by Alex Siegel
A small office was attached to the barracks. There was a push-button phone on the desk inside. Sheryl lunged to grab the phone and put it against her ear, but the line was dead. She hung up. Who do I have to kill to make a fucking phone call in this place? she thought.
She stripped off her biohazard suit and the sweat suit underneath. The gray fabric was stiff with dried sweat. She stuffed the old clothes into a desk drawer. She put on the stolen fatigues, and they fit well enough to pass muster.
Now came the painful part. She plugged in the electric razor, leaned over a garbage can, and shaved off her gorgeous hair. The experience was traumatic, but the disguise wouldn't work with long hair. Finally, the horror was done.
She created a mirror in the air and looked at herself. The sight was shocking. Her face was still swollen, and with her hair gone, she looked like a prize fighter with cancer. She shuddered. The good news was she could now pass for a man from a distance.
She took the shoe polish and carefully applied it to her face, neck, arms, and hands. The brown color almost looked natural. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor.
She made a full-length mirror and stepped back to check her disguise. It was mediocre at best, but it might get her out of a tight spot. At least the clothes were clean.
Sheryl went back to the dead man. She buckled on his gun belt and strapped one knife to her ankle. It felt good to carry weapons properly. The man's Kevlar vest went on last, and it squished her breasts uncomfortably, but it helped her look like a man and protected her.
She heard footsteps in the hallway. She turned and moved quickly away.
Another soldier entered the room and yelled, "Rubio! There you are! You know you're not supposed to be sleeping. We're still looking for the woman. I'm talking to you."
The newcomer went to the dead man, while Sheryl circled around behind him. She walked casually but efficiently. She was at the door when the soldier arrived at the bed.
He pulled back the covers and yelled, "Shit!"
Sheryl was already out the door. She hurried along.
"Hey!" the soldier yelled from the room.
She broke into a run. Up ahead, the hallway made a right-angle turn to the left. It reminded her of a magic trick she knew. She ran to the corner and stood there. She created a forty-five degree mirror across the bend. The reflection created the illusion that the hallway was straight. Hidden behind the mirror, she drew her knife.
The soldier emerged from the barracks room at a run. He was carrying his assault rifle. He sprinted down the hallway straight towards the mirror. He appeared confused but didn't slow down.
He passed through the mirror and smashed into the wall face-first. It was like a scene from a cartoon, and Sheryl couldn't help but smile. He staggered backwards with a crushed nose.
She slipped around behind him and slit his throat. She wrenched the assault rifle out of his hands while he was distracted by his injury. The weapon was too big and loud for her, so she tossed it aside. I'm getting the hang of this, she thought. She watched him die, and then she moved on.
As she walked down the hallway, she practiced marching like a real soldier. She kept her back perfectly straight. Undercover work was all about the little details.
She urgently needed to call Aaron. It was time to focus on that objective. The main issue was finding a functioning phone. She knew of one that almost certainly worked, and it was on the desk in the commander's office. Going back there was a brave choice, but it was safer than wandering around like a fool. This plan also had the advantage of being unexpected. Aaron had often told her to always make choices that confused the enemy.
The hallway ended at a platform that overlooked the factory floor. Machines for cutting, dying, and sewing fabric filled the vast space. Completed articles looked like sheets and blankets. Bedding? Sheryl remembered what she had seen in the laboratory that morning. And bugs? Bed bugs!
She suddenly understood. The mercenaries were feeding infected blood to bed bugs. They were selling sheets and blankets infested with disease-carrying insects to an unsuspecting public. Now it was doubly important that she call Aaron.
Four soldiers were patrolling the factory floor in a group. They glanced at Sheryl, and she nodded back with a stoic expression. Appear confident, she told herself. So far, the simple disguise was working.
She spotted the armored truck from last night on the far side of the room. That's the way I need to go.
A stairway led down to the floor, but that way would take her too close to the heavily armed soldiers. Her alternative was a high, narrow catwalk. The surface was just a piece of sheet metal held by cables attached to the ceiling. It looked unsafe.
Safer than getting into a gunfight, she thought.
Sheryl climbed a short ladder to reach the catwalk. The height was unnerving. She moved forward, and the catwalk swayed a little with each step. She kept a confident smile on her face even though she was shivering.
The soldiers on the floor gave her curious looks. She pretended not to notice.
After what seemed like an endless journey, she reached the other end of the catwalk. She began to climb down a long ladder which would take her to the floor.
One of the soldiers started towards her.
Sheryl was stuck. She couldn't go back up without arousing suspicion. The soldier would see through her disguise when he got close. She hurried down the ladder two rungs at a time in an effort to get down as quickly as possible.
He was almost at the ladder when she reached the floor. She headed towards the armored truck without even looking at him.
"Hey," he said. "Come back here! What's your name?"
She could hear his footsteps behind her.
Always plan the last shot before you fire the first, she thought. It was Aaron's favorite saying.
Sheryl walked briskly forward. As soon as she and her pursuer were behind the truck, she drew her gun, spun, and shot him in the face. The gunshot echoed back and forth across the cavernous room.
She grabbed the soldier's assault rifle and rolled under the truck. She saw the boots of the other three soldiers approaching. They went around the truck and stopped near the body.
She slid out the other side. She ran around and hit the soldiers from behind with a sustained burst. The assault rifle bucked violently in her hands, but enough bullets hit their targets to get the job done. She stopped firing when the clip was empty, and she threw the awful weapon aside. She hated assault rifles, and this model was particularly obnoxious. It was like holding onto a fire hose.
Now she needed to hide before reinforcements arrived. She ran into the next room, which was a warehouse. Crates and bundles of finished products were stacked high. Shelving systems loaded with boxes reached almost to the ceiling.
A long, thin crate was on its side in the middle of the floor. One of the ends had been pried off. She checked and found the crate empty except for some packing peanuts. It was a stupid, obvious place to hide, the kind a three year-old might choose. That's what made it so perfect.
She crawled inside the crate and went to the far end. Even though she had a flexible body, it was still an uncomfortably snug fit. She hoped she wouldn't have to be in here for long. I'm like a magician's assistant in a trick box, she thought.
She heard the pounding of boots as soldiers flooded into the room. They yelled orders back and forth. They knew she had to be in the area.
Sheryl created an angled mirror across the center of the crate. When somebody looked inside, they would see a reflection of the side of the crate instead of the end, making it appear empty. She was hiding behind the mirror. It was one of the most common magic tricks in the book, but it was popular because it was simple and very effective.
A moment later, a soldier peeked into the open end of the crate. He hardly looked for a second before moving on. From his perspective, it was physically impossible for anybody to be hiding in the crate.
She sighed silently and tried to find a more comf
ortable position. The soldiers were making a lot of noise as they searched the room, and it didn't sound like they would stop anytime soon. She would be stuck for a while.
* * *
Commander Hess heard automatic gunfire. He had been half-asleep in the chair at his desk, and the sound brought him instantly to full alertness.
He ran out of his office and down a hallway. He stopped at the top of a flight of stairs leading down into the warehouse section of the factory. Ten soldiers were frantically searching the area. They were looking behind crates, boxes, and bundles of packaged bedding. A few were climbing the tall shelves.
"What happened?" Hess yelled.
A squad leader looked up at him and said, "Four of our men were just killed. We believe the woman is still nearby."
"Find her!"
"We're trying, sir," the squad leader said.
Hess went down the stairs. He spotted the bodies near the parked, red and white armored truck, and he jogged over for a closer look. Three had been shot several times in the body, and the fourth had taken a bullet in the face.
Another squad leader was jogging towards him across the factory floor. The man had a grim expression. Hess crossed his arms in anticipation of more bad news.
"Sir," the squad leader said, "we found two dead men in the barracks section. One was stabbed in the throat, and the other had his throat cut."
Hess snarled. "This is getting ridiculous! How can one woman possibly do so much damage? Was she hiding a small army in her pocket when we caught her? Keep looking for her."
Hess was still disturbed by another event. A mysterious client had paid an exorbitant price for an assassination earlier. The full amount of gold had been delivered, which was usually a sure sign the job was legitimate. No police agency could afford to lose that much gold. Even a major crime syndicate would balk at giving away almost a million dollars just to capture an assassin. Yet that's exactly what had happened. Hess had no explanation.
He walked swiftly back to his office. He needed to make some calls, and the only phone that worked was there.
He sat at his desk, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. He still had some men in the field. It was time to bring them back. Hess wanted as many soldiers near him as possible.
"Hello?" a man answered in a Chinese accent.
"Park, this is the commander. Tell everybody to come back to the factory immediately."
"What about the bed bug operation, sir?"
"It's terminated," Hess said. "As soon as we get paid, we're leaving."
"Yes, sir."
Hess made a few more calls and delivered the same message to more of his men. All of Unit K would be in the factory within an hour.
Finally, it was time to call his employer. He dialed a number he had memorized.
"Hello?" a deep, male voice answered.
"This is Hess. I want to get paid."
"But the job isn't done."
"It's done enough!" Hess said. "Have you seen the news reports? Chicago is a total disaster. Our agreement was specific. I would use your biotechnology to cause a major catastrophe, and that has certainly been accomplished."
"You also promised to deliver captives."
"That was a bonus. I've decided to forego it and simply collect the principle amount."
"I thought you had one of them in the factory," the voice said.
"We're still chasing her. She killed six more of my men just now. She's making us look like a bunch of incompetent idiots."
"What a shame."
Hess snarled. "Your sympathy warms my heart."
"I warned you this enemy would be very challenging."
"That's an understatement. I'm starting to wonder if they're even human."
"Fine," the deep voice said. "You'll get your reward. Your work has met our expectations."
"When will I get paid?"
"Tomorrow."
"What should we do until then?" Hess said.
"Just stay at the factory, and watch out for that woman. She sounds very troublesome. Be glad her friends haven't come to rescue her... yet."
The phone clicked.
Hess slammed the phone in its cradle.
He considered his options. He couldn't leave until he received the gold he was promised. His men would mutiny if they didn't receive their full share. If Hess even mentioned the possibility of not getting paid, he would be dead within a minute. Mercenaries didn't like working for free.
He had no choice but to keep up a brave front and hope for the best. Unfortunately, that hope was getting rather tattered.
* * *
General Walker, the Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency and the former Fifth Corner of Freedom, hung up the phone. "Hess is getting antsy."
"I guess he's not as stupid as we thought," Erika said. "It doesn't matter. We'll soon be done with him and his gang of thugs."
He faced her. She was a Hispanic woman of medium height, but she had a light skin tone for her ethnicity. Gold clips held her long, wavy, black hair. Her body was generous around the middle, but she wasn't fat.
She was inside a glass enclosure with a filtered air supply. It was as spacious as a medium-sized apartment. The enclosure held elegant antique furniture, a brass bed, and an ultra-modern entertainment center. The doors weren't locked. She could leave anytime she wanted, but for practical reasons, it was much better if she stayed inside her air-tight box. If she came out, Walker would have to leave immediately.
Four men were in the enclosure with her. They were uniformly handsome, young, and well built. They wore colorful, elastic bathing suits which left little to the imagination. The men were kissing her toes, caressing her skin, and massaging her muscles. The constant attention didn't seem to affect her. She was used to it.
Erika's body emitted a pheromone that turned men into hopeless love slaves. They would do anything she asked, no matter how cruel or depraved. The pheromone also turned women into mindless dolts. Neither effect was permanent, but it could last for days. She had used this power to make herself incredibly wealthy.
"You're so confident?" Walker said. "We haven't seen any sign of the Gray Spear Society yet."
"They'll come," Erika said. "They always do."
"I thought your organization didn't know much about them."
"We don't know where they live or who they are, but we certainly know their work. They nearly destroyed us several times over the centuries. They left us for dead, but we managed to rise from the ashes each time. Your little conspiracy to kill the President was similarly crushed. You're seeing how much trouble poor Hess is having with just one woman. I have absolute confidence the Gray Spear Society will show up to save the day."
"Maybe we gave them too big a challenge this time," he said.
"I don't think that's possible."
Walker turned. He was standing on a raised platform above a command and control room. Twenty officers and technicians sat in front of workstations arranged in rows. It was reminiscent of the space shuttle control center. Heavily armed soldiers guarded the doors.
The walls, ceiling, and doors were made of solid, high-tensile steel. The bunker was buried deep in an abandoned coal mine. Generators provided electricity. There was enough water, food, and fuel to survive for weeks in total isolation. It was a safe place to conduct a very dangerous operation.
Video was projected onto giant screens at the front of the room, and they showed live surveillance feeds. The command bunker was just one kilometer from the white, bedding factory, a fact that would've surprised Hess greatly. A thick belt of surveillance gear was focused on the factory and the land around it. There were motion sensors, heat sensors, microphones, and cameras of all types. Every inch of land was being continuously watched. When the Gray Spear Society finally showed up, they would be spotted immediately.
Walker could see mercenaries patrolling the grounds around the factory. He personally detested mercenaries. He believed soldiers should fight for principle, not money. Walker wa
s glad Hess and his henchmen would meet a grisly end soon. The commander of Unit K would never see an ounce of the gold he was promised.
"Well, I wish they would hurry up," he said. "I'm tired of all this waiting."
"Come into my enclosure," Erika said. "I'll keep you entertained."
He shuddered. "No thanks. I'm perfectly fine out here."
* * *
Smythe was sitting on a chair in the costume closet in headquarters. Odelia was on his lap, and his arms were wrapped around her narrow waist. The lights were dimmed to create a sultry mood.
The closet was jammed full of clothing. Hundreds of outfits were packed together on long racks, and more were folded neatly on shelves. The team had costumes for all occasions in the right sizes for everybody. A long makeup table had lighted mirrors, and the shelves above held eyeglasses, fake beards, mustaches, and skin dye. The selection of shoes would've made any woman green with envy.
Smythe's attention was focused on Odelia's face. Her skin was as pink and perfect as a newborn baby's. The way her nose turned up made her look like a young girl. Her muscles were nice and firm beneath his hands.
"I've been thinking about our discussion yesterday," he said softly.
"Which one?" she said.
"Getting married and having kids."
"Me, too." She gave him a long, passionate kiss.
"It wouldn't be hard for me to have that life. I've never really felt like I fit in the Society."
"What are you talking about? You're a great legionnaire. You have a wonderful gift. Aaron certainly respects you."
"True," he said, "but I've never liked the mayhem and torture. Our work is too brutal for my tastes. I'd rather just be a doctor."
"We're doing a lot of good for the world," she said. "Focus on the ends, not the means."
"I'm trying." He squeezed her and gave her a kiss. "You've been in the Society a lot longer than me. How do you tolerate the brutality?"
She shrugged. "I just don't let it bother me. I wouldn't say I'm comfortable with it though. Yule lets me step away during interrogations."
"Aaron does the same for me."
