When We Walked Amongst The Shadows

By Michael Kern

A harmless questionnaire at a college seminar
unexpectedly propels Austin O'Connor into the world of
black ops. Ready or not, life as he knew it, no longer
exists. Austin is thrust into a dangerous career with very
little training or knowledge on how to navigate this new
world. From to smuggling weapons amid the Afghan and
Soviet War to a daring rescue in the middle of the
Contras and Sandinistas conflict in Nicaragua,
Austin continues to exceed expectations. In a short
period of time, he manages to excel at all assignments
placed on him by his superiors, and he has earned the
name Dragon Slayer by his peers.
Unbeknownst to Austin, he is a third generation
operative, and now one of the C.I.A.'s top assets. His
new mission sends him around the globe, risking his life
to face deadly foes and his destiny.
His job of constantly being in jeopardy could be the end
of him, unless his inner demons kill him first. Austin is a
fast study and a man who leaves his conscience and his
identity at the door. The job comes first, the rest is
irrelevant to him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781543990737

Michael Kern

In der Tiefe des Seins, entspringt die Kreativität des Lebens. Seitdem der Autor dieses Geschenk bewusst nutzt, sind bereits sieben unterschiedliche Bücher entstanden und veröffentlicht worden. Viele Geschichten des Autors, sind Geschichten, wie sie von Vielen geschrieben werden. Lebensgeschichten, die oft sehr unterschiedlich sind und doch etwas gemeinsames beinhalten. Botschaften, die für das eigene Wohlbefinden überaus wertvoll sein können.

Book preview

1

The End

He opened his blurry eyes as the US Air Force nurse fumbled with the blinds, letting an explosion of the sun into the room. The sun’s rays cut his eyes like little razors. Austin was still trying to focus due to the constant influx of pain meds he had been living on. He awoke to the smell of betadine and disinfectant. The sun bounced off his large full-leg cast, now reminding him of why he was there. The nurse was adjusting his bed into more of a sitting position. God knows how long he had been lying here. Nurse Ratchet, he subconsciously referred to her with her stern no-nonsense presence, often made Austin uncomfortable. Sometimes he wished he had his sidearm just in case she had other ideas.

Let’s look at you this morning. She examined his swollen face, with an assortment of stitches and the massive bruises covering his body. I think you look better. It shouldn’t be much longer, and I bet they send you back home. No more playing soldier for you.

Austin O’Connor was a first-class government operator. All six feet two of him was rock hard, chiselled, and built for speed and pain. He could take it as well as he could give it. Being undercover had left him unshaven and his sandy blond hair left him on the scruffy side. It was all part of his facade to blend in where others couldn’t. He was taught by the best to be the best.

In Austin’s opinion his handler, Robert Wood, also a veteran agency man, was one of the best and brightest assets he had ever known. Robert was proud of Austin because he evolved into quite the seasoned operator despite his age. Austin excelled at everything that he was subjected to. For a man his age, he had reached a level rarely achieved by anyone at the Directorate of Operations.

He had become the agency’s go-to guy. Whenever the company found themselves in possession of someone who refused the standard methods of interrogation, they would send in Austin. No one didn’t confess to Austin his or her deep dark secrets. No one ever could see him work, they cleaned up his aftermath. What had made Austin successful was he had no conscience period when it came to his sense of duty. That is how the agency diagnosed him and knew where he belonged.

Fighting she thought, she had no idea and apparently so, since she was sure he was in there as a John Doe, some sort of soldier who had seen the worst side of an ass whipping or maybe his jeep ran off the road after a rough night at the PX. Maybe the army uniform in the closet led her to conclude he was military. Neither was the case. He had been held captive in Syria for the past three days or was it longer, before a company of Delta Team rescued him from the hands of his captors. It felt to Austin it had been months he had been held prisoner, as the daily beatings and torture seemed to never end.

Suddenly the door swung open and two suits walked into Austin’s room. Nurse, may we have a few words in private with our patient please? She hurried up and left the room as these two gave her the creeps. Austin could see that in her face. He knew fear written across someone’s face well better than anyone.

The two suits without introduction stood over him. Austin quickly analyzed these two men. The first man was a seasoned veteran it seemed to Austin. A stout man who had seen the worst of times, yet hard as nails. The other suit was a frail-looking analyst without a doubt a type of pencil pusher or a child molester.

How you feeling today? You about ready to get back to work?

Austin paused a second. Whenever the doctor says I am ready to go I’ll be ready.

Suit one leaned closer to Austin. We will let him know when we’ve deemed you’re ready. The company has to debrief you and I am sure they will have lots of questions that need answering.

It was obvious to Austin that the company had sent these clowns over here for their best interest and not Austin’s.

We need to make sure there was no breach in security protocol, suit two feebly uttered.

Austin looked right through and spoke softly. I wouldn’t be in this condition if I had talked. I would have been dead, and you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.

Suit one backed up a step. Get some rest. He quickly fumbled through his notepad and leaned closer to Austin’s ear. Rest up, Dragon Slayer.

Both men turned and left the room as silently as they had entered. Austin turned away and stared out the window wondering what was next. Austin listened as the Air Force F16s and Hornets continued their flight patterns over Langley AFB.

The very next morning, nurse Ratchet arrived earlier than normal. Apparently, Austin was being moved. After being dressed in an army makeshift uniform missing a left pant leg, orderlies with a wheelchair slowly attempted to lift him. Nurse Ratchet in her sincerest voice wished him well. The orderlies wanted to wheel Austin down the long corridor leading to a parked black Suburban, waiting for him. Austin refused to be wheeled down. He would walk down when he was ready. He refused to allow anyone to touch him. He had been touched enough for a lifetime.

Austin dreaded the thought of the debriefing because he knew it would be intense. The company had to be assured he divulged nothing to his captors. His banged-up body was living proof he never talked, nor would he have.

If working for the company taught Austin one thing, it was that no loose ends were acceptable. Austin slowly sat on the edge of the bed looking out the window, wondering how this all started. He was a college student who ended up a prisoner of war. Austin wondered how he could have gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. Once a college student lost as to what he wanted to be when he grew up. A decision was made for him.

He could hardly wait to see Robert in the afternoon. Robert had been on assignment and wasn’t around when he arrived, but he constantly stayed in touch via phone. Austin was in constant communication with his father as well. He knew he had to be completely healed or healed enough before he could see his mother. His cover story would be that he was injured playing soccer on campus. He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed. He thought that must have been some soccer game to be left looking like this. Bruises and contusions were visible across his face. The massive bruising on his ribs had started to lighten in color. Well, he figured it was now or never and he lifted himself with his crutch—one more glance out the window before he greeted the world again.

Chapter 2

The Seminar

In mid-summer, Austin was struggling to complete his required hours for his first year at college. He was also examining his inner self to try to figure out what he wanted out of life. Austin questioned whether college was the answer he was looking for. He needed some easy hours to complete his first year.

Looking for a fast and quick fix, his roommates convinced him to attend a criminal justice seminar for three weeks giving him the required hours needed to move forward to his sophomore year. Most of the scheduled topics revolved around careers in law enforcement, being a parole officer, and other slightly uninteresting subjects. The last week’s lectures were focused on major law enforcement opportunities. They were advanced levels yet still open to the general student body.

The auditorium was a standard vanilla crescent arena with uncomfortable chairs and drab wall covering displaying academia posters. The Secret Service included their protective services for dignitaries along with working for the treasury department; the DEA had a speaker; the feds had reserved a block of times; and finally, the CIA would end the days with their smoke and mirrors, along with justifying their need in the world order.

At the end of each day, Austin found himself inundated with pamphlets, varied career opportunities, etc. Stacks and stacks of questionnaires were optional to complete. As usual, they found their way into the nearest trash can once he exited the auditorium. He found himself struggling daily to keep awake, much less pay attention. He cursed himself for attending in the first place.

Sam Houston State University was known for their criminal justice department with lots of graduates who found themselves pursuing careers in law enforcement. For Austin, this was a career that carried no remote interest to him.

He met Dean Pappas and Dan Schultz, his roommates, after class at the Sly Fox, a local college bar where the women were plentiful, and the prices were affordable for college kids. The dimly lit local watering hole reeked of spilt beer and cheap perfume. Tonight was dime night. You could drink any liquor-based drink for a dime. A man could get screwed up for fifty cents.

After several drinks and chasing a few sorority girls around, the boys started to feel their bulletproof attitude coming on. Dean, who was prelaw, eyed the big cop next to the door.

I couldn’t just stand there and watch all this ass floating around and a bunch of kids getting wasted for some $15 an hour, Dean added.

Danny nodded in agreement.

Austin never verbalized many of his thoughts for public consumption. He believed his opinions were his own and he preferred it that way.

Danny asked, Austin, how’s the criminal justice lectures coming?

Austin paused a second. I guess alright. Boring for the most part; lots of drab speakers and not very interesting to me. However, tomorrow the CIA has the floor. That ought to be a little more enlightening if possible.

They each spun in the direction of the bartender, a cutie pie, and raised their glasses for one more.

The alarm clock went off earlier than Austin had preferred, nevertheless, it was the last day for this shit. Once done, he would have his required hours and he would officially be a sophomore. He hurriedly threw himself together and out the door he flew. He thought to himself, last time I drink with my roommates on a school night. Man, how many times this semester had he made that statement? A smile crossed his face as he drove off to the Criminal Justice Center.

Austin barely made the introduction of the speaker, William Wiseman, retired CIA.

Austin noticed all the wannabe agents transcribing notes and the mass display of recording devices amongst the full auditorium. Austin couldn’t imagine an agent amongst the crowd of geeks and muscled-up security guards present, along with the dreamers.

This time the lecture seemed a bit more interesting than the previous barrage of go law enforcement motto. This discussion lasted a little over two hours and seemed entertaining to say the least. So many broad topics yet so little information given. Then came the Q & A period, which I am sure made Officer Wiseman question even why bother.

Afterwards, the usual questionnaires were distributed amongst those who managed to hang around. Austin figured he had no plans that afternoon as his roommates had already headed home to Houston for the weekend.

As Austin flipped through the questionnaire it seemed this one had a purpose more so than the previous. It appeared more like a psychological exam as opposed to the normal how would you rate your speaker?

He glanced through the questions and some were of a personal nature, something like, What your reaction would be to… or, How does death affect you? Austin was intrigued to say the least; he figured he had time on his hands, so what the hell.

After about an hour he had completed this long-ass form and handed it in to Officer Wiseman’s assistant. He made his way out of the auditorium and in a fast search of food.

As the auditorium cleared, Wiseman glanced at his assistants and instructed them, Anyone that tests over 150 IQ I want their name and a detailed background check before I call them back in for stage two. However, after the questions I was asked today, I doubt many have the smarts or the stomach for this line of work. Wiseman grabbed his briefcase and off he went. See you back at the hotel.

The questionnaires were computerized to be easily scanned for quick results. As normal, most of all the scans revealed low IQs, mental instability, basically nowhere near CIA material. Suddenly an alarm indicated an exception to the normal responses that they had been shredding all afternoon. Connie Johnson, Wiseman’s assistant, top of her class at MIT, standing five feet seven inches with an athletic build and long black hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, walked over to the monitor to see what the machine had found.

Connie took a closer look to see the name displayed—Austin O’Connor, freshman, major undetermined, GPA 3.9, estimated IQ 158 based on preliminary results. She wondered what the odds are they may have found a needle in the haystack. No criminal record found. Mother is a secretary for an oil company in Houston and father has no record or file, period. Connie printed the results, made a couple notes, and set the report on Officer Wiseman’s briefcase. The test results ran several more hours yielding no one even close to Austin’s analysis.

The main idea was to see if they could get Austin back for further testing and evaluation. The idea was to see what they could determine. If he possibly could meet the criteria for the CIA and in what capacity he would be best suited for. Most qualified applicants ended up inside as analysts. Field assets were not so easily found, trained, and trusted. Time would tell what they had with Mr. O’Connor. Connie picked up the phone to inform Wiseman they may have someone that is of interest or worth a second look.

Wiseman came into Connie’s hotel room and immediately picked up the report. He studied it intently for several minutes, making notes. He paused and spoke. Connie, get me this kid’s class schedule for the rest of the week. Call Langley and have one of the psychologists standing by for a video interview with Austin if we can tempt him. If I am reading this right, this kid has no conscience at all.

Even better, she mumbled to herself.

On Monday morning at the end of his calculus class, Connie was waiting outside the hall for Austin as he scrambled out with the rest of the students rushing to their next lecture. Connie approached Austin. Mr. O’Connor, may I have a word with you?

Austin kept pace with his classmates with Connie in tow.

Mr. O’Connor, a word please.

He stopped briefly and glanced at Connie. I am not buying whatever you’re selling lady. Austin continued moving forward with the flow of the masses.

Connie hurried to keep pace. She literally stopped in front of Austin halting his progress.

Lady, what the hell is your problem? I have five minutes to get across campus.

I need ten minutes of your time and then you can go, she snapped insistently.

Austin fired back, Professor Phillips frowns heavily on lateness and I need a good grade in his class. He is an uncompassionate son of a bitch.

Connie spoke, Let me worry about the professor. I assure you it will be taken care of with no backlash towards you.

The hallway had now cleared of students and Austin folded his arms, amazed at the size of the balls on this lady. So, tell me why I should believe a word you say to me, barked Austin.

Connie held up her finger motioning him to hang loose one second. Connie extracted a sophisticated communication device from her purse. Secondly, she flipped open her ID, which indicated she was employed by the CIA. Let professor know we have detained Mr. O’Connor and he will be excused from class today.

A voice answered back, I’ll take care of it.

Austin felt he had no choice in the matter, so he followed Connie out into the quad, and she motioned for him to have a seat. The quad was a center point on campus located between four specialized school buildings. While Austin sat down, he scanned the quad looking for people he may know, instead he noticed several individuals spaced out along the quad perimeter. They all looked out of place and seemed to be watching over Connie like her life depended on it. Austin turned towards Connie and spoke.

Ok ma’am, please tell me what this is all about. You went to a lot of trouble trying to speak to me. Speaking of trouble, am I in trouble?

Connie noted, Far from it. Some of my immediate superiors were impressed by some of your responses to the questionnaire we passed out. We would like to do some additional testing and evaluations on you if you are interested.

I am not quite sure where you are going with this, Austin commented.

We think that you may have what it takes to be a member of our organization, Connie spoke quieter. Or we would like to see anyway, with your permission.

If I refuse will your friends standing around try to coerce me?

Connie smiled and motioned for her shadows to disperse from the area. Very observant, Mr. O’Connor. Well, what do you think, Austin?

Austin pondered her question. I would like some time to think this through.

Connie handed him her card and offered, If you’re interested, I will be at the Holiday Inn on 6th Street, room 102, for forty-eight hours. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Austin. Your class has been covered with the professor. All the lecture notes will be delivered to you. Connie placed her hand on his shoulder, and she walked off, leaving Austin to watch Connie and her shadows disappear amongst the student body.

Austin stared at her card and decided some research was in order. He figured since his class was covered, he should take the time and do some research of his own. Austin took off in the direction of the library. Fortunately for him the library was just at the end of the quad.

He made his way to the information desk and asked the student librarian where he might find books written on the CIA. Thirty minutes later, Austin found himself sitting behind a stack of books: History of the CIA, The CIA and the KGB, CIA and the Modern Cold War. He figured this was as good a place to start as anywhere.

Back inside Connie’s room, her phone rang. This is Connie.

A voice on the other end of the line confirmed as she expected, Austin was doing research.

Thank you, that’s all for now. There was something she liked about him. Right now, she wasn’t quite convinced as others he was a viable candidate, but they would soon know, only if Austin could indulge them just a bit longer.

Chapter 3

The Meeting

After a restless night’s sleep, Austin decided he had nothing to lose. He grabbed a shower and decided to see what they really wanted to talk about. He pondered the thought of a job interview with the CIA or whoever they claimed to be. He typed up a quick letter and sealed it in an envelope and left it to the attention of his roommates, just in case something went wrong with this meet and greet. He detailed who, what, when, and where for his roommates. Better be safe than sorry. He shut off the lights and walked out the door.

Twenty minutes later, Austin found himself standing in front of room 102. He noticed several unmarked cars scattered amongst the hotel guest parking. He debated about knocking or just turning around and heading for the hills. His gut was starting to churn.

I guess it cannot hurt to listen to what they have to say, he thought. So, after a deep breath he knocked on the door.

Connie opened the door with a smile and greeted him, Glad you decided to come.

Austin looked around once more and reluctantly he entered. This was no ordinary hotel room configuration. No beds to be seen. There were tables with chairs and lots of electronics.

Connie motioned Austin to have a seat. This was the first time Austin had seen Connie dressed as an officer. Slacks, white shirt, and a pistol on her hip. Let’s start with a few ground rules. Once we get those out of the way we can talk freely.

Austin nodded in compliance. Hell, this is her show and I’m just a guest. I pray nothing more than that. He still had reservations about all of this.

Connie slid a document in front of Austin. He scanned over it. What am I signing here?

Connie replied, This is a confidentiality agreement between you and the agency. Let me cut through the red tape and paraphrase it for you. Basically, this states you agree to never discuss anything you are about to hear or see to anyone. Failure to do so will result in grounds for treason and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. This document is a permanent agreement from now on. Once you sign this, I am free to talk with you, answer your questions, and discuss your possibilities within the agency, or the ‘company’ as we call it.

So basically, my life is no longer my own? Austin questioned her.

Not at all, just what you learn and whatever involvement with the company you may have. As bad as you may want to, no discussion with family, friends, or even your priest. The company is the highest form of secrecy in the world. He thought to himself, why me?

Say I sign this, what is next? he questioned.

Not a damn thing until you sign it. She smiled.

He twisted the pen in his hands for a few seconds and somewhat reluctantly signed the document. Connie took the document from him and slid it into her briefcase. Mr. O’Connor, welcome to a new world, with possibilities, none like you have ever experienced. A world of secrets and dangers all under the banner of truth, justice, and the American way of life.

Sounds like something Superman avowed in a movie.

Connie squeezed his hand firmly and assured, "Superman isn’t real, and we are.

The first thing you must do is walk through that next door where one of our psychiatrists will ask you some questions and will evaluate your responses. Once that has been done, we will review your responses and see if we move onto stage two.

Austin pointed towards the other bedroom door. Connie nodded. We will see you afterwards. Good luck, Austin.

Austin cautiously moved towards the door with some reservations. He opened the door and walked in. He was face to face with the company shrink on a monitor, he guessed.

Mr. O’Connor, please have a seat and we shall begin. The door was shut behind him.

Several hours passed since Austin had entered the room. Finally, the door swung open and Austin looked emotionally drained as he left the room. Go get yourself something to eat and we will be in touch tomorrow. One word of warning, Austin.

Austin beat her to the draw. I know. Don’t say a word to anyone. I got that part down. See you tomorrow maybe. Another officer opened the door for Austin as he left.

Connie made a beeline for the monitor in the back room. Well doctor, your preliminary thoughts.

Dr. Allen had a doctorate in psychology from Harvard and had been on the company’s payroll right since after he graduated. He is considered a legend in his field for evaluating new recruits—analyzing their IQ, their emotional stability, their ability to keep secrets and tell lies. He dug deep to make sure there were no skeletons in Austin’s psych closet. He checked to see if there were any mental disorders present or phobias that could hamper his ability to do his job.

Well, Connie, you want the good news or the bad news? he questioned.

Just give it to me straight, are we wasting precious resources looking at this kid?

The professor looked at his notes. Well the bad news is this man has no conscience whatsoever. His demeanor is opposite of what lies beneath his exterior. He may be the most field-ready candidate I have interviewed in a while. Photographic memory and he is anal retentive. His mind is like a sieve. It absorbs at a rapid pace. This kid’s ability for comprehension is off the charts. His capacity to learn is phenomenal. He is capable of dissecting a problem and solving it rather quickly.

Can he be trusted, doctor?

The doctor pondered the question for a split second. No doubt in my mind. He is company material. Best candidate I have seen in quite a while. My recommendation is to proceed. He is a natural. He should excel at a rapid pace.

Connie leaned over and spoke, Thank you, doctor, and flipped the monitor closed.

Connie entered the room where several officers were standing around talking. They looked her way. Stage two is a go.

Officer one asked, Should we sit on him to make sure?

Connie glanced at his scores. Not just yet, I have to call Langley and then we can go get a drink somewhere in this back-water town.

Connie opened her secure laptop and sent one email to Langley. She typed, The REAL DEAL, please advise, recommend stage two. Passed psych eval with flying colors, IQ off charts. Doctor strongly recommends. She hit send and grabbed her purse.

Off Highway 16 was The Red Onion Truck Stop, known for their enchiladas and cold beer accompanied by the slightest hint of diesel. Through the front window, Connie and her three officers were eating. The mood seemed to be lighthearted, a bit more than previously that afternoon. One of the officers raised his glass to the waitress for a refill.

Officer two leaned closer to the table not to be overheard. You think this kid is ready for stage two? That normally eliminates most people. Usually the end of their short journey, damn near was mine.

Connie swigged her beer and stated, It’s the only way to know what we really have. Langley will not consider him otherwise. They continued to eat their meals.

Inside Austin’s room was pitch black except for a desk lamp. Austin stared at the ceiling wondering why he was doing this. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and call Connie and