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Chapter 3 - Lassin

Ian looked at his watch as he walked up the ramp into the plane. 6:00 a.m. He groaned in despair as he stepped inside the cabin of the Cessna Citation CJ3 private jet just as thunder sounded from the incoming storm. Gazing around the inside, he noted the white walls and six seats, each with a small, wood folding table between them. The fourteen windows provided an amazing view of the outside world, and LED lights lit up the interior like the midday sun.

Then Ian noticed the man sitting in one of the chairs. He looked to be in his fifties, although he could have been older, but time had been good to him. His hair was short, white, and groomed perfectly. His skin was tan, like he had been working under the sun for too long. Thin wrinkles were etched into his forehead as evidence that he had been through stressful times, but more around his mouth also revealed he had had his joyful times.

"Mr. Black, won't you have a seat?"

Ian jumped at hearing the old gentleman's voice and realized he had been staring. The stranger had gestured at the seat across from him. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly as he set his bags down and sat in the seat. "I apologize, I've just never been in a private jet until now."

The man smiled as a flight attendant walked in and took his bags to the separate baggage compartment before buckling herself in. The jet's twin engines switched on, barely audible in the nearly soundproof cabin, and the pilot pulled the plane onto the runway.

Both men were silent until after the jet had left the runway. Ian didn't know who this man was, but he knew he had to be someone important; a man didn't come into possession of one of the world's best private jets without earning it in some way.

His colleague set down the book he had been reading, The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle, and looked up at him. "You know why I like reading mystery books?"

Ian gave him a strange look and shook his head. The man smiled and held up the book.

"Life is full of mysteries. Puzzles, wonders, mazes, and riddles. But man is an interesting creature. Every mystery he comes across, he manages to find some way to solve. All but two."

At this he fell silent, as if waiting for a question to be asked. Confused, Ian thought about the statement before asking what was practically begging to be asked.

"What mysteries can he not solve?"

A few moments passed in silence.

"The first is who we are. Since the beginning, man has fought against himself. Whether it be in war, hate, even kids on a park bullying one another, it has been an unending battle to end itself. The second is why we are here. This answer is different for every person.

"You see, some people find their reason to live simply by going through life and waiting for it to appear. Others believe that they have no true reason to be alive. But the truly strong ones are those that make their own reasons to live. And those people are the ones who will do whatever is necessary to achieve their dreams. It is believed that Abraham Lincoln once said, 'Great things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle.' Nothing ever said has been more true."

A few minutes went by as Ian contemplated what the old man had said. He looked out the window and watched the sun raise itself slowly above the horizon and thought back to the war that he himself had fought until smoke blocked out the sun. A glance back at the man revealed that he was being watched. He shifted in his seat and sat back.

"Sir, may I ask who you are?" he asked inquisitively.

Folding his large yet somehow delicate hands on the table, the man replied, "Pardon me, where are my manners? My name is Jonathan Lassin. And I need your help."

Ian had heard of him. He was the founder and CEO of Antiqurus Inc., a company that specialized in the excavation of ancient artifacts. He was the eighth richest man in the world, and had definitely earned the fortune he now had. But not only was he rich, he was also a very kind man. He was known to donate large portions of his riches to charities, and in his free time he visited children's hospitals.

He considered all this before he realized what Lassin had said at the end.

"What do you need my help for? I'm a soldier, not an archaeologist," said Black.

"We've run into our own sort of mystery," answered Lassin, a faraway look coming into his eyes. "I will explain after we have retrieved the others."

Black sat straight up at the words. "Others?"

A sly smile made its way across Mr. Lassin's face as he spoke. "No, you are not the only one. There are four others we will be picking up on the way to Turkey."

At this point, the flight attendant returned to their table and asked if they would like some food or drink. Before Ian could speak, the old man perked up. "Please bring the Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Romanee-Conti Grand Cru, Cote de Nuits. Mr. Black here will enjoy it with me."

Glancing proudly at Ian, he said, "That is the most expensive wine in the world at its standard price: 8300 pounds, or a little over 12,000 of your American dollars." Laughing he continued, "It took me a week just to remember the name."

Ian's eyes widened as the waitress brought the dark green bottle and a pair of glasses. She opened the wine and poured it carefully into each glass before setting the bottle on the table and retreating to her place near the back of the plane.

He was amazed that the man was rich enough to buy such expensive wine, and that he was sitting here enjoying it with him was even more amazing to him. He had never thought he would be flying in a private jet drinking wine with one of the richest men in the world.

Four hours and lots of mild conversation passed by before they landed at the Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Washington D.C. Looking out his window, Ian watched a tall white man make his way to the jet and wondered if this was one of the "others" Lassin had mentioned.

When he entered, he looked around the plane for a moment before settling into his seat. He was a medium-sized man, just a bit over six feet. He wore a black suit with a red-and-black striped tie, and he looked like he had spent his whole life in a gym. His sharp green eyes seemed to search everything.

"Ah, hello Mr. Skall," said Lassin. Gesturing to Ian, he continued, "This is Ian Black from the Navy SEAL's. Ian, meet Thomas Skall from the Special Operations Group in the CIA."

Skall looked at Ian and dipped his head in salute, which he returned. He was surprised that Skall was in the SOG. Normally, individuals from multiple special force teams were selected for one team, but rumors had been floating around about certain elite men being picked to remain with the CIA's special squads permanently.

When they had taken off again, Ian decided he needed to try to talk to his family. "Is there a phone or a computer on here?" he asked Jonathan.

In reply, the multi-billionaire simply called for the flight attendant and asked her for a laptop. After a few seconds, she returned with a laptop.

Lassin took it and leaned forward to hand it to Ian, who took and opened it. He clicked on a messaging application and typed in his wife's phone number.

Monica, it's Ian. I'm on a private jet with Jonathan Lassin. They haven't told me what my mission is yet, we're gathering a couple more people and then they will explain. I love you. Tell Des I said I love him.

While he waited for a reply, he pushed the laptop aside and looked to Skall. The man was staring out of his window, as if waiting for something to appear. He didn't seem like much of a talker, so Ian decided to leave him alone. Lassin was back to reading his book. He had already explained to Skall what he had said to Ian; he didn't want to explain their mission multiple times, so he was waiting until all of their teammates had been picked up.

All that was left was to wait until they arrived at their next destination.