Wind in the Hands

Chapter 6. The Liquidator

  After his guests had left, the Seer was lingering about the house aimlessly, came out into the garden, looked at trees, and smelt leaves. Having calmed down, he returned to his study and contemplated. The Seer had travelled all over the world, met people with almost fantastical abilities, but he had never seen such universal specialists as himself. He mastered telepathy, could hypnotize with his thoughts, read texts with his eyes closed, find hidden objects, lost people, shared the past in detail, never made a mistake in forecasts. However, even he did not have the power his recent guest had. It was something to think about.

  “Something extraordinary is underway. It needs investigation and the sooner the better. Maybe it is necessary to prevent them from entering the City or vice versa help them. What is their purpose? Well, they don’t know that themselves.”

  The Seer took out a cigarette and smoked. He tried to quit this vicious habit many times and did not have the right stimulus as he thought he knew what he would die of.

  “First, who are they?” he contemplated. “They haven’t introduced themselves. I don’t think their names will tell me anything. Let’s start with the silent one. What can be said about him? Slightly taller than the average, strong-built, but his muscles are trained in a natural way by many hours of trainings: he is too sinewy, lean, strong, and agile. His movements are very well coordinated and judging by his gestures, quick response, he moves cautiously and has a well-developed side vision. Is he an athlete? No, he is not an athlete; he smokes and is not young. He is at least thirty five. He kept silent all the time and tried to understand what we were talking about and wasn’t catching flies. Stop! He sighed when we mentioned intelligence agencies. Is he a military?” the Seer asked listening to himself. “Yes. He is related to the army but he is not a professional Soldier. Ok, deduction and logic aside, I’m not a detective. Let’s go directly to conclusions.”

  The Seer concentrated tuning on to the image of the silent man. He had a chain of associations: a crying and physically impaired boy, a teenager vehemently beating a suspended sack with his hands and feet, a young man in a military uniform shooting from a rifle. “He is not shooting at aims. He fought. Drills, drills,” repeated the Seer. “Uneasy training, absolutely closed institution, but not for me; now I will see what they are studying… A gym. Smells of blood, sweat, or something else, oh… that’s adrenaline. Full-contact fight, no protective gear. Why do they mutilate each other? Can fists play a decisive role in a modern battle where they fight with rifles striking the aim at a five-kilometer distance?”

  The Seer was thinking. He was interested. “I see,” he said out loud. “It’s a stamina test. Those who withstand will work further. Lectures. Read by civilians: survival tactics, methods of killing, and camouflage. An optic rifle. It’s clear what he has been taught. He is a liquidator and probably one of the best. Ok. What next?”

  The Seer cringed in his armchair and continued, “Assignments? No need to be a clairvoyant to understand. First tasks in the group, then with a companion, and single tasks for several years. It’s strange: single-man liquidation operations are not a normal practice. Why does he leave and return single? Why?”

  The Seer got up from the armchair, nervously paced the room, stopped at the window and closed his eyes. “The liquidator’s partners perished. He is followed by death but it does not touch him.” He saw shelling: lumps of earth flow up in the air with pieces of flesh. Soldiers wailed and whined of fear. Even those who did not believe in God were praying. Young guys virtually sank their teeth in wobbling earth. Explosions smothered weeping and yelling. All died but one. “He survived when all were to be mutilated after that slaughter. Good luck? But it happened on a dozen of occasions and that means a regular pattern. He is dangerous, very dangerous.”