Broken Promises
Chapter Eleven
A shadowy figure crept into Frank Donovan's nearly pitch black room an hour or so before the sun had a chance to rise above the horizon. Once inside, the individual stopped momentarily in order for their eyes to adjust to the near darkness. After pausing several heartbeats longer, the intruder finally moved closer to the bed and hesitated yet again.
Before the person had a chance to do anything further, Frank suddenly shot out of bed, grabbing the individual by the arms and slamming them up against the closest wall. An audible gasp escaped the stranger's lips before Frank had a chance to quickly flip on the bedside lamp.
Shielding his eyes from the nearly blinding glare, Frank stared into the face of an incredibly frightened Nina. Her eyes were wide with fear and her chest heaved with each labored breath. His own erratic heartbeat still beat wildly in his chest as he hung his head and exhaled forcibly.
"Jesus…..Nina…..don't ever do that again," he warned her, feeling a bit guilty at how he had manhandled her in the process. Releasing her arms, he pulled back and noticed that she was still plastered against the wall and shaking uncontrollably.
"It's OK, Nina……I swear that I won't hurt you. Just please…..don't ever sneak into my room in the middle of the night. Especially now…..with training in progress." He tried to explain it all to her in as calm a voice as he could muster.
Now that his heart rate and breathing were returning to normal, he noticed the sensors that were still attached to his scalp from the so-called experiment and roughly pulled them off. He walked back over to his bed and sat down, leaning his forearms on his legs and burying his face in his hands. If it were possible, he felt even more tired than he had just the night before or the night before that. Running his hands through his tousled hair, he once again looked up at the young woman who still stood like a stone against the wall. He saw the tears in her eyes as she eyed him warily.
He sighed heavily as he looked at her. "Nina…..I said that I wouldn't……" He stopped then, realizing that he was speaking English and not her native Spanish. "Nina….dije que no le lastimaría. Usted me asustó. Estoy muy apesadumbrado si le lastimo." [Nina…..I said that I wouldn't hurt you. You startled me, that's all. I'm very sorry if I hurt you.] He watched her take in the words a little at a time, and after a few moments, she appeared to relax somewhat, although her eyes still told him that she didn't entirely trust him still. "¿Por favor…..puede usted perdonarme?" [Please……can you forgive me?]
She paused for awhile as though she were considering his plea, and then finally nodded her head. Frank smiled sadly at her, realizing that she had no reason at all to trust him.
Sensing that the awkward moment was behind them, Frank asked, "¿Por qué está usted aquí?" [Why are you here?]
She still eyed him cautiously, but she slowly peeled herself away from the concrete wall. "Sr. Marsh preguntó que le despierto temprano esta mañana." [Mr. Marsh asked that I wake you early this morning.]
Frank nodded in understanding. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he squinted his eyes, sure that he was reading the numbers wrong. "4:00? Good God…..what the hell are we going to be doing at 4:00?" he mumbled to himself.
"Puedo traerle algo comer," [I…..I can bring you something to eat.] Nina volunteered.
He smiled tiredly at her, noticing for the first time that she looked just as fatigued as he felt. "Ningún gracias, Nina. Encontraré algo para me después de que me bañe." [No….thank you, Nina. I'll find something for myself after I shower.]
She nodded her head then and without another word, quickly made for the exit. He stared after her. Yet again, he wondered what part she played in all of this. For the past few days, she had brought his breakfast each morning before politely excusing herself, not to be seen until the next day. He wondered absently where she disappeared to as soon as her duties were completed. Once more he brought his hands up and scrubbed them almost fiercely across his face.
"Day number five….." he muttered. It seemed like weeks since he'd first arrived. His days were spent dividing his time between seemingly endless drills and tests, and the monotonous hours reciting and memorizing the facts that would hopefully keep him alive as he went up against one of Colombia's up-and-coming cartel leaders. As soon as he was "dismissed" each evening, he would drag himself back to the barracks…..scrape together a meager meal and then crawl into bed, wires and sensors attached, of course.
After his second night in Miami, Frank had not seen or heard from the mysterious Lucia. Her presence there had disturbed him greatly, but not as much as the fact that Marsh knew exactly who she was and had somehow sanctioned her visit. He wanted to try to remember more of his past as far as she was concerned, but feared that delving into that shadowy pit might only bring back the disconcerting dreams and visions that he'd experienced just days before arriving. Luckily, no dreams had plagued him and he secretly hoped that whatever power she possessed that drew him toward her had begun to fade.
Each morning he woke feeling more tired and edgy than the day before. Distractedly, he wondered if maybe he had been too long away from actual undercover work. Fifteen years ago, he'd taken all of this in stride. Fifteen years ago, you were only 24! Chuckling sadly to himself, he managed to haul himself off of the bed and head toward the bathroom.
After breakfast, he reported to Varner at the ungodly hour of 5:00 AM. He was told that they would be simulating dusk or evening drills and that the pale morning light would double as such. Shaking his head at the asinine logic, they got to work.
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Hours later, and with no break in sight, the maneuvers continued. This time, he had been brought to what appeared to be a replica of a small, rundown Colombian village. The scenario was one that pitted him up against a band of drug dealers who had found out his identity and were attempting to hunt him down. His objective was to make his way through the abandoned buildings and streets to a waiting vehicle at the other end of the village.
Frank stopped at the edge of one structure and paused to catch his breath. Gun drawn and at the ready, he cautiously peered around the corner. Sweating profusely, not only from exertion but because he was forced to wear a heavy Kevlar vest in the now sweltering Florida sun, he paused once again to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. Although the shells that they were using were not real, the vest was still a necessity in case someone fired upon him at close range. The hit may not be lethal, but the resulting impact could cause heavy bruising or even cracked ribs.
Seeing that the way appeared to be clear, Frank made his way toward a side entrance to the first building in sight. Ducking inside quickly, he ascertained that at least the first room was empty. Keeping his back to the wall and his eyes peeled to both the doorway ahead of him as well as the one behind him, he continued on.
Stopping quickly, Frank thought he heard some sort of noise. Slight….brief….but definitely a sound. Cocking his head to one side, he listened for the sound to repeat, hoping to hone in on it's whereabouts. After nearly a half minute of almost complete silence on his part, he heard it again, and it was definitely coming from the next room.
Moving as cautiously and as soundlessly as humanly possible, he approached the next doorway. Once there, he readied himself for whatever was awaiting him. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, he prepared for the initial attack. Raising his gun, he quickly turned the corner with the lightning quick speed of a trained professional, aiming it at the first target he saw.
Firing quickly, he took out a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, brandishing a semi-automatic. Glancing quickly left and right, Frank rapidly determined that no one else was in the room. Assuring himself that the target was indeed "dead", he continued till he reached a doorway leading to an alleyway paralleling the main street. Once outside, he maneuvered his way through two more structures, taking out 3 more hitters as he went.
After nearly an hour of playing cat and mouse, he could finally see his objective…..an SUV parked no more 20 yards away. Hiding now behind a row of building crates, he had no way of knowing how many more targets he needed to get past in order to facilitate his getaway. Had he taken them all down, or was he about to step in front of the equivalent of a firing squad? From his viewpoint, he saw no one, but some gut instinct told him the worst was yet to come.
Preparing himself, he drew another gun and made sure that both were fully loaded before venturing further. Peering around the crates as best as he could, he readied himself for the final run to freedom. Launching himself into motion, he rounded the containers and was immediately faced with a boy who appeared to be no more than 14 years old. Frank froze and stared at the child, his eyes immediately haunted by what he saw before him. Without realizing what he was doing, he lowered both drawn weapons, almost as if his arms had a will of their own.
In the second that Frank's weapons were no longer trained on him, the boy pulled a gun from behind his back and fired directly at the center of Frank's chest. Frank almost didn't feel the impact, as he was so caught up in the sight before him.
"Mendoza!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Varner yelled as he rounded a building to Frank's immediate left. Stomping forward, Varner stopped only when he was directly in Frank's face. "Jesus fucking Christ!! You had him! What the hell made you stop??"
Frank blinked rapidly and finally seemed to focus on the enraged man standing before him. His eyes narrowed as he stared into Varner's eyes. "He's just a boy," was all the explanation that he was willing to give.
"So what? Anyone with the ability to carry a weapon can be your enemy! Or have you forgotten that?" Varner asked sarcastically.
Trying to keep his own anger under check, Frank turned and tried to walk a short distance away, but was stopped when Varner clamped his hand down on Frank's shoulder. As a result of that seemingly harmless gesture, Frank suddenly snapped. Whirling around, he brought his forearm up and connected with Varner's jaw. The force of the blow caused Varner to lose his footing and land on his backside.
Eyes blazing…..jaw firmly clenched, Varner immediately regained his feet and came at Frank with everything that he had, but on this particular day, that wasn't enough. After a few quick moves, Frank once again had Varner on the ground, but this time he let loose with a barrage of blows which Varner could do very little to block. Luckily for him though, several of the agents who had been used as hitters during the exercise came to Varner's rescue and pulled a possessed Frank Donovan off of him.
Struggling for everything that he was worth, Frank tried vainly to free himself. In the end, it took nearly five agents to subdue him. After several minutes and many bruises later, the other agents finally let Frank go after it appeared that he had calmed down, although they stood close by in case he decided to launch another attack. Much to everyone's surprise though, he turned heel and stormed off. The bigger shock, however, was that Varner let him without another word said. Once Frank was out of sight, he too turned and headed off in the other direction leaving the 5 or so agents left wondering what the hell had just happened.
A short time later, Varner entered the main building and marched past the endless rows of video monitors and technicians and headed directly for Marsh's office.
Raymond Marsh, of course, knew that he would be visited by his head trainer, having witnessed the entire exchange just moments earlier on the surveillance equipment. So when his office door slammed open, Marsh said, without looking at who had entered, "Have a seat Steven…….I believe we have something to discuss."
"You better fucking believe we have something to discuss!" Varner snarled in reply.
Marsh swiveled his seat so that he could finally look at the man who now towered across his desk. But instead of being intimidated, Marsh simply smiled sadly. "Steven…..Steven……you knew that this was going to be a difficult assignment….." was all he managed to say before Varner interrupted him.
"Difficult is one thing. Having a fucking lunatic pound my face in is something else entirely!"
Cocking his head first one way and then the other, Marsh visually inspected the man's face for the all too apparent bruising. "He did do a number on you, didn't he?"
"Look….the man is unstable. Everyone else seems to see that except you!"
"On the contrary, it's exactly what we've been waiting for," Marsh replied calmly.
Varner eyed him suspiciously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Marsh sighed as if explaining it all was a major chore for him. "Steven…..everyone here has been chosen specifically to serve a specific purpose. You, for example. You're noted for being tough, thorough and sometimes brutal. Exactly what Frank needs at this particular moment. No one is here by accident."
Varner took in everything that he'd just been told. "If that's true, then what the hell was it about that boy that made him shut down like that?"
Marsh smiled almost malevolently. "Ahhhh yes…..the boy. Let me show you something." Turning toward his computer, he began punching in file instructions. After a few seconds, a picture appeared without any sort of caption. Marsh turned toward Varner motioning for him to look.
Steven moved forward so that he could look over Marsh's shoulder. After examining the picture, he said, "Yeah…..so? It's a picture of the boy. Taken a few years ago…..but it's still him. And I'm supposed to make what out of that?" he asked in an irritated voice.
Marsh chuckled and entered a few more keystrokes. A name and a short paragraph appeared under the boy's picture, and without even looking, he knew that Varner's eyes had begun to widen a bit more.
"It's his son," Varner stated incredulously.
Turning now to look at the other man, Marsh said, "That's right……..his dead son."
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Frank made his way back to the barracks and effectively barricaded himself inside. He needed to be alone……desperately needed to be alone. Pacing back and forth in his increasingly cramped room, his mind raced in a thousand different directions.
The sane part of what was left of his brain knew that the boy with the gun was not Michael. Michael was dead…….a little over three years dead to be exact, but the other part of him…..the part that was now exhausted and for all intents and purposes, sleep deprived, was imagining all sorts of different scenarios. Government cover-ups……medical blunders…….perhaps Michael had survived after all, and they'd buried someone else's child.
As he continued his frantic pacing, the anger began to boil over once more from inside of him. He'd been manipulated once again….either by Marsh finding a very convenient look-alike or by the doctors and medical staff at the hospital where Michael had supposedly died. He stormed across the room, intent on a face-to-face showdown with Marsh. He wouldn't stop until the bastard gave him the answers that he wanted.
Once he opened the door, almost ripping it off its hinges, he nearly plowed over someone standing in the doorway. Taking two steps back, he focused on the person stopped in front of him.
Lucia.
Taking a step or two further away, he simply stared at her, more than a little wild-eyed. Something was different about her this time…..something he couldn't quite put his finger on. But instead of approaching him as she had the second night that he was there, she merely walked into the room and waited patiently for him to say something.
After eyeing her warily for several seconds more, Frank finally asked, "What are you doing here?"
She smiled at him. Not the smile of a seductress, but a seemingly genuine smile tinged with……sympathy? "I heard about what happened today……during training."
"And?"
"Luis……I can only imagine the pain that it must have caused you."
He squinted his eyes at her, almost sure that he had not heard her correctly. "Why do you care?"
"I know what you think of me. That I'm some sort of…..what? Enemy?" She paused as she moved toward a chair in the corner of the room. "I'm truly sorry that you don't remember the wonderful times that we spent together. I….handled things…..poorly…..the other night," she told him, her eyes demurely downcast as she stumbled over her words. "I had no idea that you didn't remember me."
Her words seemed sincere. Even her demeanor was drastically different than it had been the other day, but there was still something…….something cold behind her honey colored eyes. Something that warned him not to trust anything that came out of her mouth. "And your part in all of this?" he finally asked her.
"I'm only here to help you regain your memory," she answered him truthfully.
"And I'm supposed to believe you, why?"
She smiled at him once again. "Because you have no one else to trust, Luis. Marsh is playing games with you, and Varner is simply his little pawn. Who else is there?"
He began to pace once more, although this time slowly….methodically…..pondering everything that she'd said to him. "And how exactly do you plan on helping me?" he asked her warily.
The smile that graced her face this time, was colder than the one just seconds before. "Let me in, Luis," she said in a low voice. "Let me in and I can help you with everything……anything……."
And for a few seconds……Frank's troubled mind considered letting her do just that.
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