On screen the image flashed to a CCTV camera showing the drama unfolding outside of a 7-11 store. There was little Destiny could do at this point but watch as their target was acquired by a man in the car park. Police soon arrived together with undercover officers who swarmed from everywhere.
“What the hell?” Ma’am scratched her head. “We’re the best intelligence agency in the world, how on earth did this …” but before she finished her own sentence she knew the answer, she knew why their mission had failed and she responded immediately.
“Number Two?” she spoke into her headset.
“Ma’am?” came a swift response.
“Arrest and detain the government liaison Thomas immediately.”
“Umm,” a stuttered response sounded. “Umm, yes Ma’am.”
“Immediately, do you understand?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“I will deal with him soon Number Two.”
“Copy Ma’am.”
“Marion?”
“Hmmm.”
“Are we going to play this game again?”
“For as long as you like.” she folded her hands.
“Cut the thread line to Peter Friendly.”
Heads turned in the room at the command, as a thread line cut was a very rare event. Everyone knew what it meant, it meant terminating someone’s life.
“Lucinda!” Marion recoiled, she was the one responsible for thread lines and was shocked at being given the command.
“Don’t you Lucinda me, the command is cut the thread line!” she said, finger pointed. “So cut it!”
“Hmmm, I’m not going to do that.” Marion responded calmly, hands now folded tightly across her chest.
“Are you failing to follow orders?”
“This isn’t the bloody army! You might have everyone else fooled with your self-importance but I’ve been here since the start, so you can stuff it!” She sat defiantly, “you just can’t go on killing people willy nilly.”
Neither woman was going to budge, it was clear to see. So Ma’am decided to wrest control of the situation. She looked up for the security person who was normally stationed outside Samuel’s office and noticed him standing there watching with Samuel alongside.
It was odd she thought, but she could see Samuel standing, leaning on the railing with what looked like a grin on his face. It appeared as if he was enjoying the situation unfolding, Ma’am caught his eye for a moment to glean any acceptance but his reply was noncommittal.
She called out to the guard by his side, “Remove Station Eight immediately and remand in detention.”
The guard looked at Samuel for some sort of confirmation but was given nothing but a shrug and so he moved downstairs to carry out the order.
Marion didn’t speak another word, she realised the futility of arguing with Ma’am years ago and so got up quietly and went with the guard back down the hallway to the detention room without another word.
Ma’am meanwhile had taken up Marion’s position at Station Eight and was busy keying commands into the computer. Marion’s assistant, Ursula, sat there timidly but didn’t say a thing.
Up on the main screen the image flicked to another camera, this one inside the 7-11 store. Everyone shuddered when the entrance door smashed to pieces and the target flew through the shattered glass. People everywhere moved in to apprehend her, she was trapped.
There was only one another man who was in the store, stationary up until this point at the magazine stand. He’d been there from the start, following proceedings with a keen interest. But now suddenly he dropped lifelessly to the ground.
Dead.
Ma’am, satisfied with her work, stood up from the Station Eight console and spoke to the other younger female sitting there, “Ursula, you have control of Eight now, understood?”
A perceptible reply came from the young girl, enough for Ma’am to move on quickly back to the main section of the floor, “Ops command, do you copy?’
Okko replied, “Yes Ma’am, standing by.”
“I need a recovery plan from you in five minutes, we’re not leaving here empty handed.”
“Understood,” came the reply. “Assistance may be required Ma’am. There are a lot of police officers here.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have everything you need.”
“Aaah, and Ma’am?”
“What?”
“Aah Ma’am, we’ve had no contact from our unit in pursuit of the secondary target.”
Ma’am turned around to Station Eight, “Eight, run a trace.”
“Huh?” the confused Ursula looked up.
“Keep up Eight, you’re the lead now, understood?”
“Understood, what do you want?”
“I want you to find the kid.”
“Ok, but it could take a while Ma’am.” Ursula responded.
“I don’t care, I asked you to trace, so bloody trace already!”
“Number Two?” she spoke into her headset, calling to the upstairs facility.
“Yes Ma’am.” came the reply.
“Do me a favour?”
“Ma’am?”
“Go and knock that snivelling government shithead Thomas out!”
“Ma’am?” came the concerned reply.
“You heard me, I want you to go over to him and smack him in the face. Then I want you to tell him that he’s a snivelling little shithead, understood?”
“Understood Ma’am.”
“And then smack him in the face again.”
“Smack him in the face again, yes Ma’am.”
“Then you can lock him up, understood?”
“Copy that.”
She pushed her hands through her tightly cropped dark brown hair and massaged her temples, she’d been put to her wits end the past few days. It wasn’t usual for mistakes to happen and she could feel the emotional toll of it taxing her, she hadn’t stopped since things had started going wrong.
She’d given Mr Okko five minutes to come up with a plan, in truth, so that she could take leave from the floor and regroup herself. She quickly retreated to the kitchen to make a coffee, an attempt to take a little time out.
As she sipped the hot liquid she struggled to focus her mind on the task and started to feel weariness kick in. She was near on sixty years old and it was really beginning to show, her skin was an opaque white from years spent indoors and she rarely took time away to sit in the sun.
The kitchen door opened and an operator nervously stuck his head in, “Ma’am, we need you on the floor.”
“Coming,” she tipped out the rest of her coffee, straightened her hair, flattened out her clothes quickly and re-entered the control room.
“Updates?” she asked curtly, returning to the floor.
“Ma’am, I ran a trace on our unit …”
“What unit?”
“The one you asked me about, he was after the secondary target …”
“And?”
“Ah, the trace came back non-existent.” Ursula scratched her head, “which I think means he’s dead.”
“Station Seven?”
“Ma’am?”
“You got anything on this?”
“Ummm ... Ma’am, local channels have reports of a car accident on the highway near Albury, apparently involving a police vehicle and an officer down.” The operator eyed his station intently, “except they are confused over which officer down, as they have none in the area, which I assume means that it’s our unit.”
“And where’s the goddam target!”
Nobody in the control room flinched, they were used to her temper.
“Ma’am, I don’t have anything so ...”
“What about the mobile phone?”
“It’s gone.”
“Trace, Eight!” she t
urned and called out to Ursula.
“Yes Ma’am, looking.” Ursula replied, diligently working away.
“Five?”
“Yes Ma’am, searching satellites.”
“Hurry it up.” Ma’am turned to another operator, “Station Three, we need units to pursue secondary target, available units in the area?”
“Ma’am, we sent the only unit we had …” he was cut off.
“And he’s dead, have you got ears! Next available unit?”
Ursula piped up, “Ma’am trace is negative for Han Solo, it seems he’s disappeared again.”
“Goddam it!” Ma’am responded. “We can’t trace the kid, use link management!”
“Ma’am we’ve deployed all other resources to the primary target,” came the voice of Okko via her headset.
“Great!” Her hand went to her mouth whilst she thought of the best response. The secondary target, Han Solo, was proving to become quite a thorn in her side. He must’ve been getting help as it was unusual for someone to be able to evade them so easily. She wondered if Thomas had something to do with that too.
As she looked up at the main screen she could see the police were wrapping things up at the 7-11, they had her in custody and were marching her back out to a waiting van.
“Ma’am?” Okko sounded on her headset.
“Go ahead Three.”
“We have a plan …”
“Go ahead Three.”
“Subject is currently being moved into a van, to travel by convoy it would seem. We assume they plan to return to Sydney.”
“Don’t assume.”
“Ma’am, they have to take her somewhere and it’s not going to be all the way up in the mountains. Either way we look at it they have to move her, which means they’ll be vulnerable. They will have to take the road down the mountain, which is a certainty.”
“Hold Three,” she stalled.
“Holding Ma’am.”
“Eight?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
“I want links on the police convoy, now!”
The young girl was clearly out of her depth, flabbergasted she replied, “Ma’am I’m still trying to … “
“Don’t care, goddam it!” she cursed. “Ops?” she called into her microphone.
“Standing by Ma’am.”
“What location do you propose?”
“Sending details now,” Okko replied. “It’s dark, it’s quiet.”
Ma’am saw the details flick up over at Station Four and promptly requested them to be put up on the main screen, she looked over it momentarily before keying her mike, “Ops, you have a green light. Move into position, confirm once in place.”
“Understood.” he replied. “And, Ma’am ...?”
“Ops?”
“Assistance?”
“I’m sick of losing here, so were going to step things up. We’ll take them out for you Ops, you don’t have to worry about resistance. Except for the driver of the main van, we can’t risk the vehicle crashing so we’ll leave him unharmed until the vehicle stops. We’ll secure the rest of the entourage, understood?”
“Understood.”
“Threads will be altered and clean-up crew organised ASAP, suggest you prepare the scene as best as you can until help arrives.”
“Understood,” a momentary pause, “And Ma’am ... what about the secondary target?”
“I will take care of it.”
“Ma’am?” came the confused reply from Okko.
“We don’t know where they’ve disappeared to, but we do know what their next target is, I’m pulling the Viper into play.”
“Understood. Out.”
“Eight?” Ma’am turned, calling to Ursula again.
“Yes Ma’am?”
“Girl, I think it’s time you learnt how to follow orders. Now bring me the files of those officers.”
- -
RECALLING
destiny
- -
Harrison
“Put him in my room.” Harrison instructs Truck as they enter an apartment room in downtown Melbourne.
Truck turns to look at Harrison, as he’s waiting for Pigeon to open the door, but a sharp look from Harrison alters his defiant tone, the kid always gets what he wants.
He does as Harrison instructs, enters the apartment and goes straight for Harrison’s room. Harrison follows him in, making sure that Smith’s taken care of in his comatose state.
As soon as Truck drops his body onto the bed, Smith’s eyes open.
“Holy cow.” Harrison exclaims.
Smith’s eyes dart about the room, taking in his surroundings quickly. The room’s small and the walls are adorned with posters and memorabilia from TV, movies and gaming. The bed he’s been placed on is covered in a Star Wars duvet, which he looks at oddly.
“It’s mine.”
Smith looks at it, frowns again and turns to look at the two figures in the room with him. Harrison with a smile and Truck with a furrowed brow.
“Oh Smith, thank god you’re awake.” Harrison pipes up, coming forward to meet him.
“Smith?” he replies, obviously confused.
“Yes, your name is …” Harrison’s cut off as Smith stands up from the bed suddenly and lunges forward at him from the bed, seemingly trying to grab at him.
Truck responds with gusto, coming forward with a look on his face suggesting he’s about to pound the oncoming Smith with all his might. But Harrison stops him at the last minute by sticking his arm out, preventing Truck’s advance.
“He’s ok,” Harrison says just as Smiths arm come’s to rest on Harrison’s shoulder. “He’s done this once before.”
Smith’s eyes go blank for a second, his head shakes slightly and he takes in a very large breath. Then, seemingly satisfied, the arm drops from Harrison’s shoulder and his eyes return to normal.
“You’re a strange fella.” Harrison frowns, standing there awkwardly, ”You did the same thing back in the raft after I saved you ...”
“Smith.”
“Are you ok then man?”
“Ok man, Harrison, man.” he replies.
“Ok weirdo.”
Smith looks to the man behind Harrison and smiles, “Truck, friend.”
Truck doesn’t respond, only stands there looking at Smith strangely with arms folded across his chest.
“He’s my friend, yes.” Harrison replies to Smith.
Smith lunges for Truck, much in the same fashion as he had Harrison, but it’s not met with Harrison’s temperament, and Truck responds quickly. He pulls his fist back ready to defend himself and Harrison again has to interfere.
“Best not to do that with him, he might take your hands away from you.” Harrison warns.
“See as seen.” he says, almost baby like.
“Maybe just shake his hand instead hey?”
Smith responds by turning his arm so his hand’s outstretched in a greeting gesture, which he looks to Harrison for confirmation. Harrison smiles and encourages him with a nod, whilst Truck frowns a little, but accepts the outstretched hand. He shakes it very warily.
Again, Smith has an odd look on his face for a moment whilst this takes place, until it disappears when they brake contact.
“Marcus Thompson.” Smith says aloud.
“Huh?” Harrison asks.
“Just call me Truck.”
“Truck?”
“Truck.”
“Who’s Marcus Thompson?” Harrisons asks.
“That’s my real name.” Truck answers.
“How did he know that? I don’t even know that?” Harrison asks.
“Yeah. How did he know my name?”
Smith ignores the question and instead looks to the door, seeking a way out of the r
oom.
“Wait, wait ... you can’t leave yet.” Harrison stops him as he moves for the door.
The look on Harrison’s face is complete startlement and disbelief, it’s enough to make Smith stay but he looks to Harrison for a reason why.
“We need to get Doc to have a look at you,” he resists him. “You were in an accident man and I swear you got shot in the car as well.” He looks at his chest for signs of a wound.
“Don’t need Doc.” he replies, moving his blue coveralls to the side and revealing his chest is perfectly fine.
“Really?” Harrison doubles checks, confused.
“Really.”
“Man, that was so cool back on the highway! You were like, ‘Hey come and get me!’ Then you were jumping out of the way and the car smashed into ours and I was spinning in the car ...”
Harrison has to take a breath, “sorry, but that was just so cool, you were like a movie star, whoa!”
“Not movie star.”
“Kickass man, you were kickass fella, that’s what I mean. You let a car fully smash into you like you didn’t even care, like a damn matador taking on a bull.”
Smith doesn’t say anything, just stares at Harrison.
“Sorry,” he apologises for his outburst. “I can be a bit of a kid sometimes.”
The look of confusion is obvious on Smith’s face until a thought seems to occur to him, “Sousa is the key. Send the device to the kid.”
“Yeah, yeah … so you keep telling me!” Harrison replies with a huff. “Anyway, surely you have to be hurt or something right?” He looks him over, searching his body again for injuries.
No response.
“Smith, are you injured?”
“No.”
“Whoa, man you must’ve been flung like thirty metres or something!” Harrison emphasizes with big hand movements and theatrics, “are you sure you’re ok?”
“Ok, man.”
“He said he’s fine.” Truck chimes in, still looking warily at Smith, noticing a bullet hole in the blue coveralls he wears.
“Okay, okay,” Harrison relents. “It’s just that Truck said you were, like dead or something. But then I made him double check you and you were alive, so.” He pauses for a second, “anyway, if you need a doctor, then we have one here.”
Recalling Destiny Page 13
