Jack Martin flipped the channel as the commercial came on. He'd try
to switch back for the wrap-up, but all in all he'd seen what he needed to.
It was depressing. He couldn't help but like and admire that old gypsy,
climbing into a cage with a half-dozen wild beasts, and at his age as well.
And now they wanted Jack to kill him.
Of course, it wouldn't be as simple as all that. This group was all
about finesse, about elaborate deaths that "send messages" and "make
statements". Jerry Krieghund (the last name meant "war-dog", if Jack's
limited knowledge of German served properly; secretly Jack referred to
Jerry as "Warthog") seriously seemed to believe that taking someone's life
in the name of a "cause" was not the same thing as "murder".
But there were a lot of people like that in the world.
Jack had no intention of committing murder, of course. But up until
that point he had to behave as if he shared Jerry's lack of compunction as
much as every other morally-challenged member of Tiger, Tiger. And when the
moment came to act, to clean up this infected crazy house and cage the rats
that ran wild in its walls, he would do so with pride.
He could only hope that moment came before he was expected to kill
for the cause.
His scheme to ensure that was brilliant. For whatever reason (most
likely the fake background the Bureau had concocted for him... intelligence
background, architectural degree, high IQ), Jerry had entrusted him with
the planning and execution of "Operation Big-Top". Jack had responded with
a wild and complicated plan that was sure to appeal to Jerry's demented
sense of drama and "justice"; and just as sure to take a long time to plot
and implement. Jerry had responded with predictable enthusiasm; it was an
even more spectacular set-up than the underground lab had been, and that
had blasted Tiger, Tiger onto the front page of every paper in the country.
Jerry had set Jack up with a devoted team of workers, whose
enthusiasm certainly outpaced their skill, but with whose help he had been
able to get the project underway with little fuss. It was somewhat
frightening to think of the resources Jerry was able to command; Jack was
given all the raw materials he needed promptly and unquestioningly. The
Bureau had been unable to track Tiger, Tiger through any of the purchases
they had made for previous "events"; it was reasonable to guess that these
were equally untraceable.
It had been less than six months since Jack Martin's initiation.
And here he was building a circus.
It wasn't specifically a circus that Jack was building, of course;
just a small-scale replication that would serve as a backdrop for Jerry's
Torture Tableau (over my dead body, Jack thought). Still, it was the most
ambitious undertaking for a terror org that couldn't be faulted for lack of
ambition.
Jack was up to the task, though. He did, indeed, have a degree in
architecture and a high I.Q. - things like that were tough to fake, so he
made sure there was nothing on his bureau-constructed bio that he couldn't
back up in real life or at least bluff his way through with aplomb. With
the stakes so high in this little game - his neck for starters; a lot of
other people's necks as well - he couldn't afford to be tripped up because
someone put on his resume that he was, say, fluent in Russian, but unable
to say anything beyond "Da, comrade," when called on it.
It would be a really stupid thing to get killed over.
So Jack was careful. Very careful. He had told his superiors, and
they had agreed, that there would be no attempt by him to get in touch
until and unless he felt a hundred percent certain that he was not being
observed. He would work autonomously, waiting for an opening and moving on
it on his own recognizance. If he got the chance, he would warn the bureau;
if not, he would try to monkeywrench Tiger, Tiger's plans and hope for the
best.
It was a dangerous game. And an exciting one.
Jack looked over the plans once more. Despite its overall purpose,
he was proud of the work he had done. Sort of how Albert Speer must have
felt. Jack Martin, Nazi Architect of Animal Rights.
Hitler, of course, was a vegetarian.
Jack rolled up the blueprints and strode out of the shack to survey
the construction that had been completed so far.