The Agency

by Shawn Oetzel

  “What the hell,” he said again, before ducking his head and climbing into back of the limousine.

  —Chapter 20

  Amy had never seen a person move so fast. When she agreed to let Professor Foshay tag along on the hunt for Excalibur, he jumped out of his chair. He rushed around his office trying to gather his belongings as quick as he could, before she had a chance to change her mind. It was like watching a home movie on fast forward. She half expected the next time the professor spoke, he would sound like one of the Chipmunks.

  Agent Ambrosius was indifferent to the professor’s obvious excitement He looked bored with the whole situation. She was having a hard time keeping up with Ambrosius’ mood swings at this point, so did not even bother to make a comment.

  “I think I have everything, Agent Sommers,” the professor said, and it was only mildly disappointing to hear that his voice had absolutely no chipmunk quality to it.

  He had two books tucked under one arm and a folder overflowing with papers in the other hand. He had also slipped into a black Navy pea coat and a Boston Red Sox baseball cap.

  “All right then, if Agent Ambrosius can find a way to tear himself away from the moment, we will be on our way,” she said.

  She hoped her little jibe at Ambrosius would render some sort of reaction, but she was disappointed. No comment or snappy comeback; he merely stood up and waited for her to lead the way out of the office. As she neared the main reception area, she saw a man in front of the glass doors, effectively blocking the exit. From the way he stood with his legs slightly apart and hands clasped behind his back, she immediately pegged him as some kind of security officer. Though he was wearing mirrored sunglasses, she got the distinct impression he was staring directly at her.

  “Where should we begin our search, Professor?” she asked, more to see how the guy with the mirrored glasses would react than to get an actual answer.

  As expected, the stranger in the expensive dark blue suit turned his head as if he too was waiting for an answer. That is, until he unexpectedly spoke up instead, and responded to her question.

  “I believe I may be of some assistance with that, Agent Sommers.”

  If she had been unnerved before by the stranger’s presence, hearing him speak her name so casually was downright shocking. She had absolutely no idea who he was, and was one hundred percent sure she had never seen him before, yet here he was talking to her as if they had known each other for years. It creeped her out. She could feel goose pimples rise on her skin. She had a horrible intuition that the guy was actually the Ghost she had heard so much about, and considered going for her gun. If not for the sound of Ambrosius’ voice, she may have done just that.

  “Is this a friend of yours, Agent Sommers?” Ambrosius asked.

  The caution in his voice made her feel a little better about being so on edge. She was not overreacting. If Ambrosius’ instincts were rankled by this unknown guy’s presence too, then her own instincts had been correct.

  “Not likely,” she said, taking a step backwards. If something bad was about to go down, she wanted to be able to move quickly.

  “Please, be at ease. It was not my intention to startle you, Agent Sommers, or you, Agent Ambrosius,” the man said, raising both hands like he was surrendering.

  “Okay, Criss Angel, you want to tell me exactly how you know our names? Or should I see if dodging bullets is part of your little magic act, too?” Sommers did not like being left out in the dark and was starting to lose her temper.

  “If you would be so kind as to join me and my associates, all will be explained,” the man said, keeping his voice calm and even. “Of course, you are welcome to join us as well, Professor Foshay.”

  By the surprised look etched across the Professor’s face, she could tell he did not know who the obviously well informed man was either. This upper hand, combined with the way he presented and carried himself with such confidence, told her that whoever the guy was, he was a professional, and that had the potential to make him even more dangerous than he was letting on.

  She looked through the glass. He had mentioned associates which meant there was at least one other person around somewhere. Though she did not see anyone else in the parking lot, there was a long black stretch limo parked in front of the doors. She could only assume this was where the mysterious associates were waiting.

  “I can’t speak for anyone else here, but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you and your ‘associates’ are, and how you know our names,” she said.

  “I agree,” Ambrosius said from behind her.

  She continued to size the guy up. If he was stupid enough to try anything or attempt to make any kind of sudden hostile movements, she was going to take him out. There was too much at stake to spend time playing guessing games. One person involved in this case was already dead, which only upped the ante for the rest of them. She had no intentions of ending up like Steven Jackson.

  “Who I am is irrelevant, as is the identity of my associates. I am sure you do not know any of us. I can assure you, however, that neither I nor my associates mean you any harm. In fact, I am quite certain you will find what we have to say to be extremely helpful.”

  “You’ll understand if I am a little skeptical,” she said. “How do we know if we can even trust you?”

  She spared a glance at Ambrosius and the professor seeing similar questions mirrored in each of their eyes None of them were about to follow this guy or his unknown associates anywhere without a few more assurances.

  “All I have to offer you is my word, Agent Sommers. I promise you that it is as unbreakable as any promise I could make you. I guess it is up to you to decide if that will be assurance enough. I am not here to force you, Agent Ambrosius, or even Professor Foshay to do anything or go anywhere. I am here more as an ambassador, offering you a chance at perhaps getting everything you wanted as far as your current investigation is concerned.”

  He had made no threatening move as of yet, but she knew from experience that did not mean one was not coming. She had met many chameleon like criminals; those who could adapt to any social situation. Generally speaking, some of the worst cases she had the misfortune of working were committed by suave and charming gentlemen like the one now standing before her.

  Still, she did not get that same kind of dangerous vibe from him. Either he was good as his word, or smoother than anyone she had ever run across, and he was absolutely right in saying only she could decide which it was. This effectively put all the responsibility right in her lap.

  “Can you tell us where it is you would like us to go?” she asked, hoping to get at least one piece of information before she made up her mind.

  “I’m sorry, Agent Sommers, but at this point all I can offer is the assurance that this is not some kind of elaborate set up, and I can also assure you it will not be a waste of your time.”

  She shook her head in frustration. Basically, she and her two colleagues were being asked to take a leap of faith. If she had been back with the LAPD, there was no way she would have gone anywhere under these conditions, but now as a member of the Agency she was forced to utilize whatever resources became available, and that included taking a ride in a limo with complete strangers to an unknown destination.

  She looked over at Ambrosius. He shrugged noncommittally, putting the ball in her court. It was her case and therefore her decision to make. She knew the British agent would go along with whatever she decided.

  “What the hell,” she said, after pausing long enough to reason through all the options available to her. “I guess we’re in.”

  “Excellent,” the man said. “If you three will please follow me, I will escort you to your ride, and we can be on our way.”

  With that, the guy turned and walked out the door. She, Ambrosius, and the professor followed quickly behind.

  Reggie was surprised to find the back of the luxury vehicle completely empty. He had been under the impression he would be joining at least one
other person, but found himself alone. He assumed there was a driver, but the glass partition separating the front and back was tinted a dark black, making it impossible to see through.

  This was not the first time he had ridden in a limo, but this one was definitely the most luxurious. With its plush and comfortable leather seats, fully stocked minibar, and a state of the art entertainment system that looked as if it would take a NASA engineer to operate, he had to admit he was impressed. Whoever or whatever organization these guys worked for, they were extremely well funded.

  The opulence of the limousine did not take his mind off Sommers or the potential danger they all faced with the Ghost coming to Boston. Having the opportunity to speak to her, face to face, was really the only reason he even agreed to get in the limo in the first place.

  As the time ticked by, his patience began to wear thin. He was tired, stressed, and worried all at the same time. He made up his mind; if Sommers did not come out within the next couple of minutes, he was going in after her. He was done taking chances with her safety.

  Every passing second brought the Ghost closer and closer. Soon enough, the one-time agent would strike.

  He was leaning over to grab the door handle and let himself out when he heard the sound of approaching feet. He paused, frozen in mid reach, and heard the unmistakable sound of Sommers’ voice. He could recognize that sarcastic tone anywhere.

  As expected, the stranger in the mirrored sunglasses walked directly up to the awaiting limo and opened the rear passenger side door for them.

  “Well if this is some elaborate trap we are being taken to, at least we are going in style,” Sommers said.

  “If it is a trap, it really doesn’t matter how we get there. The end result will still have us just as dead,” Ambrosius said.

  She looked over her shoulder relieved to see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had, at least for the moment, dropped his melancholy and returned to the dry-humored agent she could better relate to. “I don’t suppose I could get you to tell us where we are going?” she asked again, figuring it would not hurt to try one more time.

  Her reflection, staring back at her from the mirrored lenses, was like something out of a cheap carnival funhouse, all exaggerated and distorted. The guy, to his credit, stood as motionless as a sentry under her scrutinizing gaze. This spoke volumes to her about the man’s professional training. He gave off the aura of someone with a true sense of duty.

  “I promise you, Agent Sommers,” he said. “You would be sorely disappointed if I ruined it for you now.”

  It was not so much what he said, but how he said it, that took her aback. His voice had taken on the tone of someone trying not to give away a well planned surprise. Ambrosius and the professor looked as puzzled as she herself felt. With a shrug, she decided not to keep whoever was inside the limo waiting any longer.

  “What the hell,” she said as she ducked her head and entered the limo.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the man smiling, and slowly shaking his head, with an expression like he had just been told the same joke twice.

  —Chapter 21

  Stunned, Amy froze with her head and shoulders inside the car, one foot on the door frame, and the rest of her still out in the cold.

  While recapturing her wits, she attempted to finish climbing into the limo. Unfortunately, in her confusion, she stumbled, lurched forward awkwardly, and landed almost face first in Reggie Blackburn’s large lap.

  “I gotta say, Sommers,” he said. “You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

  Too shocked and embarrassed even to come up with a sarcastic retort, she dropped onto the seat across from Reggie and stared open-mouthed at him as Ambrosius and Professor Foshay got in after her.

  Ambrosius took a seat next to Reggie and the professor sat next to her. The limo was large enough for them all to sit comfortably, but she still felt cramped, even claustrophobic, but after a couple of deep breaths the moment passed. She wanted to say something to Reggie, but, thanks to her graceful entry, she found herself tongue tied.

  The door closed and locked. The limo pulled forward to begin making its way out of the parking lot.

  “I take it you’re all right Agent Sommers?” Ambrosius broke the tense, confused silence. She could have kissed the British agent for taking the initiative, even if it was a reminder of her embarrassing landing. “That was quite a nasty spill you took.”

  “Yeah, nothing wounded but my pride,” she said, sparing a look over at Reggie.

  “Speak for yourself, Sommers; that was my crotch you head butted,” Reggie said. “A few more inches and it would have been disastrous.”

  “Really, a few more inches,” she said, between sarcastic snorts of derision. “You’d think you would be used to the need of a few more inches when dealing with that area of your body.”

  Reggie leaned his head back and bellowed out a laugh that was good to hear. By the circles under his eyes, she could tell Reggie had not slept in some time. He appeared disheveled as well. His laugh went on longer than she would have thought, as if it was more of an emotional release filled with relief than due to the humor of her comment. The last time they had spoken, the conversation hadn’t been friendly. She’d left him at the airfield back in Washington with both of them going their separate ways, wondering if their friendship might be over.

  “Now that’s the Sommers I have come to know and barely tolerate,” Reggie said, once he had his laughter back under control.

  “Excuse me,” the professor said. “You two know each other?”

  “Unfortunately,” she said, and then smirked when she saw the look of disgust settle onto Reggie’s red face.

  “I take it that means this are not the associate we are going to meet,” Foshay said.

  “Hardly,” she said before Reggie could answer. “Professor Foshay, this is Special Agent Reggie Blackburn.”

  “I’m just along for the ride like the rest of you,” Reggie said after her introductions.

  “Speaking of that,” she said. “Why are you here?” She knew the Agency’s strict noninterference policy, so his unexpected appearance was more than a little unnerving.

  A look of dark concern moved across Reggie’s face. He settled back in his seat and took a long, nerve-calming deep breath. She, Ambrosius and the professor waited with rapt attention to hear Reggie’s explanation. The worry lines around his eyes deepened as he seemed to collect his thoughts in preparation. Whatever had transpired was serious enough that he’d apparently dropped everything and drove straight through the night. His exhaustion, both physical and mental, was clearly marked by the sunken in look of his otherwise alert eyes as well as an emotion she thought she would never associate with her friend and mentor, fear.

  The limo drove on. She had no idea where they were going, and thanks to the darkened windows, was unable to see much as well. Not that she would have known where they were headed, unfamiliar as she was with Boston. They were basically at the mercy of their hosts.

  “Tell me what happened, Reggie,” she said.

  After a slight pause, which felt to her like an hour, Reggie began speaking. He told how he had gone straight to his favorite pub after their argument at the airfield, then returned to Jackson’s apartment in hopes of finding something useful. He described in exact detail his run-in with the Ghost, along with the message he discovered on Jackson’s computer. He finished by telling them of his drive to Boston, and how he had tailed them from the hotel, which led to his own meeting and invitation from the stranger with the mirrored sunglasses.

  Sommers felt a knot in her stomach. Reggie’s fear of this Ghost character was almost tangible, it was so intense. So was his relief from the worry that he might not arrive in time. He had risked everything to come here and stand by her side.

  It made her anger over their last meeting seem petty. Reggie was the one true friend she had ever had in her entire adult life. He had proven that fact all over again by these mo
st recent actions.

  She again found herself to be speechless, which, for her was as close to an impossibility as it could get. Twice in the span of less than an hour was akin to getting struck by lightening twice during the same storm. Once again, it was Ambrosius who broke the silence and asked the question on everyone’s mind.

  “So, this Ghost is here in Boston right now as we speak, and he knows Excalibur’s location?”

  “Yep,” Reggie said.

  “Who is this Ghost person?” Professor Foshay asked.

  He had been so quiet, plus all her attention had been focused solely on Reggie’s story, that Sommers had forgotten the professor was even sitting next to her. Hearing him speak now made her jump. She hoped no one else had seen her frightened rabbit imitation.

  “He’s the bad guy,” Reggie said. “Think of Hannibal Lecter, but without the appetite.”

  “Ah. Sorry I asked.”

  Sommers felt for the guy. She liked Foshay, and knew this was a lot for him to take in. She wondered if he was beginning to second guess his desire to come along. Then again, she wondered if she was having second thoughts herself, as well.

  So much for letting the rookie get broken in slowly. Apparently she had jumped into the proverbial fire feet first, but truth be told, she would not have it any other way. Danger was simply part of the job. You either dealt with it and moved on or you were in the wrong line of work.

  The limo slowed and made another turn. By the sound of tires moving over loose gravel, they were now heading down some kind of trail. Or, better yet, a private driveway. The tinted windows continued to foil any efforts to get a glimpse outside. Sommers thought it was like trying to see through muddy water at night. This was just another reminder of who was in control for the time being. Had this been a card game, she would have folded her hand a long time ago, with the odds so stacked against her.