The Mason Walker Bundle 3

by Alex Howell

  She always loved jeeps, and she was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude that her father would get her something that she would like and enjoy so much. As everyone else wandered into Mason’s garage to admire the vehicle, Clara was already throwing her arms around Mason as she showed her appreciation, “Oh! Thank you so much! It’s what I always wanted!”

  At which Mason playfully snorted, “Thank me? But you’re the one that won it fair and square with that straight flush—you card shark! Not me!”

  Clara admiring his humility, albeit humility cloaked in absurdity, held her father tight as she told him with heartfelt sincerity, “I love you dad…”

  It was right in the middle of this heartfelt moment that those assembled heard the front door bell ring. Not expecting any guests, Mason got up as he cautiously announced, “I’ll get it.” Mason then went to the front door and quickly opened it as the impatient door ringer began to knock. Mason was surprised to see the former Onyx operative known as “Case” standing right in front of him.

  Mason as blunt as usual, asked, “Hey man! Where have you been?”

  Case shrugged, “Oh nothing, I was taking a break for a while.”

  Mason raised an incredulous eyebrow, “Taking a break?”

  Case nodded, “Yeah I had a bit of a vacation in Greece—no big deal, I just felt like I had to get away for a while. You know?”

  Mason a little perturbed by the sudden intrusion was thinking of what to say before Case further inserted himself into the equation by asking, “Is Clara here? I have a graduation gift for her.”

  Mason not sure what else to do, sighed, “Sure—sure man. Let me go get her.”

  While Case waited at the door, Mason then excused himself, returning moments later with Clara at his side.

  Upon seeing Clara, he grinned, “You did it, kid! You make me proud!”

  Clara not one to hold a grudge, yet always believing in some small measure of accountability, offered, “Case! It’s good to see you, I missed you at my graduation!”

  This of course was Clara’s diplomatic way to voice her displeasure. She was letting him know how hurt she was that he was the only Onyx member to bail on her graduation day, without causing a major stink about it.

  Case was characteristically stoic about it however. And instead of explaining that he had went all the way across the world to stave off a major war between Europe and the Mideast, he simply shrugged and told her humbly, “Sorry Clara, I just got a little sidetracked.”

  Despite its vagueness, after a pause—Clara who couldn’t ever be mad at Case for long—decided to accept this answer as she sighed, “Oh—okay.”

  Case then pulled out a tiny box and handed it to her with a grin, as he told her, “Here, this is for you.”

  Clara opened up the box and saw a solid gold necklace—the kind that could bring a pretty penny to any jeweler it was sold to. It was something that Case had picked up from a dealer in Greece. All Clara knew however, was that it was beautiful as she exclaimed, “Oh my God! This is gorgeous!”

  Case always one to leave on a high note, then offered, “I’m glad you like it.” Before announcing, “Well—that’s about it for me guys. I have to turn in early.”

  Clara asked, “Early?”

  To which Case nodded, “Yeah—I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  Then without another word, he simply muttered, “See ya...” Before walking right out the door.

  Clara was always impressed with the mystique and mystery that surrounded this most intriguing member of Onyx, but now she longed to know more as she knew that her time with him and all the other Onyx team members was growing short. It was indeed a bittersweet milestone that she had reached. One that somehow seemed to manifest in the enigmatic form of the lone wolf operative called “Case”.

  She looked to her father and lamented, “You know what? In all my years of knowing that guy—I’ve never got to know him.”

  Mason peering out the window to see the flashy sports car Case drove, backing out of his driveway and peeling off into the street, nodded in agreement, “No one has.”

  7

  First Day with the CIA

  THE NEXT DAY, CIA UNIVERSTIY, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA.

  Clara was seated in a large classroom with nearly 100 other hopeful CIA cadets surrounding her on all sides. A young, small framed girl with long, shiny black hair back in a ponytail that dangled behind her back, sat next to her. Looking over at the girl’s jam-packed folder, and heavily used tablet, she could see that she was a fastidious note taker with the day’s lecture already mapped out and prepared before it was even given.

  Clara wishing to strike up a conversation with her neighbor remarked, “Well—it’s seems like you are ready for the day.”

  The girl looked up, as if she were startled as she spoke with a stilted accent, “Hello—I’m sorry?”

  Clara took a breath, nodded, and pointing at her notes, as she remarked, “You seem like a good note taker.”

  The woman then visibly relaxed and smiled, “Oh I see, thank you very much.”

  Clara then put out her hand and offered, “My name’s Clara by the way—nice to meet you.”

  The woman clasped her hand and replied back again with a stilted quality to her voice, “Yes—yes! My name is Danae. It is very nice to meet you!!”

  Clara had picked up on it as soon as she spoke and now her curiosity was fully piqued. The woman spoke with a thick accent that sounded vaguely Eastern European. Clara was usually a bit too PC to inquire into such affairs, but her curiosity got the better of her, so she went ahead and took the plunge.

  Clearing her throat, she inquired, “I’m sorry—but I couldn’t help but notice that you have an accent. Where are you from?”

  She immediately felt bad for even asking, but as her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, the young lady thankfully obliged her, “Oh no problem—I’m originally from Greece.”

  Clara of course new full well that the CIA only accepted American citizens, so despite her accent, the girl must have been here long enough to at least attain citizenship. Seeing the puzzled look on Clara’s face, the girl then explained as much, “My father was a CIA agent stationed in Athens. He met my mother there some 20 years ago and married her in Greece.”

  The girl then added, “They had planned on going back to the U.S. on leave around the time for me to be born—but…”

  She chuckled softly to herself, “But I came a little bit too early for them…”

  Danae then explained, “But it was no problem… with my Dad being a U.S. citizen I was easily naturalized as a citizen as well.”

  She then looked at Clara and smiled, “But as my accent will tell you, I spent most of my life in Greece regardless…”

  Clara nodded, “I see—oh ok. Well, then what brought you here?”

  Danae then went on to explain, “Mostly wanting to follow in my father’s footsteps. I transferred here to attend undergrad, graduated and signed right up.”

  Clara was duly impressed, and unsure of what else to say, commended her, “That’s awesome.”

  It was then that the discussion was broken up by the sound of the instructor, announcing, “Alright guys and gals, we’ve got to get this ball rolling.”

  He then pointed at an old school chalk board where his name was written in all CAPS, as he announced, “My name is Mr. Phipps, but you can just call me Mr. Phipps…”

  His remarks fell on deaf ears as no one was really sure how to react, until an exasperated Mr. Phipps, sighed, “It’s a joke people—it’s a joke. My full name is Michael—Michael Phipps, please feel free to address me by my first name.”

  He then glanced around the room with an easy smile as he remarked, “I like to keep it pretty informal around here.”

  Michael then went on to talk about the chalk board, as he remarked, “Also—you may notice that I am writing on a freaking chalk board over here. Raise your hand if you have even seen one of these things before!”


  In the early 2030’s—a time in which just about every wall could be turned into a readymade smart screen to write, draw, or do whatever else on—seeing someone write on a chalk board was indeed rare. So rare in fact that only Clara’s neighboring classmate Danae raised her hand.

  Surprised to even get one taker, Michael Phipps smiled, and in a voice of mock astonishment, “Well I’ll be—we have someone here who has actually seen a real chalkboard in her young life. I’m astounded.”

  Michael then pulled out his phone and rapidly scrolled around until he pulled up his roster, squinting his eyes at her seat, he remarked, “Oh—okay… Your name is Danae, right?”

  Danae answered, “Yes sir Mr. Phipps…”

  Prompting Michael Phipps to interject, “Please—call me Michael.”

  Danae obediently complied, “Yes, Mr. uh—Michael.”

  Michael amused by her formality, took a look at his notes, and remarked, “Yes, Danae. You are from Greece, right?”

  Danae nodded, “Yes…”

  Michael then continued, “And your father was a fellow operative, wasn’t he?”

  Danae confirmed, “Yes—yes, he was.”

  Clara detected a small hint of sadness in her voice as she intoned, “yes, he was”, making her wonder if her dad had passed on—perhaps even dying in the field.

  Whether that may have been the case or not, Michael Phipps wasn’t so much in the business of sympathy, as he was in the business of training CIA agents. As such he carried on, and motioning toward the chalkboard he continued, “So anyway—you used some of these archaic apparatuses back in Greece, huh?”

  Danae nodded, “Yes, we didn’t always have tablets, laptops, and holographic flash drives where I went to school.”

  Michael then encouraged her, “Well, good. And you know why that’s good? Because that means that you already have an edge over your much more pampered colleagues over here.”

  As the class listened with interest, Michael turned and began writing on the chalkboard, as he told them, “Because beyond anything else—when you are deployed somewhere in the field you have to learn how to make do with what you have. You won’t always have all the creature comforts you are used to, and that is why you need to be able to—”

  Phipps trailed off as he chalked the final letter into the word he was writing, and read it out loud, “Persevere!”

  That’s why your first assignment—the scenario we are going to put you guys through—we will put in a locked room with just a few select items.”

  Phipps then reached under the chalkboard and pulled out a plastic bag. As Phipps held it up in the light, the class observed a clear plastic bag filled with various nondescript items such as screw drivers, scissors, and strangely, even what looked like a bar of soap.

  Holding up the bag for all to see, Phipps continued, “Any item within this bag can be used to gain your freedom, but nothing else. It is with these items and these items only that you will be expected to secure your own release.”

  Phipps then had his assistant who was seated nearby go around the room handing out the bags to every student. After each member of the training group had their plastic bag of items, Phipps announced, “Alright folks, I’ll give you a few minutes to take a look at the bag and then we’re going to implement the scenario.”

  Staring at the bag of assorted oddball items in front of her, Clara sighed, “Man… I wish the Ghost was here…”

  Hearing Clara’s words, Danae seated next to her, looked up from the items she was studying, and asked her, “Ah—excuse me, but what did you just say? You wish a ghost was here?”

  Clara chuckled at the mention, before explaining, “No…. It’s a guy I know…. An old army buddy of my father’s. When he was in the Navy SEALS, they called him “The Ghost” because he was always able to slip in and out of compounds so easily.”

  Danae seeming intrigued by the mention, replied, “Oh…”

  Mathew “The Ghost” Benton certainly was good at getting out of tight spots, but Clara knew that when push came to shove it was up to here and her alone. She couldn’t have anyone else there to help her out. Seconds later she then heard the voice of Michael Phipps as he announced, “Alright guys—times up. Let’s begin the scenario.”

  A FEW MINUTES LATER. IN A LARGE ADJOINING ROOM.

  Clara and the other students were assembled in a room about the size of a hangar, on the far wall where they stood, there were row upon row of individual rooms with the doors ajar. About the size of a walk-in closet, these were the rooms in which they were going to be locked up with nothing but their little bag of goodies—and tasked with finding a way to get out.

  Clara who was naturally a little bit claustrophobic, was having to fight back flashbacks to the time that she was kidnapped and held hostage in a small, confined shipping crate. Feeling like she was about to lose it completely, she did what she usually did, she feigned confidence and projected her own insecurity on someone else around her.

  Without even realizing she was doing it; this is what she now did to the skinny girl next to her; Danae. She looked over to her, and tried to cheerfully inquire, “Alright Danae, we’re about to get locked up. Are you nervous?”

  Clara really almost wished that her classmate would voice some fear and apprehension, just to make her feel just a little bit better about her own increasing unease. But she would have no such luck as the Greek born American happily shot back, “No way! This is nothing! A piece of cake!”

  She then held up the bag and laughed, “I’ll get out of here before they even know what happened!”

  And with that she stepped into the room and cheerfully chirped, “Ciao Clara! See you in a few!” before shutting the door behind her. Clara was then left staring into her own supposed cell, with the frown of immense uncertainty that filled her face.

  She must have hesitated for a bit too long because she suddenly heard the voice of Michael Phipps behind her asking, “Having second thoughts Clara?”

  Lost in thought and not expecting to her someone right behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin as he made the inquiry. If she wished to put on a brave face and hide her shattered nerves, she certainly wasn’t making a good show of it. Nevertheless, biting her lip in frustration, she turned to face her instructor, telling him, “Hey Michael, no I’m fine. I’m just mentally preparing myself.”

  She felt like what she said sounded pretty lame as soon as it came out of her mouth, and Michael must have concurred, as his response was a flat, “Well—you can prepare all day long, but really you just have to do it Clara. It’s like jumping into the deep end of a pool, you can try to psych yourself up for it, but really you just have to jump in and get it over with.”

  Clara realizing that there was no way out of it nodded, “Alright….”

  Michael knew she was fearful, but as the resident CIA drill sergeant he was necessarily merciless as he extended his hand toward the room and informed her, “Well—madam your suite awaits.”

  Clara sighed and stepped inside, right before Michael closed the locked door on her. This was a real deal test of endurance and ingenuity. With the door shut, it took her eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. And the only light provided was what filtered through the hairline crack under the door.

  After a moment she could see the plastic bag she had been clutching tightly in her hand, well enough to open it up. But that’s about as far as her limited vision would go, and she could hardly see inside the bag once it was opened. From her vantage point the miscellaneous objects just looked like a bunch of shadowy ill-defined shapes.

  In this test of sensory deprivation, it was obvious that she would have to use her sense of touch as a work around for her now mostly unreliable sense of sight. Realizing as much, she carefully placed her hand in the bag, taking care not to inadvertently stab herself with any sharp objects.

  The first thing that she grasped a hold of was the screw driver. Taking it out, she carefully set the bag down beside her. She then felt around t
he door until she found the door knob. She figured she could use the screw driver to take the doorknob off and thereby gain her escape. But feeling on the knob she realized that there were no screws. It would be impossible to use a screw driver to take the knob off.

  She then thought about shoving the screw driver right in between the door and the door jamb to see if she could create any slack and maybe even be able to pry the door loose. Feeling for the seam on the side of the door, she put the screw driver in and was able to slide it down the hair line crack of the door until she reached the latch, she then attempted to apply pressure but just as she tried to position the screwdriver in place, it slipped right out of her hand, clattering on the floor.

  She knew that it must have fallen and rolled somewhere nearby but in the dim lighting she couldn’t see where. As such she began to feel around like a blind woman with her hands on the floor, but try as she might she couldn’t find the screwdriver. Frustrated, she finally decided to forget about the screwdriver, and instead stood up and walked back to the center of the room where she started.

  But to her severe dismay, as soon as she knelt down in the center of the room and searched for the plastic bag, she couldn’t find it either. Getting more and more frustrated, she began to consider that she was actually losing her mind as she gasped out loud, “Alright Clara—get a grip on yourself here.”

  Taking a breath, she continued searching for the bag, and then the screwdriver, and then the bag again, but try as she might she could not find either one. The next thing she knew she heard the shrill beeping of the timer outside indicating that the time was up. And as such she heard the click of her door automatically unlock. Curiously, she did not hear any of the adjoining doors unlock.

  She then stood up and realized to her disgust that she was sitting on the plastic bag the whole time she was looking for it. She then went to the door and opened it to see that the screwdriver was nestled right by the door jamb the whole time. But worst of all she stepped out into the light to see the entire class assembled and staring at her with Michael Phipps standing in front of them.