Broken Promises

Chapter Nine

Frank exited the private jet and eyed his surroundings with some trepidation. They'd landed on a very remote airstrip some miles away from the nearest town, and he wondered, once again, what the hell they had in store for him. His reverie was soon interrupted, however, when a car appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, and headed straight for their location.

Once the vehicle halted, a man stepped out wearing dark sunglasses. He immediately walked up to Frank and stopped.

"Agent Donovan…….Raymond Marsh asked me to meet you here and escort you to the training facility."

"Training facility?" Frank asked hesitantly.

"That's right. Marsh says that you've been out of the game for awhile and would probably be in need of some reorientation."

Frank couldn't help feeling a bit annoyed by the fact that they thought he'd been totally idle for the past 15 years, but before he could say something in return, the man was walking back toward the waiting car and Frank was obviously expected to follow. So with a heavy heart, Frank took one more step away from everything that he held near and dear.

Minutes later, they were speeding down nearly deserted roads toward some unknown destination.

"Is this place very far?" Frank asked.

The driver glanced briefly at Frank and could see the anxiety written all over his face and smiled slightly. "Nah…..half hour….45 minutes tops. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery."

Enjoy the scenery…like this is some sort of vacation or something! Frank gazed out the window at the landscape speeding by him. The surroundings were nondescript. Mostly flat land, the occasional stand of palm trees. As the scenery whipped by him, Frank's mind began to wander. He wondered what this so-called reorientation would be like. For some odd reason, he remembered very little about his previous indoctrinations. What he could recall was endless hours of weapons drills, maneuver exercises and, of course, hour upon hour of memorization. But before he could delve into it in depth, the car finally slowed and pulled into a gravel drive that appeared to stretch to the horizon. However, a short time later, they finally stopped in front of what appeared to be an old warehouse of some sort.

Frank slowly exited the car and surveyed the area. Although it appeared to be deserted, he didn't need to be told that dozens of agents were probably keeping watch at that very second. Wherever the CIA ran operations, security was always tight.

Again without a word to him, the other agent walked toward the building without telling Frank to follow. Sighing in exasperation, he walked behind the other man. Once inside, it took Frank's eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of the interior. What he saw was a room full of endless banks of video surveillance screens, and computers. What he didn't see was any personnel. There had to have been thirty or more screens and no one to watch what they captured. Who the hell's running this operation?

"This way," the other man threw over his shoulder as he made his way toward a hallway running off of the main room. Glancing left and right at the surveillance screens, curious as to what they were covering, Frank reluctantly followed.

A few twists and turns down, he was finally shown into a room that appeared to have been made over into a make-shift office of sorts.

"Make yourself comfortable. Marsh will be in any minute." And without any further fanfare, the man closed the door behind him and was gone.

Frank took the opportunity to do a little reconnaissance. While he was left alone, he quickly looked through any and all papers that were left out on the desk, and even took a crack at accessing files on the PC that was also in the room. After ten minutes or so, however, he ceased his activities, sure that Marsh would appear at any second and probably wouldn't take kindly to having his belongings rifled through. And sure enough, not two minutes later, the man himself finally made an appearance.

"Frank….it's nice to see you again," Marsh began as he entered the door. "I hope you had a pleasant flight down."

Frank stared at him with something close to a look of disbelief plastered to his face. Did the man seriously think that he would enjoy any part of this? He'd been recruited [blackmailed] to do another job for the CIA, and he was treating him like he'd just flown in for some sort of meeting.

Taking a seat behind the desk, Marsh eyed Frank for a second or more before continuing. "You think I'm a cold-hearted bastard, don't you?"

Without a second's hesitation, Frank replied, "That pretty much sums it up."

Marsh grinned. "Honestly Frank, I don't give a shit what you think of me. Let me spell this out for you, so that we'll be on the same page. You owe us, Frank. Plain and simple. Do you have any idea how much time, effort and money was put into your training for the CIA?" he asked, but before Frank could respond, he continued. "We expected to get many more years out of our investment before you left. Granted we agreed to your leaving but it was not without certain stipulations. The most important of which was that you would be available to us as needed."

At this point Frank was seething. His jaw was clenched and his eyes had narrowed to slits. "Now listen here, you son-of-a-bitch……."

"No. I suggest you listen," Marsh interrupted. "You were the one who chose to get married….have a family…..try to live something that resembles a normal life. The one very important detail that you forgot, was that you belong to us, from now until the day you die!"

Frank was beyond livid. Standing now, his hands clenched at his sides, he leaned across the desk in order to drive home his next statements. "Fuck the CIA….fuck this job and most importantly…..fuck you!" Then he spun around and headed for the door.

Through all of Frank's bravado, Marsh had not moved a muscle. He waited till Frank reached the door before he said in an eerily calm voice, "So I hear that your wife and kids are heading to Chicago soon."

Frank stopped dead in his tracks, and felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head, effectively dampening the rage that was boiling over inside of him. He slowly pivoted his head to look at the man that he hated more he had ever thought possible. "What did you just say?" he asked through nearly clenched teeth.

A sickening smile spread over Marsh's face. "I thought it might be necessary to remind you why you agreed to do this assignment." He paused momentarily, letting his words sink in before continuing. "I've seen pictures of your family, Frank. I really would hate to see anything happen to them. Wouldn't you?"

Trembling now, it was taking everything he had not to launch himself across the desk and snuff the life out of the abomination that sat there. "I'm only going to say this once…..touch my family and I swear to God and all that's holy, that I will personally rip your throat out with my bare hands."

The smile on Marsh's face brightened considerably at the threat. "Now that's the man that we need for this job."

Frank's expression changed from blinding anger to confusion in a split second. "What the hell?!"

"Frank….Frank…..Frank…..has it really been that long ago? Do you remember nothing of your life as Luis Mendoza? You were ruthless……quick to anger…….and as cold-hearted as you claim that I am."

The thought that he had been anything even remotely like Raymond Marsh was sickening him beyond belief, but before Frank had a chance to respond, Marsh continued.

"Don't worry Frank, it will all come back to you. With a bit of reconditioning, you'll be back to your old merciless self."

Frank wanted nothing more than to get the hell away from that room. Just being close to the man made his skin crawl, almost as if the evil that he knew resided within the man's carcass could be transmitted to him through the air. But he knew that at least for the moment, he would be forced to deal with him. "So how long is this reconditioning going to take?" he asked reluctantly.

"That….is entirely up to you. The more cooperative and open you are, the quicker we'll have you on your way to your actual assignment."

"So in other words, be a good guinea pig and I'll get out of my cage sooner."

Marsh chuckled at the comparison. "Something like that. Now…..I'll show you to where you'll be staying while you are here. It's not the Four Seasons, but it'll have everything you need for your….transition."

Frank winced slightly at the word "transition". Suddenly he felt like some sort of modern day version of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde. He just hoped that when all was said and done and this damned assignment was over, he'd be able to still tell the difference between the two.

He followed Marsh out of the office and back through what he assumed was some sort of control center.

"As you can see," Marsh explained, sweeping his hand through the empty room, "we're not quite ready to begin. You came to us a bit sooner than we had originally anticipated. But don't worry…..all the necessary personnel will be in place by tomorrow morning and then we can begin."

Frank didn't reply. He simply looked around the room once more, trying to picture what in the hell they were going to do with so many computers and monitors, most of which were not yet functioning.

Once again outside, Marsh led Frank to a smaller building behind the larger one that they had just exited. Again, it gave the appearance of having been abandoned long ago, but somehow Frank believed that it was all for show. Once inside, he knew that he was correct. While the outside gave the appearance of being neglected, the interior was impeccably clean and almost sterile.

The closest thing that Frank could think to compare this other building to, was some sort of military barracks, but once again, the building appeared to be deserted. Off of the main room, which appeared to double as both kitchen area and lounge, there was a hallway that led to smaller rooms. Some sort of quarters, Frank surmised. Near the end of the hall, Marsh finally stopped and opened one of the doors.

Once inside the smaller room, Frank looked around in disbelief. The room was fully furnished and almost had a homey quality to it, as if someone had been living there for months or even years. As he looked at his surroundings, Frank was suddenly struck by the familiarity of it all. The place reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly.

Meanwhile, Marsh stood back and watched Frank walk slowly around the room, stopping now and again to look more closely at something. At that moment, Marsh very much looked like a man awaiting a reaction of some sort. When none was forthcoming, he turned as if to leave.

"As I told you, Frank, come tomorrow morning, we'll begin. But for the rest of today, I suggest that you familiarize yourself with the file on the table near the bed. In it, you'll find the "activities" of one Luis Mendoza since he left Colombia 15 years ago."

Frank walked over to the table and picked up the rather hefty file that Marsh had referred to and gave it a cursory glance, but what little he saw amazed him. The details that had gone into the profile were remarkable. He knew that he would have his work cut out for him just in having to memorize all of the facts that he found there.

Marsh again waited for some sort of response, but received none. "Oh….and just a couple of other things. First, the kitchen area is fully stocked with anything you might need. Second, I'm afraid the air conditioning system isn't working properly, so it may get a bit warm in here during your stay. We've tried to have it fixed, but it looks like the whole system will need to be replaced. And lastly……come sun up, you will answer to the name of Luis Mendoza. From tomorrow morning on, Frank Donovan will cease to exist. Understood?"

Frank looked the man directly in the eye, took a deep breath and simply nodded in reply. He knew it would happen, just as it had before. Once the assimilation began, recruits were only referred to by their new personae.

With one final look, Marsh turned heel and left, shutting the door tightly behind him. A few seconds later, Frank could clearly hear the sound of the outside door open and then shut.

Once alone in the room, Frank suddenly got the overwhelming feeling that he was being shut away in a prison. Effectively, he knew that it was the closest thing to it.

For the moment, he abandoned the file, and looked around the room once more. What was it that made it look so familiar? Was it the color? Some sort of arrangement of the furniture? He shook his head in frustration, when the answers wouldn't come to him.

Forgoing his "homework" for the moment, he went out into the hallway and back toward the main room. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was already the afternoon. Having skipped breakfast as he hastily departed his home, and only taking something to drink on the plane ride down, Frank realized that he was hungry.

Walking into the kitchen area, he investigated whether the place was as well stocked as Marsh had implied. After rummaging through the cabinets and then the refrigerator, he realized that Marsh had indeed spoken the truth. There was easily enough there to feed him for several weeks. Dismissing that last thought, he set about making himself a simple meal.

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Several hours later, Frank was busily going through the file that had been provided for him. Just as he had originally thought, the details presented were more than impressive. As he read through page after page, he couldn't help but appreciate the time and effort that had been put forth to complete such a monumental task. Seemingly every month that had lapsed since his departure from Colombia some 15 years ago was accounted for. Where he had supposedly been….who he had worked for or with…..addresses….phone numbers….friends……everything in perfect detail. And just as he had originally suspected, he had quite a lot of memorization to get down before even considering stepping foot back in the country.

Setting the file aside, he stretched his tired muscles and scrubbed his hands over his face. Memorizing the details in the file was tedious but necessary. He knew it was the key to making this mission successful.

Standing up from where he had situated himself on the bed, he stretched once again. Marsh had been right, the room had gotten hotter as the day had gone on, and he was thankful for the fact that he wasn't undertaking this mission in the middle of the blistering hot summer. Still, the air was dense and easily 80 degrees or more. Reaching down, he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it up and over his head, trying to cool down a bit.

He decided to take another small break, hoping to clear his mind a bit before tackling the never-ending file once more. He again went into the lounge area, but this time, he went to the front door, hoping to take a brief look outside. As he had his hand on the knob, he wondered for a second if he would find it locked. However, with a twist of his wrist, it opened easily.

Stepping outside, he was rewarded with a gentle breeze, which did much to cool the light sheen of sweat that covered his body. He closed his eyes and leaned against the outer wall of the building. He realized suddenly how very tired he was, and remembered that he'd gotten no sleep at all the night before.

As the thought crossed through his weary mind, he couldn't help but recall the events of the night before. Laura…… He wondered where she was, what she was doing. How had she managed to tell the children about his sudden departure and would all three of them ever be able to forgive him? He took a deep breath trying to calm the turmoil that was inside him. As much as he wanted to worry about what was happening at home, he knew that at this moment, his focus needed to be on the upcoming mission. Marsh had said that the more he cooperated and accepted the inevitable, the sooner this would be over.

As he pushed thoughts of his family aside, the conversation that he'd had earlier with Marsh came tumbling back. He had the overwhelming feeling that the whole exchange had been orchestrated. Marsh had pushed all of the right buttons in order to get a near violent reaction out of him and then sat there and gloated when his performing monkey did just as expected. Did they really know him well enough to manipulate him so easily? The idea made him shudder even in the still balmy Florida sun.

With his eyes still closed, he leaned his head back against the concrete wall. Come the morning, the real training would begin. Without being able to remember all of the steps involved, he had started to become a little anxious about it all. He breathed deeply trying to relax in the hopes that his mind would clear and some of what he thought was forgotten would come back to him.

As he stood there, his body slowly relaxing, the breeze lazily lapping at his naked torso, brief images began to float through his mind. He could picture close quarter drills through endless hallways and streets, gun drawn, expecting that around the next corner, his mortal enemy lie in wait. Endless days of study….learning all about the man that he would become. And something else……something that lay just out of sight. He swore that if he reached out his hand he could almost touch what was hidden in the murky shadows of his failing memory, but still it eluded him. Then…..just as he had been about to give up on it, and go back inside to pour through the facts and details that would become his life, it came to him. A few flashing images…….

His eyes flew open and he looked around as if nothing looked familiar to him. Startled from a near dream state, he felt his pulse racing and he heard the blood thundering through his ears. Lucia….she was the key to it. In those brief flashes of remembrance, he'd seen the two of them….together….just as he'd dreamt about her the other morning.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. What was it about this woman that she held such power over him? How did she fit into all of this so-called conditioning?

He had so many questions and damned few answers. And if he were honest with himself, he didn't really want to know. Shaking his head almost violently, he tried to clear his mind of the disturbing thoughts and try to concentrate on the task at hand, and that was to commit to memory most, if not all, of what the file contained. So without further thought, he reentered the building, hoping to shut out the unpleasant memories as he engaged the lock.

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While Frank was taking a trip down memory lane, two figures sat in front of the seemingly endless rows of video monitors back in the main building. One such monitor gave a perfect view of Frank as he stood outside the smaller building.

"Hmmmm……..I must say, he has certainly taken care of that delicious body since I last laid hands on it," the silky voice practically purred.

"Lucia…..patience…….patience. Soon enough you'll get a chance to have your fun."

The dark haired woman turned to her companion. "Promise me, Raymond. Promise me or I walk out of that door right now."

Raymond Marsh turned to look into her honey colored eyes and tried to repress a shiver of revulsion. Beautiful though she was, Lucia Cortez was lethal, in every sense of the word. Lethal….but necessary. "Of course, my dear, and I always keep my promises."

She turned back to the screen and her eyes raked over the vision of the man displayed there, an almost lecherous smile curving her blood red lips.

Marsh watched her intently, and for the first time in his career, he actually felt somewhat sorry for one of the agents assigned to his care. Frank Donovan was a very unlucky man…….very unlucky.

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