[Chapter VI: The Call to Arms]
The morning sun sparkled within the ocean expanding to the east. The salty wind caressed their faces with careful tendrils. The playful water jollily lunged into the beach shore, emitting a soft slosh as it receded from the sand. Tyler and Simon jogged along the shoreline near Clarke's beach house. They were dressed in tank tops and gym shorts to establish their cover as bystanders. They wore transparent sunglasses constructed with technology similar to Google Glass. The wearable devices were actually surveillance receptors linked to the dash camera located in Simon's car, which was parked a slight distance from Clarke's personal driveway. The dash cam was a high fidelity resolution device, possessing a recording range up to four hundred feet in HD. When there is any suspicious activity, they will know.
After jogging a tenth cycle along the shore, Simon suggested they take a break. They sat down at the beach area behind Clarke's house, acting exhausted and deciding to watch the sunrise in reverie. Simon checked his mechanical watch on his left wrist. "It's about to be 6:30. Perfect lighting from the sun to move about the house without having to use its interior lights. Knowing the Cygnus, he'll send a two, maybe three-man team to extract him forcibly. I will take the one running point, as he will be handling Clarke while his partner acts as support."
"How do you know?" Tyler inquired. "He sent only one man after Emily."
"Hamptons' elites do not provide any adversity," Simon derided. "He did not have the foresight to know she could put up a fight. With David Clarke, it's a different story, given his past relationship with Black. He has to ensure his capture."
Tyler studied the radiant sunrise as a flock of seagulls glided by. "Why didn't we help her when she was targeted? With her, we could already be inside the Syndicate. She is very skilled at what she does."
"No doubt," Simon concurred. "But, she's unpredictable. I need someone with an incentive to willingly surrender himself to the Cygnus. David Clarke provides that docility. Amanda Clarke is an attractive incentive. Besides, Merlyn's associate is another loose end. If he follows me to their compound, there is a chance they can manage to kill him. It may be a false hope, but hope nonetheless."
Tyler did not know much about Simon's past with the League of Assassins, only that he killed a few of their officers in exchange for information. From what he was told, Nanda Parbat was a well-sanctioned fortress: highly organized, efficient patrol, and strong unity. In order to breach their defenses, Simon had to become one of them. He immediately appealed to their leader and begged for reformation as a hot-headed kid named Derek Bolin. Simon was crafty, possessing an uncanny ability to emulate any emotion at will, even if he was void of them at the time. He could go to Hollywood if he wished.
Their surveillance sunglasses alerted them to activity at the beach house. As predicted, a two-person team approached Clarke's front door. One was picking the lock while the other looked out for third parties. Tyler looked at Simon, who nodded affirmatively for action. They got up from the sand and dashed to the back porch, careful to keep the element of surprise. They caught a glimpse of the support man disabling the alarm with a code decipher while the lead went up the steps to retrieve David Clarke. The duo crept along the wrap-around porch, entering the front door which was left open.
"Hey! Let go of me!" David's voice shouted from the bedroom. Several thumps were audible from the ceiling above. Simon rushed past the support man, evading three shots fired from his silenced pistol. Tyler intervened and grappled him from behind, disarming him quickly before he could discharge another shot. Simon disappeared beyond the stairs. Tyler tried to asphyxiate the man in his hold, but his brawn was stronger than he appeared. The Syndicate grunt bashed him against the wall and separated from him.
Tyler and the grunt tangoed with one another,exchanging blows, kicks, and interlocking techniques. The ginger eventually managed to outpace his opponent, gaining the upperhand when the grunt misjudged his two-step combo, resulting in an unexpected kick to the thigh. When he recoiled from the pain, Tyler took the opportunity to uppercut him in the jaw, knocking him down to the floor. While the grunt was down, Tyler rolled him over and snapped his neck in a swift movement. A wave of nausea rose inside of him, but he fought to curtail it. Killing was not his specialty.
Two gunshots sounded from the upper floor. Tyler swiftly traversed the stairs and went into the bedroom. Simon was aiming a pistol at the limp body of the other Syndicate member. David Clarke stood in the corner by his bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. Simon was right. The Cygnus had the tendency to strike his targets when they were at their most vulnerable. Clarke looked at Tyler's presence with confusion. "What's going on? Who are you two?"
"Mr. Clarke, you can call me Darwin," Simon announced. He gestured to Tyler. "This is my associate, Tristan." He was referring to Tyler's actual working alias, Tristan Braddock, a P.I. from Kansas City, Missouri. It was created to give him a cover if he was ever in public scrutiny while performing intelligence operations. "How about you get dressed and we will explain everything to you downstairs. While you're doing that, my associate and I will clean up the bodies."
Tyler assisted Simon in lifting the body of the lead Syndicate grunt and taking it downstairs to the other one. They searched both bodies for a cell phone. Tyler found a burner on the leader and gave it to Simon. He briefly checked it and nodded in approval. He put it aside and began stripping both bodies of their clothes. Tyler went out back door and obtained the duffel bag they hid beneath the bench swing earlier that morning. He brought it back inside and placed it beside the bodies. He helped finish the stripping of the second grunt's body and then retrieved two heavy-duty black garbage bags from the duffel. One by one, they placed the dead bodies into the bags and concealed them tightly by the drawstrings.
Simon instructed Tyler to get the car while he bagged their clothes, weapons, and pocket contents separately. David came downstairs by the time they placed the bagged bodies in the SUV's trunk. "What are you going to do with the bodies?" Clarke asked.
"You don't want to know," Tyler responded. "What matters is that they will not attract attention to you…or your daughter."
"My daughter?" Clarke said, confused. "Is this about Charlotte?"
"No, Mr. Clarke," Simon answered. "It's about the other one. The one who is presumed dead, only she isn't. She's actually your next door neighbor."
David gulped nervously, not knowing how to react to their knowledge of his beloved daughter, Amanda Clarke. "Who are you working for? What's going on?"
"We work for ourselves," Simon told him, gesturing him to go into the living room. "Have a seat. Tristan will explain everything to you while I clean up your bedroom." He went back and retrieved the duffel bag before departing up the stairs again.
Clarke looked at Tyler with speculation. "What's his deal?"
"His people skills are very limited," Tyler chuckled. He sat across from David. "Okay, Mr. Clarke, I'm going to need you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Every detail will be crucial, especially if you want our help to ensure Amanda Clarke is saved."
"Saved?" David interjected direly. "What do you mean? What has happened to my daughter?"
"Tell me, what do you know about the Cygnus Syndicate?" Tyler spoke curiously.
Emily was returned to her cell after being granted the opportunity to shower. She guessed they must keep their commodities in pristine condition. Each shower had its own enclosed stall, and she and other women were shepherded in like cattle to wash and refresh themselves after a night of solitude. None of them saw one another. Their entrance and exit were coordinated such that they were isolated from each other. It was smart, minimizing liability when a captive is auctioned back to a loved one. If they could not identify other victims, they had no capability to understand their scheme. If they tried to go to law enforcement, they would only lead them to a dead end.
After she was finished dressing, Falco came into the cell, bearing a tray of food. "Gutten morgen, meine Frau! Hast du Hunger?" He handed the tray to her. "Für dir." He beamed with joy when she accepted it.
Emily sat on her cot and looked at the main plate consisting of eggs, bacon, shredded hashbrowns, and mini-waffles. A fruit bowl was on the side, along with a chilled glass of orange juice. "Wow," she commented sarcastically. "I did not know I was staying at the Hyatt. If only I could move freely, I would rate you guys five stars."
Falco laughed at her seething spite. "You are a funny one, Miss Thorne. It's a shame that I cannot take you back with me to my home in Germany. Your stay should not be too long. We have men bringing your lover here as we speak. As long as he plays it smart, you both should be back at home by the night."
While Emily ate her food, Falco watched her with fascination. His presence was becoming increasingly irritating, like an attached schoolboy with a crush. Surprisingly, the food was actually delicious and satiating. When her captor asked how it tasted, she gave him no answer. Her silence was amusing to him. She could not help but think that he was some diabolical and twisted man. Not only did he have what seemed like multiple personalities, such as his playful German self and his malicious American self, but he also had spontaneous violent outbursts and quickness to anger. She witnessed that when he shot that guard's knee, solely on the basis because the guard was making fun of him. That gave her a clue about him: he was sensitive to being criticized or patronized. It was a weakness she could exploit later, if she had the opportunity.
"You know, Falco, I'm quite curious about something," Emily said with feigned civility. "Why are you here in this organization? From what I can tell, your colleagues do not get along well with you."
"You are very perceptive," he extolled her. "Alas, one cannot gain honor without making enemies first. Many of my comrades are envious of my rapid promotion with the Cygnus. They also do not like that I have no Russian descent. I'm a top-tier warrior in the Cygnus's arsenal. He is wise enough to see past nationalities. I was recruited when three of his men tried to rob the bank I worked in Berlin. I contained two and killed the third in five minutes. I was proclaimed a hero in the Zeitungen, the uh…newspapers. The next day, the Cygnus came to me personally and offered me a job. More pay, travel, perfect benefits. What more can a man ask for?"
"How about your freedom?" Emily retorted. "Surely, this lucrative affair comes at a hefty cost. He owns you for life."
"Ah, you Americans," Falco smirked. "You and your freedom. It's such a delinquent notion, almost juvenile really. You think freedom is the capacity to act in any way you wish, as long as it does not detract certain unalienable rights. What you fail to realize is that this capacity, in theory, may be possible, but in practice, it is deplorable. Freedom is an illusion. It does not exist. Yes, this country has more luxuries, but that is merely a result from the puppet strings of consumerism. The cost of your freedom is far more 'hefty', as you say, than my cost to service the Cygnus. If only you knew the secrets of your corrupt government."
"What would you know about our secrets?" Emily challenged him daringly. "You're just a lackey."
"Very true," Falco snickered devilishly, enamored by her fiery demeanor. "But, there are things you cannot help but to overhear when the Cygnus drinks his vodka. His knowledge of the United States is particularly fascinating. The depths your foreign agencies will go to collect their intelligence and obtain the objects of their desires are so dark, you would wonder just how far the rabbit hole would go. Besides, it is their fault that we are here in the first place." He sighed with disdain. "I would much rather be in Berlin, or even Moscow. At least we could then operate with schöner scenaries."
When Emily was done with her meal, Falco took her tray and opened the cell door. He handed it off to someone and instructed something in either German or Russian before closing the door. Emily's eyes blazed with spite. He's still sticking around? His persistence presence over her was as aggravating as a pack of fleas. Now it concerned her, causing her to wonder if he had an ulterior agenda at play. "What game are you playing at?" she crossed her arms as she stood up. "Why are you acting so amicably toward me? What's your incentive?"
"A handsome man such as myself cannot enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman like you?" Falco said comically. The humor was lost on her. "I like the way you think. You think like a warrior. I admit, I am, as you say, star-struck by you. It is rare to meet a beauty who possesses the heart and mind of a warrior. I have a soft spot for women who can hold their own without a man. It makes the prospect of a relationship with such a woman attractive, because I would have to work at earning her partnership."
"And you think you can earn mine?" Emily responded condescendingly.
"A foolish fantasy, I know," Falco blushed boyishly. "But, it is the standard I must have for a wife. Like you said, my life is in the Cygnus's hands. If I am to marry a woman, she should know how to handle the dangers of my work. Oh well, until then, it is better to be alone than risk the unnecessary death of a woman I would come to love. Even us Germans have hearts that can break and sorrow. Too bad I am a deep romantic."
Before the conversation could continue, an urgent buzz sounded at the cell door. Falco clenched his fist in frustration and opened the door. "Was ist es?!" He demanded impatiently.
"Der Cygnus will sehen dich," a man outside the cell replied. "Baum und Hoch verpassten ihre eincheckin."
Falco nodded with a smirk on his face. "Ich verstehe. Sagen Sie den Cygnus ich werde sein bald da." When the man departed, Falco turned his attention to Emily. "Well, this is interesting. Mr. Clarke must be a strong man, being able to kill two of our men. I guess it falls upon me to escort him here. Do not worry, I will not harm him… too much." He winked and exited the cell, leaving Emily to wallow in concern for her father.
Nolan knocked on David Clarke's front door. His vehicle was still in his driveway, thankfully. It was almost 9 A.M., a fact which had him worry. He recalled David being a notorious early bird, always compelled to get something done before going into the office at Grayson Global. Perhaps now that he was a free man, in the most literal sense, David had no need for rising before the sun. He only hoped it was not too early to deliver the news of his daughter's abduction.
When David answered the door, the man looked disheveled. "Nolan," he said almost breathlessly, as if he came back from running a marathon. "What a pleasant surprise! Sorry, I'm still composing myself for the day. I'm about to head out, but you can come in for a bit."
Nolan followed him into the living area. On the main couch, David was in the process of packing a small suitcase with clothes, toiletries, and other items. "Are you about to take a trip?" he asked gravely, immediately regretting that he had bad news to bear. He had no desire to rain in on the man's travel plans.
"Just for a couple of days," David answered, continuing packing some final articles of clothing. "I need to get away from the Hamptons for a breather. I need to rethink my life now that I'm free from Malcolm Black's hold. I've been thinking that I can't bond with Amanda unless I piece my life back together. I think being in a different place will be beneficial."
"D-David," Nolan groaned with dismay. "Now would not be the best time for you to leave."
"Why not?" David inquired, perplexed by his glum tone. "If anything, this is the best time. I'm in the right place to take this step."
"I understand that, David," Nolan concurred. "But, if you leave, you may not have a daughter to bond with when you return." The words flowed from his lips without restraint. When David stopped what he was doing, eying him with alarm, he exhaled sharply and fished out his laptop from his shoulder bag. "Emily was abducted yesterday from the Grayson manor. I found out the identity of her captor. I have the footage on here. I'm hoping that you could recognize him. Maybe he's someone you ran into in Canada when Malcom Black recruited you into his operations."
He sat the laptop on the coffee table and quickly brought the surveillance footage up. David trailed over and watched the video of a strongman lifting an unconscious Emily over his shoulder and exiting the front door after passing an unconscious man he did not recognize due to his face being away from the camera. Before the man disappeared from the camera's line of sight, Nolan froze the video and zoomed in on the man. David tried his best to place his face, but no dots were connecting.
"His name is Falco Daniloff," Nolan told him when he realized that David expressed no recognition. "He is a German on Interpol's radar. I do not know who he is working for, but I have a feeling he is connected to Black somehow."
David gulped anxiously and suddenly took off toward the kitchen. Nolan, out of concern, followed him. The older man poured himself a glass of bourbon and shot it down. He seemed unnerved. "I know my daughter has been taken," he revealed. "I received a phone call from someone demanding that I give them the money I stole from Malcom Black or they will auction off Amanda to someone in China or Japan. Someone is coming to retrieve me as we speak." He downed another shot.
"Why are you packing clothes then?" Nolan questioned him.
There was suspicious momentary pause before David answered him. "For a quick get-away, in case they betray me." He sighed and poured himself another glass. He was about to take his third shot, but he seemed to remember something and placed it on the counter untouched. "Shit, I need to find my pocket knife." He scrambled back into the kitchen. Nolan drew a small tube from his shirt pocket. He opened it and dumped a small red orb the size of a tiny marble into his palm. He quickly checked it, and then dropped it into the bourbon David left. The red orb dissolved into the drink without affecting its appearance. After swirling it a bit, Nolan poured himself a shot as well and went to David.
"David, if you're going into the heart of the lion's den, I want to do a farewell shot with you," Nolan said, handing him the spiked glass. "You're a courageous man. I just wish there was something I could do to help you."
"Thanks, Nolan," David responded gratefully. He downed the shot, and Nolan followed suit. Before their conversation could continue, there was a knock at the front door. "That must be him. Whatever you do, don't react. Pretend like you do not know what's going on." He went over to the door and opened it. There stood Falco Daniloff. "I'm ready to go," he said, picking up a briefcase sitting by the doorway.
"Excellent," Falco commended. He glanced at Nolan, then back to David. "You know our terms, correct?"
"Of course," David answered. He looked to Nolan. "I'm off, Mr. Ross. Feel free to enjoy the beach while you're here. I should be back shortly."
"Thank you, Mr. Clarke," Nolan mirrored him. "I might take you up on that offer!"
David nodded and followed Falco out of the door. When Nolan heard a vehicle in the driveway depart, he whipped out his phone and pressed a contact. "Hey, Jack, all systems go. David is heading into the cuckoo's nest."