Becky22, Zach’s scouting program had lost all traces of his daughter. Total communications blackout. Natalie Bryden, AKA Rebecca Cohen, had disappeared.
It hadn’t stopped searching though. The botnet was more than three million computers strong, and analyzing vast amounts of data took a fraction of a second to process. After four months it found a positive match. A voice message to a certain General Alain Laiveaux, division head of the French Foreign Legion, Geneva. It said:
“Hi, General, this is Dessetaux from Home Affairs. Natalie Bryden’s identity has been discontinued. French citizenship is confirmed, her new persona is Alexa Guerra. I’ll mail you the background. Has she sworn the oath yet?” The voice went silent and papers shuffled in the background. “OK, I’ll need the paperwork from your side please. I’ll mail you the passport; it should arrive in two weeks or so. Good luck, and we’ll talk soon.”
A day before her fourth month in the Legion, Natalie was summoned to Laiveaux’s office. She stood briefly in front of his office door, checking her uniform and composing herself. She rapped her knuckles on the door.
“In,” Laiveaux commanded in his gravelly voice.
She stepped inside, stood straight, then saluted. He looked up at her, smiling, gesturing towards a chair.
“General?” she asked when seated.
The tall man studied her with his piercing grey eyes. “Bruce sends his regards. I’ve been updating him with your progress, and I must say, we are impressed. You are making us proud, my girl. Your dad would have been proud as well.”
Immense relief surged through Natalie. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. “Thank you, General,” she said, trying to steady her voice.
The man nodded then stood up. He paced the room, his crop stuck into his armpit and his hands behind his back. “Tomorrow you will be receiving your white Kepi and will be officially introduced as a member of the French Foreign Legion.” He turned to her, studying her face with those intense grey eyes. He made her nervous.
“Thank you, General. Thank you so much,” she stammered. Had it been four months? She couldn’t recall. The past couple of months were a blur.
Laiveaux strode to a metal filing cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and removed a sheet of paper. He placed it on the desk and pushed it towards Natalie. It looked like a certificate of some kind.
“Your new identity,” Laiveaux said.
She held the certificate, scanning the contents. It was a temporary traveling permit. It afforded the bearer—Alexa Guerra—the protection of the French government as a permanent citizen of the Republic of France. Her photo was affixed to the top right-hand corner.
“Your passport will arrive in two weeks' time,” Laiveaux said.
Natalie blinked her eyes. She looked at Laiveaux then back at the certificate and sobbed as all the pent-up emotion drained from her body. Shut up, control yourself. She had been working toward this for months, and now she held the reward in her hands.
Laiveaux held out his arms. She jumped up and ran towards him and was comforted by a fatherly hug, crying against his chest.
“Well done, my girl, well done. You’ve made it,” he whispered, patting her back.
He held her shoulders at arms-length in front of him. “But that’s not all.”
She looked up at him, confused, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Excuse me, General?”
Laiveaux removed an epaulet from his top pocket and stuck out his hand.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” he said and handed her the badge. She took it from him and shook his hand, overawed.
“You deserve it. We all agree.”
Natalie stared at the rank. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it.
“Report for the graduation ceremony at 0700, sharp. You are dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Natalie looked at Laiveaux and back at the epaulet, shaking her head. She beamed at Laiveaux and saluted smartly. “General,” she said and turned on her heel and exited his office.
Once she closed the door, she shimmied a jig and silently screamed in jubilation.
Alexa bolted upright in bed as someone rapped on the door. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and fumbled for her watch. The luminous dials indicated close to two in the morning.
“What’s going on?” she shouted.
The drill sergeant opened the door and stuck his head inside the room. “We urgently need you on the parade ground, Lieutenant,” he said and softly closed the door.
Alexa jumped out of bed, pulled on her pants, and hurried outside, grabbing her jacket and Kepi from the back of a chair as she went.
The entire division had assembled on the parade ground. Bright lights shone from the encampment walls, casting eerie shadows around the troops. Steamy breaths hung above the bodies like a fog. Alexa rubbed her arms and fell in with her platoon.
The drill sergeant nodded at Laiveaux, who was standing in front of the soldiers on a low platform. Laiveaux lifted a voice amplifier to his mouth and spoke.
“A Legionnaire has been found dead tonight, beaten to death on the obstacle course.” He kept quiet and scanned their faces. “If anyone has any information regarding his murder, please step forward.”
A murmur swept through the assembled troops. Someone lifted his hand in a fist.
“Yes, Montpellier?” Laiveaux asked.
“Who was it, General?” the soldier asked, standing to attention.
“Pascoe. Benedict Pascoe.”
The murmur grew louder. A troop sniggered behind her.
“Anyone?” Laiveaux asked again.
The men settled down and became silent.
“In that case, your session will begin three hours early.” Laiveaux turned around with a wave of his hand and tossed the amplifier to the drill sergeant.
“Attention,” the sergeant shouted. In unison, the troops snapped to attention, bringing their heels down with a thud.
“The first one who throws up misses two meals,” the sergeant growled. “Five miles and then on to course six.”
Alexa sighed as she trundled to the obstacle course. She had a long day ahead of her.