Reverse Metamorphosis book one of the Irrevocable Change trilogy (24 page)

Early in the evening after the last day of
training Joe and Clay were sitting in the living room in front of
the fireplace, reminiscing and saying their good byes. Joan was in
the training building cooking supper.

Joe paused while taking a swallow of beer,
“Joan will drive you back to the airport to your car in the
morning. I want to emphasize several pieces of advice, even though
we’ve already discussed all of them at least once.”

“First, no drinking or drugs before or during
a hit; stay focused on the job at hand. You wouldn’t believe how
many men I’ve seen who need to have a few stiff drinks before a
hit. Second, know when to postpone and regroup when conditions
aren’t right. Follow your instincts; they’re usually right on.
Third, know when to quit when the job is beyond salvaging.
Sometimes it just isn’t worth the risk. If the job is impossible to
complete, admit it to your self and move on; don’t take unwarranted
risk. Fourth, pay attention to details, details, details. And last,
but above all else, don’t get involved personally with the
victim.”

Clay watched and when Joe finished his beer,
got up and went to the kitchen for two more. Sitting back down
across from Joe he said, “I can’t believe how fast the time has
gone bye since I came here. I really appreciate what you’ve taught
me. I sense a lot of the material was from your actual experience;
it wasn’t just book training you had received earlier. Several
times I could feel how difficult it was for you when you were
recalling particular tactics. I thought those memories likely led
you to leave the CIA. What I’m trying to say is I value the effort
you’ve put into passing this information on to me, even though I
understand you don’t really want me to use it the way I’m going
to.”

“You’re very perceptive” Joe replied, as he
opened his fresh beer. Then, after taking a long swallow he
continued, “And, yes I have taught you a few things the agency
doesn’t use in their training. And, yes some disturbing memories
were resurrected by those actions. If you had been in the Agency
when I was younger and at my peak I would have asked to have you as
my partner. You’re very good at all of this.” Joe shifted in his
chair and for several seconds stared into the flames of the fire
burning in front of him. Clay remained silent, watching this man
who, in his eyes, was larger than life struggle with what he was
about to say.

“What you’re embarking on is a very lonely
life. I doubt you’ll be able to have a wife and family and continue
this line of work. There will be too many secrets in your everyday
routine to have intimate relationships. It was different with my
wife because what I was doing was legal and in the interest of
national security, or so I was told.

“I mentioned once before how the people I
worked for know what I'm doing, but don’t approve of it. They only
allow me to continue because from time to time they have need of
some very low-level grunts of the type I provide training to. They
would not condone the level of training I’ve passed on to a person
of your aptitude, mainly because of what you intend to do with the
skills you’ve learned. They don’t want highly trained killers
preying on the public, primarily because of the negative publicity
it would generate. But, I did it for the money. I shot your sponsor
an extremely high price, thinking he would hang up; but I
underestimated him. I didn’t think anyone would pay thirty thousand
dollars for a months training. When I reach the dollar amount I
feel is needed to retire I‘ll shut down all of the training, sell
this place, and move to another area my wife and I have picked out.
I’m very close to my magical number, and in the next year or so I
anticipate making the move.”

“You told me one night about your criteria
for accepting jobs; you will only consider people involved in
crime. I believe you, and am trusting in what you told me. How are
you going to handle keeping this part of your life from your
family?"

“I’ve been thinking long and hard on how to
do it. Soon, I’ll need to move out of their house and be on my own.
Also, I need to find a business where I can be free to travel and
create my own schedule as a cover.”

Joan came in carrying a pan of food and
asked, “Which one of you is going to get the rest of our supper
from the kitchen and bring it over to the house?”

The next morning, after breakfast, Clay shook
hands and said goodbye to Joe, then got in the truck for the ride
back to Knoxville. They made small talk for a short time and then
both fell silent. After riding for an hour Clay turned to Joan.

“The day we met, after we got off the bus,
you asked me who I am, and what I’m doing here. I’ve thought a lot
about those questions even before you asked them. I guess the only
answer I have is I’ve changed a lot in the last several years.
Changed enough for my values to have modified from what they were
that short time ago. Tragic events occurred and they caused me to
see things from a different perspective than I had previously. I
arrived at where I am now because I chose to get involved. At any
point I could have chosen to stay uninvolved. Instead, I decided to
ruin the legitimate, but insignificant career I had, and instead of
finding another low paying line of work I proceeded to be a
professional killer. The reason I did is because I discovered I’m
good at it, and the moral issues don’t prevent me from accepting
and living with the results. I also discovered I can exist in this
sub-culture in spite of the view of society in general, and their
attempts to eliminate it. The thing making this new found way of
life acceptable is I can draw a line between people who are, say a
serial killer, and what I intend to do. A serial killer attacks
people for the pleasure of killing and chooses innocent people to
harm. The act against the people I’m paid to kill brings me no
personal pleasure. It’s just business. The targets are guilty of
criminal acts, and are not innocent victims. The reason I am
telling you this is because during the last month I’ve developed a
great respect for you and Joe, and I hope you don’t think too badly
of me."

Joan replied while keeping her eyes on the
road, “I married Joe when I was seventeen and he was twenty; we
both were young and innocent back then. I watched him advance in
the Army and then in the C.I.A., and I assured myself what he was
doing was justified because he was serving the interest of our
country. I watched him change and then have to reconcile what he
was doing, and what he had become, with the man he still was deep
down inside. The problem I have with you is I see a copy of Joe.
You’re going against society’s laws and telling yourself it’s
justified and you have the right to do it. But I watched as my
husband came to accept what he was doing was not morally acceptable
to him. Slowly a piece of him began to die each time he fulfilled
an assignment. You can’t imagine how he suffered and struggled to
come to terms with himself; the sleepless nights and self
examination he went through should not be borne by anyone. I don’t
want you to go there.”

A car cut in front of the pickup , and Joan
tapped the brakes while cussing the aggressive driver. They were
getting into heavier traffic, so she stopped talking and
concentrated on driving. Once they were stopped inside the airport
parking lot she continued talking, “During the time you’ve been
with us Joe and I have grown fond of you too.” Joan laughed and
continued, “In spite of sometimes being a smart assed, cocky kid.”
Reaching toward Clay, Joan placed her hand on his left shoulder,
“We like you, and having gone through this already, I just would
like to make you see what is very likely to happen to you later on.
I’ll stop preaching to you and just hope you quit before you get
too hardened; or before your spirit dies and there isn’t enough of
your soul left to care anymore.”

The truck was parked in front of the space
where Clay had parked his car the month before. Joan opened the
door and helped him get his gear loaded in the trunk. When Clay
closed the trunk lid Joan gave him a hug and kissed him on the
cheek, “Good luck Joseph, use what my husband taught you wisely and
be careful. You’ve chosen a very dangerous occupation and I wish
you well. I hope you remember all of the things Joe and I have both
tried to caution you about; and I pray you’ll see the warning signs
early enough to save yourself.”

Clay tried to laugh off the warnings by
saying, “Come on Joan, stop being so gloom and doom about all of
this. It’s a job, nothing more or less. Just a job. I’ve enjoyed
meeting you and Joe, and I’ll remember both of you as long as I
live.” Clay was facing her and continued in a serious tone, “Thanks
for watching over me like a mother hen. I appreciate it”. Joan
kissed Clay on the cheek again, “Good by and good luck Joseph,
you’re going to need it.” She then turned and walked away without
looking back.

Joan got in the truck and drove away from the
lot while Clay stood watching her. After contemplating her solemn
attitude, he finally shrugged it off for the moment, got in his
car, and made his way toward Chicago.

Once he was out of Knoxville and on Highway
75, he settled in for the drive ahead of him. As he drove, Clay
kept reflecting on the ominous warning Joan had laid on him. He
still had bouts of uneasiness and inner qualms about admitting,
even to himself, the harsh reality of the course of action he was
pursuing. Killer! Murderer! Assassin! These titles were the lowest
and harshest characterizations to describe what he was willing to
be. And it didn’t bother him. Joan had described in clear detail
what he would become. And still it didn’t bother him.

“I have one big factor in my favor, Clay
rationalized, I know exactly who my targets are and why they are
being eliminated. Joe simply had a name, a picture and a directive
issued due to a political reason. I don’t think I’ll develop the
emotional problems Joe has, but if I do, I can also quit and do
something else, just like Joe.”

Pushing all of the emotional concerns out of
his thoughts, he focused on contemplating his next moves during the
remainder of the all day drive.

A major decision needed to be made. How could
he create a legitimate day job and allow his schedule to be totally
flexible, while providing him with a cover for his illegal income?
He had thought about starting a small construction business, but it
wouldn't allow the freedom he required. He would need to be there
daily to manage it or the business would fail. Most other types of
small businesses had the same problem. He was close however, to
finalizing another option; buying and selling antiques. It wouldn’t
be lucrative, but could pay for itself.

A year earlier he had dated a girl for
several months whose parents collected antiques; antique furniture,
glassware, pottery and the like filled their house. Clay discovered
he had a fonder appreciation for those old things than for their
late model daughter. When he grew bored of having sex with her and
with listening to her incessant talking, he gently broke off the
relationship; but continued visiting with her parents. His
continued acceptance by her parents offended her more than their
break up. In a few months he had learned all the parents could
teach him about antiques and continued to learn on his own.

He had started hanging out at antique shops
and auctions, and attending antique shows when they were held
within two hundred miles. He began to learn prices of a wide range
of items he liked, as well as the trade jargon. During the week he
started a routine of going to yard sales early in the morning in
hopes of getting the best items available; before they were bought
up by other professional pickers. He soon developed his skills in
buying, and of necessity, in reselling to antique shops whose
owners didn’t have the time or inclination to do the buying
themselves. He had started to earn almost enough money to cover his
monthly expenses when he took the job in Memphis.

With the Memphis money he had added to his
bank account and his vision of an antique shop, he felt he was
developing a viable business plan. Even if it only broke even the
business would provide a tax shelter for his real livelihood and
would provide legitimate reasons for him to be away for extended
periods. But, he would need to find a suitable store front in a
good location and hire help he could depend upon to run the shop
while he was away.

Clay arrived home late Sunday afternoon and
carried his bags downstairs to his room. He was in time for supper
with the family, and learned Walter Jr. and Hazel were stopping by
to eat with them. During supper, after numerous questions about his
job hunting trip, he steered the conversation to his step-brothers
new Oldsmobile and then excused himself from the table.

The following months were uneventful, but
busy. Clay continued his routine of buying items at yard sales,
auctions, and antique shops. He rented a double car garage from an
elderly woman who was unable to continue driving; she had
advertised it for rent in the classified section of the evening
newspaper. There he began to store the best of the antiques he was
finding. He also found older guns to be available, and accumulated
seven semi-autos he could eventually use. His skills at identifying
good articles and dickering for a low price were improving to the
point where some of the antique shop owners almost cringed when
they saw him approaching their businesses. The early morning hours
of the new antique venture dictated a change in the rest of his
routines, forcing him to switch his work outs at the club to mid
mornings and afternoons.

O
n a Friday evening
in July he received a call from Tony. He had only phoned Clay at
home on three occasions, and all three of them related to work.
This time it was different. And Tony was so excited he was almost
hysterical.