by Justin Bell
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The sun had risen and was starting to fall on the other side of dawn. Agent Grace stood by his wide office window, looking out over 'his' town. He was back from Washington, and was legitimately pleased about that, even if there was some unpleasant business that he had to address. Glancing over to his left out the window, he spotted the vacant lot next to this three-story building where more construction took place. Unknown to most of the inhabitants of this town, the National Security Agency was building another small office here, and was using their standard contractors. A small sign proclaiming 'Pollard Construction' sat at the entrance to this vacant lot, where the I-beam skeleton of a building already stood, ready for walls. A chain-link fence surrounded the site, which was still mostly dirt piles, tools, and the skeletal construct. A small trailer with the Pollard Construction sign on it sat just beyond the chain-link fence, along with a wooden ramp leading up to the front door. The NSA had used this little construction company for many of their local projects, and they did good work. Grace smirked a little bit at this thought, imagining that Pollard probably had no idea who they were really working for, and were probably just appreciating their great luck in securing so many random contracts lately. Capitalism at its finest.
Across the street from this lot sat a parking garage, which had been hastily built in between existing buildings a number of years ago to accommodate the greatly growing population of the local Ivy League school and Medical Center. The infrastructure here was still small-town, but the layers kept on piling on top to match the growing need and growing money economy. Grace attributed the continued survival and thriving of the local economy to the sinister government agency underbelly woven throughout the fabric here. With high placed operatives in local business, the college, the medical school, and the hospital, the survival of this town was necessary and their success would be all but guaranteed.
A knock on the door behind him shook him out of his daze, and Agent Grace turned towards his office door and spoke abruptly.
"Come in."
Agent Burndock and Gary Irizarry walked into the office, both with completely different demeanors. Grace couldn't help but smile internally at the dichotomy between the two men. Irizarry held his head high with an air of confidence, while Burndock almost snuck in, braced for impact. With an upper class education and upbringing, Burndock certainly should be the more proud and capable, but Irizarry's ingrained competence and hard-nosed attitude brought him up past Burndock's level of comfort.
"So," Agent Grace started, "who should I blame for this ridiculous farce?"
Burndock looked about ready to open his mouth and spew excuses, but Irizarry actually stepped up. "My fault, boss. All mine. Burndock had the situation in control, my boys screwed the pooch."
Burndock cast a sideways glance at Irizarry and the corner of Grace's mouth twisted up into a satisfied smirk.
"Impressive. I'll admit, Mr. Irizarry. I didn't know what to make of you when your name came recommended. But I can see why you were the man for the job. Yes, this was a massive cluster fuck, but I attribute that more to Strickland's skill and less to the talents of your team."
Irizarry nodded without emotion. "Thank you, sir."
"In fact," Grace continued, "I think your men made the best of an utterly screwed up situation. None of your guys had any facts or details on Strickland at all. You were thrown in the deep end of the pool." He walked back towards his large, oak desk. "Granted, you didn't swim? you struggled. Nevertheless, you crawled your way back to the edge and survived to try again. Not many people who have gone up against William Strickland can say that."
Suddenly, Burndock didn't like the way this conversation was headed. He knew and appreciated Irizarry's skill set, but certainly, Agent Grace wasn't somehow claiming that these Neanderthals handled this whole situation perfectly?
As if reading Burndock's thoughts, Grace turned to him. "Agent Burndock, what is your opinion on this situation?"
"I'm in agreement. A bad situation, but Irizarry and his crew handled it about as well as could be expected."
Grace stared at Burndock, who was growing somewhat uncomfortable. "What do you see as your role in this mishap?"
"I made mistakes, sir," Burndock admitted. "In retrospect, I should have handled Strickland more carefully. Not shown our hand."
"Now, you've read the Strickland file, correct? Unlike Mr. Irizarry here, you know what we're dealing with, don't you?"
Burndock nodded. "Absolutely, sir. Which is why I didn't want to take any-"
"Which is why you should have kept your men back. Getting in William Strickland's way was the last damn thing you should have been doing here, Agent. Do I make myself clear?" Intensity dripped from Grace's voice, but his cold, stern stare didn't waver.
"Yes, sir," Burndock could feel his cheeks flushing.
"Your only job was to watch and learn. Watch and learn. That's it. We didn't need anyone to be a hero and we didn't need anyone to take Strickland down. Just watch and learn."
"I understand, sir."
"Do you?" Grace turned from his desk and shot Burndock a white-hot glare. "I promise you, Burndock, if you don't understand now, you will before this operation is over. I am banking my entire career on this project's execution, and anyone who gets in the way of that, whether they mean to or not, will pay the price." Agent Grace picked up a sterling silver letter opener from his desk and twirled it in his hand, once again his back turned to the two men.
"Agent Grace, I apologize for my role in this, but-"
Grace spun around quickly, his glare turning from stern to borderline outrage. "Your role?" He slammed his left hand down against his oak desk and the silver letter opener embedded itself in its surface, sinking a good half inch. Sweat drew at the base of Grace's neck, and he could almost smell the pulsing blood pumping just below his flesh. "This wasn't your role, Agent; this was your whole job. This was it. And you blew it." The letter opener quivered from its impact, but Burndock felt much more on edge about the quiet intensity of Agent Grace's voice. He wasn't screaming, he was speaking very softly and somehow that scared Burndock even more. A screaming and yelling Grace might knock him down a few pegs, but he sensed an understated menace in this quiet tone. A whisper from death itself.
"You're right, sir. I blew it. Allow me to make up for it."
"And how do you propose we do that?"
"What do you need me to do? Just say it."
Agent Grace leaned back against his oak desk, crossing his arms. Irizarry stood off to the right, with Burndock on the left. The larger man had a cocky look on his face, smirking slightly at him and almost relishing the discomfort that Burndock felt on the hot seat. Grace appeared to be deep in thought. He turned slowly and pulled the letter opener from the oak desk, tapping it rhythmically on his other palm. His eyes were cast out the window as he thought.
"All I want from you right now, Agent Burndock, is for you to take a few days off. Think about the mistakes you made and what you'd do differently. Let me think on it, too, and I'll prepare your next assignment."
"Sir? Am I being relocated?" asked Agent Burndock, suddenly concerned.
"No. We don't have enough manpower as it is, Agent. We will be using you. I just need to decide in what capacity."
Burndock shook his head slightly. "Agent Grace, I apologize for any slight that may be perceived in my actions or abilities, but I don't think this is the right time for me to be away from the team."
"I concur, Agent, which is why I'm so disappointed in your lapse of judgment at this moment. You're suspended for forty-eight hours. I will give you your next assignment when that time has passed."
Again, Burndock looked flushed, but he knew there was little he could say. He had to accept the punishment and prepare to come back and redeem himself. "As you order, sir. You know how to get a hold of me."
He turned and walked out professionally, but determinedly.
"So, boss," said Irizarry, looking from the depa
rting agent over to the presiding one. "What's the plan?"
"More of the same."
"Honestly?"
"You sound disappointed. Hoping for more action than you got last night?" Agent Grace sat in his office chair and leaned forward slightly, casting his eyes up towards the tall, broad-shouldered man.
"Nah. Just hoping for a chance to redeem ourselves," his eyes narrowed.
Agent Grace shook his head slightly and laced his fingers together. "Look, Gary?I appreciate your frustration. But, William Strickland is far too valuable to just let your team unload on him. Like it or not, we need him. That's why we're watching him."
"Understood, Agent. Don't think I don't appreciate that. Just curious why my guys and I would be called up here if you're not expecting any action." Irizarry crossed his large arms and extended a palm questioningly. "Our specialty isn't sitting and watching. Our specialty is block and tackle and kicking ass."
"And that specialty served us very well last night."
"So you're expecting more of that?"
"Nothing would surprise me."
Irizarry half-sighed and half-chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "My team is good for whatever you need, Grace. You know that. I just feel like our services would be much better used in a more? forceful measure."
"Listen, Gary," Agent Grace said, leaning back in his office chair, "I need muscle, for sure. But, I need well-trained, well-disciplined, and capable muscle. Your guys are among the only ones I've worked with who accomplish all of that. Am I wasting your talents by sitting your asses in a car for twelve hours a day? Yeah, I probably am. But I'd rather have you guys there in case something happens like it did last night."
"Understood, but at the risk of throwing me and my guys under the bus, we got our asses handed to us last night. I'm not sure how that proves our ability to do anything."
Grace smiled, just a little bit. "Tell me something. If what you saw last night had been anyone else, what would have happened? I know it feels bad, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse. Strickland could have grabbed one of your guys and trust me, he would have had him talking in about thirty seconds." Grace slid his chair back and emerged from it, circling around his desk, and walking towards Irizarry. "Truth is, you guys were put in a screwed-up spot, behind the eight ball, and from my perspective, you excelled. A couple guys are in the hospital, and Strickland got out scot-free, but besides some records theft, the night was mostly a wash."
"How is it playing out in public circles?"
"We're clear." Grace walked closer to the large man.
"Point taken, sir. So we continue rotation?"
"That's the plan." Grace extended his hand towards Gary Irizarry.
"Works for me." Irizarry grasped his hand and pumped it twice. "Who is going to fill Burndock's spot on the Day Watch team?"
"Two can handle it for a few days. It's not like Strickland's going back home any time soon."
Irizarry nodded. "All right, then. We'll stay on task. Let me know if you need anything else."
The two men departed with Irizarry vacating the office and walking down the hall to the closest elevator. Grace turned back around and stared out his window again, relishing the view of his little private kingdom. He had a little bit of a smile on his face, but if he was completely honest with himself, he'd admit the events from last night had spooked him more than he let on. It had only been nearly two weeks and Strickland was almost at top shape. The running speed, his instincts, the fighting skills. This was the first cycle, what would happen over the next three months? The possibilities were amazing, but also more than a little intimidating.