Offer of Revenge Read online

  I see the way you look at them…you’re buying it hook, line, and sinker .

  I had unknowingly lived in the midst of a traitor .

  I cleared my throat. “Who does this guy say it is ?”

  “He doesn't know a name .”

  “I want to meet your source .”

  “Good. Because he’s the only one who can get you a job interview .”

  “For what ?”

  “I told you there was one path to the Handler, and I wasn’t sure either of us wanted to take it. I was referring to infiltration .”

  A contemptuous laugh escaped my lips. “Infiltration? If you can’t even get me close enough to kill him, they’re not going to let me join his inner circle .”

  “Of course not. If these people work how I think they do, the only insiders are family—you’re an outsider, and you’ll always be an outsider. But his organization has a wide reach, and they have a process for hiring low-level guys as expendable assets. That process begins when the organization contacts you, and my source has the ability to make that happen .”

  “And then what? I’m supposed to waltz in there with a fake name and hope they don’t realize who I am ?”

  “All we have to fabricate is a cover story for the summer you spent with Boss’s team. And that’s easily explained—you spent some time hiking the Smoky Mountains after your discharge from the military, did some soul-searching. You spent a lot of time there in high school, so you know the area. We can substantiate it with photographs, and it justifies your bank accounts going untouched for a few months .”

  The face of the water shuddered as a gale of wind approached. I thought of the dark confines of the house I would return to that night, a space beset by the revolver I now wore on my side. Its barrel had met my mouth on several occasions to date, my life reduced to a cylinder-spin of chance no less dangerous than what Ian was proposing .

  “David.” Ian looked uneasy, his eyes darting across my face as he waited for a response .

  “What?”

  “What do you think ?”

  I looked skyward. “I don’t know who wants me to die more—you or me. Because this is going to get me killed as surely as if I shoot myself in the head .”

  “I’ve done the legwork, and believe me when I say that infiltrating the organization—however we can, and however long it takes—is the only play we’ve got .”

  “You have a single contact who is probably lying to you. That’s not a play—it’s a prayer. The first thing they’re going to figure out is my shitty cover story, which will get me tied to a chair and tortured to death like that poor fuck Ophie killed in the basement. Even if the story works, and I become—what were your words?—an expendable asset, then I’m still no closer to the Handler than I am right now. And even if your source isn’t full of shit, what happens if I run into this so-called survivor — ”

  Ian cut me off, raising his voice for the first time since I’d known him .

  “I told you over the phone I wasn’t sure either of us wanted this path, and you flipped the fuck out on me. Then I work miracles to find the one person who can get you an interview and fly down here to tell you about it, only to find you so shit-faced that I don’t know whether to tell you about the survivor or take you to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. So guess what—you don’t like it? Then take me back to the airport and don’t fucking do it .”

  I looked at him, my jaw falling before I said, “I’m going to kill them both. The traitor and the Handler .”

  “The paths to both are the same. I’m telling you, we have no options left .”

  “A few days ago you seemed pretty goddamn confident that the team you sent in after the Handler would succeed. What happened to them ?”

  “David, when this is over, I’ll show you the footage. Until then, the less you know the better .”

  “If they all died, how do you have footage ?”

  “You’ll understand when you see it .”

  I shook my head. “Give me a goddamn break. Just show me, Ian. Enough tap dancing .”

  “First, you need to meet with my source and convince him you’re worthy of his help. Then, if we’re lucky, he gets you an interview within the organization .”

  “And then what ?”

  Ian gave a somber shrug. “That’s something we won’t know until you make it there. I should say if you make it there, because, judging by your current state, I’m not terribly confident that you will. But if you manage to get a view from the inside, you’re going to have to tell me what it looks like .”

  My thoughts jumped from the house, to the revolver, to the faces of the team before darkening with the notion of a living traitor to Karma, someone whose guilt for her death exceeded even my own .

  Whatever the truth, Ian was my only link to it and to the reality that existed beyond the compound where I had spent the last miserable expanse of my life, writing and drinking as my will to survive eroded as steadily as the shoreline .

  My mind leapt to a jarring, unsolicited vision of Karma’s head exploding, and I felt my entire body jolt .

  “You okay?” Ian asked .

  I took a breath. “I’ll get hired, Ian. Don’t worry about that .”

  “I hope you’re right, David. I hope you’re right.” He fell silent, and I said nothing to fill the void .

  Suddenly I felt exhausted, consumed by an immense weariness that encompassed both mind and body. The evening air grew heavier and cooler, and while the storm clouds hadn’t yet formed I knew they were coming. Before long, another rainstorm would congeal out of nothingness, masking the sun’s final descent before vanishing as quickly as it had come and leaving a gleaming night sky in its wake .

  2

  September 26, 2008

  Redwood National Park, California

  My neck crawled with the certainty I was being watched, a sensation made all the more unsettling absent the comforting weight of gun metal on my side .

  The peculiar feeling had spiked minutes after I had set off on the trail and since then had remained an undercurrent that hummed within my bones. As I walked, my vision shot between tree trunks of prehistoric dimensions that stretched upward to impossible heights. They rose from a sea of bright green ferns clouded by hazy whispers of fog, the collective depths of the forest forming an ever-shifting portrait of possible hiding spots and surveillance points .

  Ultimately, my every attempt at detecting outside observation was futile .

  I continued examining my surroundings nonetheless, the narrow trail threading between expanses of gnarled tree bark covered in verdant moss. Each breath filled my lungs with thick, humid air while the sound of flowing water grew louder ahead of me. As I proceeded toward my destination, my thoughts reverted to the certainty that had been plaguing me in the weeks since Ian’s shore-side revelation of a survivor: I was going to kill Matz .

  That realization had followed the torment I felt while agonizing over which of the friends I'd been mourning without end had actually betrayed the others. While all were unlikely candidates, I'd come to the conclusion that Matz, by far, deserved the most suspicion .

  He had been utterly appalled by my refusal to abort Saamir’s assassination, which, to him, had been just as unforgivable as leaving the female eyewitness alive. Matz had cited both decisions as justification to banish me from the team, and he harbored no illusions about what that would have meant—hell, he referred to me only as “Suicide,” dismissing my pleas for continued employment .

  We’re not a depression rehab center .

  Although he and I had raced into a target house together amid grenade blasts and engaged in close combat with twice our number of armed bodyguards, he had maintained an open disdain for me until the last night I saw him. After our final dinner together before I parachuted into the mortar point in our grandiose plan to kill the Five Heads, Matz had openly told me he didn’t care if I lived or died. His only concern was that I initiated the attack on time .

&nbs
p; But would he have been able to kill Ophie? Boss? Karma, his own sister ?

  I glimpsed a small footbridge ahead, the sight of which fractured my thoughts and returned my mind to the task at hand .

  The bridge’s rickety wooden frame was suspended above a turbulent channel of water that coasted atop a bed of smooth stones. I approached the bridge without crossing onto it, then turned left and departed the trail .

  Stepping high amid dew-covered ferns that soaked my pants from the knee down, I followed the stream deeper into the forest. The burbling ripple of water beside me did little to mask my movement as shadows overtook the ghostlike glow of sunlight illuminating the fog between the trees. With each step, I was burdened with an increasing feeling that I was approaching certain death, which threatened to slow my progress every bit as much as the vegetation I was wading through, unarmed and unaccompanied as per the source’s instructions. The dense forest and total isolation left me unable to defend myself or, indeed, even run from danger .

  Yet I continued off the path, approaching a meeting with the fountainhead of information that had compelled me to return to America .

  My mind’s eye turned to Ophie .

  He was far harder to envision as the betrayer .

  Ophie had stood up for me at every turn during my first weeks with the team, when there was absolutely nothing for him to gain. In the wake of my killing of Saamir against orders, Ophie was the sole voice in favor of continuing to train me. And, after the final team meal together, when he and I were the last two left at the dinner table, he had expressed a profound concern for Matz’s well-being. So steadfastly had he resisted suspicion that I could only think of one reason for his possible betrayal .

  Ophie was supremely intelligent, and, for all his projected nonchalance, he unquestionably possessed both the intellect and the flippancy capable of toying with the newest team member—me—for his personal amusement. He had expressed a certainty that he would live, albeit within a discourse on the meaninglessness of the natural order as he had experienced it in combat and elsewhere. Then there was Karma’s ultimate assessment of his motivations, which had no basis in loyalty or honor .

  To him, this is slightly more fun than deer-hunting .

  Diverting around a tree, I stopped at a face-height streak of bright yellow on the bark. Examining it more closely, I saw the shape belonged to a foot-long slug with narrow, trembling tentacles inching gradually down the redwood and toward the ground .

  A man called out, “State your endgame .”

  My heart leapt. The voice was ubiquitous, the damp forest concealing any echo as the words hung in the space between the trees, heavy as moisture in the air .

  I replied, “I seek a seat at the table .”

  “Which table?” The words were lilting, singsong—a Pakistani or Indian accent, I thought .

  “His.”

  “To what end ?”

  “The final one .”

  “That road is long .”

  I rolled my eyes, deciding that the speaker must be Indian. “I’m ready to travel it .”

  The figure of a wide man stepped out from behind a tree perhaps fifteen feet away. Though I couldn’t make out much of him—his body clad in a navy coat, his mouth cloaked in a scarf, his head concealed by a ball cap pulled low—my first, inexplicable feeling was one of revulsion .

  Beneath the shaded bill of the hat, deep-set eyes examined mine closely, flicking from right to left. “We shall see .”

  I squared my shoulders at him. “You told Ian there was a survivor from my team .”

  “And I am telling you one thing more: by the end of this, you will come face-to-face with him .”

  “You didn’t tell that part to Ian .”

  “And neither must you. He will not let you proceed .”

  “But you will ?”

  His reply was immediate. “I have no choice. You are not the first I have sent. None have emerged .”

  “If there is a survivor, he would kill me on sight. How am I supposed to get past that ?”

  “I do not know. I only know that you must .”

  “Who is he ?”

  “I do not know. But he was not killed with the rest of Boss’s team, and he ensured the death of the others. And he now serves the one whose table you seek .”

  “Why should I believe any of this ?”

  “Because you will see it unfold as I say it will .”

  “If you’re lying to me, I’m not going to forget it .”

  “Revenge is fear disguised,” he said, rolling the r sound as if for dramatic effect. “Any clever man would disregard it when this truth occurred to him. But if you seek it, you must be prepared to do all. To die unto yourself, to be born again into acceptance of those you hate most, and even to love .”

  I heaved a long sigh. “All right, man, I like arcane riddles as much as the next guy, but let’s cut the shit. What can you tell me that will actually help me get into this fucking organization ?”

  The Indian was silent for a moment, his eyes never moving from mine. “No one applies; they are sought and contacted. I will have someone reach out, and you must follow their instructions exactly. At the test, it is up to you .”

  “How can you get me an invitation if you’re in exile ?”

  “That is not your concern .”

  “You have a fellow conspirator on the inside. Someone who hasn’t been detected yet.” The man’s posture straightened, his coat taut against his round stomach. “Well, he better be good,” I added. “So, let’s say I get hired. Who will I be working for ?”

  “You know who .”

  “I want a name .”

  His accent spilled forth in an urgent sequence of shifting pitches. “He is many things to many people. To his workers, he is the Handler. To his inner circle, he is the One. To his enemies, he is Khasham Khada . And that is the name you must never repeat unless you are facing certain death, for to use it otherwise will just as likely kill you as — ”

  “Khasham Khada ?” I said .

  He froze .

  I smiled. “If this guy is so ruthless, then how are you still alive ?”

  “You tell me, David. How does one escape an enemy such as this ?”

  A branch snapped behind me, and I whirled around but saw nothing .

  Turning back to the Indian, I said, “I have no idea .”

  “By the end of your journey, you will. Now go .”

  Then he turned and moved away from me, following the stream as it crawled deeper into the forest .

  * * *

  As I walked from the trailhead into the parking area, the car door opened and Ian emerged .

  He set his arms on the roof of the car. “You don’t look thrilled .”

  “Good guess.” I let myself into the passenger side and slammed the door .

  Ian did the same, then glanced at the mirrors before turning to me. “Tell me everything he said .”

  I rubbed my hands together. “Well, let’s see. He had an indecipherable Indian accent, he talked in circles, and he couldn’t actually answer any of my questions. I felt like I was on the line with a call center in New Delhi .”

  Ian said, “The accent was Punjabi. That means something very different. Now quit fucking around and tell me exactly what he told you .”

  “All right, we exchanged his stupid bona fides, which were worthless anyway because no one else would be walking straight to that random point in a national forest. Then he said I wouldn’t be the first person he’d sent to kill the Handler, and that none had come back, before he launched into a mythical diatribe about being prepared to do anything for revenge .”

  “What else ?”

  “He said I would be contacted by the organization for some kind of test. I asked how he could get me an invitation if he was in exile, and he wouldn’t answer. So I said he must have a conspirator on the inside — ”

  “What did I tell you about mentioning that ?”

  I shrugged unapologetically. �
�It was my meeting, Ian .”

  “And what did he say in return ?”

  “Nothing, but he got quiet really quick after I said it. I know it’s true. Then he said the Handler was also known to his inner circle as the One, and to his enemies as Khasham Khada . Does that mean anything to you ?”

  Ian cocked his head slightly, his brow furrowed as he considered the question. “No .”

  “Me neither, but he got pretty upset when I repeated it. And I asked him how he was still alive if the Handler was as dangerous as everyone seems to think, and he just said that by the end of my journey, I would know. Then he left. Frankly, I think he missed his calling as a fortune teller .”

  “What else did he tell you ?”

  My mind flashed to the Indian’s proclamation that I would come face-to-face with the survivor, which was followed in short order by him forbidding me to tell Ian. I looked at Ian’s anxious eyes amplified by thin glasses, the veins standing in sharp relief on either side of his forehead, and briefly considered whether he would really stop me from moving forward with the mission if I revealed that particular prophecy .

  Almost by way of a response, I heard Boss speaking of Ian, just as he had when we sat in the kitchen of our final safe house .

  Everything’s scary to him. That’s why you have us .

  Boss: the last candidate for the title of betrayer .

  The simple fact was that Boss knew he was going to die, and he told me so in no uncertain terms the night before the team’s last dinner. Though his prophecy came from a simple dream about a ship, I saw firsthand the degree to which he believed in his end. After he and I had unexpectedly met over drinks after twenty-four hours of being awake, he told me, One of us is going to die on the next mission, and this time I think it’s going to be me . He had even warned me that I would be assuming his position, or something like it, should the business be around long enough. The next day, after he excused himself early from dinner, I went to his room to find him crying as he stared at a picture of his smiling twin daughters .

  After all my rumination, Boss remained the one team member I could not accept as being behind the team’s betrayal .