“The Wraith was given inactive status in an attempt to avoid the kind of situation we find ourselves in at the moment. In the past, only the Director and myself have been privy to the particulars of this operative. Today, that information will be shared with everyone in this room. This information will not, I repeat, will not leave this room.” He stopped and looked very carefully at each face in the room until he felt confident that he was understood. He stood from his chair and walked completely around the table, pausing at every station to hand each person a CD.
“Her file in its entirety is on the disks I just gave you. I’m expecting several field reports, so I will leave you to study this information for a few hours. None of those disks are to leave the room. I’ll want opinions and scenarios upon my return. Any questions?”
Seeing that there were none, Terry made his way to the door and headed toward his office. He wondered idly what new horrors awaited him as he sat down behind his desk. He hadn’t been seated for more than a minute when the intercom spoke.
“Mr. McKraken?”
“Yes, Miss Marshall?” he replied wearily.
“You have two messages. Ben Richards and Kevin Marland. Both request contact, sir.”
“Thank you.”
He put his head in his hands and let out a long breath. At the thought of Richards, the tip of his dick started to hurt. He had been hoping for an update, a request for contact only meant complications. Marland was his man in charge in Atlanta and wasn’t due to report until tomorrow, a sign that meant he was destined for another mouthful of shit.
Reluctantly, he reached for the phone to make the calls.
———
Despite the close call, Martin had made some preparations in the hours before the flight from his home. His mother had left him with a mint condition 1973 AMC Gremlin. It was the very pinnacle of cool, boasting a sweet bright orange paint job with matching interior. He remembered standing stupefied on his front porch as his mother drove up in the butt ugly little car that he never knew she owned. She had explained to him that it was a family heirloom and that he was being entrusted to take care of it. A week later, she had departed to what he could only describe as a swinging retirement community in Florida. He privately felt that his mother was far too young for this sort of exile, but he had little say in the matter.
Fortunately, the car was still in her name and he had, out of a sense of duty, habitually tagged it in the two years following his mother’s southern migration. Having been too embarrassed to keep it at home, he had ended up finding it a berth at a local mini-storage. Visiting the vehicle once every couple of months to start it and keep it maintained. He now thought it a stroke of genius that he never sold it or registered it in his name. He would be deliriously happy to drive the monstrosity all the way to Georgia. In fact, if it were a possibility, he would be happy to drive it all the way to Florida and spend the rest of his days playing shuffleboard and Canasta with his mother’s swinging friends.
So it was a very tired and still very scared Martin Satterfield sporting a fresh head of bleached hair and wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt in existence, that proudly drove a bright orange eyesore down I-95 and out of the District of Columbia. He was so relieved at having escaped earlier in the day that he would have been blasting the stereo if he owned at least one 8-track tape.
Instead, he listened to the radio. But with just A/M at his disposal, his only choice was some god-awful country station. He endured the mind numbing music in an attempt to keep his thoughts occupied. Having watched the top of his neighbor’s head disappear was something he was trying very hard not to think about. He listened to the bowel wrenching twang of the ever present steel guitar and tried to keep his mind on the much more immediate concerns of his own survival. He knew it was roughly a twelve-hour drive to Atlanta but he had decided, after much internal debate, to stop in South Carolina for the night. He needed some rest, and more importantly he needed to decide how to best approach the woman his former employers called The Wraith.
II
I’m learning to fly, But I ain’t got wings,
Coming down is the hardest thing.
—T. Petty
For the past half an hour, Piper had watched Bailey play with the food on the plate in front of her. She could tell the woman was uncomfortable and it perplexed her. This was the same woman who seemed so dynamic and in charge at the office. It was usually her style just to come out and ask what was wrong, but she had the feeling that any conversation on Bailey’s part would be forced. Insecurity began to rear its ugly head and she was beginning to feel that it was just her that Bailey had a problem with. Since entering, she had only spoken to request a booth far in the back and to order her meal. She decided to take the initiative.
“Bailey, are you uncomfortable with me?” she asked finally.
“Huh?” Bailey looked up from her plate confused and realized she hadn’t said a word in quite some time. She did a quick replay of what Piper had just said and became a little disgusted with herself. If the truth be known, she found Piper to be a breath of fresh air.
“Not at all. I hope I haven’t given you that impression.” She saw Piper focus a rather intense concentration on her when she spoke. “I…am… uh…” Good God. “…just not used to being out in public,” she finished in a rush feeling immensely stupid and finding her explanation lacking. She held up a hand and looked at Piper. “Let me try again.”
Piper nodded at her slowly, fascinated.
She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I have to admit I’m uncomfortable, but you’ve very little to do with that. I… uh… have lived a rather solitary life and… truthfully… feel principally out of place in most social situations and… uh... well…” She took another breath, “…well, I basically suck at small talk,” she finished, feeling like she had just sprinted a mile. She risked another glance at Piper and was more than a little distressed to see a slow smile make its way across the woman’s features.
“Why didn’t you just say so? If you need me to hold up the conversation I can babble on for hours if need be,” Piper said brightly, appeased.
It had been torturous watching Bailey struggle with herself over such a small matter. She had no doubt that the woman sitting across from her was a very interesting, complex woman and she had to admit to herself that she was more than a little intrigued. She smiled and launched into action.
For the next half an hour she gave her no less than a dissertation about nothing in particular. Some time later, she was relieved to see her actually start eating the food from her plate and swore to herself that she actually saw the beginnings of a smile on a couple of occasions.
Bailey was at first greatly relieved that she was no longer on the spot, but soon found herself becoming more and more at ease as Piper continued speaking. Granted, she knew she had very limited experience around people but she had never met anyone quite like the woman across from her. It seemed every emotion the woman had rose immediately to the surface, a trait which she had never encountered before and actually found endearing. She was surprised to have caught herself starting to smile at least twice and to her pleasure found that she was actually enjoying the company of another person for one of the few times in her adult life. Obviously, Piper hadn’t been exaggerating and she maintained a steady stream of chatter about apparently any subject that crossed her mind. Conversationally, she had begun to suspect that she was going to be let off easy.
“So what part of Ireland are you from? You have a charming accent,” Piper asked suddenly.
“Belfast,” Bailey found herself answering easily. “And thank you.”
“Really?” Piper asked interested. “How long did you live there?”
“I left when I was sixteen, I’ve not been back.”
“Did you like it there?”
“Yes and no.”
“Do you think you’ll visit again?”
“Someday, perhaps,” she said slowly, struggling to keep up
with the rapid-fire questions.
“Have you lived in Atlanta long?”
“A little over three years.”
“Where did you live before?”
“I traveled a lot, but I had a place near Portland, Oregon.”
“See was that as hard as you thought?”
“Huh?” Bailey blinked.
“Well, it seems you can warm up to a conversation if you have to,” Piper stated mischievously.
Bailey felt a blush begin to creep up her neck and she was stunned to hear a genuine chuckle escape. She had had to hand it to her; she had drawn her out with impressive ease. It disturbed her a little that she had been so easily manipulated by the diminutive redhead but found that she had been eager to share as well and had easily and honestly answered her questions.
“Pretty tricky,” Bailey said with a little grin and was astonished with the real laugh that bubbled to the surface when Piper blew on her nails and buffed them on her shirt.
“When ya got it, ya got it,” she said and then laughed, feeling tremendously pleased with herself and charmed in the extreme when she heard Bailey laugh.
In short order, the laughter stopped and Bailey noticed Piper staring at her rather unabashedly. Oddly, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable as much as she was flattered by the regard. She saw the waiter approaching from the corner of her eye.
“Anything else, ladies?” he asked upon arrival.
“Just the check I believe,” Piper answered looking at Bailey who nodded.
The waiter pulled their tab from his apron and placed it on the table. “Come again,” he said pleasantly as he turned to leave.
As soon as his back was turned, Piper quickly snatched up the bill. “My treat,” she said with a smile and dug in her purse for some bills that she laid on the table. “We ready to head back?” she asked Bailey who again nodded.
They walked all the way back and took the elevator in a companionable silence. When the doors opened on seventeen Bailey spoke up.
“Thank you for lunch, Piper,” she said inserting her key in the control panel to hold the doors open. “I had a good time.”
“Me too, thanks for going,” Piper said cheerily. “Would you like to go again?”
“I think I’d like that,” she answered honestly.
“Great, me too.”
“Uhm… I’m going to take the rest of the day off; I’ve some things to look into. You can reach me on my cell number if anything pops up,” she said feeling kind of lame.
“Okay, have a good evening,” Piper said a little disappointed as she stepped off the elevator.
“You too,” she said as she started to close the doors.
“Bailey,” Piper said before the doors closed all the way.
Bailey turned the key to let the doors open again. “Yes?”
Knowing she was taking a chance, she walked back onto the elevator and into Bailey’s personal space. She saw her tense and she experienced a quick flash of fear that she was about to be flung away violently.
“Hang tight,” Piper whispered in an attempt to put her more at ease as she stood on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on Bailey’s cheek. “I’m glad to have met you, finally,” she said as she came back down on her heels and walked out of the elevator. “You’re a fascinating woman, Bailey Cameron,” she said without turning around and walking around the corner and out of sight.
Bailey stood motionless in the elevator for almost five full minutes, completely dumbfounded for the first time in her life. Eventually and robotically, she turned the key and rode one floor up to her residence. Upon entering her flat, she walked straight to the couch and sat down gingerly. Staring off into space, her hand came up to touch the spot where Piper had kissed her.
“Wow,” she said aloud.
———
Several hours later, Terry made his way back to the Situation room and practically fell into his seat at the head of the table. He was aware that everyone was looking at him expectantly but he didn’t care. As predicted, the news had not been pleasant and after finally hanging up the phone, he had sat behind his desk and indulged in a full hour of feeling sorry for himself. Knowing he had to assert some sort of control over a situation that was fast unraveling, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“Okay, we have some complications,” he started. “Firstly, I’ll assume that you’ve read enough of the file to know that our rogue is in Atlanta and presides over a rather successful corporation.” He paused. “I have people planted as employees inside C-Corp and two hours ago I received word that she is in negotiations for a buy out. Obviously, this could speed up the timetable.”
He took another deep breath.
“Secondly, my assistant Martin Satterfield, sometime last night made off with her original file. This morning he eluded capture and is apparently on the run. I don’t need to tell you how damaging this file could be to the Organization if the right people were to obtain it. However, Satterfield is smart enough to realize that if the file were to go public, it still wouldn’t save his life. It is my opinion that he is headed for Atlanta to attempt to contact Cameron and look to her for protection.” Terry looked around the table to see expressions that mirrored his own. “If Cameron were to go public, the Organization itself would be endangered.” He paused again and looked around the table. “Opinions?”
“Do you think she would go public, Terry? The file would be damaging to her as well,” Bob asked.
“It’s a possibility, but not really her style. That and the fact that I’ve had her surviving family under manipulation and surveillance for the last fifteen years. Cameron is unaware of their location and I believe that the threat of harm to them has been the only thing keeping her from basically going under and vanishing.”
“What? That information wasn’t in the file,” Bob said peevishly. “Why don’t we just use the family to get her to come in?”
“That may be exactly what we have to do, Bob. But let me point out that her family has believed her dead for over fifteen years, and if she refuses, then what do we do? Eliminate them? I believe if we did that, we would escalate the existing problem a hundredfold and dramatically increase the chances of her exposing us.” He stopped and waited for the information to sink in. “I believe that we should use the family only as a last resort.”
“Any chance of intercepting Satterfield before he makes contact?” Bob asked. “If we could remove him from the picture it would simplify the situation.”
“Agreed. I’ve dispatched Ben Richards and his team to Atlanta and have them standing by. Kevin Marland, who is onsite at C-Corp, has instructions to eliminate Satterfield on sight. In addition, Mr. Phillips has executed the standard media package, in the hopes that a civilian or local police department can be of aid in ascertaining his location.” Terry leaned back in his chair. “However, I don’t believe Satterfield so stupid as to walk into C-Corp and ask to see her. He has her file so I believe he will attempt to contact her the way I would.”
“How’s that, Terry?” Bob asked.
“Cameron has in her residence a private line that forwards to her cell phone if she’s not there to answer it. The line was installed specifically as a means for the Organization to establish contact with her. I seriously doubt that it’s used for any other purpose. I believe Satterfield will use this line to contact her. He may have more information than we suspect and could be aware that we have people inside C-Corp, so I doubt he would attempt to contact her through the company phone system.” He stopped and looked at Spicher.
“Bob, we need to speak to your best Tech.”
“That would be Toby.” Bob punched a number into the phone in front of him. “I’m gonna put him on the overhead.”
“Yes?” came Toby’s voice over the speaker.
“We need a tap,” Terry said.
“Alright, what number?”
Terry gave it to him.
“Hold on,” Toby said with the rustle of a keyboard in the back
ground. “That line codes as secure. Placing a tap on it would be immediately detected if the line was actively monitored.”
“We can be sure of that,” Bob spoke up. “But do we really need a tap? Is there any way to detect when it is being used?”
“Sure, I can flag it for use.”
“Good idea, Bob. Would it be possible to trace an incoming call on that number to its source?” Terry asked.
“Yes, but again, it would be detectable.”
“Would it be detected immediately?”
“Yes and no. An incoming source trace could be masked since it’s passive and not intrusive. However, depending on the sophistication of the equipment monitoring the line, it would probably register tampering immediately after disconnect.”
“How long to trace an incoming call?”
“It would register here almost as fast as caller ID, so a matter of seconds.”
“Hold on, Toby,” Bob said as he muted the line.
Terry sat back in his chair. “What do you think people?”
“It’s risky,” Keith DeSilva spoke up. “Cameron would detect foul play. The team dispatched to intercept Satterfield would run the very real risk of encountering her.”
“I agree,” Bob said. “It’s a question of whether or not our team could close on the location, recover or destroy the file, and deal with Satterfield before she arrived.”
“I don’t see that we have any choice,” Keith said. “Unless Satterfield makes a mistake, we should count on him contacting Cameron. I say we gamble, and if there is an encounter, there’s a chance that Cameron herself could be eliminated.” He paused. “I would say that the last is very unlikely, but it is possible.”
Terry looked at Bob. “How many people do we have readily available? I’d like to give Richards a little help.”
“Richards and his team are it for the moment. I have everyone coming in but it will be a few days before we’ll have the resources we want.”
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