The Legacy of Shadows

By William Speir

When the Order of the Saltire uncovers a plot to simultaneously activate scores of foreign sleeper agents as part of a plot to destabilize the United States government and economy, the Order is faced with the herculean challenge of identifying these sleepers and stopping them before they can carry out their missions. Jamie Anderson is contracted to teach combat martial arts to law enforcement and military units who are involved in counter-terrorism and counter-espionage operations. But when a team of assassins attack a group of her students, Jamie barely escapes with her life. Hunted by the assassins, she must hide in the shadows until she can figure out who is chasing her and why. When she discovers that the Feds are looking for her with orders to "Detain if Possible, Eliminate if Necessary," she must risk it all to clear her name. Along with her fiancé, Hunter Sinclair, Jamie and her team of Knights of the Order uncover the truth about the plots to kill her, but will the team be able to save her before the assassins and the Feds find her and the foreign sleeper agents are activated?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Progressive Rising Phoenix Press, LLC
• Release date: Sep 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950560110

William Speir

William Speir is an award-winning author living in Texas. Raised in Alabama, he is a 1984 graduate of the University of Alabama at Birmingham. William retired from corporate life in 2009, after spending 25 years as an executive and a management consultant specializing in the human impact to change. He is also an amateur historian and Civil War artillery expert. In 2015, William signed with Progressive Rising Phoenix Press (PRPP) to publish his fiction and non-fiction works, which span the Action-Adventure, Historical Fiction, Science Fiction, and Fantasy genres. For more information about William’s books and book-projects, please visit his website at WilliamSpeir.com.

Book preview

Lives in Motion

1

Jamie Michelle Anderson, Dame Commander in the Order of the Saltire and combat martial arts master, found herself surrounded. She didn’t see the person who approached on her left; the other attackers created enough distractions that her attention was momentarily focused on her right side.

She felt the kick and pitched headfirst from the force, but rather than land sprawling on the floor, she tucked into a somersault, rolled forward, leaped to her feet, and attacked the two assailants closest to her. She punched and kicked at blinding speeds, and soon all eight of her attackers were forced to withdraw.

She bowed to her attackers, and the dojo erupted with applause. Jamie waved and caught the towel that Hunter Augustus Sinclair, her fiancé and a knight in the Order of the Saltire, threw to her so she could wipe the sweat that poured off her.

Every Saturday morning when Jamie was in town, she practiced fighting multiple opponents at her dojo before the regular classes started. Most of her opponents were black belts and masters, but some were also her combat martial arts students.

When Jamie first became co-owner of the dojo, there were only a few members who arrived early enough to watch her fight. Now the dojo was packed with instructors, students, and people who were still deciding whether to join. Everyone wanted to see Jamie fight; they also wanted to see whether her opponents would ever defeat her. They never did.

The first floor of the dojo was one large gymnasium floor – apart from Jamie’s office – separated by different-colored padded floor mats to denote the various training areas. The front of dojo was mostly windows to allow in as much natural light as possible. Two of the walls were covered with photographs of the martial arts tournaments that the dojo’s students had attended, and the fourth wall was filled with awards and samples of the martial arts equipment that the students used during the normal Tae Kwon Do classes. Two staircases led to the upstairs specialty training rooms. The smaller room was for weapons training, and the larger room was for Jamie’s combat martial arts training.

When Jamie finished drying off, she sat down on the bench next to the wall and grabbed a bottle of water. As she took a long drink, she saw Tobias Sutcliffe walking toward her, followed by a middle-aged couple. The woman had honey-blonde hair that stopped above her shoulder, and the man had short greying hair and a silver beard. Both appeared to be in good shape for their ages, which Jamie estimated to be late 50s or early 60s.

Tobias, the original owner of the dojo, was semi-retired, but he still helped at the dojo on weekends and whenever Jamie had to travel to teach combat martial arts. He had owned the dojo since before Jamie first began studying martial arts as a child. When Jamie became Tobias’ successor in the combat martial arts society three years earlier, Tobias took her on as his business partner in the dojo, with the understanding that she’d own the dojo outright after five years, and he’d be fully retired by then.

Jamie, I’d like to introduce you to Doug and Beth Collins, Tobias said when he reached her. They’re thinking about joining, and you should talk to them.

Tobias’ tone told Jamie that the couple was not looking for the typical classes that the dojo taught. Jamie stood, and Tobias stepped away to help set up for the first classes of the morning.

Pleased to meet you. She shook hands with Doug and Beth.

It’s our pleasure, Doug replied.

That was an impressive display, Beth said.

Jamie smiled. Thank you. She motioned for the couple to follow her to her office.

In addition to her desk, which Jamie always kept neat and organized, the office had an oversized couch and several comfortable chairs surrounding a coffee table. The white painted walls were covered with edged martial arts weapons from Japan, China, and Korea, including swords, throwing stars, and knives. She closed the office door and invited the couple to sit on the couch. She grabbed three water bottles from the fridge next to her desk and placed them on the coffee table. Then she quickly put on her black martial arts uniform and belt before taking a seat in one of the chairs facing Doug and Beth.

What can I help you with?

Doug looked at Beth, but neither spoke up immediately.

Jamie watched them closely. They seem nervous. I wonder what’s bothering them.

Finally, Beth spoke up. I have a problem—

"We have a problem," Doug corrected her.

"Yes, we have a problem, Beth agreed, but it’s directed mostly at me. And I’m… we’re afraid."

What kind of problem?

An ex-husband problem, Doug answered.

The couple fell silent. Beth still looked nervous.

You’re safe here, Jamie reassured them. Tell me as much as you’re comfortable sharing, and then I’ll tell you what we offer that can help. Believe me, we’ve helped a large number of people who were having problems with their exes.

Doug nodded and gave Beth a nudge. She flashed a tired smile at him and then began telling Jamie her story.

Doug and I met six years ago when I was going through a nasty divorce, and we married shortly after the divorce was finalized. Abdul, my ex-husband, and I were happy at first. He was charming, and I thought that his Mediterranean features were handsome. But after we got married, everything slowly began to change. He attacked my self-esteem to make me totally dependent on him, and he was verbally and physically abusive whenever I did something that he thought was wrong. I wanted to leave him, but I felt trapped. And he made it clear what he’d do to me if I ever tried to leave or have him arrested.

Jamie nodded. This was an all-too-familiar story.

Beth took a drink of water from one of the bottles. We were together for thirteen years, and we had two beautiful children – a girl and a boy – two years apart. I didn’t want them growing up without their father, so I suffered the abuse in silence for the sake of my family. But when Abdul’s abuse began including the children, I knew I had to do something.

Your ‘mamma bear’ instincts took over? Jamie asked.

Beth nodded. "I looked into shelters where the kids and I could go, and after weeks of planning, the kids and I escaped one morning after he left for work. We lived in a shelter for two months.

It was right after she filed for divorce and moved out of the shelter that we met, Doug interjected. Before we knew it, we were dating.

The kids loved Doug from the very beginning, Beth added. Anyway, the divorce was an ugly affair. But in the end I got full custody of the kids, and he only got minimal visitation. And then, a month after the divorce was final, Doug and I got married.

That’s when the real trouble began, Doug explained. Abdul was humiliated by the divorce and the loss of the kids. When he found out that Beth and I were married, he decided that he had to get the kids back at any cost, and he became obsessed with avenging the perceived loss of his honor. That’s when I took a transfer at work, and we moved out of state.

But you’re back now, Jamie noted.

Doug nodded. Six months ago, my company asked me to move back here. We hoped that Abdul would have forgotten about us by now, but we were wrong.

We tried to avoid Abdul, Beth said, but somehow he still found out that we were back. He started stalking us two months ago. He has confronted us twice. He was angry before, but he’s now completely insane.

So that’s why we’re here, Doug said. We’ve talked to people who have gone through your classes, and they all say that you’re the best. After what we saw earlier, we believe you can help us protect ourselves.

Jamie nodded. I’m glad you talked to people who have gone through our classes. I can tell you what we do, but they’re the ones who can tell you if it was worth it. First of all, do you have a security system at your home and panic alarms on your vehicles? If not, get them installed immediately.

Doug indicated that they had both already.

Good, Jamie said. As for what we provide, we teach a self-defense class every Tuesday night for men and women, and a special self-defense class on Wednesday nights for women only. We also have instructors who teach a pistol safety and proficiency class at one of the local gun clubs. I suggest that you both apply for a concealed carry permit and purchase a pistol for each of you.

Why? Beth asked. Won’t the self-defense classes teach us all we need?

Jamie leaned forward. No one class will teach you all you need. Self-defense classes are good for when your attacker is right next to you, but a pistol can keep them from ever getting near you. Both are equally important for different reasons. I carry a pistol at all times.

You? Doug was surprised. I wouldn’t think you needed a gun to protect yourself.

What if my attacker is armed with a gun and is standing out of my reach? Hands and feet won’t stop bullets. You need different tools for different situations.

Beth and Doug nodded. "Do you teach all of the classes?" Beth asked.

I help out with most of the classes when I’m in town, but I have dedicated instructors who usually teach these classes. I travel a lot teaching combat martial arts, but the instructors here are the best, and they can teach you everything you need to know.

Beth looked at Doug, and Doug nodded.

We’d like to sign up, Beth said.

Wonderful! Jamie stood up, grabbed two pens and two membership applications from the bookcase next to the door, and handed them to Beth and Doug. Just fill these out, and we’ll get your identification cards made while you’re here. That way you can start on Tuesday.

Jamie grabbed a couple of brochures from the bookcase. These give you all the details about the dojo, the gear you’ll need, and where to purchase everything. I’m also giving you information about getting your gun permits and how to sign up for our pistol classes at the gun club. There’s an extra fee for that because the gun club is private, but you don’t have to join there if you’re taking one of our classes.

Beth and Doug finished filling out the applications, which included a liability release form, and handed the completed paperwork to Jamie, along with their driver’s licenses. She scanned the documents and licenses into the dojo management system, and then she had each of them stand up so she could take the photos for their identification cards.

A few minutes later, their cards were printed, and Jamie gave them a tour of the facility, including the locker rooms and the private training rooms.

As Beth and Doug left the dojo, Jamie said, I’ll see you both on Tuesday night.

We’ll be here, Doug assured her.

Beth and Doug were the first to arrive for the Tuesday night class. There were over thirty students in the class, and the instructors divided the students into three groups: beginner, intermediate, and advanced.

Beth and Doug were highly motivated, and they absorbed the material quickly. Jamie taught the beginner group on their first night, and she was impressed with their progress after only one class.

The next night, Beth came to the women-only class, and Jamie and the other instructors demonstrated a number of real-world scenarios to help the women learn specific techniques for handling dangerous situations.

After the class was over and the students had left, Jamie straightened up the dojo and turned off the lights. It was an unseasonably warm night for the early spring, and the humidity hit her the moment she opened the dojo’s front door. As she was locking the door, she heard shouting coming from the parking lot and a car panic alarm going off.

She looked around and saw Beth backing away from a dark-skinned man who clearly had her terrified. Beth shouted for the man to stay away from her, but the man continued to advance, in spite of the panic alarm. Jamie saw the man wielding something in his hand, but she couldn’t tell what it was. That must be Abdul.

Jamie’s pistol was in her gym bag with her phone, but she didn’t want to take the time to retrieve either one. She dropped the bag and ran toward Beth.

As she got closer, she heard the man say that he was going to kill Beth. Jamie didn’t hesitate. She ran at the man, leaped into the air, and struck with both of her feet in the center of his back. He fell forward, landing hard on the parking lot concrete.

Jamie crouched into a ready stance and shouted to Beth, Get back, and call 911!

Beth obeyed, turning off the panic alarm and moving around to the other side of her car, putting it between her and her attacker.

The man sputtered incoherently as he reached for the baseball bat that had fallen from his hand when Jamie kicked him. He stood and turned to see who had attacked him. Shock was evident on his face when he saw Jamie standing in front of him.

Get out of here, bitch! he shouted. This doesn’t concern you.

Yes, it does, Jamie growled, standing her ground.

The man stepped forward menacingly, raising the baseball bat as he approached.

Jamie waited for a moment until he got closer, and then she leaped into a spinning kick. Her foot hit the side of his face hard, and he seemed disoriented as he dropped to one knee. He staggered back to his feet and then lunged at Jamie.

Jamie leaped into another spinning kick, but this time her foot connected with the hand holding the baseball bat. She heard the sound of fingers breaking as the baseball bat flew out of his hand and rolled underneath Beth’s car.

Jamie then unleashed a whirlwind of punches and kicks to every inch of his torso. He tried to fight back, but the more he tried, the more relentless Jamie’s attack became. By the time he was lying immobile on the concrete, he had several broken bones and was bleeding in a dozen places.

And don’t ever call me ‘bitch’ again, she snarled.

Beth ran over to Jamie. Are you all right?

Jamie nodded. Is that Abdul?

Yes.

You’re right. He is charming.

Beth looked wide-eyed at Jamie, and then she began laughing. They were both laughing when they heard sirens approaching. A moment later, police and EMT vehicles pulled into the parking lot.

I had a feeling you’d be here, Sergeant Myerson said to Jamie when he got out of his police car. Let me guess. He attacked one of your students.

Jamie smiled at Myerson and nodded. Chris Myerson was a bald, moon-faced veteran police officer who helped head up the department’s community policing programs. She and the sergeant had met two years earlier when she taught combat martial arts to the local police department.

Jamie and Beth told Myerson what happened as the EMTs checked Abdul’s injuries. He had several broken fingers, a broken arm, broken ribs, a broken nose, and a concussion, as well as several cuts and bruises.

What’s going to happen to him? Beth asked after Myerson recovered the bat from underneath her car.

He’s being taken to the hospital right now, Myerson said as the EMTs put Abdul on a stretcher and loaded him into the back of their vehicle. Given the extent of his injuries, I imagine he’ll be there for a few weeks. Then he’s going to jail.

Good. Jamie looked pleased. Anything else you need from us?

Myerson shook his head. No, I’ve got what I need. I’m sure you’ll be contacted by detectives and the DA at some point, but for now you’re free to go.

As Myerson walked to his car, he turned back and said, You know, Jamie, one of these days someone just might get the better of you. And I don’t want to be the one who has to respond to that call.

Jamie grinned. You have a good night, too, Sergeant.

Myerson shook his head, got into his car, and drove off to follow the EMT vehicle to the hospital.

Jamie turned to Beth. Are you good?

For now, Beth answered. But Abdul has friends. I’m worried about what they’ll do when they find out what happened to him.

Thirty minutes later, Jamie pulled in to her garage, dropped her gym bag on the floor next to the garage door, came into the living room where Hunter was watching TV, and plopped down on the couch. She knew she needed to eat something, but she was too tired to deal with it yet.

How was your day, dear? Hunter asked as he paused his show.

Oh, just another typical day at the office.

2

Markus Dittrich, a Knight from the Commandery in Prague, grabbed the lapels of his raincoat and held them tightly to keep out the cold rain as he made his way along the banks of the Dnieper River, which ran through the center of Smolensk, a picturesque city in western Russia.

The Order of the Saltire had no Commanderies in Russia, but members of the Intelligence Committee across Europe had a number of contacts in Russia who provided information from time to time. When Markus received an urgent message from the contact that he knew only as Sergei, he wasted no time getting to their usual meeting spot.

The sun had set an hour earlier, making the long walk through the city difficult – a necessary precaution to ensure that he wasn’t being followed. Russian security didn’t like spies, and even though the Order didn’t represent any one nation’s interests, Marcus’ meeting with Sergei could still be considered an act of espionage.

Markus passed several of the city’s landmarks, including the old city walls, the Eagles monument, which commemorated the defeat of Napoleon’s forces, and the excavations of ancient temples that had been discovered years earlier and were still being unearthed and studied.

Markus entered the Lopatinsky Gardens – called the Central Park of Culture and Rest – and walked through the puddles covering the sidewalks leading toward the Cannon Monument. The monument was an antique muzzle-loading cannon on a metal carriage sitting on top of a white stone pedestal and surrounded with a wrought-iron fence. This is where he’d meet Sergei when they needed to make certain that their conversations weren’t overheard. The lamps along the sidewalk reflected in the rain puddles, giving the gardens a beautiful glow in the darkness.

As he approached the monument, he saw Sergei step into the open from behind a nearby tree.

Thank you for coming, my friend. Sergei kept his hands in his pockets.

You said it was urgent.

Sergei nodded and gestured with his chin for the two men to walk around to the other side of the monument. It is. We’ve had a breach.

Markus didn’t look at the Russian. What kind of breach?

Someone stole the activation codes for our sleeper agents in North America.

Markus’ foot caught on a cracked part of the sidewalk, and he stumbled slightly. So your country still uses sleeper agents? Why?

Sergei coughed. Really? That’s what you want to ask me right now? It doesn’t matter whether we still use them or not. The problem is that someone stole the activation codes for our agents. Why would they do that unless they planned to use them for some reason?

And it’s only the activation codes for the agents in North America? Markus asked. What about the activation codes for your agents in other countries?

What agents in other countries? Sergei asked blandly.

Markus looked sharply at Sergei. And you’re certain that this was a real breach and not an attempt by your country’s security bureaus to initiate something without it looking like they’re behind it?

I forgot what a suspicious nature you have, Sergei commented.

Just answer the question, please.

I’m reasonably certain, Sergei assured him.

Can you notify your agents not to follow any attempts to activate them?

Sergei stopped walking, as if to admire the monument. I wish we could. Whoever stole the codes also deleted them from our systems. That’s how we discovered the breach. We no longer know who the agents are, where they’re located, or how to reach them.

Aren’t there backups of that information? Markus was shocked that Russia’s cyber protection procedures could be so lax.

The backups were also deleted. Whoever stole the codes knew our cyber procedures inside and out. The thief used a portable EMP device to wipe out our servers and drives, and when we restored the system from the backups, we discovered that every file related to our active North American sleepers was missing.

Markus nodded. Electromagnetic Pulse, or EMP, devices could destroy electronic equipment in a