A Shattered Life

Chapter 2

“There were times when I had my doubts, but you made it through,” Charles said, gripping Vance’s shoulder hard in lieu of the hug he wanted to give him. He was well aware after three years that his son didn’t want anyone, even him, that close. For that alone he’d have willingly killed his ex-wife if she wasn’t already dead from a drug overdose.

“I wasn’t so sure I would either,” Vance admitted. “Or get accepted in college.” He waved at a couple of friends across the campus lawn, holding up two fingers to let them know it would be a couple of hours before he’d show up at the post-graduation party.

He became aware of someone standing next to him, too close for his comfort, and shifted to one side while turning to see who it was. A dark-haired woman about three inches shy of his six-one smiled at him before saying to his father, “So this is the much-vaunted son.” She held out her hand, introducing herself as Makie Long.

Vance did his best to be polite, shaking her hand quickly before letting go while admitting that he was indeed Vance Montgomery.

“I work with your father,” she told him, as if saying that was all it took for Vance to understand who and what she was.

“Same company, different department,” his father added, knowing that there were others standing close to them and not wanting to reveal anything more. He nodded toward the parking lot and the three of them headed toward his car.

Vance knew the drill so he waited until they were there before asking, “Are you here to kidnap him for an assignment?”

“Actually, I’m kidnapping you, as you put it.”

Vance’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why?”

“I want you to meet someone. Your father’s given me permission to take you away for a long weekend.”

“Someone who works for the Bureau?”

She shook her head. “For a different group. And that’s all I can tell you at the moment.”

Vance shot a look at his father. “CIA or more covert?”

“Much more covert. So far under the radar there are only whispers out there that they even exist. Makie is their…what?” He glanced at her. “Recruitment officer?”

“For lack of a better word, I suppose. Your father’s told me a great deal about you, Vance. You interested me and I passed the information on to one of my bosses. He wants to meet you in person and make his own judgment.”

“But this is strictly volunteer, right?” Vance leaned back against the car, studying her. “I’m not saying I won’t go with you to talk to this man, but just so you know I’m planning on joining the Bureau once I get my degree.”

“So your father said. I think you’ll make a great addition, as smart as you are. We’re not trying to subvert your plans just…well, I’ll let my boss explain when you meet him.”

* * * *

“So this is the wunderkind.” The man stood, walking around his desk to shake hands with Vance.

As always Vance made quick work of doing that before stepping back slightly. “I’m not certain that term really applies, sir. I’m not a child prodigy.”

“I’ve heard differently, although you’re hardly a child, I agree, but very intelligent according to everything I’ve found out about you. Intelligent, and cunning as well, which isn’t always the case.”

Going back around his desk to sit down again, the man waited for Vance to take the visitor’s chair across from him. After a moment Vance did so, looking expectantly at him.

“I have a proposition for you, one that should benefit both of us equally. While you’re in college I want you to set aside every summer, starting with this one, to train with us. In exchange we’ll fund your education.”

“I see,” Vance said slowly. “And when I’m done, you’ll own me, right? I don’t think so.”

“Not at all. You joining the FBI is exactly what we want. It makes an excellent cover. We’d be using you for side jobs on occasion, if you turn out to be as cunning as I think you are.”

“Cunning being a way of saying underhanded and unethical?”

“That depends on who you’re talking to,” the man replied with a chuckle. “That’s exactly how our adversaries would describe it. And yes, you might have to break a few rules to accomplish your aims, but I think you’ll find it’s worth it in the end.”

“I think you’d better give me the whole picture,” Vance said.

The man did.

When he’d finished he waited silently while watching Vance pace the office.

Finally Vance nodded. “I’ll do the training and then we can both decide if I’m right for the job or not.”

* * * *

Albert watched as the kid got off the plane. As far as he was concerned this was crazy, but who was he to argue. Recruiting and then training a kid to be a killer? That went against everything he stood for, everything he thought the Old Man stood for. But he’d do it none the less. It wasn’t as if they were planning on sending the kid into the field a week from now. From what he understood, that wouldn’t be happening for at least four years, after the kid had made it out of college and been accepted for FBI training.

“It’s an experiment, Albert,” Makie said as she joined him at the gate. “That’s all it is. Vance won’t pass it because underneath it all he’s a good kid and not tough enough. But at least when the time comes that that changes, he’ll know we exist and what it is we do and he’ll be ready to join.”

“I still don’t have to like it, experiment or otherwise.”

“Just think of it as taking a kid fresh out of high school and tossing him into the Army or worse yet the Marines. At least Vance will have the option of getting out at any time.”

“Okay, yeah, I guess that works.”

When Vance approached them, Albert held out his hand and then withdrew it, remembering the note in the kid’s file saying he didn’t like being touched. He found that somewhat at odds with the fact that Vance had a black belt in karate, but then that wasn’t personal touching. After introducing himself he led the way to where he’d parked the car. Vance tossed his bag in the trunk when Albert opened it and then slid into the back seat.

As they pulled out of the lot Makie turned to look at him, asking, “Are you ready for this?”

Vance shrugged. “It depends on exactly what ‘this’ is. Dad wasn’t too forthcoming with information, or didn’t he know?”

“He knows the gist of it, is all. We’re going out to a secluded house in the hills above the city. Albert here, and two other men, will work with you on physical training. I’ll be dealing with your studies, which will take up three hours of your day. We’re going to take it slow since we have four years to get you trained the way we want you. You know that you’re free to call it quits and leave any time you want to.”

Vance nodded. “If I do, will it affect my chances of joining the Bureau after college?”

“Not in the least, but if you stick with it, you’ll be ten steps ahead of everyone else when you do. This summer I’m going to give you down and dirty basic training in several areas of study, all of which are what the FBI is looking for when they hire. Once you make a decision on which interests you most I’d suggest you narrow it down to one or two and aim for them as you college majors.”

“So you’re saying I should do a split major?”

“Yes. You’re more than smart enough to handle that.”

Vance nodded. “What about the rest? What are Albert and the others going to have me doing?”

“Anything and everything having to do with dealing with an enemy on a physical level,” Albert replied, fielding the question. “Weapons training, hand to hand, assassination techniques, breaking and entering, undercover work. Think of it as a cross between a cop, a soldier, and James Bond.” He watched Vance’s face in the rearview mirror as he talked and was somewhat surprised to see that the kid didn’t seem taken aback by the list. If anything, there seemed to be a slightly predatory gleam in his eyes as he listened.

“I can live with that,” Vance told him.

Makie chuckled. “Very good, because for the next three months you will be ‘living with it’ day and night, twenty-four-seven. You get through this summer without flaking out and you might just be what we’re looking for.”

“I have a question, am I going to be the only trainee here?”

“You are. The less people that know about any one of us the better. You’re not the only trainee there is, just the only one we’ll know, and we’re the only people in the organization you’ll know for the next four years. By the way, you’re also the youngest; though if you work out I gather there’s a chance the people in charge might begin recruiting other young people right out of high school instead of waiting until they’re over twenty-one.”

“Damn, no pressure on me, is there?” Vance leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a minute. Then he looked at Makie. “I’m not going to quit. I’m in this for the long haul.”

She nodded once then pointed to the peak of a roof barely visible through the trees ahead of them. “There’s your new home. And that,” she gestured toward the high gated wall they were approaching, “is as far as you’ll be allowed to go while you’re here.”

“Sounds like damned summer camp,” Vance muttered.

“Except if you try to slip out that’ll be the end of it. I’m dead serious, Vance. Until summer is over that wall is the edge of your world.”

“Understood.”

* * * *

“Watch him Makie. Watch his body, his face, his eyes.”

It was the end of summer and Albert had Vance running through set of practice operations. It was the first time Vance had left the grounds since they’d arrived. They were in the city and he was dressed in casual clothes that would allow him to pass as whatever persona he chose to take, depending on what information he was supposed to be getting.

Makie did as Albert asked. It took her some time to see what he was getting at. As Vance moved from one assignment to the next he seemed to become a different young man for each person he dealt with. And it was all done so smoothly that unless someone was watching carefully they wouldn’t have known it was the same boy. A hand run through his hair, a change in body language and stance, the shirt tucked in or untucked, a shoelace flopping or not, each added up to a new character that fit what the subject expected to see. As did the expressions on Vance’s face. Servile one time, haughty then next, naïve young man a third time, each one worked to gain him the information he sought.

But it was in his eyes that Makie saw what bothered Albert. They were cold as ice, vigilant and wary beyond his years despite the mood his face portrayed at any given time. Vance seemed to know exactly what was going on around him at every moment and was ready to take advantage of it, or defend against it. She’d seen men twice his age, trained agents, who probably knew less about their surroundings than she imagined Vance did.

When he had approached a man he thought was dealer, his persona had been that of a teen looking for his next fix. He’d alternated between belligerent and pleading, seemingly unaware of anything but his need to buy what the man was selling. However, Vance had been aware. One of the man’s associates was standing in the shadows behind Vance and when Vance’s posture turned threatening the man started toward him. Vance shifted his stance, his hand dropping down to where Makie knew he was carrying his knife. It was a subtle motion that neither of the subjects caught, so they didn’t realize that at any second they could have been dead had Vance felt his own well-being was in serious danger. He kept talking the whole time, keeping their attention focused on what he was saying not what he was doing, and in the end he had walked away with the evidence he’d been sent for.

After watching that Albert muttered, “He’s just a kid damn it. He shouldn’t be so…” He shook his head, uncertain what it was that was bothering him so much and why, but it did.

“I know,” Makie agreed. “I think it has to do with what he went through as a child. He learned how to keep himself safe by manipulating the situation as best he could. When that didn’t work he internalized the pain and it made him able to deal with it. Stronger in that way but hard and cold as well. That’s what shows in his eyes. He’s going to be good at what he does for us, Albert, and he’ll do it for the right reasons. But he’s never going to be happy, I don’t think, because he won’t ever let himself trust anyone.”

“And that’s his strength and his tragedy,” Albert said softly.

* * * *

Charles watched with a smile as his son crossed the stage to receive his college diploma. Vance appeared so serious as he listened to the dean congratulate him, but Charles knew he was bursting with excitement inside. In two weeks he’d be at Quantico to begin his FBI training. With his double major in languages and law enforcement, plus the fact that Charles was his father and a respected FBI agent himself, Vance had been accepted almost without question, despite his age. Charles knew that it hadn’t hurt that Vance had spent the last few summers undergoing rigorous training under Albert and Makie’s tutelage, and that the powers that be within the Bureau knew that as well.

Once the graduation ceremony was finished Vance came over to join his father, his robe off and casually tossed over one shoulder. “I made it,” he said, a grin quirking his lips.

“Never doubted you would,” Charles replied. “Are you and your friends planning to tear up the town to celebrate? If so, do you have time for dinner with me beforehand?”

“All the time in the world. I’ve got better things to do than act like a fool on a rampage just because I have a couple of pieces of paper to show I legitimately got through four years here.”

“You’re sure now?” Charles wanted to tell his son to go out and let loose for once. To let his hair down and have some fun. It bothered him that Vance rarely if ever did that.

“Dead sure,” Vance replied. “Come on and feed me. I’m starving.”

While they walked to the car Vance’s eyes moved swiftly as he checked his surroundings. It was a habit so ingrained in him now that it was second nature. If asked, he could have told the questioner exactly what each person in his line of vision was doing and if necessary taken the appropriate steps to defend himself or someone else from attack. And he was armed to do just that, as always. Nothing a metal detector would pick up on, but then that was the idea. Guns and knives had their uses in the right situation—he knew his father was carrying even here—but Vance had to maintain his ‘innocent’ college student image.

By the end of the summer that would change unless things went bad. He’d be licensed to carry and expected to while on assignment. But his attitude would always stay the same. He was essentially undercover and on the alert twenty-four-seven, never letting his guard down. That too had been ingrained into him, not by training but by life. It was what would make him a good agent, for the FBI and for the Old Man’s operation.

* * * *

“I’m fricking freezing my ass off here,” Vance muttered under his breath.

His partner Steve, an older agent in charge of the assignment and of Vance, smiled in acknowledgement as they watched the subject of their investigation.

The man in question sat in his car three stories below and across the street from their vantage point. As they watched and filmed, two men approached the car. The driver jumped out to open the door for them.

“Nardi and his enforcer,” Vance said quietly as he listened to the beginning of the conversation happening in the car. Suddenly the headphones went quiet. “Damn it.”

“RF detector activated?”

“Yeah, damn it.” Vance inched away from the parapet, standing when he was certain he couldn’t be seen from the ground. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.”

Before Steve could order him to stop, Vance vanished down the stairs from the roof.

“Rookies,” Steve muttered as he continued to watch the car. A moment later he saw a bedraggled, coatless man stagger into view. As he passed the car he seemed to stumble, landing on his hands and knees next to the front door. The driver was beside him in seconds, roughly pulling him erect. Steve could see words being exchanged before the driver turned the man and roughly shoved him on his way. As the man careened into the building wall once and then made his way down the street, the driver checked under the car, feeling for anything that might have been placed there. Apparently satisfied nothing had been, he returned to his seat, slamming the door behind him.

Steve quickly put on the headphones, twisting the dials until he received a signal. “Good boy,” he said in grudging admiration as the conversation in the car came over loud and clear.

“It worked I take it,” Vance said from behind him as he retrieved the headphones from his partner, putting one to his ear. “Guess so.”

“Where did you put it?”

Vance grinned slyly. “On the driver.” He looked down at his filthy pants and grumbled, “The Bureau owes me for dry cleaning.”

“Van, those are jeans. You throw them in a washing machine they come out good as new.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that.” Vance smirked in amusement before getting back to business.

* * * *

Makie turned from the window to look at Vance. “We have you for the duration.”

He nodded. “What’s the assignment?”

“Gun trafficking. And before you ask, we have the tacit approval of your bosses to take this case over from the government agency that was handling it. You’ll see why when I get into the details.”

Three hours later Vance was packing what he’d need to take with him, his cell tucked between his shoulder and ear as he listened to the phone ring on the other end. When it was answered he said three words, smiled tightly at the response, and hung up.

On the plane he slept, just another tired man on his way home from a business trip. At his destination he crossed the airport concourse to the men’s room. Several minutes later a casually dressed young man emerged wearing glasses and carrying a backpack with a small U of T logo on the flap. He looked around, frowned, and then headed to the baggage claim area. Just as he’d picked his bag up off the carousel someone touched his shoulder.

“John Allen?”

Vance spun around and then nodded. “Billie Abbot, eh?”

“Yeah. Got more bags?”

After shaking his head, Vance followed as Abbot headed to the exit and his car. They were well away from the airport before either of them spoke again.

“You really a student there?” Abbot nodded to the backpack sitting at Vance’s feet.

“Of course. Working on my MBA in marketing.”

“s**t man, you’re kidding. Wouldn’t have figured our contact would be someone legit.”

Vance c****d an eyebrow but remained silent as he watched the passing scene. Soon they were out of the city, heading south.

“You’re not the chatty sort are you,” Abbot finally said.

“I talk when I’ve got something to say, that’s aboot it.”

Abbot snickered. “Yeah, you’re Canadian. It’s ‘about’, not ‘aboot’.”

Vance smiled, leaning his head back as he asked, “How much farther?”

“‘Bout fifteen miles as the crow flies, thirty by road. The boss likes to keep the stock well away from prying eyes, the stuff he hasn’t got in the shop for legit sales.”

“Makes sense,” Vance replied with a sharp nod.

* * * *

“So this is what you’ve got, eh?” Vance knelt by one of the cases to check out the guns.

“These are to show you what’s available,” the man standing behind him said. “I got you all you need right here and can give you legit sales receipts for them. All you have to do is arrange to get the goods to a place we’ll designate at the border. We’ll make the exchange there. Did you bring a sample with you?”

Vance nodded. “Two, they’re in my bag.” He stood, crossing the room to where he’d left it, removing two of several well-used books. As the man watched he opened one. It was fake, hollowed out in the center. Taking out the small package it contained, Vance carefully sliced through the thick covering and then handed the man a plastic baggie.

The man turned to hand it to Abbot. “Test it,” he ordered. With a sharp nod, Abbot left, returning a few minutes later to say is was high quality.

“We can get all you want of that, or this.” Vance had opened the second book and now held out a second baggie which Abbot promptly took to test. Again he returned to say it was just a good as the first sample.

“Excellent,” Abbot’s boss said with a broad grin, “Now to finalize the details.” He took Vance into a second, smaller room, indicating that the two guards who had been standing silently in the background should wait outside.

As soon as the door closed Vance moved between it and the man. His eyes turned icy when he said, “Now I want to know who your supplier is.”

The man snorted in derision. “So you can cut me out? I don’t think so.”

Vance’s fist landed hard in the man’s gut, doubling him over. Before he could catch his breath to shout for help Vance had the door locked and was dragging him to the desk chair. Seconds later, while the man was still gasping, Vance had his wrists bound to the arms of the chair with plastic cuffs.

“One sound out of you other than to tell me what I want to know and you’ll feel my wrath,” Vance told him calmly as he pressed the tip of his blade just below the man’s eye.

“Who are…” the man got out before the blade pressed in and down, leaving a deep cut from his eye down to the corner of his lip. Vance covered the man’s mouth with his hand to stifle his scream.

“Want to try again?” Vance said quietly as he watched the blood stream down, turning the collar of the man’s shirt red. Then he laid the edge of the blade behind the man’s ear, pushing down just enough to cause pain but not to slice it off. Yet.

The man froze, his eyes begging Vance not to. When Vance removed his hand from his mouth the man whispered, “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t. Piece by piece.”

It took Vance a few more minutes of inflicting pain before the man came to understand that he was very serious about what he wanted. Finally the man mumbled out a name and address before passing out from blood loss.

Vance wiped off the blade and his hands on a clean spot on the tails of the man’s shirt. Then he did a quick but through search of the office, finding more information that would be helpful in closing down the Canadian mob’s guns for drugs racket for good.

Finally he stepped to the door and unlocked it, but not before sheathing his blade, exchanging it for a small but powerful pistol. Swinging the door open he pressed the pistol’s barrel to the side of the guard closest to him and pulled the trigger. The hollow-point bullet did its job, tearing out flesh as it entered and then destroying bone and organs as it moved inward. The guard let out a shout as he clutched his side, everything forgotten but the need to stem the flow of blood.

The second guard had his gun up and pointed at Vance seconds later. As he depressed the trigger Vance dropped to one knee and shot again. If the man survived the shot he’d never be fathering children or even be able to attempt to.

That left Abbot to be deal with. Vance scanned the room, seeing no sign of him. Moving rapidly to the door Abbot had gone through on his way to test the drug samples, he threw it open and stepped to one side. A burst of gunfire narrowly missed him as Abbot appeared with a gun in each hand.

Vance snapped the chain from around his throat and flicked it so that it encircled Abbot’s wrist. Pulling hard he had the man staggering as he tried to remain upright and shoot with his free hand. Two shots rang out simultaneously. Abbot hit the floor, blood and brains draining from the hole in his forehead. Vance was much luckier. He ended up with only a painful flesh wound on his bicep.

Ignoring it for the time being, he snagged his backpack from beside the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Then he moved the bag to the middle of the floor, opened it and then one of the fake books. He smiled coldly as he set the timer inside for five minutes.

Vance was out of the house and into the car that had brought him there when he heard a loud explosion. Then the basement windows blew out and flames appeared. They ate their way quickly up the dry wood shingles on the exterior as well at working their damage on the inside. Soon the house was engulfed in flames, the occasional sound of a smaller explosion from ammunition stored there fighting for dominance over the noise of the fire.

It took him less than a second to get the car turned on, and less than five minutes to get it onto the highway. As he drove back to the city he placed a call. “It’s done,” he said when someone answered. Then he gave them the name and address, smiling tightly when they told him, “Job well done.”

* * * *

After Vance had been debriefed by Makie and Albert, he leaned back in his chair to look at them. “What next?”

“For the moment, nothing. You’ve got a two day leave and then back to your usual job.”

“I’ll pass on the leave, thanks.”

“Van, take it,” Makie said. “That may not be much of a wound but it still needs to heal so you’re back in top form.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Trust me I’ve been hurt worse than this in my day.”

“Says the twenty-four year old as if he was a seasoned vet of forty,” Albert said with a chuckle.

Vance’s eyes darkened as he remembered his childhood and he shook his head. “You have no idea.”

Neither Makie nor Albert responded to that, although they both knew exactly what his life had been like before he’d run away from his abusive mother. Instead Makie told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to report back to the FBI field office he worked out of until after the required two days of R&R.

Vance grumbled again, this time about bossy bosses, before getting up and heading out of the office.

Once the door had closed behind him Albert sighed. “He was too cold and unfeeling when he told us what he did.”

“It’s always like that. I sometimes wonder if he’s capable of any compassion when it comes to getting the information needed, or when he has to kill someone. Hearing him talk about it is like listening to someone reading a report third hand, no emotion whatsoever.”

“I guess we should be glad he’s working for us, not against us. He doesn’t let anything stand in his way, either on our jobs or those he does for the Bureau.”

“He needs to have some sort of personal life but as far as I can tell the only one he gives a damn about is his father. I’m not even sure he’s got a s*x life, or at least one that involves more than bam, bam, thank you ma’am.”

“So we team him with one of the females next time,” was Albert’s suggestion, which garnered him a snort of amusement and a muttered, “Matchmaker,” from Makie.

After that Albert left to take care of other business while Makie sent the report from Vance on to the Old Man, with her observations about how he’d handled it.