Jack from Tekko Chapter 1

 

Chapter 1

Jack Barret opened his eyes to the sound of his wife cooking breakfast.

“Honey?” Jack got out of bed and walked into the sitting room. “What’s up?”

Jack’s wife, Tanri, turned to face him. “I’m just happy for your first day of work.”

Jack stretched his shoulders. “Yeah. I’ll get ready and then head out.”

The Texas sun was just peeking over the horizon. The calendar read January 16, 1996. As Jack prepared for his first day at work, he downed a cup of coffee and read the newspaper. Nothing important happening today. He got into his car, an old and beat-up Toyota sedan, and headed for the office.

Jack had just acquired a job at the private military corporation, or PMC, known as Tekko. With three years of experience in the SWAT, he was a good candidate for the job according to his recruiter. The office was a two hour drive down the highway.

When he arrived, he noticed that only two out of the dozen or so parking spots were taken. It was around eleven am. Jack climbed out of his car and went to the door.

The office was bland on the outside, just a square building with two windows that were covered by bars. It looked like it could fit in any middle-American town and not once be noticed by the people who walked past it each day. The door had iron reinforcing behind its glass wall.

Jack pressed the doorbell. Two minutes later the door opened. A tall, skinny, black-haired white man opened the door. He looked Jack up and down, then smiled and offered his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jack. Let’s go talk inside.”

They entered a small office. A large CRT monitor sat on the desk next to a Rolodex and a number of binders. The desk was quite messy. The man who had greeted Jack sat down.

“So, Jack.” He leaned back in his chair. “Take a seat, take a seat.”

Jack sat down.

“The name Nathaniel.” The man grinned. “I’m just here to bring you in. Your normal contact, well, I mean—” Nathaniel shrugged. “You’ll understand. We get a lot of turnover here.” Nathaniel turned to a whiteboard behind the desk. “What do you know about Tekko?”

Jack shook his head. “Not much.”

Nathaniel lifted his chin. “Good. That’s for the best, and we like to keep it that way.” Nathaniel folded his hands. “Tekko is, for all intents and purposes, a ghost. A company that no one should know by name unless you are of the small group of people who use us. We cannot advertise, we cannot be widely known, and our stock does not trade on the market.” Nathaniel shrugged. “In any case, the person who referred you will be getting compensated. Three years in the SWAT, right?”

Jack nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Nathaniel folded his hands. “Good. You’re a good trooper, Jack.” He extended his palm. “I’d like to formally welcome you to the world’s second best PMC.”

“Second best?”

Nathaniel ignored Jack. “Great. Let’s get started. What do we do here at Tekko? Anything and everything. Not like those bastards at Yarko, am I right?” He chuckled. “In any case. You will be called in as needed to assist with anything and everything. It could be finding a missing person, it could be eating dinner with a family, it could be as a bodyguard. You don’t know what missions you’ll be sent on until they actually occur.” Nathaniel stood up. “Now let me tell you about the brown program.” Nathaniel’s eyes became sharp. “In this company, you earn a brown point by coming back from a brown mission. Now, what is a brown mission?” Nathaniel drew a few symbols on the whiteboard. “Number one. Major threat to self. Number two. Intense disgust. And number three: incredible danger.”

“Will I be doing anything dangerous?” Jack tilted his head.

“Yes, of course.” Nathaniel smirked. “You signed on at a private military corporation. Therefore, you will be doing military things.”

“When do I start work?”

“Right now, as a matter of fact.” Nathaniel looked at his watch. “Your plane is leaving DFW in two hours.”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on—”

Nathaniel clapped Jack on the back. “Come on, kid! Let’s go.”

Jack drove to Dallas Fort Worth airport and parked in the parking structure. The pre 9/11 plane boarding process was quick and efficient. Two hours later Jack was in the air with a dossier.

Find the dog.

There was a picture of a dog and the name of his contact. He was headed to Morocco, with a layover in Paris.

“Damn.” Jack mustered to himself. He had used the airport payphone to tell his wife that he was going on a business trip.

Fifteen hours later he was in Morocco. The white brick buildings contrasted with the beautiful appearance of the thick blue sky. It was a stunning view.

Jack stepped off the plane onto the tarmac. A man wearing a suit and sunglasses approached him.

“Sir.” The man bowed. “This way.”

“Okay.” Jack followed the man into a limousine. “Where are we headed?”

“Somewhere where I can give you a briefing.”

The limo drove through the streets of Morocco, arriving half an hour later at a upscale restaurant called Goroski’s. Jack and the man stepped out onto a promenade, and were escorted into the building.

“For the Grueyers.” The man bowed.

They were led to a table, where a stunningly dressed woman with pinched eyebrows and lots of plastic surgery sat with a small eight-year old boy wearing the uniform of a prep school.

“Oh, my, my.” The woman had a thick French accent. “Is this the man who will be …” She eyed Jack up and down with an expression that Jack knew all too well at this point—being a black man. The woman waved her fan.

“Very well then. My name is Francine Grueyer. This is my son, William.” She pronounced the first letter of his name like a v.

William bowed. Francine swatted him on the back of his head. “William, dear. You are bowing too deep.”

William scratched the back of his head and said something in French.

Francine turned to Jack. “We are looking for our puppy, Godfry. He is somewhere in this city. I have exhausted every other avenue of attack at the moment. I do not know where our dear Godfry could be.” She appeared ready to cry. “Bring back our Godfrey!”

The first course of the dinner was served. Some sort of fish, with marvelously plated vegetables and sauce. Jack took a bite, and found the food to be better than he expected. When he imagined high-class food, he never imagined it to actually taste good.

The tablecloth was pristine. The walls sported expensive-looking paintings. There were three chandeliers above the tables.

The sommelier brought a wine bottle out and poured it into Jack’s glass while holding the bottom. Every motion of this man was perfection. His suit, his trim, his hair, his everything was perfect.

Jack had never felt so out of place in his life. Here he was, wearing the same shirt he had been wearing when he stepped on that plane, while everyone else was wearing expensive formal clothing. He felt inadequate.

There were a total of nine courses served, with wine. The table’s presence was exceedingly awkward.

Towards the end, Jack asked: “Do you know where you left the dog last?”

“Godfrey. His name is Godfrey, not “The Dog.”” Francine waved her fan in an irritated manner.

“Fine. Godfrey. Where did you last see him?”

William nodded and spoke English, also with a heavy accent. “He broke free of his leash near the pool of the Ottocan.”

“So I should start looking there.”

“Yes, that would be advisable.”

After the dinner was over, the two Grueyers left the table. The bodyguard who had been standing behind Jack the entire time tapped Jack’s shoulder.

Jack stood up. As they walked back to the limo, the bodyguard stopped. “I expect the best from your company.”

“Uh, yeah.”

The bodyguard opened the door to the limo and ushered Jack in.

“Where to?” The bodyguard got in next to Jack. The driver turned to face Jack.

“To the Ottocan, obviously.” Jack shrugged. “It’s the best place to start looking.” He looked around. “Do you have a picture of the dog?”

The bodyguard nodded. He pulled a picture out of his wallet and handed it to Jack. The picture looked well-loved.

Jack examined the picture. The dog was small and poofy with white fur. He imagined that it wouldn’t be that hard to find, as it looked nothing like the kind of dog you would find on the street.

“To the Ottocan.”

They arrived at the prestigious hotel about half an hour later. Jack got out of the limo and started walking towards the hotel’s entry. The bodyguard spoke a few words to the person guarding the entrance, after which the party was let into the building.

Jack walked to the pool first. The pool had an overlooking view of the ocean and the most beautiful part of the city. Sexy women and rather un-sexy men were making use of the facilities. It was about nightfall, with the sun setting over the horizon. The sunset appeared as if the hand of God himself were blanketing the city in orange and purple. A flock of birds flew overhead.

Jack took the picture of the dog to the concierge at the booth that rented out towels. “Dog.” He showed the concierge the picture. “Kalb. Where?”

The man spoke in perfect English: “Ah, I do remember seeing that one dog about two days ago.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it is fine. How can I help you?”

Jack pointed to the picture. “I need to find this dog as soon as possible. I heard that it was seen here last.”

“I have a very good memory for dogs.” The concierge pointed. “The dog you are looking for made its way through that fence over there when it was opened.”

Jack nodded. “Okay, thanks.” He looked around. It was getting dark, but every hour wasted meant a smaller chance of finding the dog.

Two hours of searching later, and Jack had acquired the dog. All it took was him showing the picture to the locals and using the Arabic word for “where”— And a few hundred dollar bills that Jack had “expensed” from the bodyguard. The dog was cooperative, licking Jack’s hand when he found it.

Jack brought the dog back to the hotel. It was around seven in the evening. Jack could tell the bodyguard was trying to hold back emotion when he saw the dog in Jack’s hands.

Jack handed the dog to the bodyguard, who made the call. An hour later, and the dog was in the hands of its owners. Jack couldn’t speak dog—yet—but he imagined the dog giving a sigh of relief. Being alone on the streets of a strange city without anyone to care for you is harsh, even for a dog.

Francine thanked Jack and handed him a stack of hundred dollar bills. Jack slid the money into his pocket. Two seconds later one of the hotel employees came up to him.

“You have a call.”

Jack went to where the payphones were. “Hi?”

“Jack.” It was someone Jack did not recognize. “My name is Andy. I’ll be your coordinator for this mission. Have you found the dog yet?”

“I found it.”

“Good. We’ve booked you a plane ticket back home. You leave in four hours.”

Jack was tired, but he couldn’t miss his flight home. Two hours later he was at the airport, and two hours after that he was in the air.

From January 17, 1996 to June 12, 1996, Jack performed seven dog-catching missions, all of them for very rich and very famous families. He did not miss a single dog.