Operation Assassination

by Anne Fox

  Hank cracked up. “Usually when it’s just us, those commands go in the opposite order. ‘Drop the pants, let me...”

  “Hank...” Spud gave her an admonishing look.

  “Are you going to make him a special pair of boxers as well, Mike?”

  “Hank...”

  “Spoilsport.”

  Mike took the pants and placed them on a hanger. “Go ahead and put your sweatpants back on. I’m done for now. Come back for the final fitting tomorrow.”

  “Ok, Hank, your turn.”

  Hank turned back to Mike and dropped the robe she was wearing, revealing nothing underneath but a pair of satin panties, identical to the ones Mike had done for the red dress, but this time done in a plum color.

  “I don’t like this at all,” Spud muttered.

  Hank looked over her shoulder at him. “Relax, Spud. Wait until you see the dress.”

  Mike brought it over, draped over his arm. “Lift your arms up for me, Hank.”

  Complying, Mike let the dress fall down over her body, smoothing it first over her buttocks and then coming around front and smoothing the bodice first down to where it stopped above her crotch and then readjusting how it fit around her breasts.

  “I definitely don’t like this,” Spud said.

  “You don’t like this?” Hank asked, walking over to where he was sitting. “I love it. Mike is a wizard with satin, and the way he gathered and textured the brocade with the silver thread is just gorgeous. And the silk georgette that goes over the shoulder I just love as well. Don’t you love it?”

  He looked at her appreciatively. “I do. I just don’t like him touching you like that. Especially when you’re wearing something that flattering.”

  “If he didn’t fuss and touch, then it wouldn’t fit just right”

  “Alright, Goldilocks.”

  “And it does fit just right,” Mike said. “You’re all done, Hank. Luigi even got your jewelry done. Not quite diamonds and rubies this time, but some very nice amethysts in silver. Earrings, a bracelet, and a dinner ring for your right hand. And a very nice decorative comb for your hair. We’re leaving your lovely neck naked this time.” He looked over at where Spud sat. “Now if we can get your date to cooperate, the two of you might just make a stunning couple.”

  Spud and Hank walked up to the East Entrance of the White House. Spud took the invitation from the inner pocket of his tux and presented it to the person at the door, then sent Hank in front of him through the security screening point, and followed her through.

  “That was weird,” he whispered, with not only Hank hearing but the entire team as well, group comm having been established prior to their arrival.

  “I hear you,” Hank replied. “For me, it was usually just show credentials and go right through security screening points. Hey, you’re FBI, yeah, you’ve got a gun.”

  “Same for Secret Service,” Spud said.

  As they walked up the stairs to the State Floor, Hank whispered, “I can’t wait to get you out of that tux.”

  “You realize the whole team is listening, right?” Spud asked.

  “And I don’t care. That tux is way better than your business suit. I’m going to be thanking Mike later. A lot.”

  “Don’t make me crazy, Hank. Mike didn’t tailor in enough give in the pants for that.”

  The rest of the team, gathered in their Quantico library and listening in, and in Amigo’s case, a vehicle to be used in case extraction would be needed, laughed out loud.

  “Don’t forget: if you find yourself in a bad situation, Hank, feign illness and I’ll get you out of here,” Spud reminded her. “Same goes for me. If you hear me use your codename, just remember: your dear husband has a heart condition.”

  “Our gunny knows what to do?”

  “Game plan is, we get out of the White House and into an ambulance, then transfer into the car Amigo’s driving and head back to Quantico.”

  “Here’s hoping I don’t have a relapse of my recent illness, you don’t have a heart attack, and we can see how the President is being drugged,” Hank said.

  Making their way around the State Floor, they mingled with the other guests, struck up random conversations, and did all the sorts of things that would be expected at an event of the sort they were attending, with the notable exception that they avoided eating or drinking anything on the rare event that this was the manner the drug was being introduced to the President.

  “What say we head to the East Room and do a little dancing?” Spud said. “So far, the President and First Lady haven’t made an entrance, and I happen to know someone who loves ballroom dancing.”

  Hank smiled and let him lead her into the room. As they danced, she asked, “How is it you’re so adept at ballroom dancing?”

  “Even as a confirmed bachelor for the first forty-two years of my life, I recognized that certain skills would be useful.”

  “One of these days, I’m going to get you to open up and tell me about all the women you had before me.”

  “So you want to know about uneventful dinner dates, the occasional one-night stand, and the guests I brought to these White House affairs – which, for an agent, was mostly just the White House Christmas party unless I was working? And when I was working, I wasn’t doing anything except standing watch.” He leaned toward her. “Are you going to tell me all about all your other men?”

  “There was only one, and trust me: he isn’t worth mentioning.”

  “Really.”

  “Really. He wanted a nice little wifey who would be a substitute mother for him. He didn’t want an FBI Special Agent who could think and act independently.”

  Spud smothered a laugh and said, “Yeah, I can see how that wouldn’t work out.”

  “So even after a one-night stand, those women weren’t interested in maintaining a relationship?” Hank asked.

  “More like, I wasn’t interested in maintaining a relationship.” He glanced downward. “That’s all they were interested in,” he added.

  “Ah. Crotch-watchers.”

  He looked at her with surprise. “What?”

  “Crotch-watchers. Other women call those kinds of women crotch-watchers.”

  The listening team members snickered. “Oh, shit,” Spud whispered. “I keep forgetting Voice’s damned new comm routine.”

  “How come I never got a woman that way?” Amigo asked.

  “You never got women that way because you’re not Spud,” Hank said, getting the other team members laughing.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States,” was announced at the door of the East Room. The band stopped playing and rose to their feet as the guests who had been dancing stopped and turned toward the door themselves.

  “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the President said casually with a wave of his hand. “I just thought I’d come and see if any of my fairer citizens would like to dance with the President while the First Lady mingles with the other guests. Please, continue to enjoy the music.”

  Everyone resumed dancing, including Spud and Hank. Spud carefully maneuvered Hank around the dance floor so that one or the other of them could keep an eye on the President. Leading her so she could observe, Hank’s eyes made contact with the President’s.

  “He already appears to be a bit... animated,” she whispered.

  To her surprise, the President began to make his way over to them. Seeing him approach, Spud watched him until it was obvious the President had intended to head in their direction, at which point he stood still, the two of them sideways to the President.

  “May I cut in?” the President asked.

  “Certainly, Mr. President.” Spud released Hank, and the President began dancing with her, taking her hand in his and placing his other hand on the small of her back.

  “You are a marvelous dancer, Mr. President,” Hank said.

  “And you are a very beautiful woman,” the President replied. She felt him move his hand a little lower on her back.
/>   “Mr. President, I have to warn you. Although my husband is very generous with his money, he’s not nearly as generous with his wife.”

  “Then we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see,” the President replied.

  Spud watched as the President turned Hank so that his body was between her and Spud.

  Hank felt the President lower his hand to her buttocks and squeeze her. What the fuck? And I can’t say anything without the President knowing I’m communicating with the team.

  “Mr. President...”

  She began to feel him starting to lose coordination.

  “You are a very beautiful woman, indeed,” he was saying. He began to lean close to her, and she thought he was either going to dance cheek-to-cheek or stumble into her. But instead, he leaned and kissed her on the lips.

  “Mr. President, please. I’m very flattered by your interest, but I’m very devoted to my husband.”

  “I’m sure you are,” the President said. “I’m just having a little innocent fun.”

  Hank wasn’t sure at all that the President was acting innocently. She went to say ‘Spud’ for Spud to come rescue her, but as she did her forehead furrowed. “Garlic,” she said.

  “What’s that, my dear?” the President asked.

  “Garlic,” Hank repeated. “For some reason, I can taste garlic.” She licked her lips.

  “I taste garlic,” she repeated. She began to feel dizzy.

  Spud noticed both her and the President losing their coordination from across the room. He began to walk toward them, trying to be nonchalant.

  “Dizzy...” he heard Hank say. “Spud...” She looked over her shoulder, trying to find him among the other people on the dance floor. “Spud...”

  He quickened his pace. Arriving at where the President and Hank were dancing, he noticed the President already had a glazed expression. “Team, notify the gunny. The President has already been exposed. Hank is requesting extraction,” he whispered.

  “Excuse me, Mr. President,” he said. “My wife has been rather ill lately, and she appears to be having a relapse. I’m afraid we’re going to need to leave.”

  “Oh, and with the night so young,” the President said as aides approached him to lead him from the room. “Are you sure it’s not just the effect I have on women?”

  As aides led the President away, one of the Secret Service agents on the shift came over to where Spud and Hank stood, Spud supporting Hank.

  “My wife is ill,” Spud explained. “Can you help me? She needs to go home and rest.” He put his arm around Hank’s waist and steered her out of the room, accompanied by the agent. As they attempted to walk her down the stairs, Hank stumbled and nearly fell, Spud gathering her up in his arms and walking her down the rest of the way.

  “We have an ambulance waiting outside, sir,” the agent said. “They’ll take your wife to the nearest hospital so she can get prompt medical attention.”

  “Spud, where are you?” Hank moaned.

  “I’m right here,” Spud said, and turning to the agent remarked, “It’s a nickname.”

  “Gunny relays that everyone in the ambulance is Secret Service,” Amigo said in his earpiece. “I’m at the designated rendezvous point.”

  Loading Hank into the ambulance, Spud climbed in with her. “Just keep it up until we clear the gate, Hank,” he told her.

  Hank thrashed, appearing wild-eyed. She’s playing it up really well, he thought.

  As the ambulance cleared the gate to the White House, he turned to Hank and said, “We’re clear. You can relax now, Hank.”

  To his horror, instead of smiling and sitting up as he’d expected, she got more wild-eyed, clawing at the air, and began to scream. “Who are you? Who ARE you? Get away from me!”

  He stared. Then he pulled an earpiece out from inside his tux jacket, and placing it in his other ear, said, “Gunny, she’s not faking.”

  “What do you mean, she’s not faking?” he heard the ASIC ask.

  “She’s not faking! Somehow, she’s been affected!”

  There was a brief moment of silence. Then the gunny said, “Have the drivers take you to the nearest hospital.”

  “We can’t do that,” Spud emphasized. “We have to get her back to Quantico to our own medical team.”

  “Why not?” the gunny asked.

  Spud considered briefly. “I’m going to rely on you to live up to your motto,” he said, “and not divulge this to anyone. She has a device implanted in her body. It’s standard unit issue. We cannot risk having a doctor determine that it doesn’t do what it looks like it does.”

  More silence ensued. “Then I suggest you follow the original plan. I’ll see if I can get a Capitol police officer to escort your extraction vehicle so you can get there as quickly as possible.”

  17

  Spud rushed down the stairs into the unit’s headquarters from the BEQ above, Hank thrashing and screaming in his arms. “Medical, we’re here. I’m headed to the infirmary,” he announced, trying not to sound as panicked as he felt.

  Doc Rich and Doc Andy had heard her the moment Spud had come through the upper access and met him mid-way in the corridor. “What happened?” Doc Rich asked.

  “I have no idea. She was dancing with the President. I saw her start to stumble, and thought she was just setting up to be extracted for some reason. She called me by codename. After we got her out with the ambulance, I told her she could stop the act. But she didn’t. She got worse, and has been getting progressively worse during the trip back here,” Spud replied.

  “Put her on the bed, Spud, and help us get her out of her shoes and dress,” Doc Rich said.

  As they began to undress her, Hank shrieked. “NO! NO! Don’t touch me! Get your hands off me! Please! Don’t do this to me!” She kicked and scratched, then back-handed Spud in the face with a clenched fist as he tried to pull off her dress and tried to bite Doc Rich as she removed her earrings and the decorative comb in her hair.

  “Restrain her,” Doc Rich ordered to the nurses present. Those present fought to get her arms and legs into limb restraints, tying them to the bed rails.

  “Lab, to the infirmary, bring a bloodwork tray, stat,” Doc Rich intoned.

  James came through the door and briefly stood staring at Hank, a shocked expression on his face. Restrained hand and foot in the bed, she continued to writhe and yank at the restraints holding her.

  “Shit,” he said. “Someone’s got to hold her arm. No way I can get a PIV line in with her moving like that.”

  The two nurses pinned Hank’s wrist. Putting in the catheter, James asked, “What are we looking for?”

  “A drug,” Doc Andy said. “We believe she’s been drugged.”

  Setting about his work, James drew tubes of blood and then disappeared through the door into the lab.

  “Can’t you give her something to stop her?” Spud asked.

  “We don’t dare, Spud. Not until we know what she has in her system,” Doc Andy said.

  Spud sat watching in despair. Hank, what’s happening to you? he thought.

  James suddenly burst through the door back into the infirmary. “No one touch her!” he shouted.

  “What? What is it?” Doc Rich asked.

  “The drug screen revealed two things,” he began. “Methoxyphencyclidine and dimethyl sulfoxide.”

  Doc Andy got wide-eyed.

  “What does that mean?” Spud asked.

  “It means she’s been exposed to a rather unpredictable hallucinogen,” Doc Andy said. “An analog of PCP called 3-methoxyphencyclidine. It is a very unpredictable drug, and very little is known about its effects on humans except that a very low dose can give the effects we’re seeing with Hank, and it induces psychosis-like symptoms, as well as an effect commonly called a K-hole which is also seen with drugs like ketamine.”

  “The presence of the DMSO also means she got it through her skin,” James explained. “Dimethyl sulfoxide has the unusual property of being not only a very g
ood solvent for lots of things, but will take chemicals that are dissolved in it through the skin. The drug is somewhere on her skin. What areas of her skin were exposed enough for someone to get it on her?”

  “Her face, neck, right shoulder, portions of her back, both arms,” Spud said. “And... well, the dress is right here.” He held it up.

  James proceeded to look over the dress. “I don’t see anything on the fabric,” he said, “so it must have gone through a place where her skin was exposed.” He went over to Hank who watched him apprehensively, then tried to pull away from him as he got closer. She shrieked at him. “Get away from me!”

  He looked at her, then began to sniff her skin.

  “Can I ask what the hell you’re doing?” Spud demanded.

  “Looking for a garlic smell,” James said. “DMSO has a garlic smell. You even get a taste like garlic in your mouth when you’ve been exposed to it.”

  Spud’s face expressed shock. “She said she could taste garlic right before she called for me,” he said.

  “When?” Doc Rich asked. “During the time she was dancing with the President?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he acting strangely as well?”

  “Somewhat animated. Euphoric,” Spud confirmed.

  “Could you see where he was touching her?”

  “It was a typical closed dance position,” Spud said. “He had her right hand in his left, and his right hand on the small of her back.”

  James sniffed Hank’s right hand. “No garlic,” he said. “And I didn’t see anything on the dress where it would have covered the small of her back. Are you sure he didn’t touch her anywhere else?”

  “He was between me and her at one point,” Spud said. “I don’t know if he touched her shoulder or anywhere else on the front of her body during that time. I couldn’t see anything other than his back.”

  James went to sniff Hank’s face.

  “Be careful, James,” Doc Rich admonished. “She tried to bite me earlier.”

  James leaned down so that Hank would have to try to bite him with her head turned, limiting her head movement, then sniffed.

  “Get away from me!” she hissed.