Agent M: Project Mabus (The Agent M Series Book 1)

by L. M. Vila

  “michael… Michael… MICHAEL!”

  She frantically pleaded with her partner to not fall unconscious. His daze seemed to be wearing off. The horrid ringing sound ceased. Besides the worry of Meryl’s own voice, he could hear the building roasting behind them. Then came sirens in lightly, in the distance. More importantly, Michael moved his lips. The words came out soft but distinctive, just as they had been all day.

  “Are you alright?”

  Even after being blown across the street, he still puts the wellbeing of others over his own. Meryl loved him for that. She rested so comfortably in his arms time had passed quicker than she had realized. Picking herself off of Michael wasn’t a difficult task. It only seemed that way.

  “I think I’m okay,” she replied shaking her head slightly. “Better here than over there.”

  Michael was glad to hear she was alright, despite the humor. That’s just one of her quirks in these types of situations. His body, on the other hand, was sending his mind different messages. Michael’s back burned an unearthly fury. The asphalt assaulted his skin and muscles like no other. He tried to mimic Meryl’s movements by picking himself up. Michael’s joints shook like he was four times his age.

  Meryl came to Michael’s aid. She grabbed his arm and helped him gain his composure. Michael welcomed it. Further assessment of his body was surprising. Nothing seemed out of place, broken. A few cuts here, a trail of scrapes there, possibly even a bruise or two. All in all, not that bad for a surviving a crude gas explosion.

  Back up arrived one minute too late. Cops began surrounding the area. The fire department followed right behind with a pair of ambulances tailing. Their battle caused quite a disturbance. Michael was more worried about the aftermath. Four officers were killed and the killers are still on the loose. Not a great day to be Michael Madison.

  “Where are you going woman?!” Kurtis barked. “We need to get off the road!”

  Seika didn’t give his condescending tone any negative thoughts. It was probably the thrill of victory coursing through his veins that made him appear slightly more intense than usual.

  “Back to the hideout. We need to stow our current vehicle there and pick up another one.”

  Scoffing was his immediate response. Followed by something a bit more tangible. “Then why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Kurtis didn’t see the big picture like Seika did. Even if they completed the job within a minute all it would take is for one or two witnesses to say they saw a silver Mercedes on the scene to potentially ruin it all.

  Victory had been established as far as he was concerned. Kurtis stretched his legs and made himself comfortable in the backseat of this luxury vehicle. Nothing gave him more of a thrill than taking the life of another. Kurtis planned to relish in his triumph. He couldn’t remember a more thrilling victory. Perhaps it was because his opponent actually put up a decent challenge. Not good enough it would seem.

  Thinking about it made his arm tingle. That punch left a painful memory. Kurtis was told his body was much tougher than any human in existence. Pressure points shouldn’t have been an issue. On the other hand, the evidence does not lie. Kurtis wouldn’t admit it to his face, but the General may be slightly justified in his concern.

  Celebration wasn’t on Seika’s mind at this point. Being unable to witness the demise of her mortal enemy was disconcerting. In a way, Seika felt cheated. If she wanted petty revenge she would have eliminated him years earlier by destroying his car or assassinating him in his sleep. This was supposed to be a job. Her job. One that would end all of this torment and regret over Seimon’s death. Seika needed this kill to move past it and go one with her career, and life for that matter.

  Emotions started playing tricks on her. Remorse reared its ugly head. Somewhere, in the deepest part of her heart, she hoped Michael survived that explosion. Only to die once more.

  “Say what?” Meryl surprisingly asked.

  “Just do it,” her partner ordered. Michael moved towards the ambulance still slumped over Meryl’s shoulder. His body still hadn’t fully recovered. Limping was still necessary but thankfully not completely required. Michael just needed more time to get his body back in working order.

  The doors of the ambulance opened. Two E.M.T.s popped out and took over for Meryl.

  “Excuse me sir, are you alright?”

  “No,” Michael responded. “I’m dead.”

  “Sir?” That was probably the most morbid joke they’ve ever heard.

  “Call it in. Tell your emergency services you’re carrying the bodies of two dead FBI agents.”

  Those were definitely some weird orders. But it complimented Michael’s initial statement. There was still one thing left to ask. Coincidentally the highest ranking police officer on the scene was approaching hoping to hear it as well. He figured the ones to ask were the two people in black suits that were the only ones walking away from this mess.

  “Media will be arriving. They can’t know the truth.” Michael’s words were stern. Very easy to trace his seriousness. “Not yet anyways.”

  The officer didn’t seem as pleased with his response as the E.M.T.s. He reached out and grabbed Michael by the shoulder just as he was stepping into the ambulance.

  “Hold it right there, what about this mess? My people? You can’t just walk away from this!” Increased police officer bloodshed was the most likely suspect for his infuriated tone. Cops weren’t supposed to die, especially in such a crude manner. He wanted answers and he wanted them immediately.

  Michael had a more rational approach to the matter. His tenor, on the other hand, was nothing short of menacing. “Your men died doing their job. Just as you would. Unless you want to see this mess repeated a hundred times over you’ll do as I say and report our deaths. Got it?”

  Intense was an understatement. Meryl’s never heard him speak like that. It was so dark yet so persuasive. There was no way the officer could compete with that logic. Just like she thought, he didn’t.

  They entered the ambulance quickly. The doors shut and with the sirens blaring they took off leaving the chaos behind. Meryl was still confused about the entire situation. Michael was somewhat vague throughout the process but during their long years of friendship, she knew she could always trust him to make the right decision.

  “Where we heading?” The driver asked.

  “FBI Headquarters,” stated Michael, “quickly.”

  To sum up the situation in one word was easy. Dire. Stressful. Frantic. They were on a truncated timetable. Everything had to be executed perfectly for this to work. This was the edge they needed.

  The silence was broken relatively quickly. “Sir, if I may ask,” said the E.M.T.in the backseat. “Why are you doing this?”

  Thankfully, the E.M.T. beat Meryl to the punch. She didn’t want to appear out of the loop. Michael took his jacket off and started to explain his methodology.

  “They expected us to die. Now they’ve got it. It’ll give us the upper hand.”

  The advantage was something that had escaped them all day. Meryl welcomed this opportunity, yet, something still puzzled her.

  Michael’s intended travel destination.

  “But, wouldn’t going back to headquarters be dangerous?” Meryl questioned. “The mole may still be lurking in the building. If they know we’re alive then all of this would be for nothing.”

  Even as the words came out of her mouth, she felt like they would be inconsequential. Michael wouldn’t go through all of this trouble without thinking of every possible detail. As soon as he opened his mouth, it was proven correct.

  “Not a problem,” he countered. “I know who it is.”

  Stepping back into the office after traveling for ten hours would normally be an odd feeling. Nicole, however, was a professional and a day on the job passed through her like a day in front of the computer researching cases. She walked through the security point after swiping her keycard. Being greeted by the same security officer in the morn
ing and evening was unusual but expected. They were on a mole hunt and at this point everyone is a suspect.

  The Los Angeles department for the Federal Bureau of Investigation looked like a ghost town. No one was at their desks. Nicole walked through the office feeling like a stranger. As if everyone was playing some kind of joke on her. Then again, she hadn’t been here at all today. Maybe they were all pulled into a staff meeting. Nicole trusted that she would promptly be informed if anything important developed. Sadly, this was one of those instances that slipped through the cracks.

  She could hear commotion going on in the main conference room. The place where cases were discussed, assignments passed out, and strategies formed. It also featured the largest television in the entire building and currently housed every staff member on the clock. The glow of the LCD screen tanned their faces.

  As Nicole drew closer, the image on the screen appeared. A fairly scrawny woman with voluptuous figure in areas that mattered to the viewing audience was composing what looked like a scene out of a war based film. Her dark brown hair and excessively serious demeanor were overshadowed by the words she spoke.

  “Appears that this was a gang-related attack on law enforcement.”

  Gang attacked law enforcement? That piqued some interest. Nicole broke through the doorway and was summarily greeted by no one. The entire room was fixated on the images being played. The woman continued. Nicole picked up bits and pieces of the reporter’s statement as she tried to get closer.

  “So far in this confrontation it has been confirmed there are a total of six casualties including officers in the Los Angeles Police Department and,” The reported seemingly cut herself off. Being the professional that she is, the words “Just one moment,” slipped off her tongue as she moved out of sight.

  The scene panned away from her attractive figure and shot scenes of the carnage. Smoke roared out of the building as firefighters attempted to quell the flames from within. New shots of the accident featured three police cruisers in abysmal states. One had sloppily kissed a tree and paid the price for it. Another seemed to have danced its way down the street, leaving pieces of itself as a memento. The last was the least damaged of the bunch having barreled through a brick wall and while covered in bullet holes.

  Watching it all made Nicole’s organs twist in foul directions. Yet somehow, this was almost nostalgic in ways she couldn’t comprehend at this moment. The reporter returned just in the nick of time to help clear any more confusion.

  “It looks like we’ve just got word from an ambulance en route carrying two of the victims. I’m told that my previous report was incorrect. Out of the six fatalities here tonight, only four of them were L.A.P.D. officers. Details of the other two just been released. They are Agent Meryl Lewis and Special Agent Michael Madison of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

  Daggers sliced Nicole’s heart. She couldn’t believe what she heard. This was impossible. Her emotions were running into overdrive. Luckily no one had noticed her presence so they showed equal resolve in watching her exit. The reporter continued.

  “The story tonight is still being investigated. Anyone that has information about this incident is encouraged to call L.A.P.D. offices immediately.”

  Nicole headed straight for the bathroom. Vomiting was first response her body had offered. She held back. She wasn’t willing to give up as easily as her stomach was. Reasoning had to be sought. Otherwise Nicole wouldn’t be satisfied with this ending. Until she saw both of their lifeless bodies, this was far from over.

  She left the bathroom in a hurry, nearly knocking over an innocent bystander with her growing vehemence. Rational thinking summarily ceased. Sensibility kicked back in when she noticed who was nearly trampled by her thoughtlessness.

  “Joshua?” She snapped. His reflexes seemed just as sharp as his field agent days.

  “Nicole. Good to have you back.” A malleable greeting. He almost stifled on the words. “Have you heard what happened?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded but soon added, “And I don’t believe a word of it until I see their bodies.”

  The Commander looked as if he had just as many pins in his stomach. “That’s where I’m off to.”

  She gasped. Her body responded without thinking. Trepidation began swimming laps in her thoughts. This wasn’t right. She still wasn’t convinced.

  “May I come with you, sir?” She humbly requested. McCrae easily saw through her tough demeanor. Beyond that, was a very worried and scared individual. Just like him.

  “Of course.”

  The Commander wasn’t his usual optimistic self. Something definitely unlike him. They walked towards the front of the building, trying to balance this uncomfortable air that hung between them. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. They wanted to witness it with their own eyes before admitting defeat.

  Obstructing their exit out the door was smug looking individual donning a black suit. Light shined on top of his hairless skull. His eyes panned throughout the room as if he was painlessly looking for something without actually looking for it. Neither of them recognized this man. The fact that he made it past security was worth questioning.

  McCrae was the first to make contact. He walked up to this slightly taller individual. The man in the black suit locked eyes with him and didn’t shed a shred of emotion or even his hand for a greeting.

  “I’m looking for Commander Joshua McCrae.” His words were as icy as his looks.

  “You’ve found him,” he retorted. “But I’m in a hurry. Can you make this quick?”

  “I’m afraid not,” the man answered. He reached into his coat pocket. From within came a small gold badge and a piece of identification that signaled this was not going to be a short conversation. One of their rivals had come down to pay them a visit. McCrae did not like where they were heading. The last words he spoke assured him of it.

  “We’re going to need to speak in private.”

  The ambulance pulled up to the corner of Rochester and Veteran Avenue, just a few hundred feet away from headquarters. Michael had instructed the driver to drop them off here. Away from prying eyes and curious minds. Both exited the vehicle from the back. The doors slammed and the vehicle drove off into the empty street ahead.

  As soon as it was clear, they marched across the street into the trees ahead. The parking lot was nearby. Security was still positioned at the exit. Michael couldn’t risk being caught. The element of surprise was his only weapon at this point. Literally. His pistol was still damaged beyond repair.

  Meryl’s conscious wanted to say that this felt wrong but in reality she was enjoying the rush of a covert operation. Her heart was racing. Michael made a point to rearm himself. Which is actually a good idea. When they ousted the mole the situation could turn chaotic. It’s best to have the upper hand before the enemy can react.

  They moved quickly, the cover of darkness joined by the surrounding trees aided their progress. Guards remained still at their post. It’s not every day that someone tries to sneak into the parking lot but this security lapse was noted by Michael. Stepping past his field of vision, they hurried along the grass route behind the trees.

  Almost two hundred feet later, tiny forest ended and forced them to move into the parking lot. The security officers’ attention was placed elsewhere. This freed them from the burden of using stealth as it slowed their pace down. Walking through the still packed lot illuminated by the glare of the moon seemed almost serene. It was the kind of feeling they shared with each other once before. More of a sour memory now.

  Meryl missed the good old days but they were in the past for a reason. Finding peace now was easier said than done. After engaging in a dangerous car accident that later grew into a hostile gun battle it kind of throws a damper on the rest of the day.

  Just ahead, Michael spotted his car. He pressed the button to open the trunk and started unbuttoning his shirt. That along with his barely salvageable jacket got tossed into the dark interior. Meryl knew what was c
oming next and respected his privacy by turning around and keeping watch.

  He rustled through the back of the vehicle. A medium sized steel case was uncovered along with Michael’s combat attire. He hadn’t worn a pair of B.D.U. pants since the hunt. Dropping his slacks gave him a feeling of relief. They were too restrictive for close quarters combat. He slipped them on with ease; the nylon-cotton blend was comfortable and effective.

  Taking off the dress shoes felt good. They were only for looks and served no value during a fight. A pair of black combat boots rested quietly inside. He pulled them out and his feet sat comfortably within their confines. The shirt was next. To the naked eye it looked nothing more than a sleeveless black t-shirt. In actuality, it was a custom designed piece of armor that the creator dubbed ‘Neo-Kevlar’. Strands of spider silk were synthesized with Kevlar material and woven into a flexible piece of fabric. Protection wise, it couldn’t successfully stop anything more than a .38 caliber round at close range. What it lacked in stopping power it more than made up for in flexibility and covertness. This souvenir was one of thirty pieces Michael had obtained during his hunt many months ago.

  With his gear firmly covering his body, Michael reached for the firepower. He opened the steel case and staring back at him were a pair of Desert Eagle handguns and six black grenades, strapping them into a black belt holster. It was specially designed for these pistols. It enabled Michael to hold them near his lower back and would keep them well hidden under a large coat. He snapped the guns into place and slid the belt around so that they were resting behind him. Four magazines found home in compartments along the sides of the belt.

  Hearing the trunk slam was indication that Michael was finished. Meryl turned around and noticed an instant change in her companion’s attire. No longer was he suited for simple investigations as an FBI agent. Now it looked like he was ready to start a raid with members of S.W.A.T.

  “Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Meryl asked slightly leaving room for humor in her words.