Op in Brazil

1 A Buzz in the Night

Evan’s eyes flew open at the sound of his cellphone buzzing loudly on the nightstand. Swallowing his adrenaline rush, he turned to watch it dance in a lazy circle. It was glowing red, the only light in the room. A deep dread swept over him when he saw the color. His phone only ever glowed red for one reason; for the worst reason. He slowly picked it up and stared at it, buzzing away in his hand. Breathing a heavy sigh, he answered.

            “Evan Milut.” Droned a gruff, unrecognizable voice. “This call is secure, and shall not be spoken of to anyone at any time for any reason. You and your partner have two hours to reach the destination provided.”

            The call ended and the phone switched off, stranding Evan in gripping darkness. He regretted staying up late the night previously. Pulling himself out of bed was a painful process. He was still sore from his last call.

He opened up the bottom drawer of his nightstand and withdrew his passport, combat knife and .357 revolver plus extra ammo. He then stepped into his walk-in closet to complement his black pants with a long sleeve black wool shirt. He strapped on his revolver and combat knife before throwing on his black overcoat. He checked himself in the mirror on his way down the hall: Lean, muscular, clean shaven. That was a relief; it would take too long to shave. Heading into the kitchen, he jotted down a note for his wife Arla, explaining that he’d be gone for a while.

Dotting his note with a frown face, he got back to his preparation. He laced up his boots, turned out the lights and rushed out the door toward his partner Krug’s place. Arla would need the Jeep this week so he would have to run. Running three short blocks to Krug’s condo wasn’t even enough to get Evan’s heart rate up. His black coat tailed behind him like a cape as he dashed through the night. With each step, his boots threw sprays of glistening water from puddles shimmering in the streetlamps.

            Krug’s condominium complex was small: only five stories high, but nice all the same. Upon reaching it Evan swung open the stairwell door and tore his way up the stairs. Krug lived on the top floor of course. When Evan came up to Krug’s front door, he could see the man’s silhouette through the door’s stained glass window. He appeared to be hunched over something in his living room. Watching the silhouette, Evan knocked. He could practically hear Krug’s irritated groan as he pushed himself up from the floor and answered the door. Krug was a tall and unbelievably muscular man, putting Evan’s shredded arms to shame. In a weight lifting competition, Krug would always come out victorious. Everything about him was strong, from his muscles to his short cropped blond hair and earnest expression. Even the way he stood was immovable. Like a brick wall.

            “Are you ready?” Evan asked.

            Krug glanced behind him at the pile of weapons strewn about his living room floor before turning back to Evan. “Do I look ready?” He  asked, voice like gravel. He gestured for Evan to step inside. Posting up in Krug’s luxurious leather recliner, Evan stared expectantly at him, casting pointed glances at his watch.

            “One sec.” Krug said, kneeling back down on the floor to continue preparing his weapons. Evan cast a glance around the poorly kept condo that had become so familiar to him in recent years. Krug wasn’t organized, but he was wealthy, so his clutter was rather fancy. He had a nice designer rug spread out in his living room reaching just to the edges of his leather upholstery. He had one recliner and one sofa. Both of them were well crafted burgundy leather decorated with smart brass studs. The condo had a relatively high ceiling, slanting ever higher towards the main bay windows, allowing for maximum sunlight in the day. Right now it offered a spectacular view of the glimmering Seattle skyline. Suddenly his phone buzzed. He picked it up and opened his new text message. It was an address.