by Alex Howell
Raina laughed, “What? That is the most ridiculous thing that I’ve ever heard. Is that something you picked up in the SEALS?”
To which Mason vigorously shook his head, “No—at the mess hall for the SEALS I didn’t have to call the food crap—it really was crap.”
Benton seated across from Mason then keyed him in, “Alright boss—that’s enough jibber jabber, your little girl has arrived.”
Now with his undivided attention, Mason was all smiles as Clara came over and sat down next to him. Patting her on the hand he asked her, “So how does it feel to be a college grad?”
Clara answered, “I feel a strong sense of closure, yet also a little bit incomplete.”
Mason taken a bit aback by this profound sounding statement, questioned, “What do you mean?”
To which Clara sighed, “Well—its just that I don’t want to waste any more time reaching my goals.”
Mason answered with surprise, “Waste any more time? Clara you graduated right on time!”
Clara shrugged, “You might think so—but training for the CIA is starting this Fall, if I don’t hurry up and get ready soon, I might miss out.”
Mason grinned, “Don’t worry kid, I’ll make sure your ready.”
Clara smiled, “Really?”
Mason nodded, “Yeah really.”
The rest of the night the group spent in recollection and revelry, as they discussed all of the highs and lows of the past few years. After they finished their meal, Mason, Raina, and Clara then said their goodbyes to the others, as they drove off for their new life together in Baltimore.
3
The Stage is Set
A SHORT TIME LATER, IN IPSOLA GREECE.
Ipsola, the busy border town on the Greek/Turkish border, was even busier than usual. Near the checkpoint that allows entrance from Turkey to Greece there is a massive debate taking place. Crowds championing the cause of Turkey entering the EU and essentially dissolving such a checkpoint, have gathered in force. Others who were dead set against the inclusion of Turkey into the European Union were in place as well. The ideological trenches had been dug and war seemed imminent.
This day of tumult was the product of several decades of debate—essentially since the European Union began—over whether or not Turkey could be accepted into the European fold. For those who wished Turkey to join up, they viewed Turkey as a decent enough economy to help Greece when it lagged behind, as well as nation of highly educated people that could contribute to European society as a whole.
Turkey itself was always on the crossroads of Europe with the North Eastern quadrant considered European, whereas the rest of the nation was geographically designated to belong in Asia Minor. So, whether or not its European counterparts accepted it in paper, a big chunk of Turkey had been thoroughly European for quite some time.
For those that were against the inclusion of Turkey into the EU, the main reason has always been out of fear of opening up a Pandora’s Box. Because it was widely believed that opening the door to Turkey would not just allow easy access to the Turks, but would also bring wave upon wave of migrants from Iraq, Iran, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, and essentially everywhere else in the Middle East and even North Africa—all pouring through the newly open borders created between Greece and Turkey.
For these dissenters, the idea of Turkey entering the European Union would be an unmitigated disaster of epic proportions, and lead to essentially the end of Europe as it has been known for most of its history. Case meanwhile was not a major philosopher or political strategist on such issues, and in reality, on the ideological level, he didn’t even really consider this his fight.
But all the same, he had a job to do, and as an intelligence officer working for the U.N., he had been put in place in order to prevent Greek and Turkish agitators from sparking a larger war between the two nations. Case and Mustafa both dressed in casual civilian garb, stood in the middle of the protestors, pretending to be pro-entry activists. Case even carried a sign with him that read, “Let our Turkish brothers come home!”
The message was fairly ambiguous to him—come home to what? Nevertheless, he held up his sign and pretended to be one with the demonstrators for Turkey’s entry into the European Union. He was in the middle of mimicking a few chants, just as the demonstration was heating up, when Mustafa standing next to him suddenly hissed into his ear, “Alright Case! The time is near!”
Mustafa then pointed up at the stage just as a couple of right-wing Greek separatists strode onto the platform. They were dressed in camouflage gear as if they were some kind of paramilitary soldiers—even though most likely neither one had ever held a rank in the Greek Armed forces in his life. One of the extreme right wingers then approached the podium and began to speak into the microphone, “Today is the day that we make our stand!”
A statement that brought alternating cheers from his supporters and jeers from the pro-Entry demonstrators. The rightwing leader then declared, “If we don’t take a stand today then, when will we? We have to save our country—our mother land from this unwarranted infiltration!”
As he stared up at the stage, Case the hard jab of Mustafa’s bony elbow as he hissed into his ear, “Is it ready?”
Case then slightly opened up his jacked and revealed what looked like an explosive device. Mustafa seeing the object voiced his approval in Greek, as he chortled, “Poly Kala! Poly Kala!” A Greek phrase for “Very good! Very good!”
Case still playing the role of American mercenary, then pushed and shoved his way through the crowd until he was right on the steps leading up to the platform. He was somewhat amazed that security hadn’t yet spotted him, and that he had even managed to make it this far.
Nevertheless, Case continued playing the part of an agitator as he got the right winger at the microphone’s attention by shouting, “Edo pera! Kopanos!” Which in English roughly translated as “Over here! Jerk!”
As soon as the man turned to look at Case—Case threw a grenade right at him. But what happened next wasn’t the massive explosion that Case’s terrorist handlers were expecting. Because as the speaker stared in shock the bomb hit him right in the stomach—the force of which knocked the wind out of him—but it didn’t immediately explode.
Instead it rolled right down his leg to the floor of the platform where it suddenly erupted into billows of smoke. The right-winger’s partner seeing what was happening, bailed on his colleague and leapt from the stage. The smoke was quickly too thick for the other man to depart however, And as Case climbed the rest of the way onto the stage as he smiled to himself at his handiwork, he thought, ‘Tastes good huh? Eat a freaking smoke bomb buddy!’
But this hapless speaker was not his true target—his real target was the agitators that were scheduled to be deployed in the chaos. Case stood on the side lines, and just as he expected, Mustafa’s men went ahead and stormed the stage. But in the smoke, they were confused and not sure what to do.
Taking full advantage of this fact, Case quickly slapped on a mini-gas mask and ran forward like the commando that he was. He could see about 5 guys on the stage, armed and ready to start the next Greco Turkish war. It was something that had been building for centuries and now suddenly a quiet warrior known simply as Case was the only one standing between war and peace.
Case took out his peacemaker—his trusty semi-automatic—and opened fire. First, he took out the guy closest to him with a clean shot to the head. He then dropped low and did a commando roll to his left, coming up just in time to shoot the gun out of one of the terrorists trying to approach his position. As the man howled in pain and grabbed his injured hand, Case shot him in the stomach, chest, and throat in rapid succession.
Case didn’t relish killing, he just took it as part of his job. But it was a job that he did with such clockwork precision that most would either find it admirable, extremely frightening, or some combination of both. But in this dark mission, he was not told to take prisoners—he was simply told to take out the agitator
s and leave.
And that’s what he intended to do. He got to his feet and rushed to the right just as bullets from the remaining three main sailed in his direction. Ducking down again, Case managed to shoot one in the shoulder and another in the stomach. But under such heavy fire his aim just wasn’t precise enough to take the men down outright.
So it was that he leapt for cover behind the podium just as the only uninjured assailant charged toward his position. Like some scene out of the Wild West, Case and this figure found themselves in a stand off with each exchanging intermittent rounds of fire. The man took an unexpected tact however, as he grabbed up the rightwing speaker who had been cowering for cover, and began using him as a human shield.
Marching right up to Case’s position he shouted, “You want to kill me? You want to kill me? You will have to kill him first!”
Case was more than willing to risk his own life to take down his targets, but he wasn’t ready to create collateral damage by allowing for the deaths of civilian, non-combatants—no matter what their political beliefs might be. As he sunk down low beneath the wooden podium, now riddled with bullets, the ever-resourceful Mr. “Just in” Case was actively seeking out a Plan B.
4
Looking to the Future
MEANWHILE IN BALTIMORE, MARYLAND
Clara, and Raina were seated around the kitchen table, with plates full of Mason’s specialty—sugary scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns—waiting for Mason to take a seat. It was their first breakfast together since Clara’s graduation.
Mason at the counter, poured himself a cup of coffee before looking over to Clara and offering, “You want some morning joe kid?”
Clara holding out her coffee cup accepted, “Sure Dad, fill er’ up.”
After pouring her coffee for her, Mason put the pot back on the counter and sat down right in between the two people that meant more than anything in the world to him, his new wife Raina and his young adult daughter, Clara.
Mason momentarily gazed at Clara as she sipped her coffee and his mind suddenly flashed back to when she was just a little girl, shortly after her mother had passed away. In his mind’s eye he could clearly see her as she was back when she was 2 years old, crying because she couldn’t sleep at night.
Mason would go into her room and stay up half the night, just to make sure she didn’t have any nightmares. He would check the closets for bogeyman, look under the bed, and sit by her side until she was slumbering peacefully. The phantom’s he fought back then were just figments of Clara’s imagination of course, but as she grew older, very real threats emerged from the shadows.
Dwelling on this fact, Mason’s mind went to the time in Clara’s teens when one of his enemies actually arranged to have his daughter held hostage. Upon discovering that Clara had been kidnapped he felt that his entire world was at an end. And even though he wasn’t usually much of a religious man, he did indeed thank God every single day for her safe return.
And now here she was, the fruit of all this labor and hardship—a fully grown, vibrant, intelligent, and independent woman ready to take on the world. As Clara’s life flashed before Mason’s eyes, Clara caught his wistful gaze and asked, “Dad are you alright?”
Mason shaking himself out of his daydream, cleared his throat, and looked down at the table as he replied, “What? Uh—yeah I’m fine.”
Clara glanced over to Raina who gave her a knowing look, before turning back to her father and sighing, “You looked like you were miles and miles away from us just now—what are you thinking about?”
Before answering, Mason took a swig of his coffee, thought about it a moment, and then replied, “Just thinking about your life and all the great things that you might do in the future.”
Clara slightly blushing from the sudden attention, asked, “Really?”
Mason nodded, “Yep…”
Raina then spoke up, “Hey Clara---so Mason is telling me that you want to go straight into training to join the CIA?”
Clara resolutely nodded, “Yeah… I think that the CIA is the best place for me…”
To which Raina echoed, “The best place for you?”
Clara took a sip of her coffee before elaborating, “I’ve been practicing for this since I was 17—” Clara then trailed off, and her face darkened a bit as she continued, “—since the time I was kidnapped.”
Mason looked at Clara and then to Raina as he sighed, “Yeah… she learned the hard way just how bad some segments of humanity are… And I think she made a proclamation to herself to fight it….”
Clara nodded, “Instead of being a victim, I decided to make a stand and the CIA is the best place for me to do that.”
Mason then remarked, “You know, when that incident occurred, it was a real major effort to—”
Mason trailed off as if to this very day he still struggled to quantify what had happened. He finally settled on, “—to get her back.”
He then continued, “It was a real effort in which I had to work with all kinds of intelligence operatives and some of my old navy SEAL friends. Even Tessa got involved.”
The mention of who’s name caused a visible shudder in Raina, who recalled being herself captured unaware and held at the barrel of a gun. Tessa Rogers led a complicated life as a double agent and most of the time the Onyx team didn’t know what side she was on—including the harrowing incident popping into Raina’s mind of when she was held hostage by this former ally.
Tessa redeemed herself in the end however, by giving her life to save Mason and stop a terrorist plot. Raina remembering as much remarked, “Tessa—now that was a complicated character…”
Mason vividly recalling in his mind’s eye the great sacrifice she made, referring to her as her old SEAL nickname, softly intoned, “Hawkeye—you really gave it your all.”
Clara changing subjects, then reminded them, “I have trained so hard with my father to reach this day—it would be a waste not to pursue it.”
Clara then looked down at the table and thought quietly for a moment before looking over to her father and asking, “You remember my first mission with Onyx?”
Clara was of course referring to the group of private contractors that had just recently disbanded after Mason wed Raina. The mission she referred to was actually a time when she “sneaked” her way into the group to help them work on a case.
Mason remembering how upset he was at the time, slightly rolled his eyes even as he smiled, assuring her, “Yes, I remember your first mission.”
Raina then inquired, “So when do you think you are going to sign up?”
Clara thought about it for a moment before telling them, “Well—I’ve been trying to get my references together.”
A remark that made Mason laugh as he put down his coffee cup, “References! Clara—I think by now you have letters of recommendation from almost every level of government.”
Mason then thought about it, before adding, “Even from a former President!”
Clara reluctantly nodded, “Yeah—I guess you are right. But I just want to make my entrance into the CIA as perfect as possible.”
Raina smiled, “Perfect as possible huh?”
She then thought to ask, “So just when does open enrollment start?” to which Clara answered, “August 1st.”
Raina noting the fact that they were in the middle of July then posited, “Ok—so that means you have a couple of weeks to prepare.”
Clara sighed, “Yeah… But first I have to be accepted”
Mason and Raina knowing that she was a shoe in for acceptance could hardly believe what they were hearing, yet at the same time her humility, and tendency to never take anything as a given, or for granted, was downright inspiring.
AT THAT VERY MOMENT, ON A SMOKY STAGE IN A GREEK BORDER TOWN
It’s amazing what can happen in just one minute’s worth of time. Because in less than a minute Case had detonated a smoke bomb on top of a stage while thousands of spectators watched, and then singlehandedly waged war
on a crack group of 5 terrorist agitators, 4 of which were now either dead or seriously wounded.
But now the final assailant realizing that he had met his match, had upped the stakes by grabbing a hostage—he held a right-wing political activist in front of him as a human shield as he prepared a final charge of Mason’s position. And incredibly all of this was taking place in front of a live audience. Like some ancient Greek auditorium, the stage was set, and this insane drama was playing out.
The smoke had now cleared enough that spectators who had already witnessed the explosion of the smoke bomb and the gunshots that had rang out, were now the grim witnesses to a bloody and pointless standoff. The right-wing activist who was being held up as a living shield by a Turkish national no doubt now had yet another reason for his stance against inclusion of Turkey into the EU.
Case meanwhile, a man who had no stake in the political fight, had sworn that he would minimize civilian casualties as much as possible. As such, he could hardly shoot through the captive right-wing activist—no matter what his political inclination may have been—just to hit the terrorist.
And this was a fact that became clear to the terror subject himself as he continued to approach Case from the other side of the stage with his human shield firmly in place in front of him. Fortunately, Case had an ACE up his sleeve—as he so often put it to his colleagues, just in case his mission didn’t go as planned.
Pulling out what looked like a small water balloon out of his jacket, he held it in the palm of his hand and patiently waited as the assailant approached. Once he was within range, he tossed the balloon into the air right above the approaching gunman’s position. Like usual, Case’s timing was perfect and the balloon came down striking the assailant right on top of the head.
Upon impact the balloon burst, and the oily residue it was filled with splattered all over the top of the gunman’s head. The assailant was startled but believing the object to have been harmless, shrugged it off and continued his approach. He wasn’t even sure where the material had come from, considering that perhaps it was some piece of trash hurled at him from the boisterous crowd.