Chapter 24

'CRACK!'

That was the sound of a bone breaking, and it wasn't mine.

My Special Forces torturer had pounded on me for weeks, screaming obscenities, hitting me below the belt and anywhere else that hurt, while threatening to keep it up until I put him down so he couldn't get up again. It went on for weeks and weeks. At times I hurt so badly that I couldn't take my shirt off, because it was impossible to raise my arms.

Winnie came along at a time when I felt like I had stopped making progress and was nothing but a punching bag for Captain Psycho. She encouraged me, helped train me, comforted me when it got too much, and was there during those times when I need help to get my shirt off.

Today was the day.

I didn't see it coming, but when Captain Psycho brought both hands up to pound the back of my skull, my body reacted before my brain could engage, and I snapped his arm just above the elbow, before he could react. As my tormenter collapsed in agony, I wasn't sure if I should finish him off or carry him to the doctor.

I never got the chance to do either.

Two soldiers appeared out of nowhere and assisted their fallen comrade out of the fitness center, while a very elegantly dressed man approached me from a side room. He was tall, thin, surprisingly elegant, and had an aura of power and violence surrounding him.

I waited, my chest heaving as I tried to suck in more of the thin, mountain air.

He didn't make me wait long. This guy was used to getting straight to the point. I could tell he had no time to waste and was determined to do what he came to do and get the hell out of Dodge.

"Mr. Fleming, my name is not important. What is, is that you have passed the final test on the way to usefulness to our organization. Your performance this morning was – well – it was enviable. I don't believe that particular soldier has ever been overcome before. You should be quite pleased with yourself.

"We are."

He handed me a folder. "You will find mission parameters and some other useful things in this folder, explaining your next step. It's imperative that you follow instructions fastidiously and complete the mission as described in there," he said pointing at the folder. "This is a training run for your ultimate mission, but it is impossibly important to the overall goal, so we are trusting you because of your splendid work, your immense talent, and the fact that you are perfectly placed to be attractive to our adversary.

"We will rendezvous with you following successful completion, and then, my friend, you will begin the most critical assignment of your life. The president himself is counting on you to pull it off, so our country doesn't have to commit acts of war to stop those who would destroy us.

"Thank you for your time, and commitment. We shall see each other again, soon." With that, he spun on his heel and left by the same door he entered.

Winnie came in after my mystery guest was gone and checked me over for injuries, broken bones, fractured ribs, collapsed lungs, and a host of other, expected, maladies. Finding none, she looked at me like she was seeing a ghost, and said, "How did you put Justin down and live through it without a scratch?" her tone of voice and facial expression matched the urgency in her eyes. That threw me off. Wasn't I supposed to fight him off until I put him down? Maybe there was more to this game than I understood.

Winnie saw my confusion. "Carl, nobody expected you to get the better of Justin. He is a legend in our business. We were shocked whenever you got a hit in on him. That just doesn't happen. Now he's headed for surgery to repair the break you put on his upper arms. This isn't possible. It doesn't happen, and now that you did it, there's a rumble about just how good you are and how dangerous."

She let that sink in and led me to my quarters where she lovingly undressed me, kissed my bruises, cuts, and scrapes, then stripped and joined me in the shower, where we made wild, passionate love. Winnie LOVED what I could do to her, but tried to reserve our hedonistic ways to the shower.

One day I asked her about it, and she surprised me by saying, "They film everything around here except the bathroom. In there we get to go wild without anyone watching, documenting it, or getting off on our behavior."

That's why she was always wild in the shower, and a lady in the bedroom.

Got it...

After our shower and extra-curricular activities, I was driven to a helicopter that took me to a jet that flew me to an undisclosed location. There I was met by men who drove me to a spot near a mansion in a beautiful residential section of an unnamed city. They let me out and drove away without having spoken a word. There I found a gorgeous, vintage Mercedes and a package containing its keys, ID in a fake name, lots of local currency, and the expected odds and ends a wealthy man would carry on his person. I stowed it all and started the car.

The neighborhood was a mix of old money mansions and new money – more gaudy – estates.

The newer estates dripped with the need to show off. These people came lately to their fortunes and wanted everyone to know they had money. The need for excess far outweighed any desire to show a little class, and I dismissed most of the new architecture as the product of fevered minds, needing constant reassurance that they really were wealthy.

Most people eventually grow out of that. These folks hadn't had their money long enough to be embarrassed by their outsized egos.