Operation Zulu

by Ernest Dempsey

  Shuffling came from the back of the room, behind one of the counters. Then the chair moved, rolling back, and a hand appeared on the desk surface. “Yeah,” Gary said. He pulled himself up first, then stuck his hand down to help Jessica.

  Her hand gripped his, and he helped her up from under the desk. She rose from the floor and looked around the room. At first, her eyes were wide with disbelief.

  “Did you two kill all these guys?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Zeke and Phoenix answered at the same time, with Phoenix telling the truth.

  “Some of them, I think. Hard to tell,” Zeke confessed. “Most, if I had to venture a guess.” Then he noticed the disheveled look to her hair, the way Gary’s shirt was unbuttoned at the top. “Wait. Were…were you two just making out?”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  The two spoke at the same time, Gary proudly responding in the affirmative.

  Jessica sighed. “Fine. Yes. Okay. I’ve always had a thing for nerds. Especially in stressful situations.”

  “Seriously?” Zeke asked, louder than he meant to. He raised his hands and let them fall. The M4 dangled loosely in his right hand. He held the pistol in his left hand, suddenly realizing he’d been firing the automatic weapon with one hand, which more than explained his inability to keep it steady. He’d not thought, just reacted, and somehow it all worked out. Except for the fact that the woman he found intoxicatingly attractive was, inexplicably, into Gary.

  “Yeah, guys. Really?” Phoenix added. “We could have all been killed. Thanks for chipping in.”

  She wrapped her arm around Gary’s shoulder and kissed his neck. For the first time ever since meeting him, Zeke and Phoenix saw Gary Freeman with a look of confidence on his face, as well as no small measure of pride.

  “Ah, you know what, screw it. Good for you, Gary. You deserve it,” Zeke congratulated.

  Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the corridor where the terrorists had come from. They came quick and heavy. Whoever was running down the hall was in a big hurry.

  “Don’t worry, brother. I’m coming. Death to the Americans!” The door burst open, and a man with black, frizzy hair appeared in the entrance. His brown face was streaked with black. His clothes had burn marks and were tattered.

  There was no mistaking who it was.

  “Ackbar?” Zeke asked, matter-of-factly.

  Malar Ackbar looked confused for a moment as if seeing a ghost. “You two!” He was holding an AK-47 and turned it immediately toward Phoenix and Zeke. He started to squeeze the trigger, but Zeke shoved Phoenix out of the way and raised his left hand at the same time.

  Zeke extended the pistol in his hand and pulled the trigger over and over again. The gun’s muzzle exploded with every discharge, sending a deafening thunder throughout the room. It was an impressive volley and one that would have ended the terrorist’s life had any of the shots been on target. Unfortunately, every single bullet missed Ackbar. Smoke trailed out of the barrel as Zeke held it there, still in a firing position, but with no rounds left in the mag. Bullet marks and scored chips of concrete surrounded Ackbar on all sides, and even above his head. For a moment, the man looked around in wonder, probably realizing he should be dead right about then. But he wasn’t. With that epiphany came a snarling glare at the man who’d tried to kill him.

  “You missed,” Ackbar said, leveling his weapon at that two Americans.

  “Aw, man,” Phoenix said. He tensed his legs, ready to jump under the desk again in an attempt to avoid the counterattack.

  Zeke didn’t move. He just lowered his weapon and bit his lip with silent acceptance. He was about to start reminiscing about his life, about decisions he’d made, things he’d done. One memory came to his mind, seemingly out of the blue. It was of a time he’d played a prank on one of his schoolteachers. The thought made him chuckle.

  “You think it’s funny you’re about to die?” Ackbar asked.

  “No,” Zeke answered, his head nodding absently. “No, I’m just thinking about something I did when I was a kid. It was hilarious. I had this teacher in school. Third grade. She was a mean old cuss. Although, old is probably relative. She was likely only in her forties, but you know, to kids that’s, like, ancient. Anyway, she came in one day and—”

  His voice was cut off suddenly by a series of rapid clicks. The terrorist started shaking and gyrating as if he was being electrocuted. Only he wasn’t being electrocuted. Holes pierced his torso one after the other. As Ackbar’s eyes widened at the realization of what had happened, one last bullet struck him in the forehead and exited the back of his skull.

  Ackbar fell against the wall, then down onto his knees. His cheeks and eyes twitched before he nosedived to the floor, smacking his face right into the crack of his brother’s butt. His brother was dead, lying on top of Scott with his arm around him in an almost romantic way.

  “Wow,” Phoenix said as he stood up. “Nice shooting.”

  Zeke turned and saw Jessica standing there with an M4, the barrel leaking heaps of smoke.

  Phoenix eyed Zeke seriously. “Better weapon, huh?” He nodded at the pistol still in Zeke’s grip.

  The two giggled, then started laughing amid a haze of gun smoke.

  24

  Half an hour after the gunfight in the control center, Major Paige and his forces arrived. Zeke and the others had holed up in the control room, locking all the doors and blocking access any way they could until Paige arrived. There were still guards and soldiers outside who were loyal to Scott Brohm, or whatever his little operation was. Although in the end, they were loyal to nothing but money.

  Paige arrested the rest of the guards and then went through the base until they discovered the control room where Zeke and his team were dug in.

  Gary, in his investigation of the big room, had discovered a refrigerator and a snack counter with granola bars, chips, and drinks. The four gorged themselves on cheap American snacks while they waited.

  After a lengthy apology from Major Paige, as well as a long expression of gratitude, the group hunkered down for the night in the base barracks. The next day, the group set out, leaving a small detachment of soldiers at the base until reinforcements could arrive.

  There was going to be an in-depth investigation. As luck would have it, five of the six buyers showed up within an hour of Paige’s arrival. His men were able to pose as regular guards at the gate and apprehend the black market arms dealers, one at a time. Being in full military gear, the newcomers had no reason to suspect anything strange was going on until it was too late.

  Paige’s group waited for several hours until they determined that the sixth buyer wasn’t going to show. Either they were held up in the weather, or perhaps something else had happened to keep them away. He doubted they were wise to what was going on at their bad rendezvous point.

  Still, five out of six wasn’t bad.

  When the team arrived back at Bagram, there was no fanfare, no substantial celebratory gathering to welcome them back. It was business as usual.

  Zeke felt a little slighted, but then he remembered they were secret agents. They weren’t fighting the Nazis or the Japanese Empire in a major war. There would be no Homeric picture of him kissing a woman amid a ticker tape parade.

  The members of Beta Force hung around Bagram for several hours that day, reflecting over the events of the past week, and especially the last seventy-two hours.

  Their contemplation continued amid discussions on the flight, the ride back to GIC headquarters in Washington, and up until the moment, the four went their separate ways in the parking lot outside the GIC building.

  Zeke and Phoenix stood by their cars, staring at the building for a long moment. Behind them, Gary and Jessica were gazing into each other’s eyes. Zeke made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder at them once. They were making out like two French tourists on vacation in Venice, Italy. He rolled his eyes and fought back the disgust rising from hi
s gut.

  Should it have been him kissing her? Maybe. But he got the feeling she was too much for him to handle. Besides, he was a spy now. He couldn’t afford to be turned into a domesticated dog. He was a wolf, and it was prowling time.

  He thought about saying those words out loud, then realized how stupid it sounded. Still, that didn’t stop the James Bond fantasies from popping into his head. Money, women, fancy cars, and yes, the occasional danger, all meandered through his mind’s eye.

  “You ever get the feeling they just took an old insurance company building and turned it into our headquarters?” Phoenix asked as he stared.

  Zeke cracked a grin. “That’s it!” he shouted. “I’ve always tried to put my finger on it. I thought maybe it was some kind of tech company or an accounting firm. But, yeah, this had to be one of those huge insurance company headquarters. I can’t believe I never thought of that before.”

  Phoenix bobbed his head. “Insurance building. The government is so cheap.”

  “Except when it comes to dumping a few billion dollars into a stack of missiles.”

  Phoenix snorted. “Touché.”

  “Well, I guess this place is going to be busy tomorrow, huh?”

  “Yeah, I would think so,” Phoenix said. “They’ll keep most of it hush-hush. Sweep it under the rug like they always do.”

  Zeke knew his friend was right. That’s precisely what would happen. The government would never admit to such an oversight, or such corruption penetrating one of their elite agencies. It would be a national embarrassment. Too many heads would roll. The public outcry would be unquenchable. So this story would slip through the cracks like so many others in history, never to be known by the general population.

  “Well, my friend,” Zeke said, extending his hand, “good job.”

  Phoenix looked down at his friend’s proffered handshake and grasped it firmly with a clap. They shook twice, then brought it in for a hug, capped off with a few slaps on the back to make sure the embrace was masculine enough to not get grief from Jessica and Gary, who were now staring at them.

  “Get a room, you two,” Jessica said.

  Zeke sighed and nodded. “I guess that’s the best you’ve got, so I’ll allow it.”

  “Oh, you’ll allow it?” she asked, stepping forward.

  “Yes. And I’m going to do you both a favor and not report this to HR. Okay?” He cracked a mischievous smile.

  She mirrored the expression and stepped close, extending her hand. “Good job, Special Agent. I’m sorry I put you two into that mess.”

  “You’ve already apologized enough,” Phoenix said. “It’s okay. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “Yeah,” Zeke said, grasping her hand and shaking it firmly. “Besides, you’re one of the team now. You’re our handler, after all. Come on. Bring it in for a bro hug.”

  Zeke pulled her close and locked one arm around her shoulders. She started to protest, but it was too late. She was already in his embrace. He slapped her on the back as he’d done to Phoenix, and as he let go, suddenly jumped up on his tiptoes and let out an “oooh!” as if she’d just pinched his butt.

  “Hey, easy. Hands off the merchandise,” he said, looking straight at Gary.

  She shoved him away and shook her head. “I did no such thing.”

  Zeke nodded, deadpan, and mouthed, “Yes, she did.”

  Phoenix burst out in laughter. “Okay, y’all. I’m going home. I want to feel the comfort of my own bed again.”

  * * *

  The next day, the news said nothing about the conspiracy that went all the way to the top of the GIC. However, the director was nowhere to be seen. No one seemed to know where he was.

  The FBI made sure that Madic’s arrest was kept quiet. Not even the neighbors knew about it.

  While he was getting ready to go to work that morning, federal agents swooped into his home and made the arrest under the cover of early morning darkness. As it turns out, someone in the Department of Defense sent a paper trail to the Department of Justice that contained information linking Maxwell Madic to dozens of offshore accounts, all of which connected to payments coming in from any number of villainous characters. Some were known associates and sponsors of terrorism. Others were linked to billionaire Chinese businessmen with seedy underground connections. There were gang connections, not like the Crips and the Bloods or MS13 that plagued American streets and neighborhoods, but the high-level functioning gangs such as the Yakuza in Japan, the Triads in China, and several of the South American and Mexican cartels.

  Maxwell Madic, it seemed, had his fingers in a lot of cookie jars. As Director of the GIC, he felt immune to true justice, padding his pockets in under-the-table arms deals that were negotiated with his two partners, men with high connections in government.

  Those two were never arrested.

  Ortega was found a few hours after Madic’s arrest. He was found dead in his home with a pistol in his right hand. Further investigation of the house revealed heavily-encrypted files on his computer that the man had tried to delete, but were still saved under a backup folder called “Versace.” The investigators thought that an odd name for a file created by a military leader until they opened the doors to the man’s closet. Inside, they found luxurious evening gowns, women’s shoes, lingerie, and expensive makeup. Befuddled, the detectives soon discovered pictures Ortega had taken of himself dressed as a woman. A repulsive, hairy woman.

  Tisdale was nowhere to be found. He vanished, disappearing into thin air. There was speculation he’d gone to Mexico, but that was something petty bank robbers tried. A man of his means could go any number of places, and he knew how to vanish. The Justice Department would stay on it and continue scouring the planet for him, but for the time being, Tisdale’s comeuppance would have to wait.

  Of course, Madic would claim that Ortega and Tisdale were in it from the get-go, that they knew all along what was going on. That claim held no weight, though, since both of his accomplices were dead. They claimed they’d been duped by Madic, that he’d swindled them into the entire thing. They also told investigators that they would be handling things differently from now on and that there would be a far-reaching investigation at the GIC to make sure the agency functioned adequately going forward.

  * * *

  Zeke finished reading a company email about Madic and how he had stepped down from his position, citing personal reasons. The email had come from the new GIC Director, Jessica Benson.

  Speculation ran rampant through the building, but Zeke and Phoenix didn’t feed it. Whenever someone asked them anything about it or what they thought, the two friends simply shrugged and said, “We don’t know nothin’,” in an accent any mobster on the witness stand would be proud of.

  Zeke was about to get a cup of coffee when the phone on his desk started ringing. It was the director’s office.

  “Hello,” he said, pressing the device to his ear.

  “Agent Marshall, glad to see you could make it to work on time today.” Jessica’s voice was dry, cynical.

  “Hey, Jess. Much better on the material there. We may get you a sense of humor yet.”

  “Hilarious. And don’t call me Jess. Not in the office, anyway.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His smirk stretched across his right cheek.

  “I need you and Agent Underwood in my office right away.”

  “What’s the matter? Gary not able to handle it? Get it? Handle…it?”

  He could feel the eye-roll through the phone. Gary’s position in the organization had changed. He was their new handler. During the mission to Afghanistan, he’d shown promise in that role, running communications and able to process technical data quickly. There was also probably a small measure of nepotism since it seemed the new director was, for some reason, fascinated with the guy.

  “My office. Now.”

  The call went dead, and he winced. “Sheesh. Maybe I shoulda gone to work for the NSA.”

  “You’re not smart enough to w
ork there.”

  Zeke looked up and found his friend standing over his desk. “Thanks.”

  Phoenix laughed. “Come on. Let’s see what she wants.”

  The two made their way through the cubicle farm and down the hall to the director’s office. They found the door open, and Zeke winked at the secretary as they passed. She shook her head and went back to working on whatever required her fingers to type so incredibly fast.

  They entered the office and closed the door. Jessica was at her new desk, sitting awkwardly in the old director’s chair. Gary was standing by her, just off her right shoulder. He looked different, more confident. His shirt was tucked in, and he was wearing a suit and matching black tie.

  “You look…different,” Phoenix said to Gary.

  “I need to look the part now that I’m your handler.”

  Phoenix snorted. “You have to buy me flowers first, big guy.”

  Gary’s eyebrows pinched together for a second as he tried to catch up to the joke, but Jessica stopped the conversation midstream.

  “You two, sit.”

  They did as told, easing into the two seats across from her. “What’s going on, Director Benson?” Zeke said in his most serious tone.

  “I have another mission for you two.”

  Zeke and Phoenix turned their heads toward one another and then back to her.

  “Another mission?” Phoenix asked.

  “We just got back, like, fourteen hours ago. You know, from the other side of the world.” He looked at his watch to emphasize the small amount of time that had passed.

  “Yes, I’m aware,” she said.

  “We were there,” Gary added, unhelpfully.

  “This is how it is,” Jessica went on. “This is the life of an operative. I was under the impression that was the life you two wanted, but I can always hand it off to someone else and send you two back to whatever duties you had before.”

  “No, no. That won’t be necessary,” Phoenix objected. “What’s the mission?”

  “Yes, sorry,” Zeke added. “We’ll take it. What’s our objective?”