking back to his car with his hand on his holster. But what was he afraid of? He examined his surroundings as he walked toward his black Camaro. The streets were empty. The thought of being watched wasn’t something he dreamt of, but it was how he felt now. The eerie feeling of eyes on him was a sensation he couldn’t shake away. Will unlocked his car and started the engine. He leaned against the headrest and closed his eyes. Without Dailey, he knew the fate of the LAU would rest on his shoulders. And the people who fought against it would first attack Will.
He opened his eyes and brushed away the thoughts. He refused to let fear paralyze him into being paranoid.
His apartment was anything but comforting with its dark walls and small spaces. The stairs up to his door creaked with every step. He opened the door and turned on the lights. His narrow bed tottered when he sat on it. The walls beside him smelled strongly of mold and newly applied paint that tried to cover it up. The floor was cracked in several areas and if it were to rain, Will was sure the roof would leak.
But he was determined to stay low. Australia knew about the LAU just as much as America did, and the latter was looking for its agents everywhere.
He wanted so badly to sleep, but the thought of what would take place tomorrow made his mind race with anticipation. It was the excitement of his plan taking place and the fear of it not succeeding that kept him awake nearly the entire night.
He closed his eyes and contemplated what would take place the following day.
His curiosity overcame his anxiety as he thought of how the agents would be in the field after being trained. He had guided them and directed them for eight months without Dailey over him. In only a few hours, all of their training would be tested.
