by P. S. Power
One of them just seemed drunk and interested in some company, but not drunk enough to come over and ask if she was game. Not yet at least. The other was nursing a drink of colored liquid that all the ice had melted out of. It took a solid effort not to stare back at him. It wasn’t that he was all that obvious, but he kept looking at her using his peripheral vision. No one did that in a bar. They just looked at you if they wanted too, or avoided you, if they thought it might start a fight if they stared. He was keeping tabs of her and that was odd. So definitely watching for someone.
At eleven-forty Burke came in, dressed in a light pink shirt that had short sleeves and a pair of comfortable looking cream shorts. The look screamed tourist, except for the high and tight haircut which spoke of being ex-military. He’d been a Green Beret, first, then in Delta Force before switching jobs to work with the IPB. Most of their agents, the non-Infected ones, had something similar going on. Not all of them were ex-military, but all of them were insanely tough for regular people. They had to be to do the job. That and exceptionally stable mentally.
He looked past her a bit too obviously, since even dressed down she normally got a few looks from men in public situations. It wasn’t a conscious thing and he didn’t do too badly, just taking a position at the far end of the bar where he could keep an eye on her, a gun holster peeking out from under the loose edge of the shirt as he climbed up on the stool. It was a bit of a giveaway.
She ordered another drink, a Pina-collada, even though she couldn’t taste it. It also wouldn’t get her drunk, no matter how many of them she slammed down. It was a bar though and that meant drinking something. Besides, it had calories, so she could count it toward her daily minimum. Being a woman and not trying to look like a chronic alcoholic that evening, it meant having something frothy with a little umbrella in it. Hers was bright red.
Six minutes later, almost as if timed, Lancaster and Reyes came in and looked around too carefully while standing in the doorway. It was important to be observant, but they were treating the whole thing like a combat mission, scouring the place for snipers, bombs and enemies. They needed to be looking for watchers. She’d still only made the one herself, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. Anyone could be an enemy in a situation like this and forgetting that would be a mistake. After they looked at her twice she waved them over. There was no real reason for them not to, since the meeting was for all of them. It wasn’t like spreading out would really keep them safer, not in a space that small.
A single bomb and they’d all be dead no matter where they were in the room.
Well, not her, but she actually cared about her friends, so it wouldn’t be wonderful for her to walk out wearing them. Having the man she didn’t know watching from the bar was kind of reassuring that way. Very few organizations put personnel in place to be blown up on purpose. It could happen, but the guy was trying to be a pro, if he wasn’t one in truth. That meant he wasn’t going to just try and play suicide bomber. She hoped so at least. Of course that had happened to her already that year, someone willing to blow themselves up for a chance to kill those around her. At the base even. Twice. She wasn’t going to ignore that, even if the man did seem better trained than the wacko anti-Infected bigots that had tried before.
Lancaster just walked over, but Reyes looked pissed and kind of stalked.
“So much for keeping a low profile.” He growled the words at her, which got him raised eyebrows in return.
“Um, Reyes? We’re supposed to be meeting someone we all know. It’s not exactly like we can hide in here. Just go ahead and sit and relax a bit. This isn’t some huge spy mission. If it was we wouldn’t be meeting in the bar of the same hotel we’re staying in.” She grinned and took a sip of her drink through the bright red straw, an oversized thing meant to get her drunk fast.
The man sat, still looking tense and grumpy. He was normally about the nicest agent the IPB had, so it was pretty obvious he wasn’t please about being there. He sat across the table from her, probably to allow maximum glaring, which got Lancaster to move in alongside her. The big man wrapped his left arm around her and squeezed gently, pulling her into him. It was nice and sold the idea they were all just meeting for a friendly drink a lot better than the stalking and gloominess of the other man. He even smiled. It was fake, but a professional kind of thing to cover the fact that he was probably nervous too.
He whispered into her hair, pretending to kiss her on the cheek, “Any sign of Morris yet?”
She turned into him and made a move to kiss him back, actually touching his flesh with her lips to sell the role. After all, the guy was a hunk, good looking even at forty-six, so she might as well take advantage of the situation. Marcia whispered back gently.
“Watcher at the bar, maybe others. No Morris yet.” It was all she had really so she just waited and watched, trying to smile as the others ordered. Lancaster getting Whisky, Reyes a soda water. The man didn’t drink at all, so it made sense for him not to at the moment. Morris might just remember something like that. Little details could give things away after all. Of course, they weren’t trying to trick the man, so acting like themselves wasn’t out of the question, was it? Even having Burke and Penny in the place wasn’t out of what would be normal. Morris liked her well enough, she thought, but he also thought she was a paranoid. That wasn’t too far off, so it probably wouldn’t set off any alarms or anything. Plus she had a strange feeling that no one else realized Penny was there at all. Not even Lancaster, which was saying something.
After all, if Penny had a partner at the IPB, it was him. Marcia would have thought the man would have asked Penny in on the whole thing. For that matter they should have set Christian up too and maybe get Mark to stand outside and check on them if anything started to happen. Not asking them was kind of foolish, she realized in hindsight.
At mid-night exactly, almost as if the event was timed, he walked through the door of the Blue Boat, wearing a Cuban style shirt that was light blue and white baggy pants that would let him hide any weapons he might have. At first she didn’t recognize him at all. He looked horrible. Fat for one thing. Not just a few pounds gained over the decades like most people did, but a good hundred and twenty over the last time she’d seen him. He clearly hadn’t shaved for a week or more either, even though it couldn’t be comfortable for him in the heat and moisture that Miami seemed to hold this time of year.
He didn’t act surprised to see them and didn’t scan the room half as carefully as the others had at all, walking over to them with a small wave. He settled carefully, but had a tired air to his movements, like exhaustion wasn’t far away. It could happen on missions when you were going it alone or with a small crew. You had to sleep to keep sharp, but being unconscious for hours at a time meant you might miss something too. Normally people used drugs to make up the difference, but if Cal was on speed it wasn’t working anymore.
He signaled to the waitress, a fairly average looking woman of about twenty-something and change, who was wearing a tight shirt, most likely hoping it would increase her tips. It probably worked too, from the way the drunk guy at the bar kept trying to feel her up when they spoke.
“Beer please sweetie? Whatever’s on tap.” The man looked to his right, at Reyes and gave a nod.
“Hoover, thanks for arranging this. The whole thing is… I’m over my head here people. This is way the fuck out of my league and you all know how I hate to admit crap like that.” He gasped for breath, sweating harder than seemed warranted by a friendly meeting of old war buddies and finally looked around as if he wasn’t sure it was safe to speak.
It could mean a lot of things from major health problems to having run to get to the meeting on time. It could also be situational stress. She started to go on alert, which Reyes missed, but Lancaster caught instantly. Then, they worked together more often than not anymore.
The fat guy huffed for a bit then stopped talking as the waitress brought his drink, sucking down half of the large mug befo
re setting it down, not even acknowledging the woman that handed it to him.
“So, Weathers, Harpo and Mic are missing. I don’t know why, but they’re totally dark. I got a single hit on their credit cards; a friend looked for me, each from three days ago each in or more exactly around the edges of Miami. Each one for nine dollars and eleven cents. Then they went silent again. That and the fact that since I’ve been here, I’ve been being watched constantly is really all I have. I know, it’s probably over the top to get you all here just for that, but I don’t know enough to know what’s really needed at all. Weathers wife is really worried and Harpo’s girl, his daughter, is freaked. He wasn’t set up to go anywhere at all. Mic is a loner, but, well, you get the idea.” He stopped talking and knocked back about half the remainder in his mug. It was impressive drinking, but a bit too fast to be a casual thing. It had the feeling of a person that drank a lot, regularly.
Lancaster stared at the man, not blinking for a long while, with and expression that was so blank it had to freak the other man out just a bit. It always did Marcia when it got turned on her at least.
“We can run a search for them, using some advanced techniques, and go to the locations of their last credit purchases, but other than that, I’m not sure what we can do that you haven’t. We aren’t in intelligence anymore. Not directly. Even if we were, if those guys don’t want to be found they won’t be, none of us would. Making those purchases seems like they have enough freedom to escape most likely, if they wanted too. Most captors wouldn’t let people out to buy things in stores or wherever. Not former special forces like those guys. Plus the purchases sound like part of a plan. Something organized by a group.” He threw back a tiny sip of whisky to emphasize his point.
Marcia had to grimace though.
“Unless they, or their cards, are being used as bait in a trap. I can’t imagine why that would be, or… Well, I can, if it was directed at us and not anything else, but…” She glanced at the other two, trying to will them to remember what she said about Alpha Squad earlier and Braid. They had people that could control those men so well that they might be doing things like that and not even know they were involved. For that matter they could all still be at home and look like they were missing only on computer or any of a hundred other things. That might be a long shot, of course, so they needed to check everything out carefully, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t something potentially real.
It was a cluster fuck on a level she didn’t know they could beat. Before she could say anything to the effects, the man at the counter, the watcher, turned and pulled something from under his shirt. Even with her speed she didn’t do more than stand, her chair flying out from behind her, when man dropped, slumping to the floor with a crash and a wet thunk.
“Got him!” Penny sounded a bit out of breath herself, but not in shock from doing whatever it was she had.
Walking quickly, Marcia got to the man in a few seconds, to find that what he had in his hand was only a camera. It was small and in black and silver, which was a bit of a mistake, given the people he was trying to capture for the record. Picking it up she ran through the last pictures taken. It was just filled with pictures of people from her team, with a lot of them focusing on Prime and Tobin, but Mark and Warren were well represented too, as well as a few other people she didn’t recognize but who were pretty good looking. So a paparazzi, or someone trying very hard to make it seem like they were one?
“Is this someone working for you Cal?” She asked softly, waiting before making a decision about what to do.
“Fuck no. Never seen him before at all. Looks like a ghoul. What the hell is this about? Related to what we’re talking about you think?” Cal was many things and a good liar was definitely one of them, so him denying knowledge of the man didn’t mean much.
They needed to get him to wake up and answer some questions without realizing the he’d just been assaulted by an IPB operative then. That wouldn’t be hard though, would it?
Marcia started calling for a doctor. No one came forward, but she managed to get a cold compress from the waitress and mopped the man’s brow a bit as everyone else in the place stared at them. About thirty seconds later the man woke up and then promptly vomited. That probably meant a concussion. Penny had cold cocked the man hard. Probably with the butt of the weapon she was carrying.
“Are you alright? Are you on any medication? How much have you had to drink tonight? Do you want an ambulance?” She inundated the poor guy with questions, not letting him answer at all. It was meant to confuse him, so that when she asked her real questions, he’d be more likely to glom on to those in his confusion and just answer honestly.
“What’s your name and who do you work for? I think you might have a concussion, so that’s important to tell us, in case you pass out again.”
“Wha?” The man sounded befuddled.
“Um, Hal… Hall Kemp. I… Freelance. Pictures.” He searched for his camera, which Marcia still held. She gave it back, since nothing on it seemed too bad really. It wasn’t illegal to take pictures in public, just annoying at times. Of course if he wanted her picture he probably had some idea of who she was with, if nothing else, but as long as she was nice about things, that probably wouldn’t connect in his mind. Their invisible operative was just too hard to keep in mind for most people to come to the conclusion that she’d been the one to do something to them.
It seemed like it was all a dead end then, but Penny spoke, the sound softer than was needed, considering no one could hear her at all unless they had the special time delay ear buds in.
“Guys… the man in at the bar, the one that looks drunk? I don’t think he is. He has… At least two guns on him and… Yeah, he’s leaving. I don’t know what’s going on, but is that normal?”
Marcia looked up as the man staggered past, his movements rough and sloppy, but Penny was right, he wasn’t drunk, he was faking. Real drunks didn’t move that fast if they were that far gone. He was making a controlled bee-line for the door.
Great.
She sighed and saw Lancaster looking at the guys back. It would spook him if they tried to follow, but if something was really going on, knowing who he was and where he was going might just break the whole thing wide open. If it was real at all.
She whispered, not knowing if she’d be heard since the invisible girl could be anywhere in the room.
“Penny, follow him. Try to find out everything you can about him. Don’t get too far away though; we don’t want to lose you.” The range on the ear buds wasn’t great after all, about fifteen feet, twenty-five if the girl yelled loud enough. They didn’t have any way to track her mechanically either, if she got lost or hurt, the only person they had that could find her like a regular person was Proxy and he was probably fast asleep like all good little super-agents should be at this time of night.
“Got it then. Following now. Meet me in the room in an hour?”
“Sounds good.” Lancaster spoke instead of Marcia. It made sense. In the field Cellophane didn’t go it alone, she had a handler and that person was always Daryl Lancaster. She wouldn’t trust anyone else for some reason. Not even Brian, though that could just be due to the fact that he normally didn’t leave the base at all. Otherwise that would have been about the perfect team.
Marcia helped Hal stand up, then immediately sit down again, since he wasn’t up to the task yet.
“Wow, you must have hit your head hard when you blacked out. Does this happen to you often?” She tried to sound concerned, but felt distracted. What Penny was going to really do didn’t make sense, but hopefully she’d get something.
Otherwise they were back to square two on the whole thing.
5
It was a mess getting everyone back into the room, because it was occupied and they didn’t really need the chef and a fifteen year old girl in on their plans yet. Penny had a key card for the room though, and other than pound on the door she’d need to be able to get in on her own. Otherwise the
y’d have moved to the agents’ room.
Impulse met them at the door, standing with her hands in front of her, tiny fists locked into a combat stance, ready to protect Warren from all comers. Cal saw it and laughed, but the other men just gave him a look that was sour enough to get him to stop pretty quickly. It did look kind of cute, Marcia had to admit, since the girl was so very small and was dressed in an oversized t-shirt with a cartoon character on the front. That was of a little girl wearing a cape and a superhero outfit.
The man sounded amused as he spoke.
“What? She’s going to go all Danger Debbie the super girl on me or something?” He started forward only to have Burke grab his arm firmly enough to stop him instantly.
The agent looked blank as he spoke, but the annoyance he felt was clearly visible in his stiffened shoulders and back.
“Mr. Morris, this young lady is Bridget Chambers; class five Infected and IPB agent. I’d suggest you don’t give her ideas.” He didn’t say anything else but the fat man just shrugged. It was a problem with some of the older guys from the special forces. They weren’t really trained to handle Infected, so they tended to think they were equal to a class three or four in a fight, if not superior. It wasn’t all of them anymore, but Cal had come up in a time when the average soldier was taught to trust his weapons against every threat. It normally worked and was still the best they could do most of the time, so it was still pretty much what the governments of the world went with.
Except France, which was the only place that had Infected integrated with normals in the military. Luckily they had problems coordinating everything, thanks to conflicting first modes, or they’d probably be the world power of note already. As it was no one really wanted to try and run operations against them at all. It was too risky.
