Bailey had come to the attention of The Secondary after spending several months in prison for the murder of a British officer, who had unfortunately been the son of a prominent member of British parliament. The officer in question had ordered his men to fire into a crowd of civilians in the attempt to eliminate two fleeing suspected IRA members. Her father and oldest brother had died at the scene, Bailey herself assumed dead until two days later when she surfaced over the body of Captain Bryan Logan. She assaulted the man in broad daylight and in full view of several other soldiers. When she had been forcibly pulled from Logan's body, the man had been stabbed twenty-three times.
Upon realizing who she was and tying her into the event that had resulted in the death of her father and brother, and amidst a rather loud plea for justice from Logan's father, the British officially declared her dead and imprisoned without trial to avoid any local outcry. Where, over the course of her seven months of incarceration she suffered countless beatings, was allowed little sleep, and fed only at the whim of the guards. They never questioned her; they just beat her until she was able to withstand another one. When she was well enough to survive the process again, it repeated itself. It was perhaps her age and the interrogators' sense of chivalry that kept her from suffering the worst kind of abuse, or it might have been out of respect for the fact that she never begged or pleaded. This however, didn't apply to the guards and during the fifth week of her imprisonment one among them, probably confident in the knowledge she would offer little resistance, took it upon himself to get a little of the pretty Irish girl. The attempted rape had turned out to be a fatal error as the man was found dead the next morning in a corner of her cell, prompting a string of beatings and torture that almost killed her. It became a sadistic game, they wanted to break her and she refused.
Coincidentally, there was a young recruiter stationed in the UK who happened to overhear rumors of a surprisingly resilient Irish prisoner. He was curious and decided to investigate. Terry McKraken discovered the find of the century, a 16-year old Irish girl who refused to be broken.
She really didn't have a choice. Her family had no idea she was alive, and if she remained in British confinement, she would have a life expectancy of exactly zero. In addition, there was always the possibility that the remainder of her family would be mistreated or even imprisoned because of whom she had killed. She took the only option available and was recruited by The Secondary.
She was a gifted student and no expense was spared. She excelled at everything. By the age of eighteen, she was a master of the dark art of murder. The instructors all agreed she was the finest student they had ever seen. At the age of nineteen, there wasn't a scenario they could throw at her that she couldn't beat, even when the odds were stacked oppressively against her. For over a decade, she lived up to her billing. Often achieving extraordinary results, her list of accomplishments in the field was beyond the impressive. In the circles one of her career field traveled in, she became a legend in her own time. No matter how difficult the assignment, she always came out on top. Always.
There were many other particulars that his mind had caught while reading her file, several of which made him shiver. Her list of targeted completions was a staggering number. Her list of secondary targets was almost as frightening. He knew her preferred firearm was the Browning Hi-Power, two of them. An uncanny marksman with either hand, her skill described by the top small arms instructor as "Extraordinary, a maestro."
He found her fondness for the katana far more disturbing.
Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he leaned back in his chair and bent his mind to a solution. Why? He could tell he was close but it was just out of his reach, fumbling all around the answer before it hit him. He's jealous. And with that epiphany, the last piece fell into place; it had been in front of him since the beginning. The family. The file had stated the family's location as unknown, there was no way the Organization would let information that important remain a mystery. That was the stick that Terry held above her head. He had the answers, and with it came the triumphant feeling that he had a piece of the puzzle that she would need. I know where the family is. A knowledge that would no doubt guarantee his instantaneous death if Terry even suspected he knew.
There was a storm brewing, and he was sure it was going to be a storm with casualties. He knew for certain that standing next to Terry was the last place he wanted to be when the Cameron wave hit. He was convinced that Terry had made himself a target.
He glanced at his watch and was startled to see it was 1:30 in the morning; he needed to replace the file. Gathering the contents and placing them back in his briefcase he again circled the floor to make sure he was still alone. Feeling reasonably safe, he put the keycard to the sensor and was denied entry. He frowned and tried again without success. Trying not to panic, he verified that he had the correct card and panic gained the upper hand, he could only try one more time before an alarm was raised.
Please God.
With a trembling hand and closed eyes he placed the keycard on the sensor and held his breath.
I'm screwed.
He opened his eyes and looked at the door that stared mockingly back at him, slowly turning away and shakily making his way back to his desk to sit down. Despite thousands of scenarios running through his mind, he failed to come up with even one that could salvage the situation. Stifling the urge to cry, he realized that he was going to have to run and knew of only one destination that would provide any hope of safety.
Summoning all of his composure, he reverently removed the Mulder and Scully action figures from their place of honor on his desk and put them in his briefcase. Standing, he took one final look around at what had been his office for the past six months and started his journey out of the building with the stolen file.
Once inside his car and leaving the parking lot, the tears poured liberally. He was still crying as he drove up to an ATM and withdrew as much of his cash as the machine would let him. He fought the sniffles all the way home where he walked like a zombie to his bedroom and fell face first upon his bed. Realizing as he drifted off that he had a lot to do and quickly, for even if he was wrong about Terry's intentions toward him, which he doubted, the missing file would leave a trail right up to his ass.
V
Welcome to the jungle, we take it day by day
- A. Rose
Terry sat at his desk and stared at the envelope. He was afraid to touch it, although he knew that was foolish. It had gone through every test imaginable before it was placed on his desk and he was awakened with a phone call at home. The second it had been dropped in C-Corp's outgoing mail it had been intercepted and transported immediately to Washington. He looked at the clock, it was 4:30 in the morning; he had been staring at the letter for over half an hour. He remembered the call.
"Yes?"
"Sir, we have intercepted a letter, flagged with your parameters in Atlanta."
With the mention of Atlanta, he was suddenly awake and all business.
"What parameters, specifically?"
"It is addressed to you personally, sir."
"I see, where is it now?"
"On your desk, sir. It has run the gauntlet."
"Thank you, I'm on my way in."
"Of course, sir."
He had hung up the phone and stared off in the dark for several long moments.
What the hell was she up to?
He had asked himself that same question at least a hundred times since entering his office and seeing the envelope on his desk. Tentatively, he picked it up and looked closely at the writing, recognizing her distinctive block lettered script. At any other point in time he would have been amused, she always printed in block letters because her cursive was indecipherable. Instead, his expression was one of contemplation as he read the words she had written.
The letter was addressed to a local drop box that hadn't been used in several years. In fact, the box hadn't been active in over seven years. The goddamned letter w
as undeliverable. This was an immensely disturbing piece of information for she knew that he would get it and that meant she knew he had people planted in her company. Suddenly, he had to know what message she was sending. He tore open the envelope to find a single sheet of paper. Impatiently, he unfolded it and scanned the three words.
Kick or Receive?
The paper fell to the floor and he leaned back hard in his chair. She had decided to play and was announcing her intentions. He now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had gone too far. He had gambled on his plan and it had blown up in his face. She had just declared her defiance.
Terry McKraken, for the first time in a very long while, felt the icy tendrils of fear nipping at his heels. Those three words were the opening play of the most important game of his life, and his life was exactly what he would be playing for.
He again glanced at the clock; it was going to be another hour before the staff started arriving. He considered calling them in on an emergency, but realized it was late enough that most them wouldn't arrive much sooner than they normally did. He was glad he hadn't filed Martin's termination yesterday; he was going to need the young man. The little bastard had been right; he had blown a call. If his relatively new assistant had seen it, why hadn't he? Now, no matter how hard it was to hear, he would welcome Martin's insight in the morning. Feeling the overwhelming urge to get started, yet dependent on his staff, he resigned himself to wait. Impatiently, he leaned back in his chair and suddenly cringed as he realized he would have to call the Director. A conversation he was positive he would not enjoy, he would have far too much crow to eat. It already tasted like shit.
--------
As Bailey exited the elevator on the 17th floor, which was home to her business office, she wondered if the mental picture she had conjured up of her new assistant was going to be accurate. Judging from the pleasant voice she remembered from their brief conversation, she imagined an overweight, matronly woman of middle years. She thought it curious as to why she had never met her; she had been Clinton's assistant for as long as she could remember him being with the company.
Her office was isolated from the others on the floor and the only one close to the private elevator she used. A few strides and a corner and she found Piper Tate already at the assistant's desk. She was somewhat taken aback to find an attractive woman not much younger than herself.
"Good morning, Miss Cameron," she said, beaming a smile.
"Uh… Good morning, Piper," she replied feeling strangely awkward.
As she breezed past Piper and into her office she smiled, amused at how far off base she had been. Sitting down at her desk, she considered her new assistant. She knew Clinton had entrusted her with a great deal of responsibility. He had boasted about her efficiency on many occasions and considered her absolutely competent. According to Clinton, she also had her pulse on all the good gossip. She pressed the intercom button.
"Piper, could you come in here please?"
Seconds later her office door opened and Piper walked into the room. She placed an appraising stare upon the woman. Piper Tate wasn't just attractive, she was beautiful. Everything about the woman was bright and cheery. She had long crimson hair, which was tied up with a ridiculously happy bow. High, sharp cheekbones only magnified the prominence of attractive and almost electric pale-blue eyes. She stood about five-three with heels but despite being vertically challenged, she had a well-toned and eye-catching figure.
"Piper, what's my nickname?"
"Excuse me, Miss Cameron?"
"You know what I mean. What is it that the employee's call me behind my back?"
"The Princess of Darkness."
She had to hand it to her; she didn't even flinch. "I see, and would you agree with that assessment?"
"Well, your wardrobe wouldn't be damaged by a little color," she said with a quirky grin.
She couldn't help but smile. Nobody else in the building would've had the nerve to say that to her face. "I think we're going to get along fine, Piper."
"I hope so, Miss Cameron."
"Take a seat, I've some questions for you."
Piper seated herself in one of the chairs in front of her desk and looked at her expectantly.
"How long have you been with C-Corp?"
"I came over in the acquisition of TDE Security Systems with Mr. Clinton."
"I thought so, and during your time here, exactly how much of John's job did you do for him?"
"Excuse me?"
"Look, I know John handled a lot of things, but I also know he excelled at hiding how lazy he was. So, how much of the day to day stuff did he stick you with?"
"Close to all of it," Piper admitted.
"I see, just a moment."
She booted the computer on her desk. She waited for the log in screen and typed in her password. Sparing a glance at Piper, she happened to note that the woman seemed to be appraising her, staring at her unabashedly with a small, almost nefarious smile on her face. She was annoyed to feel the beginnings of a blush and tore herself away from her thoughts, focusing all of her concentration on the computer screen in front of her. She navigated through the software until she ended up where she wanted to be and studied the figures in front of her.
"I see here that your current annual salary is in the neighborhood of $31,500."
"Yes."
"If I were to ask you to try on John's job for a while but at an increase to $55,500, what would your answer be?"
"The answer would have to be yes, Miss Cameron."
"Great, consider it done."
She closed the current program and opened up another. She typed for a few moments then turned back to Piper.
"It's official. I've sent a memo informing the company of your new status and updated your salary information with personnel. I expect you to handle everything that doesn't need my attention, use your judgment. Clear?"
"Very clear, thank you."
"I'll see about getting you your own office and you'll probably need an assistant. Put a request in with personnel about getting a temp if you feel the need." She paused. "If everything works out we can talk about making the position permanent. If it does become permanent, you'll be entitled to additional compensation but we can discuss that later, alright?"
"Alright."
"And Piper?"
"Yes?"
"Just call me Bailey."
"That would be a pleasure, Bailey."
"You have my cell phone number?"
"Yes."
"Carry on then, Miss Tate."
She sprung happily to her feet and headed for the door. She was almost there when Bailey spoke again.
"Oh, one more thing, Piper."
"Yes?"
"What colors would you recommend be added to my wardrobe?"
Piper turned so she could get a good look at her, and studied her for as long as she dared.
"Blues and whites, Bailey," she said with a wink and closed the door behind her.
She was glad that she shut the door because as soon as it closed another, much more powerful blush covered her features. Shaking her head to disperse it as she tried to remember the last time she had blushed. She chalked it up to nerves and smiled; it was refreshing to deal with someone who had enough backbone to shoot straight. Piper hadn't acted the slightest bit intimidated by her and had actually winked at her. Inconceivably, she felt the beginnings of another blush. Thankfully, her train of thought was interrupted as Piper's voice came over the intercom.
"Bailey, Tom from security is on line one for you."
She reached over and tapped the speakerphone. "Hi, Tom, what's up?"
"Miss Cameron, there's a man here with a delivery, you said you wanted to speak to him."
"Yes, I do. Would you escort him to my office? Use the private elevator, please."
"On the way."
She curiously took a look at the time on her computer. Josh was early; she didn't expect him to be here until late today. With a little grin, she s
at back in her chair and waited for her new employee to arrive.
--------
Tom hung up the phone and walked around to the other side of the desk.
"Come with me, please."
"Come with you where?" Josh asked warily.
"To Miss Cameron's office, she'd like to speak with you."
"Miss Cameron?" Oh God. "Is Miss Cameron Irish?"
"Uh… Yeah, yes she is," Tom stated confusedly as he watched the man go pale in the face. "Are you alright?"
"No, not really. But let's not keep her waiting."
"Alright, follow me please." Tom shook his head, the man looked for a second like he was going to faint. It got his curiosity up, but he knew better than to indulge it, the less he knew the better. The man picked up his briefcases and followed him into the elevator. He kept a close eye on him, but by the time the elevator doors opened he seemed to have somewhat pulled his act together. They rounded the corner and were in front of Piper's desk when the intercom spoke.
"Send him in, Piper. Thank you, Tom."
Dismissed, Tom turned around and headed back for the elevators as Piper got up from her desk to open the door for Josh and followed him into the office.
"Can I get you some coffee?" Piper asked.
"I'd love a coffee," Bailey said
Josh was staring across the room at the face that even now gave him nightmares. He realized that her assistant was looking at him expectantly and it took him a second to find his voice.
"Uhm… Sure, just sugar please," he choked out, his voice sounding alien to him.
"Thank you, Piper. Just bring it in when it's ready."
Bailey watched Piper leave the room and folded her hands on the desk in front of her, giving Josh a long look. He hadn't changed much in the last six years. He still looked like a stiff breeze would blow him away, intelligent hazel eyes, long brown hair, and a matching goatee gave him the look of a street predator. She noted that he had put on a shirt and tie today in an attempt to blend in with the corporate look. He was the kind of guy you saw but didn't really notice.
Stories by Kiera Dellacroix Page 4
