Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A tiny island close to the North African coast.
It was twelve a clock am, but there was no ringing of the angelus bells.
The church door screeched in its hinges like a muffled cry of pain.
Bright sunlight was illuminating the colorful windows, painting spots on the worn stone floor.
Abbot Stevens had said the abbey church had been built in the late 19th century, when the monastery had been founded. Back then over fifty monks had lived here. Nowadays, after the end of the country's colonial days and several revolutions, one violent regime overthrowing another, only seven had remained.
Theoretically.
Chance bent down and examined the spots on the floor closer. Some were of dark red.
Dried blood.
He moved forward through the sacristy into the actual monastery, passing by several wooden doors that had obviously been forced open. Books and papers lay strewn everywhere, but no dead bodies, no puddles of blood and no bullet holes in the walls. Chance wasn't sure if that was a good sign.
The building was old and spartan, but well kept, at least till – what? A day or two ago? According to the calendar on the wall in the small refectory, less than 24 hours ago.
Damn, so close but still too late.
The monastery's thick old walls kept the stifling mid-day heat at bay, but the cool air that filled the deserted halls and corridors didn't feel comfortable. Something violent had happened here.
And aside from that, Chance had the nagging feeling he wasn't alone. A shadow was following him around, very quietly.
Maybe some of the monks had managed to hide?
Or maybe the attackers, whoever they were, had left a sentry behind.
Chance turned a corner, pretending to head towards the cloister garden, then made a sharp turn, ducked and lunged forward.
WHAM
He and his shadow crashed to the floor. A few seconds of helpless, desperate struggling, then Chance had pinned him to the floor. It was a boy of about 17, 18 years maybe. He wore the traditional clothes of the farmers around here and he was obviously furious, paying no heed whatsoever to the fact that someone had just overcome him.
"Who are you?", he spat. "What are you doing here?"
"Abbot Stevens, of the monastery's mother house, sent me to protect the monks and help them to get off the island safely. The latest rebellion on the mainland has left them in grave danger", Chance calmly explained.
"LIAR!", the boy roared. "They wouldn't leave! Never!"
In a way he was right. According to Abbot Stevens, the small monastery had been attacked several times during the last few decades, by various groups – freedom fighters, rebels, terrorists, plain robber bands, pirates… It had also been expropriated twice. The latest government, another corrupt dictatorship, had granted the monks to return to the monastery itself but kept the surrounding land. It was safe to say, they had been through a lot and never wavered. But in the light of several massacres on the mainland…
"Abbot Stevens ordered the monks to leave the monastery. Canonical law gives him the right to do that. The last thing we've heard was that two monks were willing to follow his orders, the rest refused. He asked me to bring at least these two home safely."
The boy rolled his eyes. "That must have been Brother Ambrosius and Brother Calixt. Brother Ambrosius likes to follow orders and Brother Calixt is afraid of everything. One day I saw him jump ten feet just because of a harmless scorpion."
Chance released him. "You're one of their students, aren't you? What's your name?"
"Everybody on the island is. They're the only teachers around here. The only doctors, too." He hesitated for a moment. "My name is Haroun", he finally added.
The monks' rather important place in the island's society was exactly the reason why the majority of them had wanted to stay. They felt the people here needed them. "What happened, Haroun?", Chance asked.
The boy shook his head. "I don't know. I'm living in the village down the road, I was sleeping on the roof and the wind carries sounds far across the island, but I didn't hear a thing. This morning the angelus bells weren't ringing, that's when I knew something was wrong. I came up here and found everything empty." He looked incredibly sad. Chance could tell he was desperately trying not to cry. To calm him down a little, he motioned him to walk with him to the library.
The fact that the whole maneuver had taken place so silently told Chance that it had been carried out by professionals. At the moment several rivaling groups of terrorists/rebels/freedom fighters (depending on whom you ask) were striving for power in this country and they all displayed a rather high level of training.
They crossed the threshold of the library and the boy froze, pressing one hand to his mouth. Chance took a deep breath. "What's written on the wall, Haroun?" Chance spoke some Arabian, but his reading skills were rather rusty.
Voice choking, Haroun told him.
A short time later, Chance climbed up on the roof of the refectory with his mobile, aiming for a better signal. Communication was a hit or miss thing in this country. This time he got through.
"You guys settled down in the capital yet?", he asked.
"Yeah, and... I'm NOT gonna eat that." Winston's voice.
"Dude, open your mind. This is perfectly edible."
"I'm not going to… "
Muffled arguing. Chance rolled his eyes towards the dark blue sky, but he couldn't stifle a smile.
"Guerrero, tell him what it is and be honest. Winston, I need you fit, eat it."
Static. For a moment Chance thought he'd lost contact, then he heard Winston's voice again. "You don't sound like the extraction is going well…"
"I need more information on a group called Ardeshir. Apparently they kidnapped our monks. At least that's what the message says that someone left on the wall of the library. And tell Ilsa to inquire at the embassy. The former colonial power still keeps ties to the country's secret service. We need to find out what they know, maybe the chairwoman of the Marshall Pucci Foundation can charm something out of the ambassador."
More static, then Guerrero's voice. "We're on it, Chance."
As Chance climbed down the building into the cloister garden, Haroun was waiting for him. "You're going to bring them back, aren't you?"
"I'll do my best", he replied.
A cool breeze was coming from the sea. It made them both shiver.