Smoke and Shadow (8 page)

What did the boy see in those last
moments? Did Trent appear to be a black demon with a glowing red
face coiled on the ground like a poisonous snake? What did the
child want to do? Did he decide to shoot Trent with the rifle in
his hands, scream for help, run away in fear or stand frozen in
shock? Trent would never know. The instinct of sudden violence
moved Trent's body with a fluid speed that cut off all decisions,
questions and hesitation.

The boy's eyes ballooned into
bright orbs of terror when Trent spun on his heels and dropped the
C4. His mouth formed a trembling silent scream when Trent cleared
his SIG from his side and raised it into two steady hands. The
boy's body shook with desperate energy when Trent lined up his
sights and squeezed the trigger with smooth, even pressure. The boy
hit the ground in a tragic heap as the suppressed echo reverberated
through Trent's ear and the rest of the darkened
warehouse.

Trent didn't look down at the
corpse when he crossed the room and closed the warehouse door. He
didn't think about the child he just killed as he set the remaining
charges around the shipping containers. He didn't wonder about the
boy's parents when he searched the dirt to find the spent casing.
He didn't see himself as a baby killer when he slipped out of the
warehouse and through the camp to reach the banks of the Lualaba.
He didn't imagine the little frail body blown into oblivion when he
detonated the charges and slid into the dark water. Swimming
beneath the churning, mud saturated water forced him to focus on
his stride and not what he'd just done. But when he reached the
north bank, at a bend in the river obscuring him from the camp,
everything came flooding back.

Trent pulled himself out of the
river with quivering hands that had nothing to do with the cold
water. Tears poured from his eyes and disappeared into the mud as
he sat on the river bank. His mind assaulted him with the image of
the boy's bright eyes and silent scream until Trent vomited with
choked cries. Trent sat there on the banks of the Lualaba River
held down by the weight of his guilt.

But even in his mourning, his mind
evaluated his situation. He wasn't worried about who might see him
now. He could still hear secondary blasts and imagined the rebels
in complete chaos. The first explosion hit while most of them
slept. They would wake confused, disoriented, and disorganized.
They wouldn't know if the explosion came from an accident or an
attack. They wouldn't know if the detonation was the only blast or
the first of many. Even if the commanders had the training to
respond tactically, the child soldiers might snap under the sudden
pressure, considering the strain they lived under from day to day.
Some of them might run away, either in blind terror or as an
opportunistic attempt at freedom. It would be hours and maybe even
days before the CNDP realized what happened. Trent didn't concern
himself with the rebels anymore.

His mind shifted to his next
target. Trent had to deliver a message before he left the Congo.
The op required tactical thinking, even if it was driven by
revenge.

Chapter Six: Tolbert
’
s
Nightmare

Trent tracked Tolbert to the same
dive bar they used for their last briefing. This time, Tolbert
drank his Primus beer with two Chinese men. Trent decided they were
representatives of the client who ordered the weapons destroyed.
The three men sat closer to the bar drinking large amounts of beer,
laughing hard and celebrating the success of Trent's mission. They
were so blasted, they didn't even notice him sitting by the
bar.

Trent sat with
his back to his target, watching Tolbert
’
s movements in the smudged mirror
behind the bar. The space held a louder crowd tonight, even though
there couldn't have been more than eight men in the room. Tonight's
soccer game inspired more emotion, more yelling and more cover for
Trent. Tolbert never looked in his direction. Maybe Tolbert was
right. Maybe Trent could blend in with the local Bantu after all.
Trent nursed his bottle of beer, waiting for the right moment to
take advantage of Tolbert's ignorance.

Trent saw his opening when Tolbert
started to peel the label off his beer bottle. Trent abandoned his
bottle and walked towards the bathroom in the back of the bar. He
made his steps slow and awkward, with a slight stumble in his
stride to project the image of a harmless drunk. He kept his head
turned away from Tolbert as he passed the three men. None of them
seemed to notice him. Trent stepped into the bathroom with a lurch
and prepared for the arrival of his prey.

The bar bathroom
reeked of spilt beer and years of poor aim by its patrons. Three
urinals lined one wall and two stalls stood on the other. A large
window on the opposite wall had an opaque glass but a standard
window lock. Trent stood alone in the small room. He unlocked the
window, stepped into a stall and waited for
Tolbert
’
s
inevitable bathroom break.

Trent knew the
alley outside the window led both east and west to the back streets
of Kolwezi. If he couldn
’
t get out the front door, the window
would serve as a viable secondary escape. He knew Tolbert's
fondness for beer would bring him into the bathroom sooner or
later. He recognized Tolbert
’
s ritualistic peeling of the beer
label as a precursor to a visit to the men
’
s room. He knew the man's lack of
security awareness made him vulnerable to an attack. Trent didn't
know if another man would come into the bathroom with Tolbert. If
they did, Trent would have to wait for another shot. But Trent
stood crouched on the seat of the toilet. His Zero Tolerance drawn
in one hand and the empty 9mm casing in the other, ready for the
chance to swoop down on his target.

Tolbert came in alone. Trent heard
his heavy breathing and then the sound of an opening zipper. The
time to strike had come. He waited to hear the rude splash rain
down on the porcelain before opening the stall door and stepping
behind Norman Tolbert.

It took less than
a second to alter Tolbert's reality. Trent kicked him in the back
of his knee, twisted his shoulders and spun his victim into the
open stall. Tolbert's piss continued to flow, sprinkling the walls
and floor in a circular pattern around the men and onto his own
pants. Their dance ended with Tolbert on his knees in front of the
toilet. The door to the stall rattled closed behind them. Trent
pressed his knife against Tolbert
’
s jugular and whispered into his
ear.

"Do you give a fuck
now?"

"What the fuck--"

"Shut up unless you want to die
face down in this toilet." Trent felt quivering fear shake
Tolbert's body. He recognized Trent's voice. His mind began to
grasp the gravity of his situation.

"No! Don't--"

"I said shut the fuck up!" Trent
let the blade nick Tolbert's skin and his victim complied. His body
shook with even more force and Trent could see tears forming in the
corner of his eyes. The musty stench of shit overpowered the native
funk of the stall as Tolbert lost control of his bowels. Trent fed
on his fear.

"I didn't come
here to listen to your bullshit. I just came to give you my mission
report because I
’
m
a professional. Do you want to hear it or do you still not give a
fuck?"

Tolbert nodded with a wild look in
his eyes. Maybe he hoped to buy himself some time for another
person to come into the bathroom and save him. Maybe he just wanted
another few minutes to live. Either way, he stayed quiet. So Trent
kept talking.

"I've got good news and bad news.
The good news is I neutralized the target. The bad news is I had to
shoot a little boy to complete your mission."

"Wait. That's not my--"

"Shut up." The
knife cut in deeper with Trent's words. "Not your fault? It was
your mission, your bad intel, and your threats put me in that
position. It might not be your fault, but now it's your fucking
problem because I'm done with you and your chicken shit
outfit.
”

Trent tossed the
spent casing from the baby killing bullet into the toilet. Tolbert
watched the brass sink into the grey water with wide eyes. Trent
watched the ugly reminder too.
“
Now you are on my shit list. If you
don
’
t want to wind
up like that casing, you
’
ll stay away from me. If I see you
again, you die. If I hear your name connected to anything I don't
like, you die. If I even think my name gets out because of you or
if anyone comes after me because of you, you die. Are we clear,
Tolbert?"

Tolbert couldn't nod fast enough.
"Anything you want. Just let me live. Please."

"Don
’
t
worry. I want you to live. I want your client to see you with tears
on your face and shit in your pants. I want you to stay awake at
night imagining me standing in your shadow. I want you to think
about what happens in the real world when you decide to kill people
over a few beers. You remember this conversation. We
won
’
t be speaking
again.
”

Trent pulled the
knife away and slammed the butt down on the side of
Tolbert
’
s neck.
His former boss went limp and fell face first into the toilet.
Trent flushed Tolbert
’
s head. The water belched out onto the floor and turned
Tolbert
’
s
frightened scream into comical blubbering.

Tolbert might
have emerged from the stall in a full blown rage. Maybe he called
for help. Maybe he just curled up on the piss wet floor of the
bathroom stall in a fetal position, frozen in shock from his near
death experience. Trent didn
’
t know how Tolbert reacted. He
walked out of the bathroom, out of the bar and into the dark
streets of Kolwezi without being challenged or even noticed. And
Trent never saw Norman Tolbert again.

Interlude: Rouge Agents

Summer 2014

“
So not only
will Trent disobey direct orders, he
’
s also capable of turning on his
superiors at any moment?
”

Rose pushed
herself away from the table and stomped towards the bar. Her
disapproval of Baker
’
s story bordered on disgust. Nikki saw how the administrator
might identify with Tolbert. Like him, she had no experience in the
field. She had the same disregard for security protocols and the
same disdain for shooters like Trent and Chu. It
didn
’
t take a big
leap in imagination for Rose to see herself in
Tolbert
’
s
position. Living in a world of sudden violence had to be terrifying
for her. Turning terror into anger served as a logical defense
mechanism. Nikki understood Rose
’
s reaction, even if she
didn
’
t share
it.

Baker understood
Rose too, but he appeared to have much less sympathy for
her.
“
We have to
remember that our operators are people first, Ms. Mendoza.
They
’
re not just
assets for our manipulation. They have their own values, their own
morals--
”

“
And their own
hit squads trying to kill them.
”
Rose jabbed the ice pick into the bucket with
angry thrusts that served more as an outlet for her stress than a
way to get more ice.
“
I don
’
t see how we can conduct business
with someone who has a bounty on their head. If Tolbert sends men
after him--
”

“
Tolbert
followed Trent
’
s
instructions as far as I can tell.
”
Baker raised his glass to his nose to breathe in
the aroma of his whiskey.
“
Trent
’
s name never came up on any
publicized rendition team lists, and neither Trident. No other
outfit I know of is looking for Trent based on the Congo situation.
Staying away from Trent was probably the best decision Tolbert ever
made.
”

“
And what if he
changes his mind?
”

“
Dead men
can
’
t change their
minds, so that
’
s
not really a problem anymore, is it?
”
Baker took a long sip and let his
words hang in the air.