H&K: Path of Knowledge

Chapter 3

Hank sat at the kitchen table waiting for the response he knew would be coming, staring out at the sound-reducing barrier along the highway on the other side of the housing development. His mind wandered back over twenty years in the past to March 1991 when Hank found himself at the US Army hospital known as Landstuhl Regional Medical Center at Rhineland-Pfalz, Germany, where he found himself recovering from wounds received while on patrol during Desert Shield in November 1990. Hank remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Hank sat on the side of his hospital bed, duffel bag packed, awaiting his orders that would send him stateside. A beautiful woman with long black hair, piercing green eyes, and knock-dead gorgeous smile entered his room, well-dressed in a light-green pantsuit. She carried an attaché case in her left hand. She closed the door behind her. As the door closed, Hank saw a familiar face in the hallway. Captain D’Aras was in charge of the military police detachment at the hospital. He had become a very close acquaintance of Hank’s after Captain D’Aras had thwarted an assassination attempt on Hank’s life while he was in the hospital.

“How would you like to put your training to use?” the woman asked.

“And who might you be?” Hank asked, but the woman seemed familiar for some reason.

“My name is Adaline Sarasin. I am here to offer you what you have been begging your commanders to give you,” Sarasin stated.

“And why should I listen to you or even trust you?” Hank asked.

“Captain D’Aras explained to me how you fought off two assailants while heavily sedated and wounded. He speaks highly of you and how you want to get back into the combat theater,” the woman told him.

“Did he tell you what he did?” Hank asked. “Seems that isn’t in the report.”

“If you spoke to him, then he would have told you.”

“Okay, since this is confidential and it never happened, maybe Captain D’Aras may or may not have shot the two assailants. These hypothetical assailants may or may not have been turned over to a CIA cleaner team to dispose of.” She watched his reaction.

“Okay, now that we have that out of the way. What is your offer?” Hank replied.

“I am building a team for which I believe you would be a perfect match.”

“What type of team?”

“One that would utilize all your specialty training that your records don’t show.”

“And what specialty training would that be?” Hank asked, dripping sarcasm.

Sarasin withdrew a file, stamped top secret, his name was on the front as well. Hank stared at her. She smiled as she passed the records file to Hank. Hank opened it and saw all his specialty training listed. Who was this woman that she could obtain his actual records, whereas his official records contained only basic and Airborne training?

“What unit would I be assigned to?” Hank asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“For the record, you would be reassigned back to the Berlin Brigade, same unit, just on temporary duty,” Sarasin told him.

“What would this team be doing?”

“Need-to-know basis.” Sarasin looked directly at him as she opened her attaché case. “Are you in?”

“Where do I sign up?”

“Welcome to the shadows. From this day forward, you will tell no one of your activities or location. As far as anyone will know, your duty station is Berlin. But be prepared to visit exotic locations, meet exotic people, and kill those who need killing,” Sarasin told him.

“Been there, done that, and lost some good friends in doing so.”

“Then call it payback. We will be seeking out anyone who slips through the cracks.”

His cell buzzed at around nine in the morning, bringing him back to the present. He looked at the message. “Black Audi belongs to City Crime family enforcer, Vigo Bratva. White BMW belongs to one Samantha Craig, Philadelphia Assistant DA, wife of Doctor Jim Martin. Suspect possible correlation with your present situation. We need to meet, 1000 hrs. S.” The text came from Sarasin.

“Where? H.”

“72 steps to the Boxer. Right three.”

“Done.”

Soft sobbing came from the back of the home. Hank eased in that direction. He walked down the hallway to the farthest room that led out onto the deck and pool. He found Tess sitting in the computer room, curled up with her knees pulled up to her chest in a desk chair, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

“Tess,” Hank called.

Tess merely looked up at Hank with a blank look on her face, tears still streaming down her face, but the crying had stopped.

“Where’s Bob?” Hank asked.

That seemed to draw her back to reality. Tess released the tight hold on her legs and wiped her eyes.

“I gave him a glass of tea to drink,” Tess said. Hank stared at her in confusion.

“I knocked him out with a valium and sleeping pills in it,” Tess announced. “He needed to get some sleep and to relax.”

Hank sat down in another office chair, sliding close to her. She placed her head on his shoulder, her whole body shaking from frustration and helplessness.

“What have I done to my family?” Tess asked, looking up at Hank.

“You’ve done nothing. That asshole is the one doing all this. I can assure you.”

“This is so surreal. None of this can be real. It’s ludicrous. Why would anyone try to harm my family?” Tess questioned the air.

“Psychopaths don’t need a reason, and that asshole is a psychopath.”

“The term would be a sociopath, but close enough.” Tess grinned for the first time in two days.

They sat in the computer room for about ten minutes when Hank realized Tess had ceased to shake and started to breathe deeply. She had finally fallen asleep.

Standing up, Hank picked Tess up, carrying her up the stairs to her bedroom. Hank passed the guest bedroom door where Katharine was sleeping. Hank noticed that it was cracked open just a hair. Hank placed Tess next to her husband on the bed, drawing the blanket up around her. She grabbed him by his right arm and pulled herself up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for being here. I’m afraid of what Bob will do once you leave,” Tess said, turning to look at her husband’s sleeping form. “I’ve never seen him this worked up and pissed. I’m afraid he may do something stupid.”

“Everything will be fine. Get some rest,” Hank told Tess. “I have to go out for a little while, but I’ll be back. Katharine is here to help as well.”

Hank descended the stairs and went to the kitchen table. He grabbed a napkin to write a note on, explaining to Katharine he had to go to the office for a bit but would be back as soon as he could. The guest room door closed slowly, making minimal noise. Katharine had been listening the whole time. She slid into the guest bed with her cell phone as she typed out a message to her business partner.

Katharine was a nurse practitioner for a concierge medical company. Her partner was Karen Mitchell, a medical doctor who had spent three years as a surgical resident but decided she wanted to explore concierge medical care. The business was lucrative, but each client was evaluated on a personal level with each client charged appropriately. The medical service was always the foremost on their agenda. In the many years that the company had been in business, Karen had made numerous contacts in the entertainment field but also in corporate America, legal circles, and old money families. Karen was in the midst of a personal crisis that even Katharine had very little knowledge about.

Have you heard any rumors concerning Doctor Jim Martin? He’s one of our referring partners, Katharine texted Karen.

Moments later, Katharine’s cell pinged. It was a text from Karen.

Need to talk ASAP. Martin is a scumbag bastard. I’ll fill you in but only in person. When can we meet? Karen’s text read.

Lunch today?

Now? Please?

On my way.

“I have to meet Karen,” Katharine stated as she rushed past Hank standing at the kitchen table, finishing the note he was leaving for her on the kitchen table.

“What’s up?” he asked, turning toward her retreating form. “Not sure. Something’s up with Karen and may have something to do with that asshole that’s harassing Tess.”

“Need me to go?”

“No. I’ll let you know if something happens.” Katharine kissed him as she flew out the door.

“I have to go downtown anyway to the corporate building,” Hank called after her.

Hank texted for an Uber to pick him up as Katharine took the SUV to meet Karen. The Uber picked Hank up ten minutes later as Katharine was making her way to Bala Cynwyd. By the time Katharine pulled up to Karen’s office, Hank was stepping from an Uber at the Philadelphia Museum of Art near where the Rocky Balboa statue stood. Hank went to the right of the figure along the path leading to benches around the museum.

Hank took a seat on the third bench to wait. A few moments later, an athletic woman in a gray warm-up suit standing five feet eight inches tall, with long brown hair, slightly buxom with piercing gray eyes sat down to the right of Hank, holding an oversized brown backpack.

“Long time. Still like what you see?” Adaline Sarasin asked, looking out across the Ben Franklin Parkway.

“You could say that. What brings you to Philadelphia? Kind of short notice for you to be in the city.”

“You never came for dinner,” Sarasin said, leaning forward to place the pack on the ground to the left of her legs, ignoring most of his comments. “I cooked it myself.”

“You married Byrd, remember?” Hank reminded her.

“He was out of town.” Sarasin shot back, an edge in her voice.

“You were married to him for only three days. I didn’t feel right about having dinner with you alone after watching your new husband leave your apartment.”

“You could have called,” Sarasin softened, cutting him off.

“Do you remember what you told me when you invited me over? You asked if I wanted to stay the night. But that was before you married him. Then you went ahead and married him.”

“I remember,” Sarasin whispered.

“And you know what would have happened if I had come over.”

“I could have had your orders changed,” Sarasin stated matter-of-factly.

“But you didn’t. You stayed with Byrd. He was an arrogant asshole.”

“True, but that asshole made for a great cover story while it lasted,” Sarasin informed him.

“Yeah right. Some cover story,” Hank said sarcastically.

“Yes, as an army wife,” Sarasin stated, turning toward Hank. “I needed a cover that didn’t come with emotional baggage.”

“And in between assignments, we would have an affair behind Byrd’s back?” Hank asked.

“He was just a cover. I wasn’t in love with him.”

“Then why marry him? Was he a special assignment? What was our motto, ‘Visit exotic locations, meet exotic people and kill those who need killing’?” Hank asked. “You said nothing about meeting new people, marrying them for a cover story, and then cheating on them.”

“You know I needed a cover. You out of the entire team were the one I trusted with my truth,” Sarasin shot back. “You alone still know my weaknesses. You alone broke down my walls to see the real Adaline underneath.”

“But you married him anyway.”

“What was I to do? It was a marriage of convenience.”

“It was still official,” Hank said turning for the first time to look at her. She was as beautiful as ever, if not more. “Where is Mr. Perfect Lips?” Hank used the nickname Sarasin’s husband had given himself since he played the trumpet and thought he was the best.

“You know how lame he was. We got divorced a year into the marriage. He thought he was Adonis and Cupid rolled into one but couldn’t get it up most of the time and couldn’t keep it up when he did.”

“You married him.”

“Why didn’t you marry me? I asked.”

“You never actually asked.”

“Yes, I did. I told you that you could leave your pack in my apartment.”

“How was that asking me to marry you? Besides, I did leave my pack in your apartment along with my H&K.”

“I gave you my mother’s necklace,” Sarasin nearly whispered, trying to justify her feelings from a lifetime ago.

“I was in a bad place. I felt you deserved better than me. I had blood on my hands, a lot of blood. That traitor Wright decimated our team. All I could do was think of how I wanted to kill him. You know I came to your apartment the last night I was in the city. I waited until Byrd left the apartment. You hadn’t been married a week, less than three weeks after the villa fiasco.” Hank looked down at his hands.

“And I don’t have blood on my hands? It was my unit, dammit, the bastard killed,” Sarasin hissed, her anger growing.

“Different. You’re CIA.”

“And that makes a difference? All the missions we went on? We were a team, a damn good team. And then you went and followed Lowell to Liberia and then South America. You left me behind, and you know what they did to me? The CIA disavowed me a year later. That’s when I dumped that dumbass Byrd,” Sarasin’s voice was quivering.

“Then how—”

“I was given an impossible mission, one I wasn’t supposed to live through, but I did. I had lost everyone, except Sanchez. Lowell was off doing his thing in South America. I didn’t find out until later that you had left the army not long after.” Tears welled up in Sarasin’s eyes.

“I didn’t know.”

“Or cared!” Sarasin hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

Hank looked shocked and ashamed at her words and tone.

“Here, you’re going to need this.” She said as she slid the pack to him as her anger subsided. “Everything you need is in there. Dan is still at the safe house in Phoenixville. Our locker is in a storage building near Philadelphia Mills Mall in Northeast Philadelphia. You know the code.”

“How could I know the code?” Hank asked.

“What was your pet name for me and when did we meet?” Sarasin asked as she got up and walked away. “By the way, I hear your first marriage lasted all of, what, five months? Still like what you see?” Sarasin shot over her shoulder before she was gone.

“Are you still the Angel of Death?” Hank called after Sarasin but was met by thin air.

Hank opened the pack to find an H&K .45 caliber model 23 with silencer along with the twelve-inch full tang Tanto blade. He recognized it. It was the one he was to pick up from Sarasin the night they were to have dinner. A thick manila packet with big red letters reading “Top Secret” was inside the pack. There were ten prepaid burner phones, ten thousand dollars cash, a small pad with numbers, codes, call signs and counter call signs, and locations of safe houses and supply caches. In the bottom was a small box. Hank opened the box to reveal the gold chain Sarasin had given him to wear that had belonged to her mother. Her mother had given it to Sarasin just before she died of a brain tumor. Sarasin had told Hank it was the only thing she had left of her mother and wanted him to have it. He had left the chain on the doorknob of Sarasin’s apartment the night they were to have dinner. Still attached to the chain was the small gold band Hank had attached to it. It had been his last unspoken message to Sarasin, telling her that he was going to ask her to marry him. She knew what the message meant.

Hank placed everything back into the pack before he noticed the set of four keys attached to a ring on the outside of the pack. One key was a fob key to a vehicle. Two were to padlocks, probably to the supply caches. The fourth was a door key, with “120” etched on one side. Sarasin’s apartment had been 120 in Berlin. Hank looked around, scanning for anyone watching him. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.