Turbulent Past, Tempestuous Present

Marshall's thoughts included an early morning teleconference with the American embassy in Colombia to review intercept data. The diplomatic courier's thoughts also considered an in-person appointment — with a Colombian banker vacationing in Los Angeles, mindful of his ten million dollar transport and allegiance to someone rumored to be the Widow Maker.

By Friday, Shadow had resurrected his past persona and collected as much as he could on the positions and locations of the ever-shifting cartel leaders' last known locations. The data was meticulously pinned to the wall of his upper-level living room, in anticipation of meeting with Cattleya. She had promised him that she would return. He knew the tone of her voice meant every syllable she uttered.

Glancing up from his collage of photos and data points pinned to the wall, Murdock peered out the large panoramic window at a calmly undulating ocean. A singular figure stood at the end of the parapet, her gaze fixed on the oceanside window. It could have been anyone curiously glancing at the weather-beaten old beach house. Yet, he sensed it wasn't just any beachcomber. The unmoving figure's stance had an uneasy feeling similar to an image of a woman pounding on his door in the recent storm. Her hair whipped about in the wind as she peered steadfastly at his abode. The stance projected a sense of beckoning to him, drawing him out to join her.

Murdock strolled through the loose sand to join Cattleya on the solitary beachfront. He noticed the shells washed up from last week's storm were long gone. Not a remnant of that storm's passing remained ... like sands through an hourglass — so are the days of our lives; a momentary smile crossed his lips at recalling the opening lines to that old show.

"You're back," he remarked as he looked at the Colombiana dressed in a form-fitting tee-top and jeans that seemed painted onto her lithe frame. Her long, dark hair whipped around her face in the strong winds blowing on shore. The dark sunglasses masked her eyes, but Murdock noted her stance seemed more at peace than their last encounter. At least her hands weren't in her pockets.

"I always keep my word, Murdock. How about you?" she retorted.

"I try. Most of the time, I succeed." His measured words flowed out in response.

Her voice softened, "Did you? Succeed this time? Made contact with your old friend?" She cautiously sought to verify the report she had paid for from the Colombian Embassy's security van that had trailed him at her behest.

"Yes. And I've mapped out a plan. Maybe it offers some of what you seek," he replied as they walked the beach back toward his retreat, while watching the gulls swing overhead. The seagulls caught the breeze and rode the winds to stay aloft studying the ocean for lunch.

The surveillance video she had paid for seemed to confirm Murdock's words with the conversation between him and his old friend in the park. From that exchange, Cattleya felt Shadow was sincere in seeking a means of curtailing the drug trade and other nefarious business deals rampant in Colombia.

Side by side, Murdock and Cattleya looked like an old man and his young lover strolling along the beach in a muted discussion, rather than what it was: two sparring opponents assessing one another before the bell rang and then meeting in the center of the ring, coming to blows. Shadow led the way back to the beach house to share his findings.

He sat across from Cattleya in his cozy living room, overlooking the serene ocean. The room was bathed in soft, golden light from the setting sun, casting a warm glow on their faces as they began to engage in a tense conversation. Cattleya studied the wall of names, places, contacts, and some familiar faces he had tagged with questions, and listened to what she thought must have amounted to an Agency briefing. He'd still had that sense of a spy's presence as he spoke. He was earnest and sincere; she conceded as she took in his intel briefing. But so much of what was pinned to the wall — was wrong.

Murdock leaned forward, his eyes focused and earnest. "Cattleya, I understand your reservations, but please hear me out. The cartel is growing more powerful daily, and their activities are causing unimaginable harm to innocent people. I have concrete evidence of their involvement in human trafficking, besides the drug smuggling and acts of violence tearing communities apart."

Cattleya's brow furrowed as her eyes narrowed; she was piqued with curiosity. She leaned back, her crossed arms lifting her unencumbered breasts, and challenged Murdock's assertion.

"What kind of evidence?"

Murdock responded by reaching into his briefcase, pulling a file, and placing it in front of Cattleya.

"These are police reports," he said, sifting through them to point to specific documents, "testimonies from survivors, and intercepted communications. They paint a chilling picture of the cartel's reach and the devastation they leave in their wake. If we don't counteract these crimes, countless lives will continue to be destroyed."

Carefully scrutinizing the file, Cattleya's expression changed from concern and determination to a relieved sense of well-being. She searched for any link to a file tying her to the cartels and was relieved that his evidence package didn't include her banking activities; nowhere was she nor the secret identity as the Widow Maker mentioned.

"I've seen the impact firsthand, in the streets and the nightly news," she mused as she returned the folder to him. "What makes you think I can make a difference in your plans, Murdock?"

Marshall leaned forward; his voice filled with sincerity and urgency. "It will be tough, but your knowledge and connections are invaluable. The cartel has expanded your father's work. Its reach extends beyond smuggling drugs to include weapons and human trafficking—you name it. Innocent lives are being destroyed. With your knowledge, we can gather the evidence needed to bring them down."

She listened to his spiel, neither denying her depth of knowledge nor confirming it. Instead, she segued into another topic as she spoke, "But what about our safety? How do you ensure we don't end up on their radar?"

Murdock nodded reassuringly. "We'll take every precaution. We'll gather intelligence, work with contacts we can trust, and plan our every move carefully. Your safety is my priority, Cattleya. We won't take any unnecessary risks."

Cattleya leaned forward, her voice firm.

"Okay, let's say I'm on board. What's the long-term plan here, Murdock? What happens after we take down the cartel?"

Cattleya's eyes welled up with a mix of edginess and vulnerability.

"I want justice but also to protect my sister, Pati. She's trapped in this world, too."

Murdock nodded, having little knowledge about her sister. His voice spoke with compassion. "Cattleya, I know how much Pati means to you, and I can promise you this: once we expose the cartel's operations and bring them down, we'll have the resources to provide both of you with new identities, a fresh start far away from their reach. You and Pati deserve a chance at a normal life, free from fear."

Cattleya's hardened expression softened at Murdock's belief that he could protect her and Pati. His voice seeped with sincerity, yet she knew from her dealings with the cartels that sincerity bought little in the way of protection. Protection, what little there was, came at the price of striking fear into the hearts of your enemies. Her father was a master — she had a front-row seat as he schooled her in the fine arts of persuasion.

"I want to believe you, Murdock. I want to believe there's a way out of this nightmare."

Cattleya gazed into Murdock's eyes with a mix of vulnerability and determination reflected in her own. It had been a four-year battle of fending off cartel hits against her. Then tired of running, she struck back and brutally ended their attempts. It took one example in a manner they understood well. It was gruesome, but she executed it as ruthlessly as if her father were in charge. Her father's replacement and five of his men were hung by their heels, skinned, carved, and left to die in a slaughterhouse as reminders for others coming after her. It became her trademark, which quelled the new leadership's lust for her blood. Still, she was in a tenuous situation. Murdock was offering an alternative, but was it a viable one? It did offer a turning point with a possible positive outcome.

"All right, Murdock. Let's do this. For Pati and all those who have suffered at their hands. But remember one wrong move, and everything is over."

He recognized that tone; her voice still held on to four years of revenge-filled anger. Gleaming with determination and with a desire to snuff out that angst, Murdock responded, "Taking down the cartel won't be easy, but it's a start. We create a ripple effect once we expose their operations and weaken their influence. We pave the way for law enforcement to step in and the community to regain control. Catti, we can make a lasting impact and bring justice to those who have suffered at their hands."

Cattleya's gaze shifted to the ocean, her mind grappling with conflicting emotions at hearing the sweet words of crippling the cartels. "I want to bring them down, but what about my father? Murdock, you were involved in his downfall — his death."

Murdock's expression turned remorseful. "I understand your feelings, Cattleya. However, I can't undo the past, but I take full responsibility for my actions. I've spent the last year of service trying to make amends and dismantle the organization that created the chaos in your life. They were too powerful and crushed everything that tried to take them down. But, by joining forces and using your knowledge, we can ensure justice is served, even with some semblance of atonement for your father and countless others who have suffered. It's a chance for us to rewrite our stories, to find closure and redemption."

Cattleya heard his words as she stared at the serene ocean, her expression reflecting a mix of emotions. Marshall still clung to hope despite what he acknowledged as a defeat in his past actions in Colombia. Perhaps, a glimmer of hope could rekindle his derailed attempts to bring down the cartels with her help; she considered that approach as she listened to his words.

"It's a lot to take in, Murdock. I want to make a difference. Still, you are putting my and Pati's lives at stake here," Cattleya interjected, thinking about how Pati had pressed for her to avenge their father's death. Reconciling that was not going to be quickly dealt with. As she had told Pati, sometimes a promise must be delayed before it can be kept. Cattleya finally nodded, having fought her way through the reticence. The old saying justice is best served cold flickered in the Widow Maker's mind as a tentative sense of trust emerged.

"All right, Murdock. Let's bring them down. We'll team up, gather the evidence, and expose the cartel's crimes. But remember, I'm watching every move you make."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Cattleya. We'll find justice and create a new beginning for you and Pati."

Cattleya studied Murdock. His voice was sincere as he tried to reassure her that this would be a successful mission. It would, however, require more help from her than Murdock anticipated. Standing up, she walked to the wall of pinned-up cartel figures and began re-organizing divisions and removing some. Those were victims of retribution or failures to comply. She changed the positions of others and added post-it notes for several shadows that the wall didn't contain. Murdock watched in amazement as she reorganized the wall of criminals while giving him her equivalent of an Agency briefing.

Ultimately, she concluded, "I told you I don't trust your Agency. The outdated data shows it doesn't know its head from its ..." She sighed, as she tapered off the conversation and downed another two fingers of Murdock's fine bourbon.

She damn well knows more than she's letting on, he thought, as he watched her change the intel he had acquired from former Agency contacts. One by one, he corrected the laptop's database of the changes she made, though he was not updating the data to his sources. He could honor her doubts at least by not doing so — at least it didn't jeopardize any current missions, he suspected.

"I hope your action plan has more than a wall of photos, Murdock," she murmured as she worked.

"We follow the cartel's model, for starters," he replied. "Surveil the head snakes, learn their routines, take them when they least expect it, and turn them over to the authorities. That would leave the underlings to fight amongst themselves for control. In that chaos, the supply chains become disrupted — no supply, no income, then the entire house of cards should tumble — implode upon itself."

"You're talking months of surveillance, Murdock," she stated matter-of-factly as she rearranged the details. "That's going to expose you during that time. The cartels have money spent in every echelon of government, including police. Even now, the info you paid for on this wall probably has blood money dripping from it. Your source could even be a part of it."

Shadow grew quiet at that statement. He hadn't bought the wall of info. He had trusted his former partner, James Jordan, for its contents and structure. Jordan's sources ... could easily be playing both sides,he mused. He had seen that before. It always harbored unknown elements of danger.

His mind raced at her declaration, changing course he then quoted Sun Tzu, "Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder and crush him."

"So," Cattleya responded, surprising Murdock with another Sun Tzu quote, "Make the enemy follow your plan. And let them walk into your trap."

Murdock nodded at her understanding of an ancient warlord's battle plan then laid out Plan B.

"We start at the source of the drugs and take intervening actions there. Then wait for them to react in response. It wouldn't take long for that retaliation — not even a week," Marshall surmised. He knew it held risks and would bring back old memories for Cattleya—chances he had to take if she wanted to minimize the hunt.

Drawing the bastard into a trap is okay by me. But turning over the snake's head to the legal system ... is another matter. It's always better to behead a snake than risk them turning on you later, she calculated, leaving her view unexpressed to Murdock. It was a Colombian cartel way-of-life model she followed so well.

Turning to face him, she asked, "You have a team? One you can trust?"

"A team ... takes some enticements. I have names," he replied guardedly.

"Get them on board by Friday, six plus you and I. There is a bag of enticement in the van outside for you. And Murdock, don't shoot the diplomat in the van; he's mine. Half for your team now, the rest when we are done. I'll arrange for arms."

The ex-agency figure lugged a military-sized duffle bag into his beachside home. He watched the driver dart out to open the door for Cattleya as she walked out Murdock's front door, leaving Marshall staring at the Colombian diplomatic tags.

Murdock hadn't time to address the hiring issues, but that didn't seem to matter to Cattleya as she left. Opening the bag after she departed, Murdock just sat back and stared as he flipped through a few straps of non-sequential, used hundred-dollar bills - $10,000 in each strap. His mind boggled over the contents she had just dumped on him to kickstart a team. Six guys hell, that was — at least $400,000 per man.Half now and half later, woman, you could have bought a whole infantry company with this bag.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, their pact sealed, Murdock began calling his old contacts and setting all of them on a treacherous journey to dismantle the cartel's empire, seek redemption, and pave the way for a brighter future.

From across the country, Murdock's calls had harvested six of the military's finest vets, skilled in weapons, electronics, and tested in combat. Men who had worked with him on special operations around the globe. Men he could trust.

In three days, they had arrived and assembled in Los Angeles at a remote shooting range Cattleya had secured for some private training. Murdock's team rolled into the compound and disembarked in front of an empty gallery, just as the familiar white van with Cattleya and her diplomatic envoy pulled into the lot.

As Cattleya stepped out, she announced, "Shall we get to it, gentlemen?"

The cargo doors swung out, and Madore, the diplomatic aide, began to hand out the specialized arms.

"SIG Sauer weapons," Murdock's red-bearded confidant announced as he grasped the new, in-a-case disassembled weapon.

"Gentlemen, these are the future weapons of the US Army. The XM5 weighs about two pounds more than the M4 it will replace," Madore said, "while the XM250 weighs about four pounds less than the M249."

"Prototypes?" Another asked.

"Fully certified and designed for close-combat and special operations forces. They are paired with the XM157 fire control system, increasing the close-combat force's accuracy and lethality. The XM157 integrates a variable magnification optic, backup etched reticle, laser range finder, ballistic calculator, atmospheric sensor suite, compass, visible and infrared aiming lasers, and a digital display overlay.

The team listened to Madore's almost orgasmic discharge of information. At the same time, he broke open the first XM5. He rapidly assembled the weaponry and the integrated fire control system giving the team a dry run of its setup and calibration procedures. It sounded like a combat movie in the making as rounds went down range while each team member got accustomed to firing the XM5 and the single XM250 overwatch weapon. Cattleya provided two SIG Sauer M17 handguns per man and comm links. Two days of weapons training had melded Murdock's team together again as he covered various objectives. To a man, all signed on for the danger it held. The pay situation helped grease the enlistment enticements as well.

"For a banker, you sure have impressive skills, Cattleya, both in acquiring arms and your weapons-targeting skills," Murdock announced as he watched her lithe prone body lay down automatic weapons fire in precision bursts.

He thought back to last week in the afternoon as her hand held that pistol in her raincoat pocket. His first instinct was to rush her at the doorway. Now, he was glad he hadn't. It could have ended with that SIG Sauer searing through her coat and leaving him lying on the floor in a pool of his blood.

"You were expecting another pretty woman behind a desk, Murdock?" she teased, while feeling the power and exhilaration of handling an illegally acquired military weapon.

"Bankers ... at least the ones I know, don't shoot up boxes of ammo on the weekend using automatic weapons."

"Marshall, a woman can be smart, count, and manage money. They taught me that at the University of Grenoble in France ... and my father taught me how to hold my own on a firing line," she breathed, as she switched to visible-laser mode and released another burst down range with deadly accuracy.

Murdock and several others watched her shift stances.She can hold her own; each seemed to be thinking as she emptied another mag. Murdock's thoughts addedUGF, a finance major in international banking, no doubt. The best education a drug cartel leader could buy. Razor ensured the family members handled every aspect of his trade, Murdock thought as he began to understand how deeply Cattleya was involved in that business.