items that he needed on an assignment. The General handed Carl a slim file. Inside was a photograph of a handsome man with windblown hair standing in front of an office building. He looked familiar, but Carl could not place him.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
Carl was puzzled. General Rivera had always told him the names of the people who were the subject of an operation.
“That’s unusual, sir.”
“Yes, it is,” Wingate replied as he moved the photograph aside and opened a map.
“Lost Lake is an upscale community of summer homes in northern California.” Wingate pointed at a lot that had been circled in red. “Your subject lives here. You’ll be able to get to the property by boat.” The General handed Carl a slip of paper. “This is the security code. The subject should be alone tonight.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’re dealing with a spy for a foreign intelligence organization. He has in his possession the military records of every member of the Unit, including yours.”
“How…?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you, but you can imagine what would happen if an unfriendly foreign power knew your identity. I want those papers back. The existence of the Unit is at stake. When you have the papers I want this man eliminated, and I want the method of execution to be graphic and brutal.”
Carl was surprised. A kill was usually carried out as quickly and quietly as possible.
“If I may ask, sir, why do you want the subject terminated in this manner?”
“I’m not going to explain my orders, Carl. Assume that there are good reasons for everything I tell you.” The General stood up. “You’ll fly out immediately. There’s a car waiting at the airport. Bring me the papers. Remember, the existence of the Unit depends on you.”
The normal procedure for undertaking a mission involved an extensive briefing and time to prepare, but Carl had flown west with no more information than he’d been given at the motel. He landed at an airstrip in California after dark. A little before two in the morning he anchored his boat just off a shallow beach that was screened from the subject’s house by trees. Carl worked his way through the woods until he could see the back of a modern log cabin. The house was dark. He crossed the lawn quickly, invisible in his dark clothes, camouflage paint, and navy blue watch cap.
Carl jimmied the lock, punched in the security code, and was inside in seconds. He had memorized the layout of the house and knew where to find the stairs to the master bedroom. The man in the king-size bed lay curled on his side slumbering peacefully. His eyes sprang open when Carl slapped a piece of tape across his mouth. Carl stunned him with a blow and bound his hands and ankles. When he was done, Carl showed the man a large hunting knife with a serrated blade. A scalpel was lighter and easier to wield, but he used the big knife to inspire terror.
“I want the army records you stole. Give them to me and I’ll let you live,” he lied. “Hold out and you’ll suffer until you break, and everyone breaks eventually.”
The man’s chest heaved from fear. He was sweating and his muscles were twitching involuntarily.
“I’m going to remove the tape. You will tell me where to look. We’ll go together. If you’ve lied I’ll remove your left eye.”
Carl took the tape away and the man said, “You’re making a mistake…”
Before he could finish, Carl slapped back the tape, ripped away his pajama top and sliced a piece of flesh from the man’s chest. The subject arched back as if struck by an electric charge. His eyes squeezed shut and he threw his body from side to side, trying to ease his pain. Carl usually felt nothing in these situations, but he felt sick this time. He swore that this would be his last mission.
“We’ll try this one more time. I’ll ask you for the location of the papers and you’ll give it to me. That’s all I’m interested in. Remember the pain you just suffered, because that was the least amount of pain you will endure. Every time you fail to obey instructions I will escalate your discomfort. I have all the time in the world. Don’t increase your suffering needlessly. When I remove the tape, tell me where to find the army records.”
“They’re downstairs in my office,” the man gasped when Carl peeled back the tape. Carl hoped the man was telling the truth. He wanted this mission over with. Carl taped the man’s mouth again. He thought they were far enough from the neighbors so a scream would not be heard, but he wasn’t taking chances. He helped the subject to his feet, sliced away the tape that bound his ankles, and supported him as they walked downstairs. The chest wound was bleeding freely and the pain made the man stumble. When they reached the office Carl turned on the lights. Then he secured the subject to a ladder-back chair and removed the tape from his mouth.
“Where are the army records?” he demanded.
The man gave him the combination to a wall safe. Carl knew that he was not lying because the combination was included in the file he’d seen at the motel. He opened the safe and took a sheaf of papers from it. It only took a moment to find his records in the stack.
Carl took out the knife. Wingate wanted this bloody, and he would obey the General’s orders this one last time. He made several quick cuts, working fast so the subject would not suffer too long. He tried to keep his eyes off of the struggling man’s face while he worked. When he felt that the body looked horrible enough he mercifully cut the subject’s throat. His hand trembled when he made the kill and he felt tears welling in his eyes. Then he heard a sound behind him and whirled around, holding the bloody knife in a combat position.
“Carl?”
Vanessa Wingate was standing in the dooray dressed in a long white T-shirt, her hair tousled from sleep. They stared at each other for a moment before Vanessa saw the man in the chair. When she backed away, her eyes never left his. Carl knew that he should grab her, but the horror he saw on her face paralyzed him. Vanessa bolted down the hall and into the night. On any other mission, Carl would have pursued a fleeing witness and silenced her, but the only thing Carl could make his body do was race to his boat. He was running across the lawn when Vanessa screamed.
The General’s driver took Carl from the airport to Wingate’s town house in Alexandria, Virginia. Carl was barely holding it together when he was shown into the study. General Wingate was sitting near the fireplace, reading. He stood up when Carl walked in.
“Did you get the records?” he asked anxiously.
“Who did I kill?” Carl answered.
The General studied Carl for a moment.
“Did something happen?”
“Who did I kill?” Carl repeated, more emphatically.
Wingate sighed. “A congressman. You’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow.”
“What was his name?” Carl asked certain that he knew already.
“Eric Glass.”
Carl stared at the General. “You used me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Vanessa was there, you bastard. She was staying at the house.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then explain the situation to me, General, because I’m confused. For the first time ever you give me an assignment instead of Peter Rivera. And this assignment just happens to involve your daughter and the man she works for. Also for the first time I’m told to murder a man in the most violent way possible. Did you use me to get revenge against Glass for sleeping with your daughter?”
“You’re right about Glass and Vanessa being lovers, but that’s not why Glass had to die. There was one set of records of the men in the Unit. It was in the safe in my den in California. Glass was a sleeper agent. He seduced
