The Soldier
Chapter 7

Logan walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and walked up to the ringing phone.

“Answer, privacy mode,” he said and waited for the phone to connect with the outgoing camera deactivated.

“Logan here.”

“Hey, it’s Caitlin.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Sort of,” Caitlin said. “Actually, I’ve solved one problem but created another in the process.”

“Go on,” Logan said.

“My contact says he can get a small box or crate on board with minimal inspection.”

“But.”

“But it will cost an extra 50,000,“Caitlin said. “And that leaves us with next to nothing to buy whatever it is we’re trying to sneak on board.”

“It will have to do,” Logan said.

“OK, but I’m curious.”

“About what?”

“How do we know what we will need over there? I mean some of the stories I hear paint a picture of America that’s a virtual paradise, no crime, no war, no problems of any sort.”

“Yes, I’ve heard those stories,” Logan said. “But I like to be prepared for anything. But that will take some money which we don’t have now that you’re friend has upped the price.”

“I’ll talk to him and see if I can get him to come down,” Caitlin said. “I’ll be in touch.”

Logan started to say something but the click of Caitlin hanging up stopped him. He returned to his bedroom and a few moments emerged wearing a pair of cutoffs. He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and sat down at his computer. He brought up the chat program and typed in the screename for an old friend.

MQLogan: Are you there?

Logan sat patiently and waited. It was not uncommon for his friend to not respond right away. He always seemed to be extremely busy.

Finally a response appeared in the chat window.

Dstar: Long time no see.

MQLogan: Agreed. I need a favor.

Dstar: Of course. What do you need?

MQLogan: I need to outfit a little expedition and I’m short on cash.

Dstar: You’re always short on cash.

Logan chuckled.

Dstar: What sort of expedition?

MQLogan: It’s better that you don’t know. I’ll need weapons, some heavy, and some plastic.

There was another pause.

Dstar: How much?

MQLogan: Whatever you can scrape together by next week. I’m in a bit of a hurry.

Dstar: I’ll see what I can do.

MQLogan: Thank You.

Caitlin dropped three manila folders on Logan’s kitchen table.

“And this is?”

“Identification papers and background information. You, Willie and David are Mechanics Mates. That’s really it for crew for these freighters, other than the captain and first officer.”

“And what are we responsible for?”

“Fixing anything that breaks,” Caitlin said. “David I’m not worried about.

“I just hope you and Willie aren’t called upon to actually fix something,” she said.

“You and me both,” Logan said. “How often do one of these ships require the services of said mechanics mates en route?”

“Not very often, from what I’ve been able to gather,” Caitlin said. “The ships are fully automated and can even repair themselves to a certain extent. And what the ship’s can’t handle might be put off until they are in port.”

“Do I detect just a tad bit of envy in your voice?”

“Maybe just a bit,” Caitlin allowed. “It’s a wonderful bit of design and programming.”

Logan opened the folder with his name on it and flipped through the papers. They said he had served on the freighters for three years and had a mostly spotless record. He chuckled to himself when he saw that Caitlin had included a notation from a former captain that he was a bit egotistical.

“Editorial comment?” he asked slyly.

“Just spicing it up a bit, to make it more believable,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye.

Logan looked over the others.

“These look exceptionally good, I assume your friend has hacked into the computers and the electronic versions are equally precise?”

“They are. My friend is very good.”

Caitlin watched Logan as he sat fiddling with the folder as if he were deep in thought.

“So, what do you think of them, Logan?”

When Logan didn’t respond, Caitlin repeated the question, again getting no response. Caitlin stood up and went over to him, looking at him intently as she realized that he was probably having one of his flashbacks and did not realize what was going on in the room or that she was even there.

Caitlin was at a loss as to what to do. She was sure it was Logan’s condition but in their few conversations he never did specifically say what happened during one of his attacks, or what anyone should do about it when it happened.

Caitlin quietly walked past Logan into his bathroom to look for his medication, although she really didn’t know what she would do if she found it.

“Honestly, Caitlin, what are you going to do, shove it down his throat like a puppy?”

She rummaged through his medicine cabinet, but didn’t replace anything that looked right. In fact, with the exception of some cold medicines, she didn’t see anything that would seem to fit the bill.

Caitlin’s thought process was interrupted when she was grabbed roughly from behind. A strong hand clamped down over her mouth and she felt the unmistakable sensation of metal against her throat.

“What the hell are you doing in this camp?”

The voice was a low-throated growl and Caitlin strained to turn her head slightly to see who was speaking. She assumed someone had broken into the apartment and had incapacitated Logan in some way.

She was stunned to see that it was Logan behind her, his features twisted into such a visage of hate and loathing like she had never before seen.

She realized he must be deep into one of his spells and that he probably did not realize where he was or who it was he was really holding. She tried to say something, to call his name in hopes of snapping him out of it, but his grip on her mouth and throat were too strong.

“Don’t even think about calling for help, I’ll slit your throat before you can utter a single syllable,” Logan growled. “Now tell me, what is your mission?

“Tell me the truth, and tell me quickly or you will see Allah so fast it will make you head spin.”

Logan pulled Caitlin away from the cabinet and forced into a chair, keeping the knife against her throat.

“Logan, it’s me, Caitlin,” she said. She spoke softly so not to agitate him any more than he already was.

Logan pulled back his free hand and backhanded Caitlin across the mouth, drawing a bit of blood from her lip.

“In English!” he screamed.

Caitlin could taste the blood trickling over her lip. She fought to remember that this wasn’t Logan, at least not today’s Logan. It was a Logan of 20 years ago. She hoped that his hallucination would go along with an idea that occurred to her.

“I am alone,” she said. “And my mission is only to try and steal some food for my family since you Americans don’t see the need to make sure any of the food supplies from the United Nations get through to those who need them.”

Caitlin prayed that the accusation of mistreatment would reach the decent side of Logan she knew was in there somewhere. She looked into Logan’s eyes and was rewarded with a passing expression of confusion.

“What are you talking about, I’ve supervised the delivery of supplies myself,” Logan said.

“Delivered yes, but not to the people who need them,” Caitlin said, her mind rushing to make up details. She watched as Logan became more disoriented. She didn’t really know what was going on inside his head, but she knew that it was completely real to him. “The men who take the food are Hussein’s and they only keep it for themselves.”

The mention of Hussein’s name seemed to confuse Logan a bit more, then he recovered.

“Who the hell are you trying to fool, we got Saddam after the second war back in ’04,“Logan said.

Caitlin silently berated herself for not paying more attention to history. She should have known that.

“No, not Saddam,” Caitlin said with what she hoped was a sneer of contempt on her face. “Saddam’s son.”

“Uday and Qusay are also dead.”

“Yes they are, but there was a third son of which the American’s did not know – Moday Hussein.”

“Impossible,” Logan said. “There are no more Husseins. You are lying through your teeth.”

Caitlin prayed that she hadn’t made a terrible miscalculation in assuming that Logan would snap out of it on his own if she just played along. His breathing was coming faster and his eyes were narrowing.

“You are just another Al-Qaida spy and you are going to die here and now,” Logan said as he pulled Caitlin roughly to her feet.

As he yanked up on her, his balance momentarily shifted to his right leg. Caitlin sensed an opportunity. Just as he pulled up she hooked her left leg behind his right. She simultaneously pulled shoved him back as her leg pulled his right leg out from under him. Before he could recover he was falling on his back.

Caitlin made a leap for the door but couldn’t get there fast enough. Logan hit the ground and rolled left, coming up between Caitlin and her escape. She knew there would be no way out without fighting her way through Logan – something she would prefer to avoid if at all possible.

“Marcus we don’t have to do this, you don’t have to do this,” she said. “Think. You’re not in Iraq anymore.

“It’s 20 years later. The war’s over.”

“I don’t know who you are or how you know my name, but you are not leaving this camp unless it’s in a body bag,” Logan growled.

“Logan it’s Caitlin, I’m Willie’s friend the computer hacker who got you, got all of us on the Morning Star bound for America.”

Logan rocked back on forth waving the knife like a snake charmer moves his pipe. Caitlin momentarily found herself mesmerized by the motions before she focused her concentration.

“Sure you are,” Logan said. “I’ve known Willie for 10 years and he’s never mentioned you.”

That’s probably true, Caitlin thought, as she didn’t meet Willie until his return from the war.

Caitlin was trying to figure out her next move when Logan suddenly lunged at her, thrusting the knife at her throat with a slashing motion. Caitlin leapt left and swung her arm down to force the knife away from her. She grabbed the knife arm and pulled Logan across her body and down to the floor, then she twisted his arm to try and force him to release the knife, but he was too strong for her, shoved her away and regained his feat..

“Nice move, but it won’t help you any,” Logan said.

Caitlin began to move, swaying in her own way, keeping her balance while making sure she didn’t have too much weight on any one foot. Logan charged again. She sidestepped and spun, delivering a strong kick to his side as he went by. Logan grunted in pain and twisted, trying to reach her leg with his knife as he fell on his side.

As soon as Logan hit the floor, Caitlin tried to move to a position so she could try and kick the knife out of her hands, but Logan immediately rolled and regained his feet. This time Caitlin didn’t wait, delivering a series of spinning kicks.

The last one connected with Logan, knocking the knife out of his hand. She quickly moved in to deliver a series of short jabs to Logan’s midsection. He took the first few before knocking the last ones aside.

Caitlin tried to move away from him, but he was too fast and managed to grab her from behind. He got an arm around her neck and began to apply pressure across her throat.

Caitlin gasped for air.

“Logan, don’t.”

Logan appeared confused for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it.

“No, I won’t let you confuse me, you are the enemy,” he said, “And you must die.”

He pulled Caitlin over to where the knife lay. As he reached down for it his grip loosened slightly allowing Caitlin to elbow him in the stomach. Logan grunted but did not release his grip.

He reached down to recover the knife, which he immediately placed against Caitlin’s throat. Caitlin tried to come up with a plan, but realized she was spent and probably no longer had the strength to fight Logan.

“Allow me to help you meet Allah face-to-face,” Logan said as he began to apply pressure. Caitlin could feel the knife begin to cut her skin and could feel the beginnings of a trickle of blood.

“Marcus, no, please,” Caitlin pleaded weakly.

This time Caitlin thought she felt Logan move the knife away from her skin the tiniest bit. Logan looked up and caught a reflection of himself and Caitlin in a mirror.

“Caitlin?”

Logan’s voice was strained confused. Then he let go of her and dropped the knife. Caitlin dropped to her knees, coughing. She grabbed the knife and tossed it across the room.

“Caitlin, what are you doing here?”

Then he noticed the bruises and the slight cut on her throat.

“My God, what have I done?”

Caitlin reached up to grab Logan and used him to pull herself upright.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” she said.

Logan pulled away from her and went to a chair and sat down.

“I had another spell?”

“Yes, and it was a doozy,” Caitlin replied as she also fell into a chair. “We have got to get you that medication.”

Logan looked at her.

“I almost killed you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but don’t worry,” she said with a weary but wry smile, “I won’t take it personally.”

Willie, Caitlin and Logan sat around the table in Logan’s apartment. Each member of the team had finished going over the new biographies that Caitlin had given them. Willie chuckled as he read a part of his new life history. He finally put his down and looked first at Logan and then at Caitlin.

“You are right, Logan, these are exceptionally well done,” he said.

“You are quite welcome,” she said.

David put his new bio file down. “So when do we leave?”

“Three days,” Caitlin said.

“What! We can’t possibly be ready that soon,” David said.

“We have to be,” Logan replied. “If we don’t get on the ship and get to sea, there may be a chance that they will be able to see through the handiwork of Caitlin’s friend.”

“Just the same, do we have the gear we need?” Willie asked.

“It’s going to be delivered to the port in a crate with all the appropriate paperwork to have it shipped to a manufacturing plant in North Carolina,” Logan said. “All we need to do is make sure we replace it on the ship in transit and get our gear out.

“However, If the crate makes it over and is delivered our cover will be blown shy high,” he said.

“So what’s the next step?” Willie asked.

“New crew normally reports 24 hours before sailing time,” Caitlin said. “That means tomorrow afternoon, starting at 3 p.m. local at the dock at the Port of Dover.

“And remember, we don’t know each other, so we need to spread our arrivals out so we don’t arrive at the same time.”

“Right,” Logan said, “It appears the game’s afoot.

“Good luck to us all.”