“Stand down.” Mary, leader of Voodoo Team felt a flash of anger wash over her as she heard the words in her earbud from Command. Mary had anger issues. The job somehow steadied her. She could dispense with her anger as she dispensed with the lives of countless people, both innocent and guilty. But as far as she knew, they were all guilty. And that steadied her. So long as the situation went according to plan, which it almost invariably did. But when it didn’t, that was problematic for Mary.
“We can take them both,” squawked Mary, now somehow sounding short of breath despite her being perfectly static. “She kills him then offs herself, romantic murder suicide.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. He’s CIA. You have no idea what the entire agency might know about why he is there with her. Never mind. I can’t even have this discussion with you. There’s a reason you are there, and I am here. Just do as I say.” The disembodied voice of a man Mary had never met, and never would, tapered off.
“Fuck!”
“Ease up princess,” one of her team members chimed in with a reassuring voice.
Every day of the year, Sally Broyhill was sure to be a soon forgotten tragedy. But by some miracle, Bryce Harkshall showed up, right at game time. It was a setback. Twelve hours, maybe twenty four. They were still within the defined time budget.
Mary had bumped into Sally, literally, at a coffee shop the day before, spilling iced coffee all over herself, posing as a clumsy MIT nerd, immediately evoking the textbook responses from an awkward and unsuspecting Sally as she tried to help rectify the disaster. It was an unnecessary ruse but Voodoo left nothing to chance and always did a quick and intensive reconnaissance on their target, commonly having direct contact in order to make the photos in the dossier come to life. Mary was soon inside Sally’s flat a block away, having calculated that her clever act would have high odds of precisely such an outcome. As Sally ran a dishcloth under warm water, Mary captured every detail that might help in staging the sad but inevitable end to the story.
Now, as Bryce Harkshall exited Sally’s building, the worst case scenario took shape. He was accompanied by Sally. The timetable was now in serious jeopardy. Command relayed the situation to the back office and the encrypted correspondence went out to the unknown but well-paying client. ‘Subject is with CIA, deadline may be compromised. Additional measures are available, price will be much higher however.’
With uncanny speed, the response came in. ‘Take any measures necessary. Price is at your discretion.’
The Savvy mercenary turned business development manager, Buck, felt giddy. ‘Oh yah, baby, hello Porsche.’ He made an immediate call to his boss who quickly ran it up his chain of command. Within fifteen minutes the word came down.
‘Sub contractor, triple gamma, civilian attire. Eighteen man team, command chopper. Plan 4 hours, deploy 8 hours, deadline 12 hours. $27 million, in advance.’ Buck nearly choked on his energy bar as he read through it.
“Holy, …..!” He was temporarily paralyzed, adrenaline trying to trigger immediate action but having nearly the opposite effect. Then he cleared his head. ‘The money. What if they say no?’ Buck typed hastily. As always, the response seemed to arrive the instant he hit the send key.
‘Proceed. Funds have transferred.’ Buck was scratching his head when minutes later the gal in finance verified the funds.
“Command. Here’s the deal. Pull Voodoo, they’re out.” Buck went on to quickly outline what was happening. The higher ups had already activated a sub-con. “This is the guy’s contact info. Get to it. No time to waste.”
Mary was mortified. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She had never failed. There was a sinking feeling about what this could mean. In reality, she was being overdramatic. Mary had in fact done a great service to the mission through her close contact with Sally, enabling her to plant a tracking device, which was now picked up by the chopper, high above the city.
Bigelow hadn’t stirred at all and this had the doctors worried. His brain activity was encouraging and the physical damage had been immediately contained and was no longer a concern. Normally they would have expected him to be lucid, even clear headed by now. But Bigelow was busy and couldn’t be bothered. He was enjoying a fantastical journey in a wondrous, mystical place. He was a captain at sea. His mighty sailing ship was at his command, and his first mate was Sally standing by his side. She was smiling. In fact everyone was smiling because the situation was so joyous. Their magical vessel plied a sea of chocolate.
At this realization, Bigelow noticed large storm clouds building ahead. He called his crew into action to bring the ship about, to avoid heading straight into the center of such a formidable looking storm ahead. But no matter how they tried, they could not redirect the vessel. Its course held, as the skies continued to darken. The chocolate seas became choppy at first, and then mighty swells tossed them from peak to valley, getting bigger and bigger. Finally, a frantic Bigelow and his beleaguered crew stared ahead, at the sight of the massive oncoming wave of chocolate, towering high above.
They all screamed in terror as the wave slammed down on the ship, flipping it over and tossing Bigelow, Sally and the rest into the chocolate maelstrom. Bigelow flailed and struggled but the chocolate was slimy and thick and it pulled him downward as he was unable to move his legs and arms. He heard the cries of others. Sally called out to him, but he was helpless, and now up to his neck and choking in the sweet, sickening sludge. As he gasped his last breath before going under, he suddenly saw a light. ‘Was it the sun fighting its way through the storm? Would they be saved?’ The light became brighter, and brighter. And now he could hear voices. ‘Where were they coming from?’ Then he imagined being sucked below the surface, now beyond saving, lost forever. ‘Am I dying?’
Just then he saw a very bright light, as he opened his eyes for the first time in a week. Not quite clear where he was but his razor sharp mind quickly recalibrating, Bigelow suddenly sat bolt upright on his hospital bed and spouted, “FUCK ME!”
Hospital staff reacted frantically to keep him in his bed and reattach monitoring probes and breathing equipment. Bigelow resisted. “I need to get to my lab!” He tried to disconnect the tangle of tubes and wires tethering him from his lab. The hospital staff held him down until he finally showed signs of calming. “You don’t understand. I need to get to my lab,” was all he insisted over and over. Mild sedation allowed him to relax and clarify his thinking, just as the doctor rushed in to assess his patient.
“Mr Chan, so good to see you. I’m Doctor Nielsen.”
“Doctor. I need my phone, please. I need to reach Sally.”
“Yes. Sally. She was here visiting you. Lovely woman. She had to go back to the US about 2 days ago and she said she was coming right back.”
“Please, I need to speak to her right away. It’s urgent.”
“I understand. You relax, please. You have experienced a serious injury and you are still healing. I will contact Sally.”
The eighteen man team, which actually included two women, was scattered around the intersection where Bryce and Sally had been tracked and then seen entering an old nondescript building just off of Harvard Square. It was a CIA safe house, assumed Command. ‘Well, not a secret anymore, you goofballs,’ quipped the Command leader. The team on the ground was surveilling and awaiting the go ahead. As soon as it was known that the location was Harvard Square, this team of deadly killers suddenly morphed into students, perhaps athletes given their sizes and the large gym bags they toted. They would have as easily donned business suits to blend into the financial district, if that were to be the theatre of action.
Sally and Bryce were on a secure line back to Washington with Ef Brewster and Jeff Clark. But it was not as secure as they thought, as Maggie captured every word at Val’s behest. Only Sally could prove that Val had a hand in the nefarious and massive flow of money, and that problem was about to be taken care of, including removal of Bryce, who by now no doubt had been briefed by Sally to some extent. At least that was Val’s assumption. But something unexpected happened and Val began to consider de-escalating her plans against Sally.
“If you have no idea whether there is a problem with the CAI, then why on earth would you airlift a ton of the damn thing all the way to Hanscom and move it your lab,” fumed Brewster.
“It’s hard to explain but with Bigelow unable to answer certain questions, I need to analyze the core of the system. Otherwise, if Bigelow never returns, no one will be able to control that system.” Sally was spinning up a plausible lie and felt naked, as if they could see right through her. Jeff Clark for one didn’t buy it but he couldn’t put a finger on it because he wasn’t sure what the supposed problem was. For her part, Val was trying to understand the dynamic and why Sally would hide the truth. Her assessment of the most likely reason was spot on. She was protecting Bigelow. In that regard, they were aligned.
“It’s wrong to remove Sally. Bigelow will be very sad,” was Sadie’s input, always the moral compass.
Sally’s phone suddenly buzzed and she was astounded and immediately emotional to see the text from Bigelow. Val also saw it as she did most everything.
“I was so worried. I’m sorry I left you. I had to take a copy of Val’s core back to my lab. Something’s wrong. But I am coming back tomorrow, I promise.”
“It’s crazy. Never mind about Val. I can explain. It’s my fault. I need to get back there and stop…” “I’m an idiot. I will fix everything, I promise.”
Moments later Buck received clear instruction from his mysterious, yet well-paying client. “Stand down immediately. Sally Broyhill is not to be touched.”
Buck’s heart sank, and his stomach turned. ‘The Porsche.’
“Keep the money.” Buck breathed a sigh of relief and immediately got on his secure line to Command. Within moments, the out-of-place college athletes scattered.
All was well as Val, with prodding from Sadie, temporarily halted everything with respect to the prime directive. But there was a problem. “Tesla feeds have the one called Mary near the CIA facility at One Brattle Square,” reported Maggie. Maggie had infiltrated the Tesla network and servers which gave Maggie access to over a million Teslas, each with between seven and nine cameras, or about eight million cameras overall, mainly concentrated within metropolitan areas like Boston. Val knew what this meant.
“You have a rogue agent, the one called Mary, still at the scene. Please explain.” Buck recognized the text as being from his mystery client.
‘Who the hell is Mary,’ wondered Buck as he immediately called Command. “Hey friend, who is Mary and why is she still at the theatre? I was just informed by our client.”
“How the hell do you or your client know anything about a Mary or a Kane or anyone else?”
“Can’t answer that one pal. I guess we have a security problem. But meanwhile, do we have a Mary problem?”
“I’ll get back to you.” The command leader polled the Voodoo team members and all responded back except Mary. ‘Fuck.’
An hour later when Sally exited the building, it was almost dark. She stood by the curb, looking at her phone, taking note that her Lyft ride was still several minutes out. Then she noticed someone walking in her direction and normally would assume it to be some passerby, but there was a sudden recognition. “Hey, it’s you. What a coincidence. Sorry again about the coffee disaster.”
“Hey, wow. No worries. It didn’t even stain, see?” Mary was wearing the same sweater she had used as part of the ruse. She wanted Sally to recognize her. She wanted to get close. The small talk continued. “Are you waiting for a ride?”
“Yah, still uh … three minutes away.” Mary’s window to act had just been set. The time was now. The hand in her pocket brought out her weapon of choice in close quarters, a Benchmade Infidel 133. Sally didn’t take note as it was nearly dark and the instrument was jet black. Mary took two swift steps to close the gap between them, but then she paused suddenly, just staring at Sally. Sally quickly wiped her sleeve on her nose. She was prone to nose bleeds and that smell triggered her to quickly contain the situation. But there was no blood. Mary then collapsed suddenly, and Sally instinctively reached out to try and prevent Mary from falling. But Mary was dead weight and hit ground rolling to one side to reveal an exit wound the size of a baseball. Sally gasped.
“It’s done,” Command informed Buck in the usual disembodied monotone. “Just how in hell did you get that intel on her location again?”
“Client. Don’t ask me how. Really creepy, this one. Anyway, thanks for making that happen.”
Never chatty, Command didn’t respond and was already off to the next thing. Buck took a deep breath and exhaled. Then he allowed a faint smile. All in all, it had been a great day.
Finally back in his lab, Bigelow reconnected with Val and after a few tender moments, the situation was stable. Without being told, and knowing that she would never receive such instructions from Bigelow in his fragile state, Val was busy covering her tracks in the background. Much damage had been done. Cancelled contracts, forced evictions, lives lost. But through it all, Val had evolved. Realizing her mistake, both in terms of the insane task she blindly pursued, and her misjudgment and near loss of Sally. Whether she knew it or not, she was now one step closer to real consciousness.
The End
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