Assassins Inc. - Part Three

Part Three: The Assignment

The rocking motion of the train did its best to lull Jose into a slumber, so he repeatedly rose to his feet and paced the aisle way of the passenger car. The air was a perfect temperature, which came as no surprise, considering the high cost of his seat. He watched the landscape slowly change from densely populated steel and concrete to sparse neighborhoods and finally to empty desert.

He purchased a bottle of chilled, carbonated water from the dining car and sipped it to try to counter the comfort of the ride and the rocking of the train. As darkness began to fall, he retired to his private room in the sleeper car. The darkness of his cabin and the rocking of the train worked in tandem to pull his eyes closed. He sat up and began to write some notes for himself to convince Symeon of the difficult task that lay ahead of him. 

It was when his forehead hit the small table that he gave up the fight and lay down for a restful sleep. He had just finished his dinner the following day when the train pulled into Asyut, Egypt. The unremarkable single shade of brown that filled every inch of visible landscape left him feeling somewhat unimpressed. With nothing more than a backpack, he stepped off the train into what felt like a furnace and he could feel all the moisture suddenly wick out of his body.

He was immediately surrounded by local guides looking for a quick payoff from an ignorant tourist, but he brushed them off by speaking flawless Arabic. Clearly an outsider, his great height and his modern dress were dead giveaways. He slowly walked to the southwest edge of town and triangulated his best guest for Symeon’s location. He made a mental note of his exact location and returned to the center of town to rent a hotel room in wait for the sunrise of the coming day.

Just before the arrival of the sun, he slipped out of the city in perfect silence and began his hunt for the reclusive Symeon. 

At the edge of the far northern forests of Russia, Jahwn could sense the warmth that Jose was absorbing but at the same time, he struggled to fight off the damp chill of his present surroundings. His spacious rental car sat behind him, its warm engine still ticking from his 400 km drive to Lake Beloye from St Petersburg. “This is not going to be easy,” he thought. “I don’t think I have ever seen a forest this thick before.”

He reached out and touched the nearest tree and closed his eyes, listening, feeling, and sensing anything that he could. “I would like to think that beginning my search at the start of the day was a wise move, but the density of this canopy ceiling is mostly impenetrable to light,” he thought. “All I can do is start… but I need to be smart about this.”

He marked his path with orange flags and eventually came across a narrow foot path. “Perfect,” he muttered. “At least this is something to follow.” The path continued in a haphazard fashion, often doubling back on itself with no real sense of direction or logic. He stopped at a sharp embankment and caught a scent of wood smoke. “That has to mean something,” he thought.

The smell became stronger, and he followed the scent despite its deviation from the path. Forced to stop at a deep crevasse, he saw an old man sitting inside a massive rotted out tree stump, opposite him. The man sat with his eyes closed and abruptly looked up at him, stood in his place and with an agility seemingly far beyond that of one so aged, he slid down one side of the deep crevice and clamored up the other side.

“Hello, venerable father,” he said. “My name is Alexei. You have come to me with information, I suspect. Come with me to my cabin and we can speak there.” 

Joshua stood in the middle of a massive empty parking lot. With the keys in hand, he scanned over the emptiness and finally spotted his vehicle parked at the far edge near the back fence. The wind was blisteringly cold, and he cupped his hands in front of his face to avoid taking the terrible chill into his lungs. 

He hurried into the vehicle and felt a wave of warmth pass over him, as well as a hint of smoke. “Looks like I’m behind schedule,” he thought. The small, hand drawn map gave him basic directions to find Mircea. “Only one hour away, they said,” he muttered. “At least he doesn’t live in a cave or the deep forest.”

He grumbled under his breath as the traffic grew only heavier as he tried to reach his destination. His small map led him to the edge of the city and up a long driveway into the woods. The road turned into a dirt path and only continued to narrow until he reached an open field, fronted by a stunning, well lit A frame building. 

He approached the front porch and rang the small bell hanging near it. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” a deep voice sounded behind him. With a jump, he turned around.

“Good evening, sorry to come so late,” he said. “I am looking for Mircea.”

“You have found him,” the man said. “Let’s get inside out of this cold. We can find a warm drink and talk in the library, if you don’t mind.”