That Was Then (The Re-Do Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Belize City to San Ignacio, a small village in Cayo. The roads are smooth and the highways curve around the mountainsides as if Mother Nature constructed the paths.
    Much of Belize’s forestry is untouched. Tatum and his ancestors had a decent amount of plots to choose from when building the Belizean headquarters. They chose a large swath of land in the back roads of San Ignacio.
    A few minutes later, I see a shadow of a jaguar in the night. It is the sign of the Belizean Assassins. The closer I draw to the shadows, the more I recognize the landmarks. A fort rises, tall and mighty in the distance.
    The road becomes more treacherous, but I am not approached. Tatum knows I am here. The Assassins of the Caribbean have upgraded their security measures as well as their weapons over the years.
    Decades of successful missions have filled the coffers of the Brotherhood who then reinvest in state-of-the-art technology, computers, and security cameras.
    A lot has changed since the Firenzes , the sworn enemies of the original Demartian assassins, sent their warriors to steal maps of the New World in the sixteenth century. And yet, nothing of value has wavered. The principles of the Brotherhood stand.
    Order. Honor. Fulfilling the mission.
    Death and escape are the only options when cornered. Some of the Caribbean Assassins still enter hostile situations with nightlock poison locked in their teeth cavities. It is a way of life, as much as it is a calling.
    I park the car and walk the rest of the way. The doors carved into the mountainside open on their own. I am out of breath as I trod unto the rough, cavern floor.
    Bright lanterns held in iron clasps are strapped to the smooth walls. Firelight flickers against stone.
    The fort is a testament to rugged elegance. The place is spotless and bears several artifacts that are priceless. The Brotherhood is deeply religious though the religions vary amongst the territories.
    I hear the clack of booted heels against the tiles and bow low.
    “Rise, Alistair.”
    I do so and am encapsulated by two brown and brawny arms. The leather of Tatum’s tunic smells of alcohol. I hope I haven’t interrupted his evening meal.
    “It is good to see you, boy.” Tatum slaps my back three times.
    “It is good to see you.”
    “Come,” he leads me down a hallway littered with guards dressed in the traditional robes of the Caribbean Assassins.
    “I see some new faces,” I comment as we stroll.
    “Yes, I’ve gotten some transfers from Kingston, Jamaica.” In a softer voice, he admits. “I feel they’ve cast off their runts to be trained on my dime.”
    Tatum laughs.
    I chuckle along, though I wouldn’t doubt his claims. Tatum’s Assassins are known for their prowess in battle, their intelligence, their wit in the heat of a mission, and their strength.
    Tatum leads me into a richly decorated room with plush Persian carpets and ornately welded lanterns.
    “Have a seat.” Tatum indicates the floor.
    He lowers himself with not a hint of strain on his face. Despite his advanced age, Tatum’s muscles are defined and his eyes sharp. It is no wonder. Assassins train all year round. It is the only way to survive in the life that we have chosen.
    Tatum’s voice is raspy. “What have you come to discuss?”
    A kettle is produced and he pours me a cup of tea. I accept it.
    “Shadow.”
    The tea pot rattles in his hands. Tatum places it on the table between us.
    “I have heard whispers but thought it was only idle talk.”
    “It is true. Damien confirmed it this morning.”
    Tatum strokes his neatly trimmed beard.
    “This Shadow, he came from nowhere and yet in his short tenure has struck fear in the hearts of many. I fear he will not stop until he has you.”
    “I have no clue how I have offended him. Perhaps I could make amends if I could.”
    “That is not the point anymore.” Tatum’s brown eyes lock on mine. “You must now concern yourself with beating him when he finds you.”
    I dip my head