Chapter 11
_ So, Briggs asked at last, what is it about?
Sam inhaled deeply, then said with a barely controlled emotion:
_ Our grandchildren have a leukaemia, and only Mary can receive a bone marrow transplant from her father. James' blood group is AB-, so he needs a donor with the same group and specific medical characteristics to have a bone marrow compatible with his own. We launched a search, and it has just found a match.
_ I can't believe it, Grim said, turning towards Sam, her eyes very bright. But will he agree?
_ You know the potential donor? Charlie asked in bewilderment.
_ See for yourself, Sam said.
Briggs and Charlie bent over the computer, then Briggs exclaimed with an incredulous voice:
_ It's Kestrel!
_ Yes, Sam said happily. I just can't believe it either.
_ But Kestrel is angry with us, Charlie pointed out grimly. With you, Grim. How will you ask him such a thing?
Grim fell silent, biting her lips, and Sam felt awkward. It was true the timing was really bad for them, but he hoped Kestrel would be willing to save the life of a newborn and innocent baby. He said at last:
_ We'll ask him for forgiveness, then we'll tell him about it. I hope he won't refuse to save a baby.
But the team, like him, was fairly certain that it wouldn't be easy to ask for such a thing while facing an unforgiving man.
The plane landed in Boise at 2 pm, and the team piled up in a rented SUV for the chalet. Sam was driving, and he wondered how Kestrel would greet them. Not with laurel wreaths, he thought grimly. But maybe being in the chalet had been enough for him to calm down, he hoped.
He parked in front of the chalet half an hour later, next to a black SUV, obviously Kestrel's rented one. He climbed down and went into the hall, followed by the team, but only silence greeted them. A fire was roaring in the stove of the lounge, but Kestrel was nowhere to be seen. Sam poked his head in the kitchen and saw a cooking pot on a low fire. The table was set for four people, and he realized he was hungry.
He dropped his bag in the hall, took out his light vest, then went next to the huge cooking stove, lifting the lid of the pot. A delicious smell met his nostrils, and he recognized Kestrel's borscht. Grim went next to him and asked:
_ Is it for us? Where's Kestrel?
_ The table is set for four, Briggs said. Maybe he already had lunch.
_ But where is he? Charlie wondered.
_ We'll search the chalet after eating a little bit, Sam said.
The four of them hastily sat down and gulped down the borscht, and Sam felt uneasiness creeping up his dorsal spine. Kestrel's behaviour was very odd, and the fact that he had made lunch for them but wasn't showing up was highly relevant to Sam. His ops was up to something, and that meant trouble.
When they finished their meal, they cleared the table then searched thoroughly all the rooms, but no sign of Kestrel. Only his bedroom indicated that he had been there, as his keys, OPSAT and smartphone were lying on the nightstand. But he wasn't inside.
_ Maybe he's at the waterfall, Briggs said. He loves this spot.
_ Let's check, Sam said.
They all went outside and walked towards the nearby clearing, and this time Sam knew Kestrel was in the vicinity. He knew he was being watched, but he couldn't tell from where. Next to him Briggs, like him, was shooting looks around him, and Sam told him:
_ Can you feel it?
_ Yeah, Briggs said darkly. But now's not the time to play hide-and-seek. I wonder what he has in mind.
When they reached the clearing, things became instantly clearer for Sam when he saw four paintball guns lying on the ground next to the waterfall, and he shuddered. He stopped in his tracks, dismay tightening his guts, and put his hands over his face.
_ Sam? Grim asked him, worried. What's the matter? Why is there paintball guns over there?
_ I hope he's kidding, Briggs grumbled. Now's not the time for childish games, he's...
_ No, Briggs, Sam cut him, letting his hands fall. It's not a childish game. He's calling on us for a Game of Trust.
_ What's that? Charlie asked.
Sam saw Briggs looking stunned and Grim grimacing, but he explained as calmly as he could:
_ A Game of Trust is a tradition among the Russian special forces, including Voron. It's very serious and often deadly. When a member is in doubt about some of his comrades, he organizes a Game of Trust, to know if he still can trust them. It's a well-kept secret in Russia, I heard about it some thirty years ago, but I learned all about it only last year, when Kestrel told Briggs and me about it as a show of trust.
He swallowed, distressed at seeing that his ops was doubting his team's trust towards him, but went on nevertheless:
_ The offended person chooses the rules and weapons, and his opponent or opponents have to strike him or her to defend their honor. But if the offended strikes all his opponents first, then the trust is completely broken.
Briggs approached the guns and crouched, studying them.
_ Three paint charges per gun, he announced. And it's paintball guns and not pistols. Kestrel goes easy on us.
Charlie went to grab a gun, but Sam caught his arm, saying loudly:
_ Wait!
_ Why? asked the startled tech.
_ Because as soon as a gun is grabbed, the game starts, Briggs explained grimly. And we'll have one hour to strike Kestrel to prove to him he can still trust us. And look at that.
He pointed to a patch of dirt where two numbers had been written.
_ 20-1, Sam read. This means he'll stay within a radius of twenty meters from this point, and that we'll only need one shot to regain his trust.
_ What does this mean? Grim asked.
_ There are four guns with three charges, Briggs said. Twelve shots. But only one will do.
_ I can't shoot, Charlie protested, alarmed. Can you do it for me?
_ No, Sam shook his head dejectedly. Each one of us must face what he has done to lose Kestrel's trust, and that means taking our chances with the guns.
_ He's harsh, Briggs said, grumbling. I didn't do anything to him.
_ But you first distrusted Alpha, Sam reminded him. And for Russians, and Kestrel, it's a personal offence to distrust the family. And you know Kestrel has a keen memory.
Briggs looked crestfallen, but Sam breathed deeply. They had to regain Kestrel's trust, not only to keep his ops within Fourth Echelon, but also to prove to him they were worthy of his trust.
_ Sam? Grim asked in dismay. What will happen if we lose?
Sam stayed silent for a few seconds, but he knew the answer, and it would be a catastrophe. At last he said:
_ If he wins and hits all of us before we hit him, then he'll leave us. If it was a game with guns, he would have to kill us all.
_ But Sam... Grim started.
_ I know, he said harshly. James needs him, and we all need him. We trust him, that's why we'll show him he can still put his trust in us. We'll win, because losing is unthinkable. Do you hear me, Kestrel? he shouted around him. We'll win! You can trust us!
Sam looked around him, sensing his ops's stare but not seeing him. The thing was that Kestrel was an excellent ops, a ghost during the stealthy missions. Hitting him would be especially tough. But Sam was determined to win, he just couldn't lose. Too much was at stake.
He looked at his team, who had a determined expression on their faces. He told them:
_ One thing you must know. As soon as you hit him or he hits you, either he or you are out of the game. If we hit him, the game ends and all is well. If he hits you, you drop your gun and come back at the waterfall as it's the center of his circle. He will have only four charges, one for each of us. If he misses you, he won't be able to win, so stay sharp.
The team nodded, and Sam checked his OPSAT.
_ 3.15 pm. We have an hour to win. Are you ready?
They all nodded, then crouched, picking up a paintball gun. Sam grabbed his then swiftly ran towards the trees facing the waterfall, taking cover next to a large rock. He saw his team scattering in the woods, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a blurred figure taking aim from a low branch of a fir tree and firing. Charlie yelped as a large splash of paint expanded on his chest, and fell backwards. Sam groaned. One player down, and on the wrong side.
He quickly searched for movement in the fir tree, but Kestrel had already disappeared. Cursing inwardly, he moved, carefully surveying his surroundings as Charlie came back to the waterfall, looking devastated. Briggs was nowhere to be seen, but Grim was easily trackable in front of a large oak. Sam spotted movement behind her and shouted, but she had quick reflexes and turned on the spot, firing. The paint splattered a nearby fir tree, and again Kestrel vanished.
_ That's going to be hard, Sam whispered, but no way you're gonna win, Kestrel.
He decided to play offense instead of the defence Kestrel was expecting, and started to move fast but silently in the underwood. Twenty meters away from him, Grim was on alert, looking around and above her, but suddenly she cried. Sam saw her back was splattered with red paint, like Charlie, and she rose slowly, tears in her eyes.
Sam's fingers tightened around his paintball gun, and he almost yelled in anger, but mastered his nerves. He had to think like Kestrel to track him down and hit him. While he used the cover of the trees, he thought hard. Kestrel was feeling betrayed and lonely, he would attack like a solitary bird of prey. Like a kestrel, Sam realized. Kestrel had become one with his codesign! He had struck Charlie and Grim from above, so Sam had to climb to catch him.
Looking carefully around him, Sam put his paintball gun in his cargo pants then started climbing a thick fir tree, using the large branches to hoist him up and staying undercover. And when he reached a good spot, five meters above ground, he used some branches to camouflage himself and stayed perfectly still. He glanced at his OPSAT and read 3.42 pm. There was still time.
For about ten minutes nothing moved. Sam could see Charlie and Grim, covered in red paint, looking anxiously around them from the waterfall, but they couldn't see him. Then, at some distance, he heard Briggs shouting and four shots fired, then he saw a minute later Briggs emerging, looking sullen, red paint on his chest, at heart's level. Sam felt his guts tighten. He was the only one still in the game, and he couldn't miss his target.
But he realized something. Kestrel was so intent on his game that he was attacking his prey instead of waiting calmly in a corner. And that, for Sam, was his only chance. He had to remain invisible, and strike when Kestrel would look out for him. Becoming one with the shadows again.
Fifteen minutes passed by, and Sam hadn't made a move. He was waiting, senses sharpened and on alert, and only thinking about taking down his prey. It was no game, it was a battle to the death, and he had to be the winner. Then his patience paid off. He finally saw Kestrel appearing five meters away from him, carefully and silently advancing on an oak branch like an acrobat, and part of him felt proud at having an ops of such talent. But to keep him in his team he had to hit him, so he waited for the right moment. And when Kestrel turned his back on him to grab another branch, Sam shot.
Kestrel, hit squarely in the back, lost his balance and fell from the branch, but he caught the one underneath it and slowed down his fall. Sam, worried at having hurt his ops, quickly went down his tree and ran to the spot where Kestrel lay, yelling:
_ Kestrel? Are you okay?
Behind him he heard exclamations as his team ran in his direction, but he advanced and soon saw his ops sprawled on the ground, a large blue paint splash on his back. He knelt next to him and very carefully turned him on his back. Kestrel was still conscious, but had a large bruise on his left temple, and he was grimacing in pain. But when he saw Sam, he said calmly but weakly:
_ You caught me by surprise, Sam. I'm glad you won.
And he blacked out as Briggs, Grim and Charlie skidded to a halt next to them. Grim cried out:
_ Is he okay?
_ He fell from the tree when I hit him, Sam said, the worry he was feeling showing in his voice. I need to check his limbs before we carry him back to the chalet.
He very carefully took Kestrel's arms and legs, checking them, but all seemed to be in working order. Then he checked his neck, and again no broken bones or stiffness. But then he noticed his ops' right hand, and cursed under his breath. Three fingers were very obviously broken, and Kestrel was right-handed. But broken fingers were the lesser of two evils, compared to Kestrel leaving Fourth Echelon, so Sam felt reassured.
He stood up and said:
_ He' okay, except for his hand, but we can pick him up. Let's go back to the lounge.
_ We could have used the doc's services, Briggs grumbled as he and Sam were taking turns carrying Kestrel.
_ Maybe, Sam said, but it's too late. Don't worry, we'll strap his fingers with thin wooden sticks and spellotape, he'll feel no difference.
Briggs was carrying Kestrel when the team entered the chalet, and Sam led him to the lounge where the two of them put down the still unconscious ops on a large sofa. Grim went to the kitchen to fetch some ice, and Sam told Charlie to bring back the first-aid kit. Then he thought about Kestrel's ribcage and felt it. When he reached the right side, Kestrel emitted a muffled grunt of pain as Sam winced, feeling two broken ribs under his fingers.
Kestrel was waking up as the team gathered around him, Sam using short sticks as splints for his fingers, and soon asked:
_ How many broken ribs, Sam?
_ Two at least, his boss said sadly. Plus three fingers. I'm sorry, Kestrel.
The ops shook his head.
_ Don't be, really. I needed you to do the Game of Trust, such are the risks. And like I said, I'm glad you won.
_ Do you still trust us, then? Briggs asked him seriously.
_ More than ever, Kestrel said calmly. I'm sorry, but I needed that. I heard Sam telling you about the seriousness of this game, and he's right. It's very important in my former country's special forces' traditions, and for me. But from now on, the slate is clean between all of us.
_ So, have you forgiven me about Kobin? Grim asked tightly.
_ I have, Kestrel said, locking eyes with her. I saw your eyes when I hit you, Grim. You're forgiven.
She nodded, and Sam saw her eyes were very bright. He smiled at her, then turned his attention back to his ops. Briggs said, disgruntled:
_ You're like a ghost, mate. I've never heard or seen you approaching me till it was too late. And even then, you managed to dodge my shots, asshole.
Kestrel smirked.
_ Actually, one of your shots came very close to my left shoulder, it was just my luck a large branch was shielding it, or you'd have hit me.
Briggs looked a little better after that, but Kestrel concentrated on Sam.
_ As for you, Sam, you still have something to teach me, after all.
Sam wondered what he was talking about, and Kestrel explained after a few seconds:
_ I really never saw you, and when I heard your movement it was too late. You were totally invisible, even if you're not dressed in a tac suit. Would you teach me that technique, please?
Sam felt pride in his chest, after all he was not completely useless in spite of being nearly sixty. He said calmly:
_ It's not a technique, Kestrel. It's a state of being. You become one with the shadows. You become a shadow. It's not just blending in them. That requires work, but most of all the right state of mind. It took me years to reach that goal.
Kestrel nodded and winked at Briggs.
_ Looks like the boss will be busy with us for a few more years, мой друг. (my friend)
_ Yeah, Briggs said, grimacing. Lucky him. And lots of pain and hard work for us.
Sam snorted, hiding his smile.