by A J Jameson
The room swelled with applause, each operative standing from his or her chair. Zyta and Law hugged briefly, and then pulled away just in time for Law to retrieve a tissue from his breast pocket and cover his cough.
Zyta waited for him to recover and then addressed the crowd. “I just want to thank you all for coming here today—”
“Not like we had anywhere else to go,” Kyle said. He grunted as Sadie stuck his gut with her elbow.
Zyta pushed aside her bangs, then continued. “I am happy to call myself a member of this organization, and to call you all my friends. To good health and many completed missions.” She held up her plate, the rest of the table joining her toast.
“To completed missions.”
The operatives dug in, their silver spoons and knives abrading ceramic plates. The long wooden table held glasses of vitamin and coconut water, along with orange, apple, pomegranate, and cranberry juice; a theme Zyta requested and Eduardo afforded with the utmost sense of satisfaction. Fruit, exotic and domestic, was his specialty, as hers was good health. The two possessed a kind of psychic wave length in which they could agree on ideas without having to say so. Like oxygen to fire.
Law clanged his fork and plate again. “I also want to congratulate everybody on a job well done regarding Dragon’s Throat. Charlie and Delta squads have finished their sweep of the impact area—”
“Good job cleaning up after us,” Kyle spat, followed by a few short-lived sneers. His complexion turned a shade whiter after Sadie whispered something in his ear.
“Thanks for the useful input, Kyle,” Law said. “Continuing on, with the conclusion of Dragon’s Throat, we now have new headway to…” he trailed off, Marek leaning in his ear.
“As I was saying,” Law continued, “with the conclusion of Dragon’s Throat, a mission we’ve all been stressing over for the past couple of months, comes the opportunity to reflect and relax, and perhaps more importantly, enter phase two of Zyta’s birthday. The opening of presents.”
Eduardo cleared a portion of the long table to set his present down first. It was a fist-sized box wrapped in newspaper. “On second thought, we should save this for last,” he said, scooping it back up. Other presents wrapped in newspaper quickly took its place.
Zyta shredded the caption of an old article and revealed a packet of armor-piercing, nine-millimeter bullets. Marek couldn’t remember the last time he saw his sister fire her standard-issued pistol, but she smiled and thanked him all the same. Next came surgical scrubs to replace those lost to blood and chemical stains. Nail polish that released a strong sedative when dipped in liquid. Violet hair dye for future touch-ups. And the most memorable, a picture of her, Marek, and their biological parents.
Marek and Zyta were still babies in the photo, as they always were, but in this picture, there was a noticeable difference in their parents. Particularly the small black mark on their mother’s wrist. “A new tattoo,” Zyta remarked. “A sign of time past.”
Zyta hugged her brother, then thanked everyone for their gifts. Eduardo approached and offered his present. Silence washed over the room. Even Law, tugging the collar of his shirt, watched the small box with narrowed eyes.
Zyta peeled the newspaper one strand at a time. Slowly, the figure of a red square case emerged. She gasped, pried open the top half of the case until the spring released, and screamed with joy at the sight of glimmering keys.
“It’s waiting in the garage, ready for a test run,” Eduardo said, his mustache flapping like the wings of a bird. “It may be the most versatile vehicle Pablo has ever created. Extensions, self-sufficient…” he scratched his shaved head. “Walk and talk?” he asked, taking the lead.
“Thanks again, everyone,” Zyta said, waving to the crowd as she followed Eduardo. Marek noticed that she had left all presents on the long table except for the picture. Law had dug it up from the files locked in the archives. Marek nodded to the others, then fell in step behind Zyta and Eduardo.
The rest of the room buzzed as operatives headed to different locations throughout C3U. Some (mostly members of Delta squad) would return upstairs to ground-level and resume their daily duties as acting electronics repair agents. Charlie squad would return to their experimentations in the lab adjacent to the medical center. Alpha would continue to generate alternative strategies for the next mission. Or maybe Sadie would put Kyle through some disciplinary action in the physical training and hand to hand combat room…if not for her wounded shoulder, which she now favored after having shoved Kyle out of the briefing room, her voice harsh as she advised, “There’s a time and place for provocation.”
“Hey, I’m gonna work on mounting a camera to my drone, is that all right?” Ivan asked, stepping between Marek and the others headed for the garage. “It’s for Laced Rain.”
“Sure, should come in handy,” Marek said, realizing that he had yet to assign Ivan a role for the upcoming mission. (Refer to me as Sylvia from here on out.) There was something unsettling about a team member who changed face from day to day.
“Letting him off the hook that easy, huh?” Yolanda asked. The tablet in her hand displayed files on Laced Rain.
“He’ll learn how we do things soon enough,” Marek said, and headed for the stairs leading to the garage below.
Yolanda fell in step next to him. “And he’ll learn faster if you teach him.” She lifted her fingers from the tablet and flexed her hand.
“Where’s your wrist brace?” Marek asked.
“I hate wearing that thing. You know how it is when someone around here thinks you have a weakness.”
A demotion in status. He couldn’t blame her. “What about a steroid shot? Pay Zyta or Victoria a visit at the medical center. Or shoot it privately, like Sadie does.”
They formed a single file as they descended the concrete steps. “Nooo,” Yolanda said. “I do not want to be associated with that testosterone-shooting animal.”
Marek laughed, then played his part. “She’s a team member, even if she is a bit…feral.”
Yolanda snorted. Then her voice became harder than the stairs they were descending. “A team member who would take you out and claim permanent Vanguard if she could get away with it.”
They completed the last few steps in silence, Marek giving Yolanda’s words more thought than was healthy. Sadie was competitive, always searching for a way to exploit another’s weakness. This had been her way ever since she joined C3U a year ago. Coming in at the ripe age of 30, he thought she’d be assigned to Charlie or Delta squad. But here she was, his top competition.
“She wouldn’t really do that,” Yolanda said, breaking the silence. “I was just overexaggerating.”
“I know,” Marek said, storing the thought for later.
They entered the garage, the ceiling more than doubling in height. An array of high-bay lights granted shadowless details of every vehicle, motorbike, repair lift, and the surrounding obstacle course. It didn’t take much effort to locate Eduardo’s gift; half of C3U was gathered around it.
“…and it can expand to the size of a camper,” Pablo, a member of Delta squad and C3U’s top mechanic, was saying. “Invisible to radar and vehicle trackers. Radio frequencies filter through the busiest stations within the immediate vicinity to blend in.” He finished wiping his hands on a rag and stuffed it in the back pocket of his coveralls, though his hands were still clearly tainted with grease. Marek couldn’t recall a time Pablo wasn’t specked in grease. It came with the territory.
“It also has standard self-inflating double layered tires,” he continued, stepping out of the way for Zyta to enter the side door of the bulky vehicle, its build something between an ambulance and an RV. “Bulletproof windows and siding, emergency escape hatch above and below, and oh, one of its newest features…” Pablo rubbed his greasy hands together. “…one-hundred percent self-sufficient electrical supply.”
Zyta exited the monstrous van, wearing a cheek-to-cheek smile. She spotted Marek and pointed behind her. “
It’s like a tiny medical center in there, with a laptop workstation and a…” she caught Pablo’s eye, “…dress up area with wigs and stuff?”
“Oh, the wigs and facial prosthetics are for Ivan, in case he ever has to change identities mid-mission. The laptop is for Yolanda,” a feature that prompted Bravo’s tech expert to enter the van, “and the medical station, well, obviously…”
Zyta jumped forward and hugged Pablo. He seemed to relax, his shoulders slouching. After their embrace, he nodded at Marek and Eduardo. “It was their idea. Eduardo suggested outfitting a van with a couple of motorbikes for quick insertion and extraction, and Marek pushed it further, suggesting to bring the whole team’s skillset onboard. I just followed the blueprints.”
“Happy birthday, Zee,” Eduardo said, gasping as she flung her arms around him.
Marek stepped forward to meet his sister’s embrace, realizing just how much time had passed since their last hug. These were the little things. The things that counted the most yet had the elusive tendency to slip away and be forgotten. “Happy birthday, Sis.”
“Thanks for looking out for me,” Zyta said.
“That’s what big brothers are for,” Marek said. “Even if I’m only two minutes older.”
Yolanda reappeared from inside the medical van. “My throat feels itchy all of the sudden. Oh wait, that’s just my gag reflex.”
“How could I forget,” Zyta said, pulling away from Marek. Despite her attempts to flee, Yolanda found herself clutched in an embrace of her own, her face contorting and her tongue hanging comically out of her mouth. The quick flash of a small smile betrayed her efforts.
“There is one issue I’m still working on,” Pablo said. “It mainly concerns Yolanda’s workstation.” He pointed at the van’s roof. “The antenna range is only good for fifteen miles at its current height. I could lengthen it, but that would detract from its overall concealment.”
“Get with Ivan,” Marek said. “His profile had communications marked as a skill.”
Law entered the garage, leading a pack of just about every operative from upstairs. The pink scar on his cheek was a slice of warmth surrounded by ashy-gray complexion. “We have a recall on Dragon’s Throat.”
“What do you mean?” Marek asked, the serenity in his mind whirling into a gust of chaos. “Charlie and Delta squads did the sweep, they said it was clean.”
“It wasn’t,” Law said. He cleared his throat. “Authorities found an expended sedative round and are now running more extensive autopsies on bodies found at the scene.”
Marek glared at Eduardo. He’d assured the explosive charges would “leave nothing but dust.” Eduardo parted his lips, then closed them, understanding his shortcoming. Marek sought Sadie next. She was standing by Law’s side. “You said you picked up all the casings.”
“I got shot,” she spat. “My adrenaline was pumping. I thought I got them all…” she trailed off, perhaps adrenaline hindering her abilities once again.
Law dabbed his mouth with his handkerchief and then spoke to Marek. “You were Vanguard. Your team and Delta are being reassigned to Dragon’s Throat, effective immediately. Alpha and Charlie squads will begin preparations for Laced Rain.”
“What?” Marek said. “Alpha’s Vanguard now?”
“I’m not complaining,” Sadie said.
“Yeah no shit—”
“No time for breaks between missions,” Law said. “You know the protocol, Marek. With your team preoccupied, Alpha squad must assume Vanguard.”
“Come on, Marek, let Ace squad do what we do best,” Sadie said, fist bumping an otherwise invisible Kyle standing directly behind her.
“And that’s what, leaving a trail of destruction in your wake?” Eduardo said.
Sadie laughed. “That’s good, coming from the demolitions expert.”
“No,” Marek said to Eduardo, “they’re just good at leaving loose ends.” Despite the irony of Marek having spoken these words, the slight still held impact.
All light evaporated from Sadie’s eyes and she grimaced as she rolled her neck, probably flaring the pain in her shoulder. One thing she hated more than anything in the world was a loose end. A piece of crumb left behind, coated in her DNA.
“Is this a direct result of my training techniques?” Law asked, positioning himself between Marek and Sadie. “My two best operatives at each other’s throats at all times? I don’t recall ever giving a lecture on the art of rivalry between squads. Or am I finally turning senile?”
“No, sir.”
“Negative, Law.”
“I thought not, but perhaps we need a rehash on the importance of teamwork. Maybe a lesson in harmony.” He paused, raking his mind for words spoken before some of those now listening were even born. “What does a drummer, guitarist, basest, and vocalist have in common?” he asked.
“They’re skillful,” Sadie said.
“They practice,” Marek guessed.
“All play instruments,” Eduardo said.
“They come together to form a band,” Zyta said.
“Ah,” Law reacted to Zyta, squeezing her shoulder. “All very good answers. They practice until their skillset outreaches that of the masses. They write in a different language, producing sounds unique from each other. If we were to walk into their practice area, we would approve of their talents. But if we were to walk into a coliseum and listen to them as they played together, in harmony, we would stand in awe. Each of you has a skillset that outreaches the average person. In your room of practice, you become ever more effective. But it is not until you learn to walk on a stage, together, that you reach your true potential.”
Everyone stood listening, waiting for the conclusion of Law’s metaphor. He sensed their disconnect and continued. “C3U is our stage, and our audience is the nation. The government, the health industry, corporations, and our very own cybercrime defense organization must all work in harmony to keep the people of this nation in awe. And that starts here, with internal cooperation. Understand?”
Some nodded, others remained confused.
“I’ll start mission briefing for Laced Rain,” Sadie said, and marched off, Alpha and Charlie squads trailing her.
“Yeah, I’ll do the same for Dragon’s Throat,” Marek conceded.
“That’s my boy,” Law said, clasping Marek’s shoulder before turning for the exit.
“Wait,” Eduardo said. “Aren’t we at risk, if they identify the origin of the tranq bullets?”
Law shook his head. “Untraceable. And if they’re announcing upcoming autopsies to the public, well, it means they’ve already performed those autopsies and found nothing of use. Trust me, they’d be at our front door if they had.” He patted Eduardo’s back and headed for the exit.
“Back to work,” Pablo said, heading for a car raised on a lift.
Zyta nudged her brother. “Don’t worry about the test drive, we can do it after the mission.”
“Thanks,” Marek said. “Hey, do you think it was strange for Law to talk about instruments? I mean, the only music we’re prescribed is during physical training.”
Zyta nodded. “Yeah, it’s scientifically proven to boost performance.”
“It is a bit strange, him bringing up a band,” Yolanda said.
Zyta waved them off. “He just said it to stop the bickering.”
“But instruments?” Marek pondered, his voice cracking on the last word. “I can’t name one person in C3U who plays an instrument.”
Zyta shrugged. “Maybe Law used to. You should bring it up during your next chess session with him.” She hugged Marek and thanked him for the new medical van. “I’m going to take inventory, see what I can bring down from the medical center.”
“Okay,” Marek said, too stuck on the instrument metaphor to realize that Zyta had neglected his mission recall briefing, unlike Eduardo and Yolanda, who were patiently standing by for orders. “Yolanda, assume the perspective of those tracing the tranquilizer round and speculate how far they wo
uld’ve gotten, and then get with Zyta for a hypothetical medical autopsy.”
“Roger.”
“Eduardo, we’ll need a flesh and bone incinerator in the form of a liquid.”
“My pleasure.”
“And I’ll track the body, give it a new location, and find the precinct holding the tranq round as evidence,” Marek said, feeling good about the brevity of this recall. “I’m thinking they’ll close this case within the week’s end.”
They made for the exit, Yolanda putting into words a thought that had been ravaging Marek’s mind since the recall was announced. “Any bets Sadie planted the tranq shell?”
Eduardo chuckled. “Yeah, right. She’d be sabotaging the entire organization.”
And he was right. A tactic of that caliber would come back to bite everybody. Or would it come back to solely haunt Marek? Law mentioned that just a single casing was recovered. A casing that would disclose Marek as the buyer if the sedative were to be traced back to the serial number, which in turn would lead to Marek’s assets card, and ultimately Marek’s false identification and employment address at C3U’s electronic repair shop.
But Law had also mentioned that a body was found at the scene, and the likelihood of Sadie purposely moving that body outside of Eduardo’s explosive blast radius was…zero, since she wasn’t carrying a body due to her injury.
“Didn’t take you as a conspiracy theorist,” Marek said to Yolanda.
“I’m not,” she said flatly. “But I never rule out a possibility unless it’s been proven otherwise.”
“Well, then let’s prove Sadie isn’t conspiring against us and take care of this body.”
Chapter 4
Axel searched the drawers of his mind for a useful hand gesture. Left hand outstretched, palm-up, right hand stabbing palm with all four fingers: again.
His eyes shot open to the sound of car horns blaring. He turned to Jordan and signed. Palm up, four-fingers stabbing palm: again.
Jordan pushed his fists together in the manner of a prayer and rotated his hands in opposite directions: how. Then he pulled his fists apart, extended both index fingers, and rotated them in a reverse circular motion: sign.