Behold The Grayman
Heinlen can’t wrap his mind around the fact that he’s flying in his Gulfstream jet – not Simon Magus’ Gulfstream jet. It’s sublime. He used to feel good about owning his own car – free and clear of financing. Now he’s got title to three corporate jets and two rotorcraft. It’s a weird transformation. But whatever he has or uses, his rule is the same: function, not form. He’s not interested in things – only in whatever can help him succeed in his Mission.
He sits staring out at the clouds dressed in his now signature outfit. Leather jacket and open-collared shirt, fitted cargo pants and custom ankle-hugging Venetian shoes. All black, of course. The footwear is an Italian special forces staple – a BratvaVarang favorite. Soft rubber soles specially molded to a users’ arch and feet. Good for long hikes, lounging about – or climbing a castle wall. The only thing about Heinlen that isn’t black is his hair. He’s got a shock of gray mane that makes him resemble Andrew Jackson. Behold the Grayman.
His Seax is duly strapped between his shoulder blades. He’s grown so comfortable wearing it that he barely notices its presence. As it should be. Of course. black-lensed Ray-Bans complete his image. The morning sun is just coming up over the Swiss Alps and the glare is blinding. Geneva Airport is below and he can feel the landing gear lowering.
Markovic and four BratvaVarang toughs are traveling with him. The brotherhood is handling all the transport in Switzerland and keeping active surveillance eyes on them 24/7. Their security is superb. It’s a seamless web – precisely what he can’t get in the United States because CIA, NSA Mossad toadies control the game board. That’s another reason why he’s glad the burgeoning bulk of his inherited money – 75% – is now in gold and physically located outside North America. The remaining 25% is in offshore, tax-sheltered investments, generating beaucoup interest – untraceable cash that fuels his new lifestyle.
His NJ lawyer, Peter Xiang-Li, is a legal and financial genius – but he personifies practical, Han Chinese business savvy and caution. He trusts no one. He keeps minimal and exclusively encrypted records that can be deleted (“smoked”) by an Internet command issued from anywhere on Earth. He, too, is moving his family finances offshore – and has opened law offices in Singapore and Hong Kong. The world is changing – and Peter Xiang-Li is on its’ leading edge. Asia is ascending. The West is waning.
The only property Heinlen keeps outside the United States is Simon Magus’ former home in Limasol, Cyprus. It’s too beautiful to sell. It’s the ultimate refuge. He pays all expenses – including those of Dr. Marina Vorshilovka and Katya Kuznetzova, who have their own beach houses. Of course, Master Chef Lacas is on a permanent retainer and manages the kitchen with his sons, Christopher and Alexander – both graduates of the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu culinary school in Paris, France. The BratvaVarang keeps a close eye and tight fist on all upkeep, finances and security for the magnificent Mediterranean pied ‘a terre. It is now simply known as Hetman’s Cove. It’s as secure as Fort Knox.
Cutting ties with the US Police State has energized him. He’s his own man. Nothing says Freedom like nobody squeezing your balls. Heinlen now has three additional passports – in three different names and issued by three different countries. His US passport bearing his birth name still is in his bedroom drawer in Martinsville. Little by little, he’s leaving his past life and cop identity behind. Soon his New Jersey address will be a mail drop only – a convenient artifice. Peter Xiang-Li’s niece, LiNa Zhang has moved in as resident housekeeper and personal assistant for him when he’s in town.
To the world at large, his Martinsville home is now just another sleepy suburban address. LiNa – Heinlen calls her “Leena” – keeps in regular contact with Peter Xiang-Li. Nothing escapes her attention. She has an MBA from Columbia in New York City and is fluent in five languages. Heinlen pays her very well and will probably Deed her the house as a wedding gift for her planned nuptials next year.
His crew now just calls him Hetman. He feels liberated – but very aware of his mortality. Everything he has – his money and power – can vanish in an instant. One bullet can end his mission. He’s no Simon Magus.
The helicopter ride from Geneva to Lausanne should take less than an hour. Long enough for them to eat some food and tighten up their gameplan.
The Clinique de Lavoisier has their own helipad – which is where they’re going to set down. Heinlen has an appointment with Dr. Alexion Vernice, Chief of Hematology and Head Diagnostician of the hospital – which he had to use significant diplomatic pressure to secure. The Russian Embassy carries considerable weight in Switzerland. Russian Oligarchs have been stashing their ill-gotten gains in the country for years. Many Swiss citizens have gotten filthy rich from managing Russian money. The BratvaVarang has deep contacts in all 26 of the Swiss Cantons – or semi-autonomous “Member States”. Their intelligence network rivals Russia’s State Security apparatus.
Heinlen has many questions about Clinique de Lavoisier’s “Patient 089″ – an anonymous chap from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Hetman knows that “Patient 089” is Bertholde Goode, late of Chatsworth, New Jersey. And unless his gut is completely off-track, Patient 089 died from KURU – just like his sister, Frederica Goode.
Moral of the story? The family that eats brains together – dies together.
Markovic is adamant that Switzerland is swimming in Vampyres. This is where their Archon Class resides. The top tier of their cursed species. Their leaders – those who speak to Satan’s minions – for centuries have called this mountain kingdom home.
Vigilance will be their rule going forward. Eyes open.
To say the helicopter ride is scenic is like saying certain women are pretty. The route takes Heinlen’s group directly over – and basically traces – the Lausanne-Geneva Railway corridor. It’s the flat northern shore of Lake Geneva and some of the most beautiful real estate in the world. The trip is barely fifty miles.
Heinlen no sooner settles into his seat and unfastens his seatbelt when a deafening explosion is heard directly above – the main jet engine and rotor assembly detonate in a catastrophic blast. The imposing Airbus ACH160 violently heaves and yaws from left to right, its main cabin filling with black, acrid smoke, making breathing impossible.
Major Markovic – no stranger to being inside aircraft under missile attacks – jumps on Heinlen and pins him back to his seat. Oxygen masks drop down from the cabin roof, and the Major straps a mask on Heinlen’s face, yelling at him –
“HOLD ON TO THE SEAT BELTS! STAY IN THE SEAT!!”
Markovic bobs and weaves his way to the front pilot station through the thick choking clouds and blinding smog. The Airbus rotorcraft is almost pointing straight down; it’s flight capabilities are completely compromised. Markovic can see the vague outlines of the Swiss countryside coming at them at crash speed. The pilot – a decorated Russian Air Force aviator named Arkanov – is struggling with his controls trying to stabilize the craft, using every trick he knows to get the rear tail rotor blades to stop lateral sliding – sideways drift – and somehow slow their descent. He sees Markovic and yells one order:
“BALE OUT! NOW! JUMP NOW!!”
Heinlen can barely breathe. His crew is clustered at his side pulling a parachute on him. One of his team kicks the main door releases until it flies off the craft. The rush of incoming air sucks the acrid dark smoke from the cabin and gives them a target to move towards so they can jump.
Markovic reappears into their cabin space – he’s already chuted-up and yelling at everybody to bailout, pointing at the open doorway.
GO! GO! GO! GO!!!
He grabs Heinlen in a bear-hug and pushes out the open hatchway.
Heinlen has never sky dived. He’s never jumped out of a plane – “buddy style” or otherwise. He struggles to keep his emotions in check – and not wiggle out of Markovic’s embrace.
His mind is racing. He’s hyperventilating…getting woozy, sweating profusely from blood pressure that feels like its ripping the top of his head off.
“I’m jumping out of a Goddamn helicopter? How can this be happening? What the Hell is going on?”
His body jolts from the hard grab of the parachute above them opening and suddenly slowing his descent. He looks around but can’t focus because of the wind buffeting his uncovered eyes. His face feels like it’s peeling off. He’s helpless – dangling in the arms of some Special Forces badass who is hard and in charge.
Finally, they both hit the ground. Heinlen feels like he’s been thrown against cement from the bottom up. His head impacts something – maybe a rock or some kind of debris. Markovic rolls on top of him, then off again. Heinlen is seeing stars. He feels a warm, sickening wetness leaking into his mouth and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by nausea, coughing and choking.
“YOU ALRIGHT? TALK TO ME, HETMAN!”
Markovic is staring right into Heinlein’s eyes – assessing his trauma like a field medic would. He can feel Markovic clearing his mouth and throat airways. He’s bleeding – badly. Waves of pain wash over him like heavy oil. His head aches like he’s never felt before. He can’t feel his legs. His eyes can’t focus. Bright flashes of light are blinding him. Something is wrong….
“YOU SEE MY HAND? HOW MANY FINGERS DO YOU SEE? YOU KNOW WHO I AM? SPEAK TO ME, HETMAN!!”
Somebody is yelling at him. He’s too tired to struggle. The last thing Heinlen remembers is coughing up hot copper-tasting fluid and blacking out.
Clinique de Lavoisier – Emergency Reception Theatre
Lausanne, Switzerland
DR. VERNICE:
“ALRIGHT EVERYONE! This patient is number 097. Helicopter Accident about thirty Kilometers away, one hour ago. The crew and pilot parachuted out safely with the exception of this man, who hit his head on a stone surface upon landing. He is an extremely influential and important person – I suggest everyone take this opportunity to demonstrate their medical acumen. We are being watched. If ever there was a man to keep alive, it is this one. That having been said – he’s in a bad way. He’s Russian Orthodox judging by the Crucifix hanging around his neck…we may want to have a Russian Orthodox Priest at the ready.
Dr. Bouchert, you are our Chief Neurosurgeon – what is your recommendation?
DR. BOUCHERT:
“Preliminary neurological signals indicate COMA brought on by cranial fracture and parietal hematoma…. prepare the patient for immediate surgery. Our own Neurosurgeon, Dr. Alicia Brabenfeld will lead the team. The Patient’s private Doctor has just arrived and will assist. She’s Russian. Dr. Marina Vorshilovka. Patient’s breathing is shallow and his neurological responses are failing. We’re running out of time. I recommend immediate action. LET’S GO!!”
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI GENERATED
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www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
