by Alex Howell
Kyle confirmed, “Yes I did, I have all of their conversation recorded, and a positive voice print identifying them both.”
Mason hissed into his earpiece, “So you know that—”
Kyle answered for him, “Yes, I can all but confirm that the mystery guest of Tessa’s is none other than General Alfonso Fanelli from the U.S. Italian command.” That was all that Mason needed to hear, and leaving his completely uneaten lasagna on the table, he got up to leave.
The waiter seeing his uneaten food, stepped in front of him, seeming as if he were about to burst into tears, as he asked, “Is it really that bad?” Mason glancing at the lasagna, shook his head, “No—it’s really good.”
The waiter asked, “Then why didn’t you eat it?”
Mason put his hand on the stressed chef’s shoulder and informed him, “Oh—but I don’t eat I just smell.”
The waiter asked, “You just smell sir?”
Mason nodded, “Yep—and that food smelled fantastic. See ya later.”
Without further explanation, Mason then bolted out of the restaurant and out to his waiting SUV.
The waiter meanwhile, staring at the plate of uneaten lasagna in a nearly catatonic state muttered to himself, “I need a new line of work.”
6
The Unsung Heroes of Onyx
A COUPLE HOURS LATER, AT MASON’S HOUSE IN BALTIMORE, MARLAND. Mason is seated at his kitchen table with Raina at his side and all the other Onyx team members situated nearby. Breaking the silence, Mason spoke to those assembled, “Alright guys, we’ve finally got some real dirt on ‘The Blood’.”
Marshal Oliver seated across from Mason muttered, “The Blood... Bunch of bloody bastards…. It’s about time. Alright Mason—lay it on us. What’d you find out?”
Mason took a breath as he glanced at Oliver, “They seem to be plotting an attack, but as to where they are planning to strike next, remains a complete unknown at this point.”
The vagueness of Mason’s findings prompted Marshal Oliver to quip, “Well that certainly clears things up—doesn’t it? About as clear as mud I’d say.”
Mason shook his head, “But there’s more…”
Marshal pulling his chair closer to the table, demanded, “Okay Mason—what is it?”
Mason paused, and glanced over to Kyle, before continuing, “We made a positive ID on Tessa’s contact.”
Marshal Oliver raised an eyebrow, “Okay, is it anyone of any importance?”
Mason nodded, “Yeah I would say so.”
Glancing around the room and agitatedly tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, Marshal Oliver wasn’t one for suspense. As Mason was not as forthcoming with his reply as he would have liked, he found himself demanding, “Well shit—spit it out already Mason! I don’t have all day here!
Mason not at all reveling in what he had uncovered, let out a heavy sigh as he revealed, “It’s General Alphonso Fanelli.”
Mathew Benton who was seated next to Marshal Oliver, and who had been fairly quiet up to this point, audibly gasped, “What? You’re kidding?!”
Mason shook his head, “I wish I were.”
He then showed a still frame photo of the back of the General’s neck that had been gleaned from his optics. Here blown up for the whole world to see, was the tattoo of infamy, “By blood we cleanse”.
Seeing it, Benton agreed, “Damn, I’d recognize that jerk’s fat, tattooed neck anywhere—that’s definitely him.”
Benton itching for action then inquired, “So when do we go in to bag this guy?”
Mason shook his head, “No Matt, it’s not that easy. We don’t have enough evidence to bag anybody just yet. So far, it’s just a bunch of talk and incomprehensible chatter, no one has actually committed a crime.”
This statement prompted Kyle to ask, “And just what is this incomprehensible chatter all about Mason—just what are these looney toons saying?”
Mason sighed, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
At which Kyle insisted, “Try me.”
Mason nodded, “Very well… you asked for it.”
Mason glanced around the room at everyone assembled before informing them, “It seems that this group of miscreants believes that the entire Earth needs to be cleansed. They say that just like how in the ‘Days of Noah’ God washed the earth clean with water; they too desire to wash the world clean—except this time they plan on doing it with blood.”
Mason paused before adding, “It seems that they believe by spilling the blood of the sinners, at least their warped definition of what a sinner is—the world will be a better home for the saints. Or as the terrorists call them, the “holiest of people”.
Raina remarked, “Umm…okay… I don’t think that’s in the Bible by the way…”
Benton agreed, “Right…. I don’t claim to be religious or anything, but even I know John 3:16. And what these scumbags are preaching definitely doesn’t line up with it!”
Mason asked, “John 3:16?”
Benton nodded, “Yeah we had a chaplain once who quoted that piece of scripture on an almost daily basis.”
Benton then proceeded to recite the verse from memory, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
Raina taking in the meaning of the scripture Benton just narrated, confirmed, “Yep…that’s what I learned in Sunday school too…. That God loved the world… Not that he wanted to cleanse it through mass murder—all that crap is just a bunch of terrorist creeps blowing smoke out their ass.”
Mason agreed, “Yeah but when it comes to these pompous pricks—they practically write their own bibles. Nothing they do is biblical or makes any remote sense at all, they just make it up as they go along. They create their own perverse rules and world views, and then hide it all behind a few bits of handpicked scripture that they bend and twist to their own ends.”
Benton looked down at the table as if in deep thought, before finally looking up and stating, “Okay so we are clearly dealing with a bunch of psychopathic maniacs… But as of right now besides their nonsensical banter we got nothing that sticks… So, what is it that we should do in the meantime?”
Mason nodded, “In the short term we need to conduct more surveillance. At least until we discover a more substantial lead to follow.”
Kyle who was sitting next to Benton, with nose buried in his laptop, spoke up in agreement, telling them, “Yeah—you might want to start out by creating a much more elaborate net of surveillance.”
At which Mason then spun his own laptop around on the table for everyone to see as he pointed at the GPS tracking app on his desktop.
Mason announced, “And thanks to high-tech wizardry, we can focus on the general whereabouts of suspects by monitoring the tracking device placed on Tessa.”
Squinting his eyes at the screen it was now Marshal Oliver’s turn to ask, “And that’s it? What about Fanelli?”
Mason responded, “We don’t have enough info to even merit a direct look at him yet. And even if we did, we don’t know how many others in leadership roles, might be involved. If we don’t tread very carefully here, this lack of knowledge could allow Fanelli to ultimately get away with his crimes. We have to take that into consideration before we start naming names.”
This caused a rebuke from a surprising source as Kyle Garrison looked up from his phone to curse, “Damn it! I’m tired of bloated, bureaucratic Washington officials getting away with crap!”
Mason looked over to Kyle and with slight amusement asked, “And just who else are you referring to Mr. Garrison? Who are these bloated, bureaucratic Washington officials you speak of?”
Kyle shook his head, “All of them. From President Verne Landers on down—they’re all completely worthless and corrupt. In reality, General Fanelli is just an outlying symptom of a much larger disease.”
As grandiose as his posturing Mason was impressed with the insight that Kyle displ
ayed. But while he couldn’t truthfully say that he never held such similar pessimistic views, but for the moment he was determined to work within the system—corruption and all—to get results.
And he told Kyle as much, “Kyle buddy I feel your pain, I really do—but we’ve got to use the tools that we are given in order to get these guys.”
Raina who had been rather quiet during the whole meeting, now finally took the opportunity to clarify their mission.
She told them, “And even if we don’t have direct evidence at the moment against the suspects, we need to actively monitor their movement all the same. As of right now all we can really do is try and stop any upcoming plans the group may have already in the works. We need to somehow stop them from happening, without being discovered ourselves.”
Upon hearing this, Mathew Benton smirked, “Right—well, that’s just a day in the life of Onyx—the biggest unsung heroes on the planet.”
7
Knowing What’s Good for You
MEANWHILE AT CLARA’S HOUSE ON STANFORD CAMPUS.
Clara was sitting on the outside porch of her new campus home with her roommates Serena, Rebecca, and Karen. They were all sitting on various outdoor furniture enjoying the breeze. In the last few days of summer break, before classes were to begin, relaxation was paramount, and it seemed that it was Clara’s gravity chair that was the envy of everyone.
Rebecca lounging in a plastic chair across from her remarked, “That looks awful comfy Clara.”
Eyeing the piece of lawn furniture, Serena seated next to her then exclaimed, “That’s a freaking gravity chair isn’t it?”
Clara leaned back allowing her chair to fall back to a comfortable position as she laughed, “Maybe.”
Karen seated on a piece of wicker furniture nearby asked her, “Where did you get that from?”
Clara answered, “My dad’s girlfriend Raina got it for me. She bought me a bunch of stuff before I moved in.”
Karen grabbing hold of the bottle of beer she had out on the table next to her, suddenly scrunched up her face in consternation, before remarking, “Oh—I thought that was your mom… That’s just your dad’s girlfriend?”
Clara a bit annoyed at the response, repeated more forcefully, “Uh yeah… that’s what I just said.”
Karen looking across the street as the traffic zoomed by, commented, “Well—I have to admit Clara… Your dad is kind of hot.”
Shocked to hear such language about her own father, Clara replied, “Excuse me?”
As Clara stared in disbelief, Karen then added injury to the insult. With mischief in her voice she remarked “With looks like his… I’m not the least bit surprised that he would have a girlfriend.”
Clara unnerved at the direction her roommate was taking the topic of conversation, reprimanded her, “Karen—that’s my father you are talking about here.”
Karen smirked, “I know. That doesn’t mean that he’s not hot. I have eyes. He’s just a hot dad that’s all.”
Serena trying to stick up for Clara’s ruffled feelings, cautioned Karen, “Hey come on now Karen. Maybe some thoughts need to be kept to ourselves alright?”
Karen apparently wasn’t one to be told what to do however, as she waved her bottle of beer in the air, and challenged, “Give me a break! This is my freaking house; I can say whatever I want!”
At which Clara becoming increasingly frustrated, shouted back, “Uh excuse me—this is my house too! And if I don’t want to hear something, you should respect me enough not to say it.”
A big grin played across Karen’s face almost as if she were welcoming the drama as she challenged, “Oh really?” She then took a big gulp of her beer before unsympathetically stating, “Look girl—I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not going to be the thought police here. You are not going to silence me.”
Serena shocked at the aggressive turn the conversation was taking, desperately sought to bring the ship back to more peaceful waters, as she exclaimed, “Guys! Guys! There is no need to fight here!”
But this only caused Karen to turn her ire on Serena, as she shouted, “I’m not wanting to fight anyone!”
Karen waved her finger at Clara and exclaimed, “But she’s not going to control what I say. If she doesn’t like what I’m talking about she can go somewhere else.”
Clara had had her misgivings about moving in with her new roommates, and now she seemed to have been given her confirmation that she had made a grave mistake. Standing up, she muttered to herself, “This is ridiculous.”
And taking Karen’s suggestion to “go somewhere else” she walked right off the porch and into the street outside. She wasn’t sure where she was going but she just knew she had to get away.
Serena concerned for her friend, got up and walked to the edge of the porch to shout after her, “Clara! Clara! Where are you going?”
Karen having already proven her dominance, bid Serena to sit back down, as she shouted, “Let her walk! It’s good for her!”
BACK AT ONYX HQ IN BALTIMORE.
As the enormity of the task began to set in, all the team members of Onyx realized the new commitment that they would soon be having to make. Kyle Garrison was staring at a monitor with a grid composed of special designated squares of surveillance points and GPS data. Pointing at the screen he had remarked, “For every little square you see here, we need to have some of our people out on patrol.”
The city he referred to was the nation’s capital—Washington DC. Although DC was long known as a rough city, in recent years there had been many concerted efforts to clean up DC’s image. And since the early 2020’s, gentrification was the name of the game and previously shunned neighborhoods were now full of brand new, so-called “urban pioneers”.
Such an influx of new residents was good for revitalizing old DC neighborhoods, but the heightened flow of traffic also allowed outsiders to mix in better than they otherwise would have. If DC in fact, hadn’t become so gentrified, the arrival of foreign terrorists would have no doubt, stood out like a sore thumb.
In the past these international terrorists just wouldn’t have been able to blend in as well with the hood’s usual cadre of pimps, prostitutes, drug dealers, homeless, and gang bangers. As things were however, they could be just about anywhere in the city, completely undetected.
Mason realizing as much spoke up, “We are really going to have to be the eyes and ears of Onyx for this one, I will track every single terrorist or even acquaintances of these terrorists, in order to make sure that we know everything we can about any planned attacks that might be in the works.”
From the other side of the room, Marshal Oliver made the suggestion, “Hey guys. With such a large area of ground to cover—wouldn’t it be better to bring in some additional help? “
Raina swiveled her chair around to see Oliver, and asked him, “Do you mean your contacts in SWAT?”
Marshal nodded, “Yeah, I can probably call Captain Delgado up and get at least a few SWAT guys to tag along with us.”
Mason agreed, “Okay Marshal, we could always use the extra manpower. I’m just worried that too strong a show of force might upend our efforts. After all, remember—no one has been charged with a crime yet. And as such it might make it rather difficult to explain on the 6 o’clock news why it was we had SWAT bust down people’s doors for no reason.
Benton staring at a map of the metro area agreed, “Mason’s right. We don’t have enough evidence to nab any particular person at the moment, so we have to tread carefully. But if we do our due diligence, we can make sure that no further damage is created by these scumbags.”
Mason nodded, “Right, because if these guys have a plan in the works, we can at least find subtle ways to stop it, so that they can’t go forward with it.”
Raina looking over to Mason asked, “So what is it exactly that you are proposing Mason?”
Mason echoed, “What am I proposing?”
Mason took a breath, “I say that each and every m
ember of the team commit themselves to high intensity surveillance and monitoring of an equal number of terrorist members.”
Marshal Oliver spoke up, “Really? So, know SWAT then I take it?”
Mason nodded, “Just keep it on the back burner for us Marshal, in the meantime we’ll all split up to track at least two known suspects.”
Mason continued, “I will make it my job to personally track Tessa Rogers and General Fanelli.”
Mason paused, and glanced around the room at those assembled before continuing, “And the rest of you pick a couple of perps to track as well.”
Marshal Oliver thinking Mason had a good idea for a change, consented, “Alright sure Mason, that can be done.”
But Raina concerned about Mason’s past of going rogue, cautioned, “Okay…monitoring is fine but if anyone finds reason to move in, they better alert the rest of their team members for backup.”
Mason was quiet on this point, prompting Raina to physically elbow him, as she repeated, “If push comes to shove and you decide to move in on a suspect, you will ask for tactical support, right Mason?”
Mason knowing that there was no point in arguing, conceded, “Sure thing Raina—sure thing.”
He then looked at her with a grin and added, “If I know what’s good for me, I know that arguing with you never works.”
8
The Chase Begins
THE NEXT DAY, IN WASHINGTON DC’S GEORGETOWN DISTRICT.
Raina Martin is following the pair of subjects that she had agreed to monitor. These two operated out of Georgetown—the nicest, most affluent section of Washington DC. The high-rise hotels and five-star restaurants that lined the streets of this ritzy haven on DC’s northwest side were certainly a far cry from the crime ridden back alleys of Anacostia on DC’s southwest quadrant.
