The Detective's Daughter
Chapter 13: The Break of Dawn
The moon slowly fades away and disappears as the sun readies itself to brighten the slumbering city of Berlin. The street lights died out, individuals rushing early to their shops—butcher, book keeper, baker—everyone. The world runs completely normal in Berlin, unbeknownst to the public what had happened around them. In the break of dawn, the agents of the SWA prepare themselves for their final pursuit and take-down of the rogue fratello team:
Triela and Hillshire
Bullets were loaded, weapons were checked and double checked, communications tested, and weapons stashed secretly in their operative's instrumental case. Hearts were beating fast, eyes lurk towards each other, prayers were said and a wish of luck is announced to everyone by each individual.
"Frederick, what are you doing?" Muffin asks as she equips her jacket. Out of all, Frederick is the last one to stash his weapon in his instrument case. "You know that our time is limited, right? We were to head to the school first and seize her."
"I know." He answers. "I've purchased a custom barrel and asked a gun-smith to customize a new silencer to be fitted with my Sturmgewehr. I'll be silencing my StG 44 from here on."
Frederick clicks the last piece of the rifle together. His hand reaches for the new silencer and slides it into the mouth of the rifle before locking it together with a slight twist to the left. The rifle gleams with the light of the room as he smiles, satisfied with the result.
"German-manufactured accessories never fail to impress me."
Muffin shoves the barrel away and cocks her G36C loudly in response. "This is German-engineered too!"
"Isn't that a little longer than usual, Frederick?" comments Claes. "The StG 44 isn't built with a silencer in the first place."
"Feels like the Russian AK-74 and its successors—with the barrel, I mean." Finally, Frederick stashes his weapon in his instrument case. "But nonetheless, it's still StG 44."
Claes sighs, taking off her glasses. "I guess this is it then..."
Curiously, Muffin glances at Claes' action before she decides to return her attention to he own preparation. A curve forms in Claes' lips. "Curious, Muffin?"
she nods silently in reply.
"I have my reasons, Muffin. I have my reasons..."
###
Time ticks as many waits for the break of dawn. For the majority, it symbolizes as a wake-up call to face a new day. For some, however, it determines the life or death of two as their fate now rests in each and everyone's responsible hands. Upon the doorstep of an apartment, a man and a young boy stood still as they face the entrance into the dwelling—both were distinctively to be of Israeli origin. The man knocks on the door once with no answer avail before attempting to do so again receiving the same reply. He soon proceeds to bang the door for a period of time.
Behind the door, Hillshire shudders as he felt time slowly slipping away from him. Has his escape attempt considered crude? That if he planned it longer and devised it with those who he could rely on would he be able to escape, leaving no tracks behind? If it relates with Childville or the CIA, it is something Hillshire felt well be avoided. His hands tremble as he grasps Roberta Guelfi tightly to his left, unable to face his fears of having to be dragged away by the Agency and possibly, executed.
"Hillshire...! Open up! It's me, Ehud!"
It was not until hearing his name did Hillshire felt relieved. He sighs, signaling Roberta to stay well-back incase anything unexpected should occur. He sighs, releasing his nervousness as he opens the door.
"Praise God you're still alive Hillshire! I was worried for a second you won't be here to see me!" Ehud rushes inside with Fernando, Luke, and Rachel trailing close behind. "You have to get out of here as soon as possible! The Agency now has..."
Ehud stops, recognizing the existence of Roberta who was seated in the sofa with only a blanket to cover. He too, realizes Hillshire's state. In a moment's notice he asks Luke to check Triela's room only to find him to return empty-handed, shaking his head confirming Ehud's worse fears.
"Where is Triela?"
Hillshire didn't answer. Ehud pushes Hillshire to the wall, glaring at him for his failure to respond. "I say again, Hillshire. Where is Triela?"
"She left me..." Hillshire turns away. "She left me..."
###
The alarm clock rang, alerting the sleepless girls of the break of dawn, forcing them to drag themselves out of their bed. For a moment Triela was surprised to see a 'different' ceiling than what she used to in her apartment. Yet she came to realize what happened and thought that it was for the better of both of them.
"Morning Triela...!" greets Maria as she stretches out of bed. "So, how's the service?"
"It's great. Thank you Maria and sorry to have..."
"No, no it's ok! Everything's fine! I mean that's what friends are for, right?"
Triela nods silently.
"Good! So don't complain! Speaking of which, how are you dealing with the belongings left in your apartment? Some of them—I assume—were school-related, right? How are you getting them?"
Triela shook her head. "To be honest, I'm not sure myself. I'll try acquiring them when he's away; for now, can I borrow some of your...well..."
"...uniform? Books...? Notes...? Name it and I'll lend it. But just this once though!"
"Hail Mary, full of grace."
The girls let a friendly laughter escape their lips. Maria taps Triela's shoulder twice before walking towards the showers. "Don't start chanting 'the LORD's prayer' after this!"
###
The cold morning air in Berlin still smells of peace. The sun has just risen in the distance as the two girls left the house for the last time. None of them ever realize that this would be their last until it was all too late. They chatter gleefully as they walk to school, unaware of the unfolding situation. Roland came moments later and accompany the two to the school where they start their daily activity.
Matthew and Muffin followed them silently up to the entrance of the school.. Her eyes glared at the sight of her chatting, giggles and nudges towards her friends—not to mention Roland's hand circling Triela's shoulder. She was never interested in public life and all that it has to offer. Rather, she despised it, loathe it, hated it to what it had done to her in the past. Secretly they trailed her, listening to their conversation and uncover Triela's whereabouts. This should not go unreported.
"Jean, you read? This is Matthew."
Silence, then a voice echoes from the radio. "This is Jean."
"Secondary target is in sight entering John F. Kennedy school complex. Three civilians in sight with secondary target, their names as follows: Roland, Maria and Helen. Requesting orders to engage, sir?"
"Negative. Wait for my command. I'll send Marco/Frederick/Claes team forward to rendezvous with you; Alessandro/Petrushka team is in the area and will act as your backup. Westley/Sophia team, the Falmans, Fernando/Rachel team and Ehud/Luke team will rendezvous with you later. For now, concentrate on keeping a low profile. Remember to leave no witnesses of her presence. Liquidation of said-company would be the task of the Westley/Sophia team and the Falmans."
Muffin twitches, frustrated about knowing the conversation. She curses silently in her thoughts as she was looking forward to be the one to bag civilians.
"Especially Triela's fucking boyfriend..."
"Gotcha'..." Matthew cuts his connection. "You hear that kid?"
The young girl beside him clenches her fist. "Yeah...shit, we're this close and Jean doesn't want us to engage!?"
"Patience kiddo; we're not only up against Triela and Hillshire, but we're also facing the risk of provoking the German government."
"I know..." she paused. "If Nero heard this, I bet he'll say 'damn politics'."
It was not until noon did Fernando/Rachel team rush towards John F. Kennedy School after fulfilling Hillshire's last request. They couldn't help control the thought of how foolish he was, how reckless he is and how troublesome he became. Getting Roberta out of the picture is one thing, but to find—and save—Triela is another different matter they wish not to touch too vigorously. It had become a sensitive matter between the entire team for everyone—Operatives and handlers alike. Fernando and Ehud had envisioned this long before anyone else in the team had, that a rift between their relations would be formed as further situation unfolds. He knew he would face those he once called 'ally' and those he called friends.
Rachel is no exception.
The truth is sometimes hard to swallow. She recognizes the faces who were sent with her to capture Triela; faces which she could remember, cherish, talk about, laugh about and dream about. The order had internally crushed her when it was first issued. She was unsure at first whether to trust the words of the Agency considering her escape. And so she and Fernando complied. It was not until her fateful encounter with Triela did she slowly began to envision the works of Triela's mind. Triela never wanted freedom, but indeed she was granted with it as a form of a gift from Hillshire. A gift that could pave her long forgotten future and dreams they had neglected, ones that were prevented to grow and mature in the Social Welfare Agency. She began to see how Hillshire would do anything for her operative to keep her right—like a father.
"Just like daddy and I..." she thought. Her heart race faster, finally concluding her decisions as she smiles in relief. "That's right. I had never felt this pleased with me before."
###
Ehud was impatient and was utterly infuriated with Hillshire for his lack of responsibility. 'This is the man who we revered as a father-figure', he thought during the hour where he confronted him. He was amazed and yet angered his show of weakness and desperation when he slammed him to the wall demanding Triela's presence and was even more heated when Hillshire have not a single clue to where she is. All he said was how she left him the night earlier.
The tapped call from Jean and Matthew answered them—along with their worst fears.
Ehud eventually proposed one last desperate attempt to save them and led them out to the freedom they have longed for. He sends Fernando/Rachel to dash for the school before the Agency captures her as he stand guard in Hillshire's apartment in an attempt to buy more time for him to pack what he could. He could say he was impressed by his last-minute responsibility, however. In the last minute before Fernando left the apartment, Hillshire ask one last time to 'escort' Roberta to safety from the jaws of the Agency. Fernando agreed and left with her—dressed up and ready—minutes later. Now, Hillshire was left in his apartment with Ehud and Luke standing close.
Ehud can't help to feel how disgusted he was at this pitiful sight.
"Sitting still?"
Hillshire didn't respond.
"Sulking here is not going to bring you anywhere Hillshire." He turns to Luke. "Luke, fetch him a glass of water and..."
"Ehud, please..."
The Israeli halts his action and return his attention to the German. "Whatever happens, please...keep Triela safe."
Luke sighs. "Apologies for my impoliteness Mr. Hartmann, but keeping your butt in that chair all day will not bring you anywhere.."
"You have been hoping for us to be of aid to you, have you not?" The word of the elderly Israeli rumbles across the room. He storms towards Hillshire, lifting him up his collar and glares deep into his eyes. There were signs of anger and disgust laid between his looks. "Since when have you become this pitiful Hillshire?"
He didn't answer. Ehud strikes further. "ANSWER ME HILLSHIRE!!"
"I'm sorry." He said. "I had never thought I could wound her deep before..."
"You are not answering the question, Hillshire."
Hillshire returns Ehud's glare with his. He pushes the Israeli away from him, taking a deep breath and sighing deeply. "I'm responsible for all of this, Ehud and I apologize for having to drag you and Fernando into this. I was never hoping the Agency would send this many effort for me—for us, but yet I was expecting they would do so."
"Of course they would." Reply the elder Israeli sternly. "They would not let one of their multi-billion dollar project run loose without compensation. They are here to take her back and kill you—as they tried once before you join the Agency."
Ehud sighs as he began to walk back and forth across the room.
"Although I have to say I am impressed at how far you're willing to take risks in order to fulfill your promise."
"How did you..."
"Finding this place is not easy, but reading you is easier. I read your dossiers, Hillshire. I know what the Agency thinks of you, how they feel you are the most dangerous of handlers in terms of relationship and bonds between you and your operatives. Do you know why the Agency sent you to some of the toughest missions available? Simple question requires simple answers. They are not stopping there after understanding your durability Hillshire. If need be, they will use those who you can not harm."
"My colleagues..."
"You catch on quick. You are a good man, Hillshire—a good man. I admire you to some extent. So, what shall it be??"
Hillshire takes a deep breath and sighs. "Ehud, this is one last favor. Go to the school I told Fernando and Rachel about and find Triela. As of this moment I believe the Agency has located her—and I dare say she is in more danger than I am. Please, find her. I'll rendezvous with you in Templehoff airport as you've planned."
"Need a gun?"
"I could use a pistol, thank you."
From under his garments, Ehud draws a USP .45 and tosses it towards the German. Catching it in the air, Hillshire examines the pistol the moment it is in his hands. "How'd you get the P8 model?"
"Glad you are familiar with the pistol." He replies, grinning in the process. "Simple. I have contacts in the Bundeswehr as well as other world military."
"I appreciate your help, Ehud."
"Hillshire," Ehud took a deep breath and placed his left hand on Hillshire's shoulder. "My nation of Israel was everything to me. My patriotism for my homeland is ten times that I have seen in Russia. She left me." He moves his hand back and places it in his jacket's pocket. "But I did not give up. I looked for her friends."
"Friends..." Hillshire sighs. "I feel like that 'word' has no meaning at all these days..."
"My dedication to Israel allowed her to open her arms back open. I might not seem like the type of man who has great joy, but that moment was second or third to all that I have seen in my life."
###
The school bell echoes across the halls and corridors, marking the end of the day. Students of all ages began scrambling out of their respective classes and were leaving the building while some decided to stay behind due to their scheduled afterschool routine involving class sweeps and late announcements while others were there to accompany those who stayed behind.
The sky roars as dark clouds began moving above Berlin.
It was late, yet it was what Triela wanted all along. Her uniform never bothered her as she pick up an orange basketball from its rack before moving into the court; shooting, dribbling and practicing. The screeching sound of rubber her shoe creates as she slide across her performing stage were sometimes music to her ears as she recall the day where she participated in the recent tournament, leading her team to victory; little do her friends know where she acquired such agility and endurance.
The sole screeches were soon accompanied by a series of repetitive footsteps dashing towards her.
"Triela! Triela...!!"
Turning her focus away from the ring, Triela finds an overjoyed Maria who immediately embraces her. Triela clearly recognized what she has in her left arm: a university letter.
"I'm accepted at Harvard Triela! I'm accepted!"
"Congratulations!"
"I can't believe it!" Maria began to shed tears. "All these years of hard work finally paid off...I-I can't describe this in words!"
"Well, you better tell your parents about it."
"You're right! I'm going home now—I'll see you later!"
Triela sighs as she watches her friend leave the gym. It had been something Maria had hoped and worked for, something she deserved. Sometimes, it was these that kept her questioning whether she deserves this freedom she has. It was not until later did she realize how precious freedom is.
###
Thirty minutes pass Maria's leave from school. Thirty minutes. The skies began to drizzle fifteen minutes earlier and had since bathe Berlin. Roland ran through the drizzling shower as he makes his past towards Maria's house. Earlier that afternoon Roland had promised them assistance considering their recent history report and would gladly visit the girls in the Preiss residence. The small, comforting drizzle never bothered him as he slowly—almost enjoying—open the door that led to her house. It was not a surprise for him to find the door unlocked; he knew they were expecting him.
What he never expected was the sight he was to face.
She was strewn across the floor, covered in a pool of red. Maria. Around her were holes bearing diameter of 1cm; a single cylindrical copper casing gleams as it is tainted with blood. Roland fell on his knees, stunned, shocked. The feeling of death creeps to his spine as he struggles for the hinges of the door in an attempt to find escape; his means was halted when he noticed a twitch from the strewn body.
"M-Maria...!" He stumbles forward. His hand reaches for her and lifts her to his knees. It was soaked blood red. "H-hey Maria...! Y-you're ok...?"
The girl he held in his arms shivers. The same circular mark left on the wall was present in her back. She struggles to speak. "...R...Ro..."
"Don't force yourself. What's going on? How did...?"
"...Liquidation..."
"...W-what...?"
"T-Triela..." she coughs to free herself from drowning of her own blood before taking heavy breaths after to complement her dying self. "...she...danger...l-liquidation..."
Her lips tremble. Her hand slowly rises, gesturing him to the living room. "...g-gun...rack near glass door...3rd drawer...top..."
A ruckus echoed from the second floor. Cautiously Roland turns his attention towards the stairs leading up, taking heavy breaths in between. Seconds later a moment of silence befell across the entire house with little sounds of collapsing objects here and there, along with barking of dogs from outside the resident. With all she could, Maria reaches for Roland's collar, clutching it hard.
"S-save yourself..."
Trembling, Roland lowers Maria to the ground before hurriedly creep to the living room and locate the mentioned 'rack'. The gun, a P230, was hidden way back in the drawer behind the books. Ravaging further, 4 extra magazines were found within the rest of the drawers. Taking all he could, Roland unlatches the safety and loads the pistol. The 'click' was somewhat comforting to him.
The 'click', too, was enough to draw attention for the uninvited.
"Someone's still here! Find and liquidate him!"
In last second's notice, Roland escapes the madhouse using the sliding glass door. He swore he saw a girl not older than he is wielding two MP5Ks followed with a boy of the same age wielding a Desert Eagle. Roland swore in German as he left the area in a hurry, stating the world has gone insane.
"The school...I must return now!" He thought to himself as he makes a dash away from the neighborhood. "Insane, insane...! Everything is crazy! Maria...FUCK! What the hell am I doing? Running away?? Mother fu—Triela. Triela...Goddamn it I hope you're ok!"
###
Back in Preiss' residence, Maria rests to her fate as she mutters words only audible to her. She mutters about her father, her childhood, her days, her dreams...everything she could think of as footsteps were getting louder and louder. A 'click' followed soon after.
"Huh...still alive?" ask the girl presumably of Norwegian nationality. A silenced M1951 Beretta is clutched in her right hand; finger in the trigger. "I knew they couldn't be count on. They can't even take one pitiful life such as you."
Using her boot, she presses upon Maria's neck before aiming her pistol to her temple. She smiles in delight, watching her victim devours her last moment. "No hard feelings girl."
Maria returns her gaze with hers. She breathes slowly as she mentally accepts her fate, letting her stream of consciousness runs through her one last time; shedding one last tear.
"So many things have happened." She thought as she faces the mouth of the barrel. "I met many, made good friends, have dreams...Harvard seem like a nice University to study."
She pauses. A mix of sweat and blood trickles down her cheek.
"I grew up, mature, love and be loved." She pauses. "Triela...the moment I met you I knew you're special. There are certain conspicuous traits about you that make you different from the rest of us. There's so much things I want to talk to you about...I'm sorry I couldn't do much for you as a friend. And I call myself—you call me as your best friend. I'm sorry Triela...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Her heart rate lessens, her breathing became steady.
"Roland is fortunate to have someone like you...unlike me. Roland..."
She pauses, shedding tears in the process.
"Roland, there's so much things I want to say to you, so many things I want to do. I can't bear that day seeing you and Triela together; I can't face reality knowing how close you and Triela have become. I'm sorry for being such a jerk to you sometimes...I'm sorry. In the end...I couldn't say it to you."
The light around her begins to fade. Only the barrel of the silencer gleams among all.
"Roland...I..."
###
The ball bounces off the ring as Triela failed to make the shot. Suddenly she felt a lost within her, as if something was robbed from her deliberately and purposely, urging her to cry. The ball rolls away past her, only stopped by a small figure behind her.
"Enjoying your new 'life', Triela?"
Triela turns. Her eyes shot up, her muscles tenses and her heart races as she witness the figure standing 10 feet from her. Distinctively Triela can tell from her appearance she was about 13, wearing a grey top topped with a grayish-brown jacket. She recognized her as one of her sparring friend back in the Agency, a persistent and feisty girl in terms of CQC combat. Chips are her favorite snack despite her name referring to an oven-baked mini cake.
"Muffin...!"
To be continued...