Chimera

by Orion Gaudio

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded and looked up at her. She was making some notes on pad of paper.

  “And how was your mission?”

  “A little sketchy… but I managed.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, it got a little dicey and the mission was extended while I was there.”

  “But you still managed to complete your objectives?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “And how have you been sleeping?”

  “Like shit. Same old story.”

  “Any idea why?”

  He knew why, but he didn’t feel like telling her the truth. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, but Turner knew that she had the power to flag him based on their sessions… and then he would be held back from going on operations. Howard put him under an immense amount of pressure to perform and he didn’t want to let down the man that had given him the opportunity to help his country and make the world a safer place. He often struggled with the nature of the work, but he kept himself in check—it was a dangerous world out there, and they were often the only ones standing in the way of terrible things happening.

  “Do you think it’s stress that’s causing you to not sleep?”

  “Maybe.”

  Their sessions, or conversations as she referred to them, had grown more casual over the years. He preferred how they were when she first started—right to the point. Now, though, he got the impression that she was trying to get him to open up and talk about his feelings every time they met.

  “Did something happen on your most recent mission?” she asked.

  He shook his head and cleared his throat. The sooner he gave her something, the sooner he’d be able to get out of there and get on with his day.

  “Not really. The mission was extended. I was given an additional task, which I completed fairly easily. I did have to take out a secondary target. There was no way around it.”

  “I get the sense that something is bothering you about it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I had to retrieve something from a safe. That was the mission. I made it to the location and opened the safe, but the package wasn’t inside. This secondary target showed up and was in possession of the package.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you were forced to kill this person because the package wasn’t where it was supposed to be?”

  “Something like that.”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “I didn’t feel anything.”

  “James, I can tell something is bothering you. I can’t help you if you’re not willing to let me.”

  He sighed and looked at her. It had never been easy for him to open up to anyone, and she wasn’t an exception. He knew what it would mean if he told her the truth about what was going on his head—she’d be forced to tell Howard and he’d be pulled off active duty. That was the last thing Turner wanted. His boss counted on him for the most difficult missions and he knew things could go downhill quickly if he was stuck sitting at home. Not to mention, his entire life revolved around NIA and the missions they sent him on.

  “I’m fine, really.”

  She sighed and scribbled something on her pad. He wasn’t terribly worried. As long as he didn’t admit to her what was really going on, Rhonda wouldn’t have enough proof to have him pulled from duty. It was a price he felt was worth paying.

  “Look,” she said, as she looked up at him, “I get why you’re trying to stonewall me. I’m asking not just because it’s my job, but because I’m worried about you. It’s my professional opinion that you’ve been suffering from depression for some time, but you’re not willing to admit it to anyone.”

  He shook his head.

  “Honestly, I’m doing OK. I’m not feeling depressed or anything.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds and finally nodded.

  “I think we’re done,” she said.

  “I’ll see you next time.”

  Turner stood up from the table, put on his backpack and walked out of the room. He headed down the hall toward the armory. The guys there would get rid of the CF-98 he’d been carting around, and then he was free to head home. From there he would wait for a call from Howard when it was time for his next mission.

  7

  Rhonda knocked on the door and opened it. Howard looked up from his computer as she walked in.

  “So?” he asked.

  She shrugged and sat down across from him.

  “I just finished my session with him.”

  “And?”

  “He’s claiming that he’s fine, but I have serious doubts as to his mental stability.”

  Howard tapped his foot on the floor. He had just gotten word that they were needed for a mission and that Turner had been personally requested. It was unusual for The Council to request a specific agent for a mission, but not unprecedented. The last time had been four years earlier and that mission was one he thought about nearly every day since then. His top agent at the time had lost his life on the mission and it was something that took him a great deal of time to come to peace with.

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think you need to pull him from active duty and keep an eye on him. I’d like to see him for a few sessions a week and try to work through whatever is going on with him.”

  Howard nodded as he thought about what to do. The Council wasn’t going to like that. The mission they wanted him for was scheduled to start in forty-eight hours. That wasn’t possible considering what Rhonda was telling him.

  “OK, I need to think about it.”

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “You’re not going to pull him?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Howa… Mr. Castle,” she said, catching herself, “I really don’t think that’s wise.”

  He cleared his throat and stared at her.

  “I’ll think about it. Dismissed.”

  She got up and walked out of the room. He turned back to his laptop and logged in to check with The Council. He was certain they would insist on Turner for the mission, but he felt obliged to ask. They had been close since he recruited Turner and he didn’t want to put him in a position to fail if he wasn’t in a mental state to be on a mission.

  Merlin

  Requested operative deemed unfit for duty.

  He waited for the response.

  TC

  Negative. Chimera must move forward with requested operative. Further instructions will follow in eighteen hours.

  The messages disappeared, and he slammed the laptop closed. It was exactly the response he had expected, but it was still not the one he wanted.

  Howard had gone over the mission particulars while Rhonda met with Turner and it hadn’t filled him with hope. They were sending his best agent into the lion’s den. On the best of days, it could be a near-suicide mission, so he wasn’t hopeful. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. There was nothing he could do. Going against the council was something he just couldn’t do. They would remove him as head of NIA if he didn’t comply. Turner was going on the mission and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  8

  Turner walked into his kitchen and opened the cabinet. He pulled out a nearly empty bottle of whiskey and a glass, dropped three ice cubes into it and filled it the rest of the way with the brown liquid. The cubes clinked against the glass as he sat down on the couch. Doubt filled his mind as he thought about his session with Rhonda. After he left the armory, he stopped back by her office… but she was gone. He had decided to open up to her, to tell her the truth about what was going on with him, but when she wasn’t there he changed his mind and headed home. He told himself it was a sign, even though he wasn’t sure he believed it. Turner decided to sleep on it and see how he felt in the morning.

  He put his feet up on the coffee table and took a d
eep breath as he looked around the living room. The house was exactly the same as when he first moved in. Brown shag carpet that desperately needed to be cleaned, walls that had turned a sickly yellow from the previous tenant who chained smoked in the house, and worn-out furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was his home.

  His thoughts drifted back to New York City as his sipped his whiskey. It was the cheap stuff and had a little bit of a bite to it, not that he minded. Being back in his house was a welcome change after spending time away in the rotting carcass of a city he just left. He finished the drink and chewed on one of the partially melted ice cubes.

  Turner closed his eyes and sighed. He saw Fei, and the look on his face when he realized he was having a heart attack. He shook his head and stood up from the couch. A few more drinks would hopefully numb the pain. There was a bar just down the street, so he grabbed his coat and headed out.

  The hinges squealed in protest as he pushed the door open and walked inside. A couple regulars he recognized occupied a booth near the back, but the place was empty apart from them. Turner sat down at the bar and waited for Ronnie to come over.

  “The usual?”

  “Make it a double.”

  The bartender nodded and fixed the double whiskey on the rocks. He set it down in front of Turner and leaned against the bar.

  “Haven’t seen you lately.”

  “Works been keeping me busy.”

  “You work at the mine, right?”

  Turner grunted and took a swig of the whiskey.

  “I don’t know how you do it. Mining is hard work.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “The pay decent?”

  “It is what it is.”

  Turner wasn’t in the mood for a chat, so he took out his phone and started reading the news. Ronnie got the hint and walked to the other end of the bar and started to load some glasses into the dishwasher. Turner found the news article he was looking for.

  Manhattan- AP

  The body of a Chinese national has been found in Tribeca. The wife of a prominent Chinese scientist was discovered when police responded to a possible gunshot reported by neighbors. Her husband, also a Chinese national, was found dead earlier that same day of an apparent heart attack. The investigation is ongoing. Police are treating both deaths as potential homicides and are asking for anyone who might have seen any suspicious activity in the area to call the tip line.

  The article didn’t go into specifics about either death, but he wasn’t surprised that the police were treating them as related crimes. That had always been a distinct possibility once he knew he’d have to take out Ying. There were times when he was kept in the dark about the objectives of a mission and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been the plan all along for him to retrieve the flash drive. If Howard would have been upfront with him, he would have been able to skip the surveillance of Fei and gone straight to the apartment. It would have been easier for him to make their deaths look accidental in that case, but now the police were looking at a double homicide.

  Turner finished his drink and waved at Ronnie. The bartender fixed him another and set it down. He could feel the alcohol starting to loosen him up and he finally felt as though he could relax.

  The only thing that gave him any solace about how things worked out was that he’d gotten out of the city in one piece and the police would have a hard time connecting his identity to the crimes. The only people that had seen him without a disguise were either dead or they were Chinese agents. He knew they weren’t likely to go the police, and the fact that he made it back to Altoona meant he was clear of the Chinese—if they knew who he was, they would have intercepted him before he could leave the city.

  Usual operating procedure dictated that he’d be off for a week or so before a new mission was assigned to him and even then he wouldn’t be asked to return to New York City for at least six months. The trail would be cold by then.

  The door to the bar opened. Turner looked up from his drink and saw Howard walk in. He frowned and set his glass back down on the bar. His boss walked over and took the stool next to him.

  “Beer,” Howard said, as Ronnie walked over.

  “What are you doing here?” Turner asked.

  “I came to check on you.”

  It was against protocol for anyone at NIA to interact outside of the compound. Altoona was a small enough town that chance encounters did happen, but this was precisely the kind of meeting those rules were in place to prevent.

  “I’m fine.”

  Howard took a sip of his beer and glanced around the bar.

  “You come here often?”

  “Every once in a while.”

  “You trying to forget?” Howard asked.

  “Nope, just trying to unwind after the last couple days.”

  “Rhonda is worried about you.”

  Turner glanced over and saw that Ronnie was occupied at the far end of the bar.

  “Should we be talking about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?”

  “She recommended that you take a break from work.”

  He sighed and took a sip of whiskey.

  “And?”

  “I want to see where your head is at.”

  Turner shrugged and looked over at Howard. He could tell his boss was under an immense amount of stress… something was weighing on the conscience of the man… something more than whatever Rhonda had said.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Will you be ready to work tomorrow night?”

  Turner sighed and finished his drink.

  “I can be.”

  “You know I normally wouldn’t ask… not after… you know, but this is an extenuating circumstance.”

  “Nobody else can cover the shift?”

  “No, it needs to be you.”

  Turner nodded slowly. He didn’t know about the inner workings of NIA. Even after the years he had spent there, much of it was a mystery to him. It was better that way, he thought. He also knew that Howard wouldn’t be asking him to go on another mission so quickly if it was a mission suitable for the other agents.

  “I’ll come in tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So, you’re straight?” Howard asked.

  “I’ll be fine, boss.”

  “You know I worry about you.”

  “I know. It’s all good. I’ll be fine.”

  Howard wrapped his knuckles on the bar, fished some money out of his wallet and tossed it on the bar.

  “Have a good night,” Howard said.

  “Thanks, you too.”

  Turner watched as he walked out of the bar and then turned back to his empty glass.

  “Ronnie… I’ll take another.”

  “Sure thing.”

  He was starting to feel the effects of the whiskey, which was precisely why he kept ordering drinks. Turner wanted to get drunk enough to forget Fei and Ying, and he figured another drink or two would do the trick. He’d pay for it in the morning with a splitting headache, but he didn’t care.

  The door to the bar opened as he took the first sip from his third drink. Turner watched as a woman in her thirties walked in and sat down on a stool two down from him. Ronnie made his way over to her and Turner found himself listening to their conversation.

  “What can I get ya?” Ronnie asked.

  “White wine.”

  Turner heard the twang of a Southern accent.

  “Sure thing.”

  He poured the wine and set it down on the bar.

  “You new in town or just passing through?”

  She had straight dark brown hair that ended just below her shoulder. A quick flip of her wrist threw it behind her ear and she smiled. She was wearing a knee-length black cocktail dress and matching pumps. If she wasn’t passing through, Turner was pretty sure she had just arrived because she was considerably overdressed for Altoona.

 
; “Just moved here today… I got a place down the street and wanted a break from unpacking.”

  “Well, welcome to Altoona.”

  “Thanks.”

  It wasn’t exactly a place people moved for the hell of it, so Turner found himself glancing in her direction every so often. She caught him looking at her and she flashed him a smile. He had been sloppy, which he attributed to the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream. She stood up and moved to the stool next to him.

  “Alice May,” she said, extending her hand.

  Turner shook it.

  “James.”

  “James what?”

  “Turner.”

  “Well, James Turner, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  He looked into her hazel eyes and nodded.

  “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

  “You live around here?” she asked.

  “Just down the street.”

  “I guess that makes us neighbors,” she said, in a giddy tone.

  “I guess so.”

  His thoughts were still on Howard and the fact that he’d have another mission so quickly after the last. The last thing he wanted was to chat it up with some woman who just moved to Altoona, but he was still enjoying his drink and didn’t want to be rude to her for no reason.

  “So, how do you like living here?”

  “In Altoona?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s fine. Not much going on here.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work in a mine,” he said.

  He glanced over at Ronnie and nodded. The bartender poured him another round and set it down on the bar.

  “Is there anything to do for fun around here?” she asked.

  He took a sip of his drink before answering her.

  “Not sure… I spend most of my time working.”

  “It seems pretty sleepy compared to where I’m from.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Charleston, South Carolina. You ever been?”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s a wonderful city. I love it there. I didn’t really want to move but… it was… it was time.”

  “Yeah.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. His thoughts were clouded by the whiskey and he was ready for sleep. Turner took a wad out of cash from his pocket and threw down thirty on the bar.