Agent Jack Knight: The Beginning

  ~ * * ~

  “Wish they’d git here already,” Hondo grumbled.

  “Still have thirty minutes to go,” I pointed out calmly. “Although my guess is neither will want to be late for the party and…” I broke off as a group of five older model pickups, carrying at least a dozen armed men each, trailed a late model Suburban as it pulled up to the front gate.

  Arguing and angry gesticulation followed and eventually the lead vehicle moved inside the fenced compound and proceeded to pull up to the front of the house.

  “Luis Cortez,” Hondo muttered next to me.

  A well-dressed man calmly exited the front passenger side of the Suburban and casually joined Santos, who had miraculously appeared on the porch, shaking hands and allowing himself to be led into the house.

  “Won’t be long now,” Hondo grinned wolfishly in anticipation.

  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “Get goin’, don’t wanna get caught with yer pants down when Mendoza gets here,” he chuckled.

  “Oh…now you believe in my plan.”

  “Mind the mines,” he offered by way of send off.

  We’d been in Colombia over a year and I hadn’t seen any of the mines that we’d been prepped by Garrett to deal with, but I no longer had to wonder why. Before I’d arrived on the scene, while Hondo was trying to figure out a way inside the compound, he’d made an important discovery…the mines were Franklin’s…placed around the compound apparently to keep out unwelcome visitors like us.

  During the week that followed our reunion, I’d noticed the comings and goings of a plane and helicopter identical to the ones I’d been trained to fly. I didn’t even bother to feel surprised.

  It did, however, set me to wondering how Garrett had been so well informed. Things were looking very dark for him indeed. The mines, along with the presence of a helicopter and plane of the exact same types as the ones I had practiced on, were just more nails in his already closed coffin.

  Garrett had known exactly what we were up against and had sent us in blind.

  As I approached the rear of the compound, careful to keep out of sight of any windows—or portholes as I’d been trained to call them—I heard gunfire and knew it was time.

  The Mendoza’s had arrived.

  I didn’t bother to hide my intentions as I approached the fence, careful to line up with the portholes in the very middle of the back wall of the house in order to avoid the active mines. Hondo had been a busy bee the previous night as he’d disarmed the two mines in that area, wiring all of the others together, and snipping the fence to allow me a point of entry.

  As I quickly pulled back the cut wires, I didn’t waste time on finesse nor did I bother to cover my tracks as I moved towards the house. No one would be bothering me…not with the war going on towards the front of the compound.

  Although I hadn’t been allowed in every room of the house, I’d been offered a bedroom the first night we’d arrived in Colombia and that was where I headed, guessing it would most likely be empty. It was.

  I slashed the screen with my knife and busted the glass, reaching in carefully to unlock it, and then shoved what was left of the pane up.

  Once in the room, I wasted no time. I knew exactly where Franklin’s office was and I suspected he would be there packing up whatever he thought was essential for a quick get-a-way depending on the outcome of the feud outside. Neither group was going to be feeling too pleased with him.

  As I reached the door of the office, I noted that it was slightly ajar and drawing my Colt, I slid silently into the room.

  Santos and Franklin were both furiously attempting to shred apparently damning documents in a strip-cut paper shredder.

  Santos saw me first and, as he pulled his gun out of his shoulder holster, the split second of shock which had held him immobile was a lifetime too long as the Colt bucked in my hand and he crumpled to the floor, a hole in his forehead, blood splattered on the wall behind him.

  Franklin was fumbling with a key trying to open a drawer, apparently complacently weapon-less, assuming he had no need to arm himself, cocooned as he had been in his fortress surrounded by guards.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I suggested mildly. “In fact, I’m thinking it would be a good idea for you to toss that key on the desk and get your hands up where I can see them.”

  “You don’t want to do this, Knight,” he warned as he complied with my requests. “There are bigger things at stake here than just you and me.”

  “Yeah, from the war out front I’d have to agree.”

  “There is a lot of money to be made, plenty to go around. You could be a rich man.”

  “I’m more interested in what really happened to Montez and Valdez.”

  “Valdez saw something he shouldn’t have and you signed Montez’s death warrant by finding Vasquez and having your girlfriend call him,” he shrugged indifferently.

  “And Hondo…?” I queried as an afterthought.

  “We couldn’t find him, he’s…slippery.”

  “Why are you shredding all your papers?”

  “I’m not,” he answered shortly.

  At my frown he continued.

  “The Cortez family isn’t as well funded…they don’t stand a chance,” he informed me impassively then added in surprise as comprehension dawned “You called them.”

  “Naughty of you to be selling arms to both sides, there was bound to be trouble eventually.”

  “I was brokering the arms to both sides.”

  “So if you’re not the mastermind, who is?”

  “I only know him as El Titiritero…The Puppeteer.”

  “Appropriate…where would I find this puppeteer?”

  “You don’t…he finds you and I’m telling you right now…you don’t want to mess with the man. He doesn’t play games and he has no conscience.”

  “And you do?”

  “He’s dangerous and you are nothing more than an annoyance, a cockroach he’ll crush underfoot.”

  “Cockroaches are known to have pretty tough shells.”

  Even as I spoke, I heard the explosions…my cue…Hondo lobbing grenades.

  “Time to go.”

  “Go…? Go where?”

  “Back to the states where you’ll be tried for treason or whatever Garrett decides to do with you.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said as something came down hard on my gun hand.

  I cursed my stupidity in not only turning my back on the door, but also allowing myself to be distracted by Franklin’s talk as my fingers involuntarily released my weapon and it clattered to the floor.

  I grabbed the end of the broom that had been used to disarm me and pulled the boy holding it towards me, slinging him against the opposite wall, reaching into my boot for my knife at the same time.

  As Franklin dove towards Santos’ gun, I flicked my wrist. The sharp blade met very little resistance as it buried itself deeply, splitting Franklin’s Adam’s apple, the hilt the only part visible as he collapsed on the floor.

  “You’d have been nothing but trouble anyway,” I commented indifferently as I pulled the knife out of Franklin’s throat and wiped it on his white shirt.

  “Senor, please do not hurt me,” the boy cowering in the corner pleaded in Spanish.

  “Who are you?” I asked absently as I quickly thumbed through the papers the shredder hadn’t had a chance to destroy.

  I didn’t see anything that would give me an indication of who Franklin was working for and time was short, but decided that the papers might be worth something to Garrett.

  “Jose Delgado,” he replied fearfully.

  “I don’t remember seeing you before.”

  “Santos is my uncle. I work for him.”

  “Well, Jose…if you want to live you best be getting out of this house…now.”

  Jose pushed himself up off the floor and, eyeing me suspiciously, edged his way out the door.

  Stuffing the
Cortez paperwork in my pack, I realized I needed to be gone myself and hastily made my way back to my point of entry, noticing that the explosions had stopped. I was late.

  Jumping out the window and sprinting towards the fence, I barely cleared it before the mines began to go.

  Fifty yards later, I heard Hondo join me. Glancing over I noted the ever-present cigarette hanging out of his mouth and smoke emanating from his mouth and nose.

  “Those thing are gonna kill you, you know.”

  “Yer one to talk. Cuttin’ it kinda close with them mines, doncha think?”

  “I was…delayed. The house…?”

  “Should be blowin’ jest ‘bout…now,” he finished in satisfaction as a huge explosion shook the ground beneath our feet, spurring us on our way.

  “Nice.”

  “See ya changed yer mind.”

  “Santos and Franklin changed it for me. They were most uncooperative.”

  “Wish I coulda been there,” he said wistfully.

  “Sounded like you were having a blast yourself.”

  “True…ain’t had that much fun since ‘Nam.”

  “You’re a head case.”

  “And yer one ta be talkin’.”

  As we arrived at the hangar and pushed the huge doors open, I was unsurprised to note that there was an army tank sitting next to the plane and the helicopter. Neither of us even bothered to comment.

  “So which type of death would you prefer?” I asked courteously “Death by plane, or death by helicopter?”

  “Don’t s’pose we could leave out the death part?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Take yer pick…all sounds the same to me.”

  “I’m thinking the plane…easier to get out of the hanger and has more of a range.”

  “You ’member how to fly one o’ them things?” he asked dubiously as we approached the single engine Cessna. “Bin a while.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.”

  “I done changed my mind. I’ll jest be takin’ the tank an’ stay on good ole’ terra firma.”

  “You didn’t learn how to drive one of those, either,” I reminded him wryly “and I doubt Panama would be so obliging as to let us cross their borders in an M1 tank…if we even made it that far.”

  “Good point,” he conceded as we settled into the cockpit.

  “You can close your eyes if you want.”

  “Think it’d do inny good?”

  “Nope,” I replied with cheerful pessimism as I revved up the engine “but if things start to go wrong, I may try it myself.”

  As we cleared the hangar, Hondo asked casually, “Do ya think ya could hurry it up a mite? The natives are gettin’ restless.”

  As I glanced over my shoulder towards what was left of the house, I caught a glimpse of the angry, gun-waving mob headed straight for us.

  “Yeah, I think that might be a good idea,” I agreed as I made the runway and turned the plane onto it. “Don’t know if you’re a praying man, but this might be a good time to start,” I murmured as the plane began to pick up speed.

  “Now ya tell me.”

  We were airborne by the time the irate group reached the runway and thankfully well out of range of their guns.

  Hondo had been up all night rigging the mines surrounding the compound and planting explosives—I didn’t know and had no intention of asking where he’d gotten the explosives—while I slept so I wasn’t surprised by his grunted “Wake me and yer dead” as he slouched as far down as his seat allowed and conked out, not even bothering with the seat belt.

  Eight hours later, I debated which would be worse…waking Hondo or attempting to land.

  I woke Hondo.

  After he removed the barrel end of his gun from my eyeball muttering “Sorry, force o’ habit,” I gave him the bad news.

  “I ain’t strapping on no chute,” he growled. “I thought ya could land this thing.”

  “It’s dark, we’re out of gas, there is no landing strip in sight, and I don’t know where we are other than a general idea that we’re somewhere in Central America. I don’t think that’s an option.”

  “So we jest ditch the plane an’ hope it don’t land on nobody’s head?”

  “We’ll point it towards the ocean on autopilot and jump before it moves out to sea.”

  “Water agin…that figgers.”

  “Oh yeah, about that, I’ve been circling, trying to find the best place to jump and from what I can make out there isn’t much beach between the trees and the ocean so you probably want to decide which one you’d rather end up in and make adjustments accordingly…just in case you miss the beach.”

  “Ya mean when I miss the beach,” he corrected dolefully.

  “I’m no Valdez, so if you end up in the drink, you’ll have to get yourself out. Better start praying there aren’t any sharks this time.”

  “Yer a ray o’ sunshine, ain’t ya? Nobody tole me I’d have to get religion when I joined this mission.”

  “Let’s go. The chutes are in the back. We don’t have much time.”

  “Aw…hell…I knew I shoulda held out fer the tank,” he grumbled as he followed me to the back of the plane.

  1979

  May

  I allowed Garrett to settle himself comfortably in his seat before speaking.

  “You really should wear your seatbelt,” I reproached. “These are dangerous times we live in.”

  With the flick of a switch, the overhead light emitted a gentle glow. I wouldn’t have expected any less from a luxury car.

  “Knight,” if Garrett was surprised by the fact that I wasn’t a corpse rotting away in the rain forest he hid it admirably. “How did you get past my driver?”

  Even as he spoke, the window between us slid down silently and the chauffeur turned around to grin at Garrett.

  “Hondo, of course,” he acknowledged with a grimace. “Where’s Burton?”

  “You’re driver is taking a cat nap in the trunk.”

  “Yeah…couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open,” Hondo added, suspiciously cheerful.

  “You two left quite a mess behind you in Colombia,” Garrett said disapprovingly.

  “Three good men dead cuz of yer damned secrets,” Hondo replied angrily, grin conspicuously absent. “I’d be sendin’ ya straight ta hell, it wuz up ta me.”

  “Years of covert ops down the drain because you couldn’t keep Vasquez or Franklin alive,” he continued irately, ignoring Hondo’s threats.

  “Tell us what exactly you were after and we might be able to help you,” I suggested calmly.

  “Forget it…you don’t have clearance for…”

  “Clearance my ass,” Hondo growled. “I’ll show ya my clearance,” he turned to open his door.

  “Hondo, we agreed,” I reminded him gently.

  “Ya got too muchuva conscience,” he grumbled, settling back in his seat.

  “Look, Garrett,” I began reasonably “We went through hell to get back here…all we’re asking for is an exchange of information. You fill in the blanks for us…give us some closure…and I’m fairly certain I can give you at least part of what you’re after.”

  “Prove it,” Garrett folded his arms across his chest.

  Reaching into my newly purchased black leather jacket, I extracted some papers from the inside pocket.

  Garrett’s eyes widened as he eagerly grabbed them out of my hands.

  “Now that’s better,” he grinned greedily, partially mollified.

  “Your turn,” I prompted firmly.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked suspiciously.

  “How did you know about Franklin’s…toys…his plane, helicopter, tank, even the land mines? Where did you get that information?”

  “I have an informant.”

  “Who?”

  “Classified…”

  “Who?”

  I grabbed his tie and yanked it up and over to the side of his head cutting off some of h
is airflow.

  “Now yer talkin’,” Hondo approved.

  “Delgado,” he managed to get out.

  I released him and sat back.

  “Don’t recall no Delgado,” Hondo grunted.

  “I do,” my eyes narrowed as I remembered the youth who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, if that. “How did you get Santos’ nephew to turn on him?”

  “I pay well,” he gingerly massaged his neck and straightened his tie “and he has a girlfriend who likes nice things.”

  “Just so you know, he probably isn’t totally on your side,” I mentioned casually.

  “Never thought he was.”

  “So you admit you knew all along that Franklin was dirty?”

  “Of course,” he replied irritably “I don’t make a habit of going into an op blind.”

  “Apparently you don’t mind sending others in that way,” I scoffed “and if they get killed because they don’t know who the enemy is, you just shrug it off and replace them.”

  “What do you want from me? I’ve never claimed to be a saint. I do what I have to do to get the job done.”

  “And that brings up another interesting point…your main objective…?” I looked at him questioningly.

  “Classified,” he replied shortly.

  “Fine,” I shrugged “I guess that means you don’t want the ledger.”

  “Ledger, but I thought Vasquez…” he stopped abruptly, realizing what he had revealed.

  “Don’t tell me, Vasquez wasn’t your only undercover operative in Colombia.”

  He remained silent.

  “You left Vasquez hanging out to dry as a decoy, knowing full well that Franklin was dirty, while your other spy kept you informed,” I surmised in disgust.

  “Like I said, I do…”

  “…what you have to do,” I finished for him. “Yeah, I get it. Why don’t you get the other spy to steal the ledger?”

  “My informant doesn’t do that kind of thing,” Garrett hedged.

  “What…you have another child spy?”

  “No, of course not,” he assured me hastily.

  “A woman,” Hondo, who had been listening intently without comment, asserted firmly.

  “Of course it is. You are a piece of work,” I shook my head in amazement. “I guess we’re through here, Hondo.”

  “Looks like it,” he agreed, turning to face the front.

  “Wait…you said you had the ledger…” Garrett forestalled me.

  “No, I said I guess you didn’t want it…not the same thing at all.”

  “But you do have it, don’t you?” he grabbed my arm “Or a copy of it.”

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I asked in a quiet voice “Why would you think that?”

  “Vasquez gave it to you, didn’t he?”

  “I gave it back, and then Vasquez surrendered it to the Mendoza’s.”

  “But you looked at it,” he persisted.

  “So I looked at it.”

  “I need that ledger.”

  “Good luck with that,” I reached for the door handle.

  “It’s in your head,” Garrett murmured softly close to my ear.

  I sat back and met Garrett’s eyes.

  “Hondo, would you mind shutting the window,” I requested quietly.

  The barrier between us closed just as silently as it had opened earlier.

  I asked between clenched teeth, “You mind telling me how you know that?”

  I didn’t bother to deny it. The look on Garrett’s face assured me he wasn’t shooting in the dark.

  He knew, he just hadn’t wanted to admit he knew, hoping to get me to own up to it myself. That could only mean one thing.

  “I have my ways.”

  “No, there is only one way you could have known that, and last time I checked it was illegal to read other people’s mail.”

  “I want that ledger.”

  “How many letters did you read?”

  “What does it…?”

  “How many?”

  I leaned towards him ominously as his hand protectively covered his tie.

  “All of them.”

  “So the whole thing with General McKie was faked…you knew exactly who I was and how to manipulate me into volunteering. You’re quite the actor.”

  “I told you…I don’t go into things blindly.”

  “So you chose me because of that…because of my…special ability.”

  “It wasn’t the only consideration, but I thought it might come in handy.”

  “You thought it might…” I broke off shaking my head in disbelief.

  “All of your other skills gave you a more than even chance of making it out alive.”

  “Vasquez never stood much of a chance, thanks to you.”

  “He knew the risks.”

  “I suppose you know about Vasquez’s half-sister.”

  “It’s my job to know things.”

  “You hired him anyway.”

  “I’ve been known to make exceptions.”

  “Good to know,” I nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve got an exception for you. Here’s the deal, you make sure she receives a lump sum of cash commensurate with how much she deserves…”

  “I’m not sure I can…”

  “…and I will give you the ledger. You can even keep your ‘classified information’ confidential. That’s the deal…take it or leave it.”

  “That’s what you were after all along, wasn’t it? You never cared about my classified information. I’m not the only one here with acting skills. You were trying to play me.”

  “Does she get her money or not?”

  “Fine,” he sighed heavily. “I’ll work it out somehow. What do you plan to tell Hondo? I’m assuming he doesn’t possess all the information that you do.”

  “Don’t worry about Hondo. He knows as much as he cares to. His goal is to get as far away from you as he can manage.”

  “Am I allowed to go now or did you want something else?” he asked acerbically.

  “That should about do it,” I shrugged diffidently, hiding my pleasure at being able to manipulate him for a change.

  I hadn’t gotten him to reveal his knowledge of El Titiritero, but it was enough for the moment. Garrett was dangerous and pushing him too far was probably unwise. He was correct in his assumption that I was mainly concerned with making sure Vasquez’s sister received compensation…not that anything could make up for the loss of her brother.

  “The ledger…?” he prompted impatiently.

  “As soon as I have the proof you followed through with your part, you can have the ledger.”

  “I’ll have the money transferred by the end of business hours tomorrow.”

  “Oh, there is one other thing,” I began “about Valerie Stanton…”

  “Valerie Stanton…” he frowned.

  “The nurse who helped Vasquez...I got her safely to the Embassy in Bogotá.”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “Heard what?” I asked narrowing my eyes.

  “The plane she was being evacuated on crashed. There were no survivors.”

  1981

  December

  “More coffee, Sir,” the young, pert, blonde waitress offered brightly.

  “Thanks,” I replied, pushing my cup over towards her without looking up.

  “Anything else I can get you?” she asked hopefully.

  I glanced up from my newspaper and frowned.

  “No thanks.”

  I bent my head once more to the classified ads as the waitress moved away.

  “Now you’ve gone and crushed her spirit,” an amused voice broke into my thoughts.

  “Go away Garrett,” I ordered as I hastily turned the page, unwilling to let him see I was looking for a place to live.

  I didn’t waste my breath by inquiring how he’d found me in the middle of New York City.

  “I warned you that I’d be back as soon as you finished your stint in the Marines
,” he reminded me. “May I?” he asked as he pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down.

  “Do I have a choice?” I asked resignedly, folding up my newspaper and setting it by my coffee cup.

  “Not really.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What do I ever want?”

  “I told you in Okinawa and again when you showed up at Parris that I’m not interested,” I reminded him harshly. “Are you deaf…or just plain stupid?”

  “I have to say you looked good in that weird campaign hat they all wear,” he continued, apparently determined to ignore anything he didn’t want to hear. “The Company Commander had nothing but good things to say about you. Knowing you as well as I do, I found that hard to believe.”

  “You’re wasting your breath,” I enunciated as clearly as I could, attempting to control my irritation at his obvious meddling into my business.

  “What do you want out of life, Jack? Some lame nine to five job with benefits, a wife and kids with a station wagon and a vacation to the Pocono’s every year or do you want to make a difference? You’ve been fighting bad guys since you were a kid, you think you can just turn it off?”

  “I’m starting college next month; I have time to decide what I want to do.”

  “Yeah, I heard that rumour,” he commented casually. “NYU…right…?”

  “Butt out of my life, Garrett,” I demanded in a low angry tone.

  “They offer quite an array of options,” he noted coolly “Especially in the language department. You’ve always had a talent for languages.”

  The obvious reminder of his previous invasion of my privacy had me speechless with rage. Closing my eyes, I gathered every bit of self-control I could muster and breathing deeply managed to prevent my hands from developing a mind of their own and ridding the world of the most annoying insect I’d ever had the misfortune of encountering.

  “What restraint,” he said admiringly.

  Opening my eyes, I eyed him malevolently.

  “College is an admirable ambition,” he agreed pushing his chair back and pulling out a couple of dollars, tossing them on the table. “Coffee’s on me.”

  “Generous to a fault,” my lips twisted in derision.

  “Hey, I offered to get you promoted straight to Sergeant as soon as you returned from Colombia, but you turned me down,” he reminded me.

  “I made it there on my own,” I pointed out with satisfaction.

  “So you did,” he conceded. “General McKie was most impressed by your performance in Colombia.”

  “You…” I began angrily.

  “Of course he wanted a report and I ended up buying him that steak dinner we’d wagered. The Drill Instructor gig was his idea you know.”

  “You’d best learn to sleep with your eyes open, Garrett.”

  “I’ve been doing that for years,” he laughed. “Tell you what I’ll do; I’ll leave you alone until you finish college…then I’ll come see you again.”

  “Not if I see you first,” I muttered as he walked off.

  “I heard that,” he called over his shoulder.

  “You were meant to,” I retorted.

  He chuckled as he pushed open the diner door.

  1984

  April

  “Hey, man, give the studying a rest…come party with us, dude,” a good-natured male voice coaxed. “It’s gonna be wild.”

  “All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy,” a sensuous female voice added.

  I felt a finger tracing patterns on my back and reaching over my shoulder, grasped the hand causing the disruption.

  “Not interested,” I replied shortly, giving Jessica her hand back, careful not to break any bones.

  “Ssh,” the librarian glared at us from the circulation desk.

  “We only have a couple of weeks till graduation, Jack,” Phillip lowered his voice and continued persuasively “take a break, have some fun.”

  “That’s not my idea of fun.”

  “What is your idea of fun?” Jessica bent down to whisper in my ear. “Maybe we can play together.”

  “A ten-mile hike, with full pack, in a torrential downpour,” I answered amusedly. “Wanna sign up for tomorrow? I leave at 0600.”

  “Yeah, right,” she laughed disbelievingly.

  “He’s not kidding, Jess, he goes every Saturday morning and doesn’t come back until Sunday night,” Phillip murmured.

  “Forget that,” she spun around and headed towards the door mumbling “freak”.

  “Sorry, Jack, she doesn’t handle rejection well,” Phillip apologized as he turned to follow her. “Sure you won’t come?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I softened my voice.

  Phillip wasn’t such a bad guy, just immature like most of the college kids I’d met. He reminded me a little of Nicky with his dark hair and dimples and was the same age Nicky would have been had he…I pulled myself up short.

  Sometimes the thought of Nicky was so fresh in my mind that it felt like a punch in the gut, leaving me gasping for breath.

  Thoughts of Nicky always preceded thoughts of Garrett. Years later and I was still furious that he’d read what should have been private correspondence.

  “Always disappointing the ladies, Jack,” a mocking voice scolded me.

  “You sure must enjoy rejection, Garrett.”

  I gathered my books together and stood, not surprised by his sudden appearance. I’d been expecting him.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think I may have an offer you can’t refuse this time,” he replied a bit too casually. “Meet me at your usual diner in an hour.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I have important news about a mutual friend of ours,” he replied cryptically as he turned to go.

  “Who?” I asked, but I was talking to air.

  Slamming my fist down on the table I once again netted the attention of the Librarian who glared fiercely at me.

  Grabbing my books, I beat a hasty retreat.