Code Name by Rich Johnson

Author:Rich Johnson [Johnson, Rich]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Pages 51–64, notebook #2 (Spence, Knight’s notes are easier to read in this section. RJ)

Morning dawned bright and warm. The storm had passed sometime during the night, having thoroughly washed Washington D.C., and leaving a heavy veil of humidity over the city this day.

Across the alley, the old man lay face down on the sodden cardboard heap exactly where he had fallen the night before. Mark stared at Carlos, watching for any sign of life. The Brazilian lay so still that Mark feared he had died sometime during the night. Then he saw the slight rise and fall of the man’s back.

Mark had known this man only a short time, but already a bond had formed. Here was a man who, since childhood, had been forced to live on the street, scrounging and begging every day for food or drink or clothing or shelter – whatever he needed; only the necessities, just enough to keep himself alive.

There is a distinction between wants and needs, and Carlos’ life had no room in it for wants. Yes, there was the alcohol. But who could judge this man? Perhaps after all he had been through alcohol was the only thing that eased the emotional pain of loneliness and despair, or memories, or physical pains he had to endure. What hope did he have for the future – any future, any kind of existence above living in an alley on a heap of cardboard, scrubbing his leg with a wire brush and sitting on a corner begging? It was all he knew; he had said so himself. How much lower could a man’s life go? Mark could not possibly pass judgment on this man.

Here was a human being who truly understood what it meant to give of himself to benefit another. He gave his own flesh and blood; scrubbed his wound raw with the cursed wire brush, so Mark could have a change of clothing; then again for shoes and socks. The very thought of it humbled Mark to the dust – that someone would do such a thing for him.

But, for all that, this man was still an unknown factor. What had he told the police? What had the police told him? They may have said something to entice Carlos to help in Mark’s capture. Maybe. Mark had no way of knowing. For now, he decided that he had to trust his gut.

Trust your instincts. He replayed the lessons Blake had taught him.

But still cover your back. Never leave an opening.

There was no food left for this day. Already the morning had come and it was too late to get water. In Mark’s empty C-rat can there was a little rainwater. He drank that then stood to rub his weary muscles, and accidentally kicked the can, which spun off across the alley with a clatter. Carlos jumped, then rolled over and faced the morning through bleary eyes.

“What is all this noise?”

“Sorry,” Mark said.

Spying the new shoes on Mark’s feet, Carlos grinned. “So, how are your shoes? You smell better today.

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