6. Tiger Can Shoot
I was quite excited at the next part of our training. This of course was due to the fact that it was shooting. And I was a brilliant sharpshooter. Everyone had said so. I didn't mention that my father was better at shooting than me. I had a feeling that there would be questions about how a banker could shoot better than a soldier. I had questioned that as well when I began my regular army training. I had once asked dad about that after my training but before my service time had begun. Dad had given me a look obviously thinking about whether or not to tell me the truth.
'It's useful to know with some of the kinds of people I deal with at work,' dad had finally said.
'Oh you mean robbers?' I asked.
'Something like that,' dad had muttered.
'I wouldn't think they'd let a banker get hold of a gun,' I had said.
'No,' agreed Dad.
'Is it so you can get the guns off the robbers?' I had asked.
'Amongst other things,' muttered Dad.
Then fifteen year old Nelly had rushed into the kitchen her blonde head bobbing up and down. Nelly had just been cheated on by her boyfriend and was pretty upset. I was pretty sure that Dad had been ready to get even with the seventeen year old. I had always thought that Gavin Drake had been too old for her. But she had argued his case. Had I not been in the army where it was illegal to beat up civilians even if they had broke my littlest sister's heart. As it was Ian and Jackie rounded on him and beat him up.
I just wished I could have been there. I had heard that the certain place that Drake had got at Cambridge for Mathematics had been revoked somehow. When Nelly had told us gleefully about this dad had just smirked. Dad had said it was karma for breaking Nelly's heart. But I had to note that he didn't seem too surprised at that fact. But he couldn't have already known, could he? But then again Dad never acted surprised at anything. It was like he knew everything about everything already.
But back to the present; C unit, D Unit, F Unit and R Unit had left with Wolf towards the hand to hand combat training arena that we had done yesterday afternoon. A Unit, B Unit, I Unit, M Unit and N Unit had this time gone to the shooting arena. As I have already said I was very excited about getting a chance to show off my skills that I had learned from a banker. We were getting a lesson from one of the sergeant's old comrades who looked to be about his age give or take a few years who had been in his unit.
The man was tall, muscular with dancing bright blue eyes that were shining with constant mirth. And vivid orange hair that shone out in the dreary Welsh rain over the kaki soldiers. We had been told that the man's codename that we were to call him was Eagle. But we knew that he was far more senior than we were so we had to call him Sir if we addressed him. I wondered if he would be as harsh as the sergeant. I mean they had trained together. But then again so were Bat and Polar Bear. And it wasn't like the sergeant's personality reflected Eagle's personality.
'Newbies,' Eagle's eyes twinkled evilly. 'Okay there are a set of guns here. I want you to choose one and dismantle it and assemble it again,' the SAS ordered. 'If you fail to do one of the tasks you'll have two hundred press ups. If you fail to do both you'll have five hundred press ups,' warned Eagle.
Okay he's definitely from the same pod that the sergeant came from. Were all the oldies like that I wondered. I approached the table as Polar Bear snatched up a G3 assault rifle. I was okay with them but I had preferred smaller ones. This was mainly because my first teacher had smaller weapons as his favourites. He had taught me, Ian, Jackie (and was teaching Nelly) to use all sorts of weapons. He had given Helen the chance to learn. But Helen being Helen had refused. She hated doing anything mildly violent.
Oh she respected me for fighting for my country but she would never do anything like that herself. I had heard Dad saying that she was like mum in that respect. I could see her point just because Dad didn't do anything actively violent I like the rest of my family knew that dad was a master of several martial arts including Judo, kick boxing and karate. And he had taught those who wanted to learn how to use a gun soon as we turned seventeen and could legally use a gun. I looked for a smaller firearm to use.
I took out the MP5K that had become my favourite weapon. I knew that Dad favoured Smith and Wesson which could be easily concealed on one's person. The MP5 was a compact machine gun and according to dad was the kind of weapon used during hostage situations. Dad had quite happily told me that when I was seventeen as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. I as an innocent seventeen year old had just looked at Dad as he said this. All dad's talk of hostages going straight over my head.
I was at that point an innocent teenager. The only thoughts I had of warfare and hostages had come from books, movies, TV and games. Just like all teenagers everywhere. Well at least in the West. I had wanted to become a soldier then but more out of a sense of justice. I had originally at the outset of Dad teaching me how to shoot been more than a little bit apprehensive. I might not have understood hostages until years later when I was in the army but I understood guns. Guns had taken mum away from me I didn't want to use them!
Dad had broached the almost random conversation from my perspective at least. I couldn't begin to tell you what goes on in my father's head. Mum might have been able to tell you but she was long dead. I had been doing maths homework when Dad had entered the room as usual without knocking. He knocked on the girls doors in case they were changing but not Ian and I's. He then entered the room and seemed a little apprehensive about something or other. Then he suddenly asked.
'John,' Dad said. 'How would you like to go to the shooting range?' he asked.
'With the others?' I asked.
Dad had shook his head, 'you have to be seventeen.'
'Why would I need to shoot?' I had asked.
'In case you have to protect yourself,' Dad had answered promptly.
'From what?' I had asked. 'Who would want to kill me?'
I then saw Dad flinch at my words. This surprised me giving that Dad was always so cool, calm and collected. Then I remembered mum. Mum, who had been shot in the middle of London where she should have been safe and protected. Mum whose death had left Dad broken hearted. And we all knew that Dad blamed himself for her death. That made no sense to any of us. Not that we talked about it with Dad around. But I suspected he knew we spoke about him and mum when he wasn't. I cursed myself for my careless words.
'Sorry,' I said.
'No it's fine,' Dad had smiled weakly but it didn't reach his hard brown eyes so unlike mine.
'Dad why do you want me to shoot when it's what killed mum?' I had asked.
'So if you ever end up in the same situation you won't … won't die,' Dad's voice cracked.
I had still felt apprehensive about the upcoming shooting lessons that my whole family knew about. A lot of my friends had been envious. Not Jake who was also getting lessons from his parents. Honestly those three bankers were odd. Jake's mum Tamara was a pretty American that I had a crush on when I was a teenager who had worked at an American branch. Ben and Tamara had met at some sort of bankers' conference in New York. I thought all bankers must have a thing about guns because the Daniels' couple were teaching my year mate how to shoot at the same time.
But everyone else had wanted to get lessons off one of our parents. I had tried explaining to them that guns weren't toys which had been exactly what Ben and Tamara and Alex were trying to hammer into Jake at this time. They didn't need to do so to us Riders who had lost our mum to guns. I knew that dad had said he'd teach them if their parents approved. Of course, they didn't. Only our insane parents had wanted to teach us to shoot. I knew that many of the other parents disapproved looking down on Dad.
There had been talks with the teachers. But as we were seventeen then they couldn't do anything. I had known that social services were called but nothing came of that. Several of the parents had stopped their children coming to our house at this point. I didn't see anything wrong with this. It wasn't like Dad kept weapons at home or anything. Dad had once said that if we were a hunting family –which we weren't (mum and Helen would have killed us if we were) then nobody would have a problem.
'They're just small minded who cannot see beyond their own way of thinking,' Dad had said angrily after an intense interview with our Headmistress.
We all knew that it was best to agree with Dad when he said something like this. I loved my father but he was scary when he was angry. He never hit us or anything. It was like a few of the older recruits that I had seen in my time in the main army. There was something hard bitten and cold in their eyes. Something that we all knew it would be a really bad idea to get onto the wrong side of with. But the rumours and talk died down after a few weeks something which I was immensely grateful for.
I easily dismantled the MP5 in about sixty seconds. This was something else that Dad had decided was a useful lesson. I still had no idea why. I mean I could just about understand guns as protection. But how to dismantle and assemble a gun I didn't know. I chalked it down to Dad having found out about my ambitions to join the army. But I had wondered then where a banker had learnt how to dismantle and assemble a gun in the first place. The way Dad used the gun it was like he had been doing this his whole life.
Dad could assemble a gun in less than thirty seconds and dismantle a gun in less than ten seconds. This scared me a lot. Actually now that I came to think of it my father could be a really scary guy when he wanted to. But I preferred to ignore it. I pretended it wasn't there hoping it would go away. Quite simply I couldn't face the fact that Dad was a very intimidating man who knew how to kill. He had even got me to do it with human shaped targets. This had come useful in training where I had found out that Dad's method was similar to methods assassins use.
This had scared me a lot. Where had Dad learned to shoot like an assassin? A very scary thought that try as I might I couldn't banish came up again and again and again. Was my Dad an assassin? It would certainly explain a lot. The way Dad would leave for sometimes months and come back looking like he'd been beaten. The way Dad and Ben would talk and then shut up as soon as I or anyone else entered the room. Because if Dad was an assassin and Ben worked with him that would mean Uncle Ben was an assassin too.
And Aunt Tamara too! The worst thing was I could see it. It would explain the wariness in Dad, Uncle Ben and Aunt Tamara's eyes. Then there was their terrifying ability to shoot even if the Daniels weren't anywhere as good as Dad. The way they could shield their emotions from everyone even their own children. Surely most bankers didn't tone themselves for hours each morning. Then there were the complex security systems we grew up with. Jake and I had spoken about this quietly but we hadn't come to any conclusions about our parents. Jake was also in the army but had yet to be asked to be tested for the SAS.
When I had found out that I was leaving my best friend behind I had felt a mix of emotions. One I felt sad. Jake and I had always been together. To leave him saddened me a lot. I also felt guilty that I had the opportunity where he didn't. Still maybe one day he'd get in. And I had to admit that I was only human. I felt very proud that I was better than my friend. Not that I'd admitted this out loud to him nor anybody else. I looked around. A few others had finished by this time but it was a while before everyone had finished.
'Five minutes, Bear?' he demanded. 'You're supposed to be Britain's most elite. I hope you can lead better than you can assemble weapons.'
'Yes sir, sorry sir,' Bear said.
We were then lead out to the shooting range with the weapons we had chosen. I set up my weapon and looked at the target. I let myself get into that place where it was not me and then the gun. We were one body, one single entity. Dad had said it was easier to learn if you were young as I was. I had asked how old he was. Dad had just smiled at me and said old enough. Again there was Dad being mysterious. I fired knowing that I would be hitting the Bulls-Eye almost every single time. Dad never missed it once when he was teaching me.
'How come you hit it every time?' I had asked.
'Practice and mind training,' Dad had told me.
I didn't know what to say to that. Dad always had a way of making people shut up. Where had Dad got his practice from? Did he regularly come to shoot? Why did he need to shoot? Was he really an assassin? All these questions formed in my head but I didn't listen. I focused on the shooting until I was out of bullets. Once we had all finished Eagle walked up to the targets to check how well we had done. He offered tips to all those he had taught. Maybe he wasn't exactly like the sergeant then. But I supposed he didn't have to keep charge.
'Lion,' he began with A Unit Leader, 'mostly bulls eyes but need to get some a bit closer to the middle.'
'Yes, sir,' Lion replied saluting.
Eagle continued this way until he got to my unit, 'ah Polar Bear good to see you again,' I saw Polar Bear redden a bit. 'You've improved. Have you been practicing?'
'Yes, sir,' Polar Bear said gruffly.
'Only three out of the centre circle,' Eagle praised. 'Dog, aim a bit lower.'
'Yes sir,' Dog said happily.
'Bat, not bad make sure they're more constant; you're either on the bulls eye or not on the target.'
'Yes sir,' Bat said.
'Tiger,' Eagle's eyes widened. 'You've got all but one on the bulls eyes. Excellent,' praised Eagle. 'Cub's the only one who could get all of them on the bulls eye. And Cub's well he's Cub. How did you do that?' he had asked.
'Instinctive firing, sir,' I replied.
Eagle looked surprised, 'where did you learn that?' he asked. 'I've only heard of Assassins teaching that and a few spies.'
I felt worry gnaw at my stomach at the sharpshooters words. "Only" Assassins learnt instinctive firing. All my suspicions seemed to be confirmed. I knew I should tell someone. Turn Dad in but I couldn't. Whatever they said family was important. Eagle was looking at me suspicious I could tell that he thought Iwas an assassin! I wanted to clear him of that notion but I didn't want him to know what I now suspected to be the terrible truth. My father, my all but Aunt and Uncle were assassins. I had no proof of course but it would make a lot of sense.
'Met someone on the field who taught it to me,' I lied.
Eagle nodded then moved onto Bear.