More Commentary
Jan. 23rd, 2004 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
athersgeoA little more awake now (!!), here's the next part of the Hide and Seek commentary...
Disclaimer: See prologue. Suffice to say, Eric isn't mine. Everyone else is.
Mini disclaimers - gotta love them...
From here on in, the rating is R for violence and language.
Just in case you missed the warning on the prologue.
With thanks to Gamine, Irina and Ekat for the beta'ing and advice. Ladies, you're the greatest.
Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing.
~*~
Chapter 1 -- A Warning
Not a hugely complicated - or subtle - chapter title, partly because I wanted to flag up: OK from here on in, we're into the real plot of this story.
Life, Eric reflected, was always more chaotic when your co-worker went on holiday.
Who hasn't experienced this?
At least, that was officially where Wes was.
Eric smiled wryly. In practice, both Wes and Jen were some thousand years in the future, dealing with the court case that had resulted from the Biocon affair,
This chapter was written almost immediately after I finished writing Scars, which was still at the point I was thinking Wes and Jen would finish Max Force ready to be married and hence the H&S prologue would be their wedding, so initially, this bit was talking about Wes being on honeymoon - and so it needed a hasty rewrite about ten days or so before it was due to be posted!
which meant Eric was stuck in the present, dealing with the here-and-now concerns of running the Silver Guardians. Wes had been gone less than twenty-four hours and already there had been four calls from clients requesting extra services and two calls from the SPD requesting some extra leg power on two house-to-house investigations.
And it wasn't even ten o'clock.
Though it was written about six months before hand, this just reminds me of the vacation my boss took at about the time I started posting, where anything that could go wrong did. And worst of all, my other coworker was also off that day, so I had to sort it all out - and some of it was well beyond my range of knowledge...
"I need caffeine." But as he stood up, intending to make for the coffee pot in the corner of the office, his telephone buzzed. What God did I offend?
Love the 'what God' line - which I *think* I modelled after something I read in someone else's story, but whatever the story was, it's so long ago now that I read it I can't even begin to imagine what it was.
he wondered as he reached for the receiver. "Myers."
"Commander Myers, you have a visitor," answered Gina.
"A visitor?" That was just about unusual enough to merit a second thought. The overwhelming bulk of Guardian business was done via telephone so to actually get someone meeting them in person... "Who is it?"
This actually is based on my experience in work. There are some clients I've been working with for over four years and I have never met them; just spoken to them endlessly on the telephone. Given Eric's line of work, I figured this was probably going to be the case even more so.
"John Cawdron."
Named with my 'random names generator' - aka The Cricketer's Who's Who. It's a very handy book for when you need names, fast. In Cawdron's case, I took middle and last names from one person. In practice, the guy I borrowed the names from is someone I know (he played for my local team), but name is where the similarity begins and ends; the real life Cawdron is a complete loony. (He's also considerably younger than the Cawdron in this story!)
Eric frowned. That name was familiar -- but then again, in the last ten years he'd known an awful lot of people under a vast number of circumstances. When, after several seconds thought, he couldn't bring a face to mind, he shrugged. "Show him up."
"Yes, sir."
There was a click as Gina put down her receiver. Hastily Eric followed suit and dived for the coffee pot. It would take five minutes for his visitor to get up to the office -- long enough for him to pour himself a much-needed coffee and retake his seat.
At this point I hadn't entirely figured out the layout of the SGHQ - so things in here don't entirely match up to later written descriptions.
Just as he returned to his seat, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
First to enter the office was Gina. She smiled.
"Commander Myers -- this is Mr Cawdron."
Eric was eternally grateful that he was seated when Cawdron entered the office; otherwise he suspected his knees would have given way under him. For a fraction of a second time telescoped in on itself.
Bam! Realisation. What follows is a short clipped section of dialogue from the last flashback scene in Scars
"Come in."
"Master Sergeant Myers reporting as ordered, sir."
"Have a seat, Myers. Do you have any idea why I wanted to see you?"
"No sir."
"Are you aware that for the last five months you have been undergoing continued psychiatric review?"
"No sir."
"I have here, the results of that review. I'm afraid they aren't favourable, Myers. There are three alternatives. The first is that you go on an extended leave of absence. You see a psychiatrist and you get your head together. The second is a medical discharge. The third is that when your tour of duty finishes at the end of this month, you don't re-enlist. After today's performance, the first is not an option. I don't want to take the second, but if you don't take the third I will have to."
"Sir?"
"I am strongly recommending you don't re-enlist. If you do, I will be forced to give you a medical discharge stating severe mental imbalance."
Eric shook off the memory with difficulty. That day had been the lowest point of his life and even nearly three years later the shock of the moment was still as strong as it had ever been.
At this point I wanted it to be pretty darn clear that Eric had never really 'dealt' with any of this - he'd left it to fester (for want of a better word), which is why all this hits him so hard. I think it worked out pretty well.
"Sir?" Gina asked, sounding concerned.
That was when he realised his hands had wrapped themselves tightly around the arms of his chair and that his jaw had clenched. With difficulty, he forced himself to relax.
"It's OK, Gina."
She gave him a searching look, then glared at Cawdron. At any other time her obviously protective bearing would have made him laugh, but under these circumstances it barely raised a glimmer of humour. "I'll hold your calls, sir."
Yep, I *really* like Gina.
"Thanks Gina."
Visibly reluctant, she withdrew from the office and pulled the door shut. Eric listened to the tap of her heels as she headed away from the office. It gave him something else to concentrate on. Something to help him calm his badly jangled nerves. Anything rather than face the man standing in front of his desk.
"Myers."
It was no good -- Cawdron might be a ghost from the past but he wasn't going to go away. Eric finally risked looking up at his former CO. "Lieutenant Colonel Cawdron." His voice was flat and emotionless.
"It's Colonel Cawdron now...technically."
I figured three years down the track, he was almost certainly going to have had a promotion.
Eric shrugged. "Congratulations." Cawdron flinched. "I somehow doubt you came all the way here just to tell me you got promoted."
"May I...?" Cawdron gestured at the empty seat in front of Eric's desk. Eric shrugged. Cawdron sat down.
"So? What do you want?" Eric asked.
Cawdron hesitated a moment, presumably collecting his thoughts. "I've heard something that...I think you deserve to know about." Cawdron paused and then added, "You of all people."
Time telescoped again.
And another flashback from Scars - this time the last section of the first flashback scene (still one of my favourite action sequences) paired up by the last section of the second flashback scene. Paired the two up so as to at least give a kind of precis for anyone reading this without having read Scars.
He was almost under the umbrella of the chain gunfire from the warrior, when his rifle finally jammed.
There was a moment where everything seemed to freeze. Eric couldn't believe what had happened. He could only stare in stunned fashion at the now useless lump of metal and plastic in his hands.
"Move, you dozy jarhead!"
I actually got a complaint from an English friend of mine about this line when I showed her Scars. She said "I'm SURE he'd have said something ruder here" - to which I actually have no defence. Dozy, though rude used in this sense, really isn't that strong; the gunner would have almost certainly sworn. All I can think is that when I started out on Scars I had a momentary lapse of rating (ie I had a brief moment of thinking I was writing a PG story!) and neither me nor my wonderful betas spotted it!
yelled the gunner in the warrior. Eric wasn't entirely sure what 'dozy' actually meant but when combined with the gunner's harsh British accent and the derogatory term 'jarhead', he had a pretty fair idea it wasn't supposed to be complimentary.
The yell was the cue for everything to restart. Three or four Serbs rushed forwards as Eric hastily back-pedalled, using the jammed rifle as a club. Unfortunately, one of the Serbs just grabbed the flailing end of the rifle and pulled. Eric wasn't quite quick enough to release it. He found himself being dragged into the press of Serbs. Somewhere along the line, his helmet came off and then something hit the back of his head, and everything went black...
... "Oh, Sergeant Myers," the man replied, "you had better hope you have some information -- otherwise you are really not going to enjoy your stay here." The man pressed a button on the speakerphone on his desk. "Da, Sacha."
A moment later and the earlier guard reappeared. There was another rapid-fire conversation, and then Eric found himself being dragged out of the office.
He was led further along the corridor, down some steps and into a basement. This time, he didn't need the guard's warning hand on his shoulder telling him to stop: He came to a halt on his own in pure shock at the sight that greeted him in the basement room. It looked like something out of a bad B Movie or trashy horror flick. There was a table with manacles attached to each corner. There were chains attached to the wall. There was a rack of assorted whips and switches. There was another rack filled with positively medieval looking metal items that his mind steadfastly refused to even try to assign names to.
Eric swallowed. He was leaping to conclusions. He had to be. There was no way that was what Cawdron wanted to talk about. No. It was paranoia.
He might be paranoid but that doesn't mean they aren't out to get him.
"What about?"
"Zafar bel Abis."
A ball of ice started to form in the pit of his stomach. Eric was certain he'd never actually heard that name before but there was an instinctive familiarity to it. "Who?"
And this is where Rach realises the basic villain of the piece didn't at any stage get a name in Scars! The villain's name comes from two guys I knew at university. I actually only knew them in passing, but they left something of an impression (not a favourable one). In fact, a bigger pair of loathsome toads I have yet to have the misfortune to meet. So I got my own back two years later!
Cawdron hesitated again before finally saying, "He was the man who orchestrated your capture...the leader of that KLA cell."
Nononononononono...
The image came unbidden. Cropped black hair, immaculate black beard, Arabian features, sitting behind an opulent desk in a plush office.
I will not let that bastard have my nightmares again.
It took every ounce of will Eric possessed to force the memories of those two months to fade back into the pit of his subconscious. When he thought he wasn't actually going to scream, he refocused his attention on Cawdron.
Again - Eric hasn't dealt with it at all.
"What about him?"
"They've released him."
"Released him?" Eric echoed in dull disbelief.
Cawdron nodded. "It's the question you didn't ask me in Landstuhl -- what happened to your captors."
Another thing I realised that I'd missed from Scars!
Eric waited. "When the camp was...liberated, all those present -- including bel Abis -- were taken captive and, in due course, were tried as war criminals. There was some talk of asking you to testify against them but it was decided that it wouldn't be a good idea."
"I thought the high ups had decided I wasn't officially there," Eric retorted before he could stop himself.
Cawdron couldn't have looked more stunned. "No," he finally replied. "That's not the case at all."
"That isn't what General Lemont told me when I was refused further treatment for the physical scars."
Cawdron looked gut-punched. "What?"
"It's kinda hard to forget when your overall CO tells you that sorry, his hands are tied -- and that since you weren't there, you can't possibly have injuries that require more treatment."
Cawdron's mouth hinged open. "That wasn't what I was told was said."
And the set up for plot twist numero dos. Probably a little more subtle than the set up for the first twist. But not by much.
"Do I look like I'm making this up?" Eric snapped.
"No."
There was an uneasy silence. Eric reigned in his temper with difficulty -- he had a nasty suspicion he was going to like the rest of Cawdron's explanations even less than he'd liked their start.
"So what about bel Abis?" he finally asked.
Cawdron blinked a moment then nodded. "His trial finally came up six months ago. In the intervening time, he managed to get himself a good lawyer and between them, built up enough of a defence that he was acquitted."
"Nice to see justice is alive and well."
Eric the cynic
Cawdron shrugged. "The major witness...the guy who would have been the major witness...was never asked to testify." Eric left the words 'you mean me' unspoken but they were palpable, and Cawdron didn't deny them. "Prosecution only had circumstantial evidence. bel Abis hid his tracks well enough that even though he'd been picked up at that camp, there was doubt that he'd been any more involved than by happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time...at least that was what the defence held to...and in the end, that was what swayed the tribunal."
"So?"
"Right after the trial, he dropped out of sight. He's now showed up again..."
"Here." Eric knew that with an almost preternatural certainty.
There was a long, frozen moment and then finally Cawdron nodded. "He was spotted coming through LAX -- purely by chance; he was travelling under a perfectly legitimate British passport and we'd not know about it at all, but for the fact that there was an Intel guy meeting his mother off the same flight. He called it in, but before anyone could do anything about it, bel Abis vanished."
I *was* going to use this little sequence later on - have the Intel guy be someone who crops up later - but that never entirely worked out. I'm not sure whether that was good or bad. Neutral, I guess! As for the British passport thing, there are a lot of people who hold British passports who aren't actually 'British'. I never did entirely decide whether bel Abis had become a naturalised Brit or whether he was born here (hence the passport), but suffice to say his holding a British passport is definitely within the bounds of plausibility.
"Why are you telling me this?" Why are you dragging my nightmares back into existence?
"Because there's been a trail of unconfirmed sightings since the confirmed hit at LAX that point in this direction. The guys in Intel want to believe that it's coincidence...so do I."
"There's no such thing as coincidence," Eric replied hoarsely.
Cawdron nodded.
Eric sat back in his chair. Why me? Why this? Why now? Why? The thought repeated itself over and over and over again in the back of his mind.
"Myers?"
The soft query was enough to pull him back into reality. It took a moment for Eric to realise that Cawdron was still there, still sitting in front of him -- although now looking deeply concerned. The unspoken question 'are you all right' hung in the silence. Eric swallowed.
With this line, I wanted to make it fairly clear that Cawdron has feelings that are almost paternal where Eric's concerned, and that to an extent, Eric sees Cawdron as a kind of father figure. None too sure how well that came across.
"So do the guys in Intel have any ideas what he would be after?" he asked, somehow managing to keep his voice steady.
Cawdron gave a brief shrug. "No. All anyone seems to know is that he bears you a grudge."
"But why me?"
To Eric's surprise, Cawdron gave a faint smile. "That one I can answer." Eric waited. "I checked up on the other crimes men under his command were convicted for. You're the only person to make it out of that compound in one piece, and -- at least indirectly -- you're the reason they got caught."
"I guess that would piss someone off," Eric murmured.
"Wish I could have brought you some better news," Cawdron admitted. "But they felt you should know about the situation...and they figured you'd take it better from someone you knew rather than a total stranger."
"They're probably right," Eric admitted. "What do they want me to do?"
Cawdron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Nothing...other than be vigilant."
"You mean they want me to act as bait."
There was another long pause before Cawdron finally, if reluctantly, nodded. "In a manner of speaking." Eric waited. "They want you to go about your normal routine. They want you to be cautious -- but they don't want you to suddenly drop off the face of the planet."
And this is the line that justifies what goes on in the next chapter! I had a friend read this and go "Why the hell does he do that?" to which I referred her back to this line.
"I see." And Eric could see. He could understand why they wanted him to go through the motions of a normal life. The intelligence gatherers would want the chance to pick up bel Abis -- and any minions he might have -- for interrogation. But that cold, hard logic was little or no comfort to him because it was very much his neck on the block. And he wasn't sure he could cope with another go round on with bel Abis and his men.
"We won't let him get to you," Cawdron promised.
"You can guarantee that, can you?" Eric retorted.
"Nothing in life is guaranteed except electrical goods, death and taxes.
I *LOVE* this line. One of my better efforts. And *NO-ONE* commented on it..........
But we will do our best."
"And 'our best' left me in that goddamn hell hole for two months in the first place," Eric found himself yelling.
Still not dealing!
Cawdron winced.
Eric, for his part, regretted the statement. He knew what the circumstances had been and he knew why things had ended up as they had -- but it was hard to retain that line of rational thought when the nightmares and fears from those two months were threatening to resurface.
Finally he said quietly, "Is there anything else I need to know?"
Cawdron shook his head. "No. If the situation changes then we'll be in touch."
Eric nodded. He hadn't really been expecting anything else. "In that case, Colonel, I've gone from never wanting to see you again to hoping you're going to show up here tomorrow."
And why oh WHY didn't I have Cawdron give him a contact, which I originally planned him to do??! If I ever do a rewrite on this story, that is one oversight I am fixing!
Cawdron smiled faintly. "I can understand that." He stood up. "Here's hoping it's tomorrow."
Moments later and Eric was alone in his office once more. Leaning forward, he propped his head on his hand and groaned. Is there a way for this week to get any worse?
And almost to answer the silent question his eyes fell on the desk calendar. March Twenty-Sixth.
1) Apologies over the slightly random capitalisation! 2) Why March twenty-sixth? Because that was the date I finished writing Scars.
Happy fucking birthday.
~*~
The day did not improve as far as Eric was concerned.
After Cawdron's departure there was a steady string of phone calls and queries to be dealt with, when the last thing he felt up to dealing with was Silver Guardian business. He was under no illusions what a grudge as held by an ex-member of the KLA meant. It was a death sentence. Yugoslavia was the land of grudges; in Kosovo they had raised grudge holding to an art form and the most dangerous of all were the Muslim zealots who had sprung to the aid of the Kosovan Albanians. And this latter group was the one that bel Abis most assuredly belonged to.
This whole paragraph is based on history. If you look down the history of the Balkans the only time the Serbs, the Croats and the Moslems haven't been at each others throats (more or less) was when Yugoslavia was a communist country under a dictator hardline enough to scare everyone into behaving.
Finally, in defeat, Eric picked up his telephone and dialled Gina's extension.
"Yes, sir?" Gina answered.
"It's been one hell of a day," Eric replied. "I think I'm going to call it quits."
There was a pause as Gina took in those words. "Of course, sir," she said, a hint of surprise and puzzlement in her voice. "Are you all right, sir?"
Oh yeah -- peachy Gina, just peachy. "Just a little tired -- it was a hectic weekend and yesterday didn't help."
Another reference to the 'wedding that wasn't' - this one, though, didn't need rewriting. I just never defined what Eric had been doing!
Gina gave a chuckle. "OK. See you in the morning, then."
Eric put his receiver down and sighed. He didn't like lying to Gina -- she was too good a secretary, unlike her predecessors -- but there was no way he was explaining what Cawdron's visit had been about. She would undoubtedly guess that was the root cause of his somewhat unusual behaviour, but she wouldn't ask. That was part of what made her such a good secretary. She didn't ask the awkward questions.
Shuffling the papers on his desk into some kind of order, he picked up his discarded uniform jacket and headed for the door. As he reached the door, the phone started to ring. His first impulse was to turn around and answer it. On any other day, he knew that would be what he would do. Not today.
Leave a message with Gina, pal -- I am outta here.
Can we say cliche? I think we can. I did initially have an idea of Eric going back to answer it, and having the caller be someone in bel Abis' retinue. But that was too cliche even for me!
Now time to do some actual writing!
Disclaimer: See prologue. Suffice to say, Eric isn't mine. Everyone else is.
Mini disclaimers - gotta love them...
From here on in, the rating is R for violence and language.
Just in case you missed the warning on the prologue.
With thanks to Gamine, Irina and Ekat for the beta'ing and advice. Ladies, you're the greatest.
Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing.
~*~
Chapter 1 -- A Warning
Not a hugely complicated - or subtle - chapter title, partly because I wanted to flag up: OK from here on in, we're into the real plot of this story.
Life, Eric reflected, was always more chaotic when your co-worker went on holiday.
Who hasn't experienced this?
At least, that was officially where Wes was.
Eric smiled wryly. In practice, both Wes and Jen were some thousand years in the future, dealing with the court case that had resulted from the Biocon affair,
This chapter was written almost immediately after I finished writing Scars, which was still at the point I was thinking Wes and Jen would finish Max Force ready to be married and hence the H&S prologue would be their wedding, so initially, this bit was talking about Wes being on honeymoon - and so it needed a hasty rewrite about ten days or so before it was due to be posted!
which meant Eric was stuck in the present, dealing with the here-and-now concerns of running the Silver Guardians. Wes had been gone less than twenty-four hours and already there had been four calls from clients requesting extra services and two calls from the SPD requesting some extra leg power on two house-to-house investigations.
And it wasn't even ten o'clock.
Though it was written about six months before hand, this just reminds me of the vacation my boss took at about the time I started posting, where anything that could go wrong did. And worst of all, my other coworker was also off that day, so I had to sort it all out - and some of it was well beyond my range of knowledge...
"I need caffeine." But as he stood up, intending to make for the coffee pot in the corner of the office, his telephone buzzed. What God did I offend?
Love the 'what God' line - which I *think* I modelled after something I read in someone else's story, but whatever the story was, it's so long ago now that I read it I can't even begin to imagine what it was.
he wondered as he reached for the receiver. "Myers."
"Commander Myers, you have a visitor," answered Gina.
"A visitor?" That was just about unusual enough to merit a second thought. The overwhelming bulk of Guardian business was done via telephone so to actually get someone meeting them in person... "Who is it?"
This actually is based on my experience in work. There are some clients I've been working with for over four years and I have never met them; just spoken to them endlessly on the telephone. Given Eric's line of work, I figured this was probably going to be the case even more so.
"John Cawdron."
Named with my 'random names generator' - aka The Cricketer's Who's Who. It's a very handy book for when you need names, fast. In Cawdron's case, I took middle and last names from one person. In practice, the guy I borrowed the names from is someone I know (he played for my local team), but name is where the similarity begins and ends; the real life Cawdron is a complete loony. (He's also considerably younger than the Cawdron in this story!)
Eric frowned. That name was familiar -- but then again, in the last ten years he'd known an awful lot of people under a vast number of circumstances. When, after several seconds thought, he couldn't bring a face to mind, he shrugged. "Show him up."
"Yes, sir."
There was a click as Gina put down her receiver. Hastily Eric followed suit and dived for the coffee pot. It would take five minutes for his visitor to get up to the office -- long enough for him to pour himself a much-needed coffee and retake his seat.
At this point I hadn't entirely figured out the layout of the SGHQ - so things in here don't entirely match up to later written descriptions.
Just as he returned to his seat, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
First to enter the office was Gina. She smiled.
"Commander Myers -- this is Mr Cawdron."
Eric was eternally grateful that he was seated when Cawdron entered the office; otherwise he suspected his knees would have given way under him. For a fraction of a second time telescoped in on itself.
Bam! Realisation. What follows is a short clipped section of dialogue from the last flashback scene in Scars
"Come in."
"Master Sergeant Myers reporting as ordered, sir."
"Have a seat, Myers. Do you have any idea why I wanted to see you?"
"No sir."
"Are you aware that for the last five months you have been undergoing continued psychiatric review?"
"No sir."
"I have here, the results of that review. I'm afraid they aren't favourable, Myers. There are three alternatives. The first is that you go on an extended leave of absence. You see a psychiatrist and you get your head together. The second is a medical discharge. The third is that when your tour of duty finishes at the end of this month, you don't re-enlist. After today's performance, the first is not an option. I don't want to take the second, but if you don't take the third I will have to."
"Sir?"
"I am strongly recommending you don't re-enlist. If you do, I will be forced to give you a medical discharge stating severe mental imbalance."
Eric shook off the memory with difficulty. That day had been the lowest point of his life and even nearly three years later the shock of the moment was still as strong as it had ever been.
At this point I wanted it to be pretty darn clear that Eric had never really 'dealt' with any of this - he'd left it to fester (for want of a better word), which is why all this hits him so hard. I think it worked out pretty well.
"Sir?" Gina asked, sounding concerned.
That was when he realised his hands had wrapped themselves tightly around the arms of his chair and that his jaw had clenched. With difficulty, he forced himself to relax.
"It's OK, Gina."
She gave him a searching look, then glared at Cawdron. At any other time her obviously protective bearing would have made him laugh, but under these circumstances it barely raised a glimmer of humour. "I'll hold your calls, sir."
Yep, I *really* like Gina.
"Thanks Gina."
Visibly reluctant, she withdrew from the office and pulled the door shut. Eric listened to the tap of her heels as she headed away from the office. It gave him something else to concentrate on. Something to help him calm his badly jangled nerves. Anything rather than face the man standing in front of his desk.
"Myers."
It was no good -- Cawdron might be a ghost from the past but he wasn't going to go away. Eric finally risked looking up at his former CO. "Lieutenant Colonel Cawdron." His voice was flat and emotionless.
"It's Colonel Cawdron now...technically."
I figured three years down the track, he was almost certainly going to have had a promotion.
Eric shrugged. "Congratulations." Cawdron flinched. "I somehow doubt you came all the way here just to tell me you got promoted."
"May I...?" Cawdron gestured at the empty seat in front of Eric's desk. Eric shrugged. Cawdron sat down.
"So? What do you want?" Eric asked.
Cawdron hesitated a moment, presumably collecting his thoughts. "I've heard something that...I think you deserve to know about." Cawdron paused and then added, "You of all people."
Time telescoped again.
And another flashback from Scars - this time the last section of the first flashback scene (still one of my favourite action sequences) paired up by the last section of the second flashback scene. Paired the two up so as to at least give a kind of precis for anyone reading this without having read Scars.
He was almost under the umbrella of the chain gunfire from the warrior, when his rifle finally jammed.
There was a moment where everything seemed to freeze. Eric couldn't believe what had happened. He could only stare in stunned fashion at the now useless lump of metal and plastic in his hands.
"Move, you dozy jarhead!"
I actually got a complaint from an English friend of mine about this line when I showed her Scars. She said "I'm SURE he'd have said something ruder here" - to which I actually have no defence. Dozy, though rude used in this sense, really isn't that strong; the gunner would have almost certainly sworn. All I can think is that when I started out on Scars I had a momentary lapse of rating (ie I had a brief moment of thinking I was writing a PG story!) and neither me nor my wonderful betas spotted it!
yelled the gunner in the warrior. Eric wasn't entirely sure what 'dozy' actually meant but when combined with the gunner's harsh British accent and the derogatory term 'jarhead', he had a pretty fair idea it wasn't supposed to be complimentary.
The yell was the cue for everything to restart. Three or four Serbs rushed forwards as Eric hastily back-pedalled, using the jammed rifle as a club. Unfortunately, one of the Serbs just grabbed the flailing end of the rifle and pulled. Eric wasn't quite quick enough to release it. He found himself being dragged into the press of Serbs. Somewhere along the line, his helmet came off and then something hit the back of his head, and everything went black...
... "Oh, Sergeant Myers," the man replied, "you had better hope you have some information -- otherwise you are really not going to enjoy your stay here." The man pressed a button on the speakerphone on his desk. "Da, Sacha."
A moment later and the earlier guard reappeared. There was another rapid-fire conversation, and then Eric found himself being dragged out of the office.
He was led further along the corridor, down some steps and into a basement. This time, he didn't need the guard's warning hand on his shoulder telling him to stop: He came to a halt on his own in pure shock at the sight that greeted him in the basement room. It looked like something out of a bad B Movie or trashy horror flick. There was a table with manacles attached to each corner. There were chains attached to the wall. There was a rack of assorted whips and switches. There was another rack filled with positively medieval looking metal items that his mind steadfastly refused to even try to assign names to.
Eric swallowed. He was leaping to conclusions. He had to be. There was no way that was what Cawdron wanted to talk about. No. It was paranoia.
He might be paranoid but that doesn't mean they aren't out to get him.
"What about?"
"Zafar bel Abis."
A ball of ice started to form in the pit of his stomach. Eric was certain he'd never actually heard that name before but there was an instinctive familiarity to it. "Who?"
And this is where Rach realises the basic villain of the piece didn't at any stage get a name in Scars! The villain's name comes from two guys I knew at university. I actually only knew them in passing, but they left something of an impression (not a favourable one). In fact, a bigger pair of loathsome toads I have yet to have the misfortune to meet. So I got my own back two years later!
Cawdron hesitated again before finally saying, "He was the man who orchestrated your capture...the leader of that KLA cell."
Nononononononono...
The image came unbidden. Cropped black hair, immaculate black beard, Arabian features, sitting behind an opulent desk in a plush office.
I will not let that bastard have my nightmares again.
It took every ounce of will Eric possessed to force the memories of those two months to fade back into the pit of his subconscious. When he thought he wasn't actually going to scream, he refocused his attention on Cawdron.
Again - Eric hasn't dealt with it at all.
"What about him?"
"They've released him."
"Released him?" Eric echoed in dull disbelief.
Cawdron nodded. "It's the question you didn't ask me in Landstuhl -- what happened to your captors."
Another thing I realised that I'd missed from Scars!
Eric waited. "When the camp was...liberated, all those present -- including bel Abis -- were taken captive and, in due course, were tried as war criminals. There was some talk of asking you to testify against them but it was decided that it wouldn't be a good idea."
"I thought the high ups had decided I wasn't officially there," Eric retorted before he could stop himself.
Cawdron couldn't have looked more stunned. "No," he finally replied. "That's not the case at all."
"That isn't what General Lemont told me when I was refused further treatment for the physical scars."
Cawdron looked gut-punched. "What?"
"It's kinda hard to forget when your overall CO tells you that sorry, his hands are tied -- and that since you weren't there, you can't possibly have injuries that require more treatment."
Cawdron's mouth hinged open. "That wasn't what I was told was said."
And the set up for plot twist numero dos. Probably a little more subtle than the set up for the first twist. But not by much.
"Do I look like I'm making this up?" Eric snapped.
"No."
There was an uneasy silence. Eric reigned in his temper with difficulty -- he had a nasty suspicion he was going to like the rest of Cawdron's explanations even less than he'd liked their start.
"So what about bel Abis?" he finally asked.
Cawdron blinked a moment then nodded. "His trial finally came up six months ago. In the intervening time, he managed to get himself a good lawyer and between them, built up enough of a defence that he was acquitted."
"Nice to see justice is alive and well."
Eric the cynic
Cawdron shrugged. "The major witness...the guy who would have been the major witness...was never asked to testify." Eric left the words 'you mean me' unspoken but they were palpable, and Cawdron didn't deny them. "Prosecution only had circumstantial evidence. bel Abis hid his tracks well enough that even though he'd been picked up at that camp, there was doubt that he'd been any more involved than by happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time...at least that was what the defence held to...and in the end, that was what swayed the tribunal."
"So?"
"Right after the trial, he dropped out of sight. He's now showed up again..."
"Here." Eric knew that with an almost preternatural certainty.
There was a long, frozen moment and then finally Cawdron nodded. "He was spotted coming through LAX -- purely by chance; he was travelling under a perfectly legitimate British passport and we'd not know about it at all, but for the fact that there was an Intel guy meeting his mother off the same flight. He called it in, but before anyone could do anything about it, bel Abis vanished."
I *was* going to use this little sequence later on - have the Intel guy be someone who crops up later - but that never entirely worked out. I'm not sure whether that was good or bad. Neutral, I guess! As for the British passport thing, there are a lot of people who hold British passports who aren't actually 'British'. I never did entirely decide whether bel Abis had become a naturalised Brit or whether he was born here (hence the passport), but suffice to say his holding a British passport is definitely within the bounds of plausibility.
"Why are you telling me this?" Why are you dragging my nightmares back into existence?
"Because there's been a trail of unconfirmed sightings since the confirmed hit at LAX that point in this direction. The guys in Intel want to believe that it's coincidence...so do I."
"There's no such thing as coincidence," Eric replied hoarsely.
Cawdron nodded.
Eric sat back in his chair. Why me? Why this? Why now? Why? The thought repeated itself over and over and over again in the back of his mind.
"Myers?"
The soft query was enough to pull him back into reality. It took a moment for Eric to realise that Cawdron was still there, still sitting in front of him -- although now looking deeply concerned. The unspoken question 'are you all right' hung in the silence. Eric swallowed.
With this line, I wanted to make it fairly clear that Cawdron has feelings that are almost paternal where Eric's concerned, and that to an extent, Eric sees Cawdron as a kind of father figure. None too sure how well that came across.
"So do the guys in Intel have any ideas what he would be after?" he asked, somehow managing to keep his voice steady.
Cawdron gave a brief shrug. "No. All anyone seems to know is that he bears you a grudge."
"But why me?"
To Eric's surprise, Cawdron gave a faint smile. "That one I can answer." Eric waited. "I checked up on the other crimes men under his command were convicted for. You're the only person to make it out of that compound in one piece, and -- at least indirectly -- you're the reason they got caught."
"I guess that would piss someone off," Eric murmured.
"Wish I could have brought you some better news," Cawdron admitted. "But they felt you should know about the situation...and they figured you'd take it better from someone you knew rather than a total stranger."
"They're probably right," Eric admitted. "What do they want me to do?"
Cawdron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Nothing...other than be vigilant."
"You mean they want me to act as bait."
There was another long pause before Cawdron finally, if reluctantly, nodded. "In a manner of speaking." Eric waited. "They want you to go about your normal routine. They want you to be cautious -- but they don't want you to suddenly drop off the face of the planet."
And this is the line that justifies what goes on in the next chapter! I had a friend read this and go "Why the hell does he do that?" to which I referred her back to this line.
"I see." And Eric could see. He could understand why they wanted him to go through the motions of a normal life. The intelligence gatherers would want the chance to pick up bel Abis -- and any minions he might have -- for interrogation. But that cold, hard logic was little or no comfort to him because it was very much his neck on the block. And he wasn't sure he could cope with another go round on with bel Abis and his men.
"We won't let him get to you," Cawdron promised.
"You can guarantee that, can you?" Eric retorted.
"Nothing in life is guaranteed except electrical goods, death and taxes.
I *LOVE* this line. One of my better efforts. And *NO-ONE* commented on it..........
But we will do our best."
"And 'our best' left me in that goddamn hell hole for two months in the first place," Eric found himself yelling.
Still not dealing!
Cawdron winced.
Eric, for his part, regretted the statement. He knew what the circumstances had been and he knew why things had ended up as they had -- but it was hard to retain that line of rational thought when the nightmares and fears from those two months were threatening to resurface.
Finally he said quietly, "Is there anything else I need to know?"
Cawdron shook his head. "No. If the situation changes then we'll be in touch."
Eric nodded. He hadn't really been expecting anything else. "In that case, Colonel, I've gone from never wanting to see you again to hoping you're going to show up here tomorrow."
And why oh WHY didn't I have Cawdron give him a contact, which I originally planned him to do??! If I ever do a rewrite on this story, that is one oversight I am fixing!
Cawdron smiled faintly. "I can understand that." He stood up. "Here's hoping it's tomorrow."
Moments later and Eric was alone in his office once more. Leaning forward, he propped his head on his hand and groaned. Is there a way for this week to get any worse?
And almost to answer the silent question his eyes fell on the desk calendar. March Twenty-Sixth.
1) Apologies over the slightly random capitalisation! 2) Why March twenty-sixth? Because that was the date I finished writing Scars.
Happy fucking birthday.
~*~
The day did not improve as far as Eric was concerned.
After Cawdron's departure there was a steady string of phone calls and queries to be dealt with, when the last thing he felt up to dealing with was Silver Guardian business. He was under no illusions what a grudge as held by an ex-member of the KLA meant. It was a death sentence. Yugoslavia was the land of grudges; in Kosovo they had raised grudge holding to an art form and the most dangerous of all were the Muslim zealots who had sprung to the aid of the Kosovan Albanians. And this latter group was the one that bel Abis most assuredly belonged to.
This whole paragraph is based on history. If you look down the history of the Balkans the only time the Serbs, the Croats and the Moslems haven't been at each others throats (more or less) was when Yugoslavia was a communist country under a dictator hardline enough to scare everyone into behaving.
Finally, in defeat, Eric picked up his telephone and dialled Gina's extension.
"Yes, sir?" Gina answered.
"It's been one hell of a day," Eric replied. "I think I'm going to call it quits."
There was a pause as Gina took in those words. "Of course, sir," she said, a hint of surprise and puzzlement in her voice. "Are you all right, sir?"
Oh yeah -- peachy Gina, just peachy. "Just a little tired -- it was a hectic weekend and yesterday didn't help."
Another reference to the 'wedding that wasn't' - this one, though, didn't need rewriting. I just never defined what Eric had been doing!
Gina gave a chuckle. "OK. See you in the morning, then."
Eric put his receiver down and sighed. He didn't like lying to Gina -- she was too good a secretary, unlike her predecessors -- but there was no way he was explaining what Cawdron's visit had been about. She would undoubtedly guess that was the root cause of his somewhat unusual behaviour, but she wouldn't ask. That was part of what made her such a good secretary. She didn't ask the awkward questions.
Shuffling the papers on his desk into some kind of order, he picked up his discarded uniform jacket and headed for the door. As he reached the door, the phone started to ring. His first impulse was to turn around and answer it. On any other day, he knew that would be what he would do. Not today.
Leave a message with Gina, pal -- I am outta here.
Can we say cliche? I think we can. I did initially have an idea of Eric going back to answer it, and having the caller be someone in bel Abis' retinue. But that was too cliche even for me!
Now time to do some actual writing!
