Chimera

by Orion Gaudio

  The messages faded.

  He didn’t have much faith in them. This was the kind of mission he had always counted on Turner for. Now, though, he was stuck with his B-team. Not ideal for such an important mission. He’d tried to convey that to The Council, but they had brushed it off and told him to proceed.

  Howard leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

  22

  Turner flashed his lights at Alice and pulled off the highway. He saw her hand go up as she waved to him. A smile flashed across his face, but it quickly faded as the mine came into view.

  He wasn’t eager to be back there, especially after the way Howard had talked to him when he was there that morning. On the drive back from Pittsburgh, he thought about how to broach the ordeal with his boss. He decided to apologize a second time… and then put his foot down. Turner wanted to be put back on active duty and he wanted to be the agent to bring Rollins in.

  The guard recognized him and let him through. Turner took a deep breath and stepped out of his car.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  He walked inside and headed for Howard’s office. Jess saw him coming and jumped up from her desk.

  “He’s busy right now.”

  Turner stopped and looked at her.

  “Will you tell him I’m here?”

  She swallowed and nodded. Turner leaned against the wall as she disappeared into the office. He heard Howard shouting and then Jess came out.

  “He doesn’t want to see you. He said ‘Tell him to go home’.”

  Turner shook his head. Howard was being stubborn. Not unusual for him, but he had always listened to Turner in the past. He wondered what had changed.

  “Fine.”

  He turned and walked down the hall to the office of Dr. Harrison. Turner knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  He opened the door, walked in, and closed it behind himself.

  “James… how are you?”

  “Not so great, Doc.”

  “Did you just get back from a mission?”

  “No, well… yesterday.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “How come you didn’t come to see me?”

  He lifted his shirt and peeled back the bandage. She walked over to him and inspected his wound.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Take a seat.”

  He sat down on the end of her exam table.

  “When did this happen?” she asked.

  “Few days ago.”

  “It’s a decent stitch job… so I’m assuming it wasn’t you?”

  It was a running joke between them for the last five years. Turner had been injured on a mission, a knife cut to his stomach, and he’d tried to stitch it up himself… and hadn’t done a very good job. When he returned, Dr. Harrison scolded him and told him to seek proper medical attention the next time he needed stitches.

  “It was not.”

  “Take off your shirt.”

  He pulled it over his head and tossed it on the table behind him. Without warning, she ripped the tape off along with a few hairs.

  “A little warning next time, Doc.”

  “Where would the fun in that be?”

  She cleaned the wound and poked around the area. It was still slightly red and tender to her touch.

  “Any pain?”

  “Only when I move… or breathe.”

  She nodded and walked around to his back. Dr. Harrison pulled off the bandage and cleaned the area.

  “I can tell you’re still single,” she said.

  “How?”

  “The bandage on your back was crooked and barely covering the wound.”

  Turner cracked a smile and shook his head.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “Come back in a week and I’ll take out the stitches.”

  She fetched some gauze and tape from the cabinet and fixed him up.

  “Is that it?”

  “And try not to exert yourself. I’m assuming you’re not on active duty while this heals?”

  “Uh… I’m not.”

  “Good. The last thing you need is to rip open the stitches doing something crazy. It’s starting to heal, so it would be good if you could keep it that way.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Do you want something for the pain?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “You men… always trying to be tough. You can put your shirt back on.”

  He stood up from the table and pulled his shirt back over his head.

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Of course, James. Take care of yourself. Try not to get shot anytime soon.”

  “I’ll try.”

  She smiled at him as he turned and walked out of the room. He walked down the hallway and paused when he reached Howard’s office. Jess wasn’t at her desk. Turner walked up to the door and opened it.

  Howard looked up from his computer.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Turner closed the door and sat down.

  “What’s the status of Rollins?” he asked, completely ignoring the question.

  “You’re not on active duty. You know I can’t discuss an ongoing mission with you.”

  “Give me a break, Howard.”

  “Did Jess let you in here?”

  “No, she wasn’t at her desk.”

  Howard sighed and rubbed his temples.

  “You need to get out of here. I told you I’d let you know if and when you could come back.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “Not good enough? Did you forget that you work for me? Do you want me to dismiss you permanently?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? That’s exactly what’s going to happen if you continue down this path.”

  Turner stood up and started toward the door. He stopped and turned around.

  “Look, Howard, I know you’re disappointed. I get it. I really do. It wasn’t my fault, though. I did everything I could to get the flash drive. I didn’t choose Rollins to assist on the mission.”

  Howard didn’t say anything. He just sat there, looking at Turner, for a time. Eventually, Turner gave up and walked out of the office. He had never known Howard to be so stubborn when it came to him going on a mission, but he had tried and there was nothing more he could do.

  The only thing he could do was wait and hope that Howard would come around soon.

  Turner walked out of the mine and headed back to his car. The drive home gave him time to think about what to do, but he found his thoughts kept drifting back to Alice and the time they had spent together.

  When she dropped him off at the airport, he wanted to ask her when they’d see each other again, but he didn’t. During their time at the botanical gardens and at lunch, he’d continued to think about if she was interested in having a romantic relationship with him. Turner ultimately couldn’t get a read on her, though. One minute he thought she was flirting with him and the next he thought she was just being nice because she didn’t know anyone else in Altoona.

  He promised himself that the next time he saw her he’d try to feel her out and maybe even ask her what she was thinking. Turner didn’t know when that would be though, they had parted ways at the airport without making plans to see each other again. If he were being honest, he was a little disappointed. He had enjoyed spending time with her, and he assumed she felt the same way.

  Turner got back to his house and headed inside. He took his phone out of his pocket as he sat down on his couch. There was a text from Alice.

  Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for today. I really needed that.

  He smiled and wrote out a response.

  You’re welcome… and thank you. It was nice of you to drive me all the way to Pittsburgh to get my car.

  Turner hesitated as he tho
ught about asking her when he would see her again. He decided against it and sent the message.

  She had made it clear that she’d just come out of a bad relationship, so he wanted to be respectful of that.

  He grabbed the TV remote from his coffee table and flipped through the channels. Turner found himself glancing down at his phone every few seconds, hoping that there’d be a message from Alice. Nothing. He realized how absurd it was for him to obsess over it—she would text him when she was ready.

  23

  Rhys lifted the Styrofoam cup and took a sip of the coffee. Barely warm and bitter. The powdered milk and copious amount of sugar made it remotely tolerable.

  “I don’t like this,” Rhys said.

  Smith glanced over at him and took a bite of his gas station sandwich.

  “Of course you don’t.”

  “I’m going to give Turner hell for screwing up his mission.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just stupid. He failed his mission and now we’re stuck doing the dirty work. He should be here right now instead of us.”

  They had been sitting in front of the apartment building for the last ten hours. Every couple hours one of them would take a break to use the bathroom at the gas station down the road, but other than that nothing had happened.

  “Fair enough.”

  Rhys took another sip of his coffee and then set the cup in the holder.

  “Plus, this coffee sucks.”

  “And that’s his fault?” Smith asked.

  “Well, I wouldn’t be here if he could actually do his job.”

  Smith looked over at his partner and shook his head.

  “You serious?”

  “You know it’s true.”

  “Did you forget that Turner trained both of us? I know for a fact I’m alive today because of what he taught me.”

  “Whatever. He’s clearly past his prime, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “He’s still in his thirties,” Smith said. “I’ll be lucky if I can last that long in this game.”

  Smith looked back at the apartment. No activity. They’d been waiting for an update from NIA with the location of the target, but so far nothing. The best they could do was stake out his apartment and hope he showed up.

  “Where did NIA pull you from?” Smith asked.

  They’d worked together a couple of times since they were hired, but he didn’t know much about the man sitting next to him.

  “Howard picked me up when I was discharged from the Army,” Rhys said.

  “You serve in the middle east?”

  “Six tours in Afghanistan. You?”

  “Iraq. Two tours with combat search and rescue.”

  “You mess up royally?”

  “No,” Smith said, shaking his head. “We got hit by an IED on a mission three days before I was supposed to take leave. Most of my unit didn’t make it. I got lucky. Took some shrapnel in my back, but it was enough for a medical discharge.”

  “Damn, that’s nasty.”

  “It was.”

  He still carried the scars from the shrapnel, but he was alive… which was more than he could say for most of his unit.

  A light came on in the bedroom of the apartment. Both men shifted in the seats.

  “Should we move on him?” Rhys asked.

  “No, we’re supposed to just surveil and report.”

  It was the first time they’d had any luck tracking down the target, so it was hard to sit on their hands. Neither man was about to disobey orders, though. Doing so could land them without a job, a risk neither was willing to take before talking to Howard.

  Smith took his phone out of his pocket and logged into the mobile VPN to send a message back to NIA.

  Amur

  Target potentially sighted at place of residence. Please advise.

  Gyr

  Do not engage. Observe and track. Report any movements.

  “What did they say?” Rhys asked.

  “Just to keep an eye on him.”

  “Stupid. We could storm in there right now and get the flash drive back… and be home by tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, it sounds like a great way for us to join Turner on suspension.”

  Rhys grumbled and shook his head.

  Neither of them was pleased with the instructions. Howard had made it clear that failure wasn’t an option. Smith was a little more level-headed about the whole thing, which he assumed was part of the reason they’d been paired up for the mission.

  A shadow passed in front of the window of the apartment and the light turned off.

  “We should go right now,” Rhys said.

  “No, let’s just wait and see if he comes out.”

  “We’re going to lose him.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Howard made it clear—we’re not supposed to engage, not until we’re sure it’s him and he has the flash drive in his possession.”

  Rhys huffed and shook his head.

  “Whatever, man. It’s your ass if we lose track of him.”

  “Fine,” Smith said, “I can deal with that.”

  Less than a minute later the front door of the apartment building opened and out walked Rollins.

  “How do you want to play this?” Rhys asked.

  “I’ll follow him on foot. You follow in the car a few minutes back. I’ll text you updates as we go.”

  “You sure? I can go on foot.”

  Smith shook his head.

  “You’re already behind the wheel. This is easier.”

  “Fine.”

  Smith didn’t want to explain that he didn’t trust Rhys enough. He didn’t have enough faith in his partner, which was a problem. Smith knew that Rhys could easily become frustrated with the mission if he were the one following Rollins, and could decide to take matters into his own hands. It would mean they could capture the man, but they had no idea where the flash drive was… and Howard had made it crystal clear to them that the recovery of it was their main goal.

  They watched as Rollins walked by the row of cars parked in front of the apartment building.

  “OK,” Smith said, as he reached for the door handle. “I’m going.”

  He got out of the car and crossed to the other side of the street. It would be a challenge to follow Rollins, who was a CIA field agent, so he’d have to keep his distance while not losing him.

  Rollins made a right at the next street. Smith crossed the street and followed him at a distance of two hundred feet. He took his phone out of his pocket and texted Rhys the update.

  Turned right on Grant. I’m two hundred feet back.

  He glanced up and saw that Rollins was still in view. Smith watched as Rollins slowed his pace and took his phone out of his pocket. He stopped for a few seconds and then put his phone away and started walking. Smith glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see Rhys anywhere on the street.

  Rollins opened the door of a restaurant and walked inside. Smith took out his phone and sent a text to Rhys.

  Entered restaurant. Go check the apartment. Will text any changes.

  Smith put his phone away, waited a minute, and then went into the restaurant. He walked up to the hostess station and looked around. Rollins was seated at a table near the far side of the restaurant with his back to the door.

  “Can I sit at the bar?”

  “Of course, you can seat yourself.”

  Smith took a seat that allowed him to see Rollins without turning his head. The bartender walked over and handed him a menu.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Club soda and lime.”

  The bartender frowned and left to make the drink. He would have loved a beer, but Smith wanted to stay focused in case anything happened with Rollins and they needed to take him down. He took his phone out of his pocket and set it on the bar.

  The bartender came back and set his drink down.

  “Did you want to order some food?”

  “Sure.”

  He picked up the menu and quickly flipped
through it.

  “I’ll take an order of nachos.”

  He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to create the illusion of being a customer as long as he was sitting there and keeping an eye on Rollins. The bartender nodded and went to place the order on his computer.

  Smith lifted his drink and took a sip, his eyes locked on Rollins the entire time. His hope was that Rhys would find the flash drive stashed in the apartment, and then they could just leave town before Rollins had realized what happened. It was unlikely, he knew that, but it was the best possible outcome. He was aware that Rollins likely wouldn’t leave the flash drive just sitting around, especially if he knew how badly NIA wanted it back.

  His phone lit up, and he looked down to read the text from Rhys.

  Nothing so far. Still good there?

  Smith swiped his finger across the screen to unlock it and wrote out a response.

  No change here. Keep looking.

  His plate of nachos showed up a minute later. Smith picked at them, but only ate a few—they’d been eating the entire stakeout and he wasn’t hungry. He finished his drink and ordered another, much to the dismay of the bartender.

  Smith watched as Rollins took his phone out and made a call. As soon as he finished, he stood up from the table and walked toward the door. Smith lifted his drink to obscure his face, but kept his eyes on Rollins. He picked up his phone and sent a message to Rhys.

  He’s leaving.

  Smith paid his bill in cash and walked out of the bar just in time to see Rollins rounding the corner and heading back in the direction of his apartment. He texted Rhys.

  Heading toward apartment. Get out.

  Rollins walked back to the apartment, but stopped in the front and looked around. Smith ducked behind a parked car and waited. A black Mercedes pulled up in front of the building and Rollins got into the passenger seat. The car turned around and headed in the opposite direction. He stood up and ran back to their car. Rhys already had it running when he got in.

  “Let’s go,” Smith said.

  Rhys shifted the car into gear and pulled out.

  “You find anything in the apartment?”

  Rhys shook his head.

  “Nope, nothing. Not even a safe or anything. He must have it on him.”

  “Probably.”