Sweet Dreams (37 page)

natic before he killed any more innocent people. ________________________________________

THE SMALL OUTBUILDING WAS more like a shed than a building. The scared woman and her child finally made it to the door, which was unlocked. She breathed a sigh of relief and she as her daughter snuck inside without drawing any attention to themselves. The pump house had some electric boxes on one wall and two pumps that ran with a loud droning sound sitting on the floor like two sleeping monsters. She hugged her daughter, who didn't seem worried at the moment. The night had been long and hard on both of them. They found a spot behind the larger of the two pumps and cuddled up together. After a few minutes, they were soon asleep.

The silence woke the sleeping woman as the pumps turned off making the silence almost louder than the noise. They had only been sleeping for a few hours, but it felt like it was all day. She stretched and rubbed her eyes with a yawn. Looking around, she noticed that the floor was made of dirt and the pumps were sitting on concrete pads, and the room was warm with a muggy heat coming off the machines.

She ran through different situations, trying to think of a way to escape. The gate was the only way; she did not think that they could get through two sets of fences and guard dogs and the chance of them doing anything in daylight would be stupid.

The door rattled, and her heart went into her throat. She froze as a short guard with a submachine gun slung over his shoulder came into the little shed. He took out a cigarette and

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lit it up, taking a long drag in and then blowing out a puff of smoke.

He doesn't even know we're here.
She thought. He mumbled something, and then sat down against the wall and pulled his hat over his eyes. He looked like he was going to take a nap. Within a few minutes, she saw that she was right. His snoring was erratic and choppy, but he was definitely out.

She looked down at her daughter, who slept with her head on the floor; then she looked back at this guard, this guard with a gun leaning against the wall next to him and a dirty baseball cap pulled low over his face.

This could be our ticket out of here,
she thought. She waited a few more minutes before standing up and slipping off her shoes. She needed to be as quiet as a church mouse...and get that gun.

The sleeping guard looked very comfortable. From the look of the small pile of cigarette butts that were on the floor next to where he sat, he did this on a regular basis. She could feel her stomach turn as he moved his arm in his sleep.
I can't do this! What if he wakes up? Then what? Come
on get it together. You need to live, nothing more, just do
whatever you have to!
Tiptoeing closer, she bent down and reached out her hand for the weapon.

Got it!

She pulled it to her chest and froze as the guard stared at her with his dark, blazing eyes. She tried to bring the gun around, but couldn't. All she could do was just stand there, frozen. He didn't move either, he just looked at her as if trying to plan his next move.

346 AARON

Then it hit her...he was asleep. His eyes were open, but they were unresponsive and empty. She slowly backed away and made her way back to her daughter, who smiled in her sleep.

"Sweet dreams, honey.
Sweet dreams
."

Chapter Twenty-Five

MARK LOOKED AT HIS WIFE.

She's so beautiful!

He couldn't believe what was happening to him, whether he was in a dream world or in the real world. His mind refused to let it alone and even in the middle of the night he woke himself up just to see if she was still there next to him sleeping. She was, and Mark touched her soft shoulder and felt the rise and fall of her breathing.

Time had a way of working out the details and now he knew that this gift or curse he did not know yet, had given him something--He lived life full throttle and had this lust for living that he never had before. It was as if he had been given a second chance and he was not going to waste it. A year came and went. Life changed for Mark in ways that would make most men shake in fear, and others turn green with envy. He was now working with the World Justice Agency full time and 348 AARON

filling in the missing parts of his memory.

He smiled as he thought about when he walked into the main WJA office and shocked Solomon and everyone else who was working on his case. It had been a week or so after the cabin bombing, and Mark had seen Isis tailing him and he remembered who she was and who she worked for. On any given day in his old life, he would not have noticed her black Lexus, but now he noticed everything.

It was as if he had a new instinct, a second instinct. He could see and feel what was going to happen in a situation and could react with incredible speed. Not psychic or anything like that, but just an overwhelming sense of knowing. If a good thing was about to happen it was as if he would feel it and feel the emotion before anything ever even happened. Isis was shocked when he pulled over to the side of the road and then back in behind her when she passed him. Mark followed her downtown and when she pulled into the Merc buildings underground parking garage, she had Mark in tow.

"Hello, Isis," Mark smiled as he walked up to her and followed her into the elevator. "Going down?"

Isis tried to act innocent, but knew something was up when Mark punched in the three so-called secret numbers sending them down into the heart of the WJA's main office.

"Nine, five, two huh? Clever, spells WJA on the keypad on a cell phone,"

"I take it your memory has returned," She said with a small smile appearing in the corner of her mouth.

"Most of it, and maybe more than was supposed too, at least this time you don't have to come through my window to convince me."

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She looked confused, but didn't say anything. The rest of the group was happy to see him and they got him going on some training and had him help Isis on a few easy assignments. Mark liked Isis instantly and loved her attention to detail; she was a cool and in control of her self, kind of woman. She planned every detail with precise direction and never missed anything. He enjoyed learning from her, and she was willing to help him in any way she could.

Solomon could not explain his dreams, or how he could see into the future, it didn't happen all the time and after the first time, they came in short bursts like a bad headache or daydream. If you have ever driven somewhere and after you arrived, could not remember how you got there--like that, only different.

Solomon just smiled in his fatherly way and said, "You've been granted a gift, do not waste it. If it was not for your dream, your family would be dead right now."

K was supportive of his new job and never asked him to explain what he was doing or where he was when his work took him late into the nights on a few occasions. She knew him well enough that, if he needed to keep it from her, then she could trust him.

"I don't deserve you, babe,"

"I know," K said, "but you've got me--now run along and go be the hero."

Mark knew that she was scared and hoped he would be careful. He wondered how much she knew or what she thought he might be doing with the odd hours he worked. He doubted that she bought the working for the government thing 350 AARON

and he did not expect her too. It was a nice story to tell the neighbors at backyard Bar-B-Q's. It meant a lot to him to know that she loved him and supported him.

They paid off the house... or, rather, Solomon paid it off that Christmas. He had become part of the family and loved Sam as if she was his own granddaughter. K couldn't believe it and cried as she hugged Solomon. He came over for dinner often and would play dress-up with Samantha. The bracelets and lipstick on the older man was a sight, but Sam loved it, and that was enough for him.

Today he had to take the
Taxi
over to Vermont, where two brothers had been on a killing spree. They had kidnapped over ten girls from a local high school hangout. It took the authorities ten months to find six of the girls. They were all high school age and almost unrecognizable.

Mark cringed when he saw the file. The brothers would team up and do horrible things, as if it was a sport to them or a competition. They had sent in one of their undercover women. It was easy to make her look like a teenager. She was in the school only two weeks before she was taken. They had a tracking device on her, and Mark was going in to get her out. He was going to be gone for two days between the rescue and the hit. He hoped to be back in time for the weekend. He did not get a normal weekend like a traditional job. His work was set up on a case-by-case basis, and he would get time off in between cases. The more time he was gone for a case, the longer his so-called weekend was.

Zipping up his suit, he crawled into the
Taxi
and hit the start button. It was hard to believe, but he rather enjoyed using this thing. It still made him a little sick afterward, but it sure

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saved time.

________________________________________

"MARK, WE NEED YOU, come in as soon as you can. We have a case you need to see." Isis sounded urgent as she talked to Mark on his cell phone. He promised to be there as fast as traffic would allow.

Mark wondered what would make Isis sound so nervous on the phone, which was not normal for her. Mark was willing to do whatever needed to be done, and he thought maybe the case might involve an important person, maybe even a celebrity. The streets were jammed with cars, bumper-to-bumper and the sound of horns, and cursing made the air have an almost pleasant ring to it. It took thirty minutes to go five blocks; but then again, it was New York.

Mark smiled at Mr. Able, who was reading the morning paper. "You ready for the new year?"

"You bet--I got all the grandkids a bucket of candy and noisemakers." He chuckled and waved Mark in.

"Oh, I bet you'll make their parents happy with that one."

"Ha! It's good for 'em. Sides, they did it to me," he said laughing with a shaky voice that only the very old can pull off. Mark laughed and went through the door. It took a few minutes to get through all the checkpoints, but he sat down in his chair in a conference room only forty-five minutes from when Isis had called him.

The room had Big B, Isis and a man named Johnny Jamison. He was a
Class
C
sniper and had been active for over ten years. He had a mustache that looked like a caterpillar had roosted under his nose, and was in good shape for a fifty-352 AARON

something.

"Okay, we all here?" He looked around the room with brown flat eyes. "Solomon wanted me to get started with the briefing; he'll be down in a few minutes,"

The room was silent as everyone looked up at Johnny. Isis was taking notes on an electronic device that seemed to float in the air in front of her, and Big B was fidgeting with a toothpick he had in his mouth. Mark also noticed that no one was looking at him and almost seemed to be trying not to on purpose.

"This is Tripp Maddock, he goes by the name of Geoff Martin and has been underground until just recently."

A picture popped up on the screen of a tall man with a scruffy blonde beard and curly hair. "These are pictures we took of him here in New York. He has been running with Detective Weston, Detroit P.D. We don't know the nature of their relationship, but we have reason to believe that he is involved with our FBI contact." The pictures and state were projected to a hovering screen in the middle of the large wooden conference table. Mark had never seen technology like this outside of in the movies but the WJA seemed to make them come alive, and this was no movie.

Mark remembered talking with Isis about a case that she was working on. They took out a prison filled with rapists and murderers. This detective Weston was investigating it, and they had to take him out of play for a bit to get him off the case.

It didn't work; it only made him angrier and more determined. In the meantime, their contact went rogue and hooked up with the leading crime boss out of Russia. They were trying to expose the WJA and would do anything to make that

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happen.

"Now, this trail gets twisted here real quick. We all know Detective Weston; he was kidnapped one hour ago. We have reason to believe that Tripp Maddock had something to do with it. We know he has close dealings with a Russian general named Taras Karjanski, and we believe he has teamed up with our FBI contact."

A picture of a rough-looking man with a thick, black beard came up on the see-thru screen. "This is General Karjanski, he's our main target. He is what you would call the
Don
of the Russian Mafia. We know that he has Weston, and he may have others."

Mark studied the Russian's face as he listened. It seemed that their FBI informant had switched sides, and to top it off, was working with the Russian Mafia.
This isn't good. Why
would he go against the WJA and turn against his own coun-
try?

Mark's thoughts were interrupted by Johnny's stern voice; he was going over the details of their mission.

"We need two teams to go in and take out General Karjanski and Tripp Maddock. Mark, you and Isis will take care of the hit on the General; myself and Big B here will take care of Mr. Maddock. We will then rescue Detective Weston."

Then Jamison went over the blueprints and layouts of the building where they were hiding out. It was on the coast of Puerto Rico in an old, abandoned asylum. From the satellite images, it looked like it was heavily guarded and would be very hard to penetrate undetected.

"We are only here to take out our two targets; any guards will be shot with non-lethal weapons. Our FBI informant has 354 AARON