Agent with a history, p.13
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       Agent with a History, p.13

           Guy S. Stanton III
 

  *****

  I pressed my hand over the wound to help staunch the bleeding. “Oh Rafferty, why did you do that? You have a wife and two kids!”

  Rafferty coughed, but spoke up discernibly, even though it sounded like it hurt. “Yes I do, and they’re the best thing God ever gave me in this life, by far! You haven’t gotten to experience what it’s like to have a mate’s undying love for you or the instant love that you feel for your child the first time you hold them and every time after that!”

  His bloody hand reached up and grasped the front of my shirt, pulling me closer as my tears fell onto his chest.

  “You’re going to experience what I have been so blessed with in my life. Tell my wife I love her and my kids, tell them…”

  “Stop talking like this Rafferty! You’re going to be fine! The ambulance is almost here. I can hear it.”

  He pulled me closer, “Stop lying to me, Lisa. That dark blood all over your hands tells me one thing and that’s that my liver is all blown away. I don’t have long and you know it.”

  His body tightened in a spasm and my heart bled for him.

  He opened his eyes, “Get a life, get your butt into a church and get right with God …” His lips twisted up in a slight grin, “Enjoy your life with your locksmith friend, too!”

  His eyes closed and he was gone, even as the slight grin remained. My face quivered with emotion I longed to express, but this wasn’t the time or the place.

  I stood up and wiped the tears from my face with my hand, getting blood on my face in the process. I turned from the still body on the ground and headed for the building where the dead sniper was.

  I stepped into the room, followed by an ashen faced Sal.

  “What do you have so far?” I asked, a little harshly.

  Two detectives glanced at each other and then shrugged.

  One spoke up, “Male, in his thirties, of middle eastern decent. No identifying paper work on him. The rifle's military grade. We’re running his prints to see if he’s on anybody’s list. I can tell you though, he’s most likely a terrorist instead of a paid hit man hired to bump you off.”

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  He pointed to a chair and I saw a vest draped across the back of it. It was a bomb vest complete with hand held detonator.

  “Thank God he got plugged before he had a chance to use that thing!” the other detective said, while shaking his head.

  “Thank you detectives. Let me know what you find out about him,” I said courteously, before I left the room.

  Reaching the street again I turned to Sal. I could see that he was taking his partner's death very hard. “Sal, I have to go on a trip to see someone concerning this case.”

  He shrugged and said, “When do we go?”

  “We don’t. I need you to stay here and man the fort. If anybody asks where I am, tell them I’m tracking down a lead in the case. If I drive through the night I should be able to be back here by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Sal looked like he wanted to object, but he could see my mind was made up. “At least tell me where you’re going?” he asked pleadingly.

  I looked away from him for a moment before looking back and he seemed a little shaken up by the hell he must be seeing in my eyes. “I’m going to see my father.”

  I pulled a scrap of paper out of my pocket and then the pen out of Sal’s shirt pocket. I wrote down my father’s address and handed the paper to Sal.

  “If I’m not back in 48 hours, send the cavalry in to get my body.”

  He looked from me to the paper and then back again, “You’re serious aren’t you?”

  “Deadly serious Sal. It’s why I have to go alone.”

  Sal shook his head, “I don’t understand?”

  “I know you don’t and I’m sorry I can’t explain better right now, but this has to be done or I wouldn’t be doing it, of that I can assure you!”

  “What does your father have to do with this case?” Sal exhaled in frustration.

  I looked away. “It’s complicated. He may have nothing to do with it or he may have everything to do with it. I have to go. Don’t tell anyone about my father.”

  I started walking away, but Sal interrupted, “Where on the island? The note doesn’t say.”

  “That’s because he owns the whole island,” I said over my shoulder, as I headed back to my apartment.

 
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