"Please have a seat," she said, indicating with a nod of her head a chair in front of her desk. "I've some business that I'd like to discuss with you, but it needs to wait until we have our coffee."
"I understand."
"Great, so how've you been?"
He gaped at her. He couldn't believe that the woman that had slaughtered nine men in front of him would be asking about his welfare.
"Surviving," he managed.
"Glad to hear it," she chuckled. "Just relax, Josh, think of this as a friendly meeting."
"That isn't as easy as it sounds."
"I know, but you're here because I need a favor and in return, perhaps I can do you one."
He opened his mouth to speak but her assistant walked back into the room with the coffee. She handed him a cup and walked over to place another on the desk in front of Bailey.
"Thank you, Piper. Would you close the door on your way out, please?"
"Of course," Piper said as she exited the room.
Bailey waited until the door was closed and took a long sip of coffee before she turned her attention back to Josh.
"May I see the package?"
"Why did you let me live? You can't tell me it was for a couple of handguns. You can buy a Browning over the fucking counter," he let out in a burst, shocked that he had voiced the question.
"No, it wasn't for a couple of handguns."
"Then why?"
"Because you were the only one who didn't know what he was involved in."
"What do you mean?"
"Your friends were dabbling in the big time and they got caught."
"I don't understand."
"It wasn't just guns, Josh. They would've never received the attention of my employers for just guns."
"I still don't understand."
"No you don't, and that's why you're still breathing."
"Tell me."
Bailey sighed. "Your cohorts were smuggling items fissionable materials."
Surprised at that information it took him a second to continue. "So they had to die?"
"Yes."
He gaped at her. "You are one wicked bitch."
"Perhaps," she said. "But since we're going to be friends, just call me Bailey."
"Uh…. Excuse me?"
"My name is Bailey." She beamed a smile at him that didn't reach her eyes.
"What makes you think we're going to be friends?"
"Because there isn't anywhere you can go that I can't find you."
It took him less than a millisecond to see the logic in that statement. "So, what are we doing today, pal?" he said as he plastered a smile on his face.
"Well, that depends on you, Josh."
"How so?"
"First things first, may I see the package now?"
"Sure."
Josh got up from his chair and sat one of the cases he had carried in on her desk. She reached out and flipped the latches, leaning over and peering at the contents with interest before withdrawing both handguns and placing them on the desk in front of her. Josh resumed his seat and watched with fascination as she professionally field stripped both weapons and carefully examined all the parts. Seemingly satisfied, she reassembled the guns and examined the rest of the equipment. After a few moments, she placed everything back in the case and closed it.
"Well done, exactly what I asked for." She opened a desk drawer and withdrew an envelope, which she tossed into his lap. He examined the contents and scowled.
"There's more here than I asked for."
"Yes, six thousand more."
"I don't understand."
"Consider it a hiring bonus."
"I already have a job."
"I think I can persuade you to quit."
"I thought we were going to be friends."
"We are."
"Then I don't want another job."
"Maybe you should hear the benefits before you make a decision."
"Sure, but you're wasting your time. I wouldn't fit in here; I hate the South. Grits make my asshole itch and I don't have a sister to sleep with."
She ignored his comment and reached back into her desk to produce two legal-sized manila envelopes. She separated them and placed them on the desk in front of her.
"What if I told you that inside each of these envelopes is a person waiting to get out?" she began, speaking very slowly. "And each of these two people look exactly like you. One of these people will only exist for a few weeks. The other has unlimited potential. He has no prison record, no hateful wife, no bills, and is very wealthy. He won't have to work construction six days a week and sell illegal weapons on the side to make ends meet. In a few weeks, perhaps a little longer, he can live anywhere in the world he wants to. Will never have to work again and has no baggage to weigh him down. The world is his oyster." She paused. "Would you be interested?"
"No wife, huh?" He leaned forward in his chair. "Tell me more."
"It's pretty straight forward. You get to be identity one for a few weeks and if everything goes as planned you get be identity two permanently."
"And what happens to the old Josh? Unfortunately, he has people that will look for him."
"He just disappears."
"Hmmm."
"Would it be safe to say I have your interest?"
"Very safe, but what about dental records and finger prints, shit like that?"
"To assume identity two, you visit my dentist," she said. "As for the fingerprints, you go through a couple of weeks of discomfort, but with no permanent damage. In your new life, your fingerprints would never identify you as the person you are now."
"What all is behind door number two?"
She picked up one of the envelopes and started removing items and placing them on the desk in front of him. A Georgia driver's license, birth certificate, social security card, passport, credit cards, and a checkbook. He wasted no time in going for the checkbook, staring at it for a few moments and letting out a low whistle.
"Impressive."
He picked up the driver's license and saw his likeness staring back at him. He was about to examine the next item when his eye caught something that made his face turn sour.
"What the fuck? My new name would be Renfield Porchneck?"
"What can I say?" She shrugged.
"Where in the hell did you come up with that?"
"I thought it was funny."
"You have a cruel sense of humor."
"With the amount of money Renfield has, nobody will care what his name is."
He stopped to ponder that statement a moment. "That's true."
"Do we have a deal?"
"What is it that I have to do?"
VI
Everybody knows the boat is leaking, Everybody knows the Captain lied
- L. Cohen, S. Robinson
Terry was in a foul mood. He knew the staff was arriving but he needed a few more moments by himself before starting what was going to be a long day, followed by many more long days. He had just gotten off the phone with the Director and as expected the man had not been pleased. He squirmed in his chair, the memory of the tirade that had been directed at him still stinging.
"What's the problem, McKraken?"
"Sir, we have a rogue operative."
"Run that by me again."
"We have a rogue, sir."
"Jesus, how bad?"
"Very bad, sir."
"Define very bad to me, please."
"The rogue operative is The Wraith, sir." Terry braced himself.
"I'm sure I didn't hear you correctly. Would you repeat that please?"
"The Wraith, sir."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, McKraken, but isn't this the same operative that you fought tooth and nail to have placed on a nonexistent inactive list a few years back?"
"That would be correct, sir."
"Then would you mind telling me how the fuck that agent is now considered a rogue!?" the man roared over the phone.
"Sir, I created the inactive l
ist because the potential of this operative, in my opinion, was significant enough to forego mandatory retirement. The operative remains to this day the most successful the Organization has ever had. It was my judgment at the time that a resource as valuable as this operative, that the Organization spent a great deal of money, time, and resources training should not be cast aside. I felt that letting her go, with the plan of bringing her back in the future, would be beneficial to all parties involved.
"Spare me the rhetoric, McKraken. I've heard all of it before. Obviously, your theory doesn't wash today."
"It would appear so, sir."
"Do we have the resource's on hand to deal with the situation?"
"A question that I'm afraid I can't answer with any certainty, sir."
"Why the hell not?"
"I would need your intentions, sir."
"Put her down."
"Understood, however the operative in question is supremely capable and extraordinarily intelligent. I'm afraid that in carrying out your order we would more than likely lose significant resources on our own end. In addition, if we were not initially successful, we would run the risk of comprising the security of the Organization."
"So what exactly are you trying to tell me?"
"I'm saying that at present she doesn't pose a security risk, and we should take our time and cover all options before attempting to retire an operative of this caliber. In addition, we should explore the possibility of recruiting Free Agents to participate."
"Is she really that good?"
"Quite possibly the best, sir."
"Alright, I'm going to let you run the show on this one. Suspend all current Ops immediately. Bring in all the resources you think you are going to need. Lock the local personnel down to essential staff only. If you think Free Agents are needed, I'll leave that to your discretion. I want this taken care of. As of this moment, I'm going to be putting as much distance between this problem and myself as I can. In fact, I don't want to hear from you until the situation is resolved, McKraken. I don't give a shit if takes a decade. Understood?"
"Understood, sir."
"I hope you do, Terry. Because if this comes back to haunt the Organization, it'll be your ass hanging in the breeze. I consider this your cluster fuck, you handle it anyway you want, but you handle it. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal clear, sir," Terry said to a dead line.
Terry felt the walls closing in on him. He had no choice now but to eliminate her. That had never been part of the plan; he had just wanted her back in the fold. He berated himself. He had been so confident in his plan that he never, at any time, considered what would happen if it failed. Now he found himself in the unenviable position of being a target for, by all accounts, one of the most lethal people on the planet. He would be spending every hour of his life now within the confines of the building, until either she was dead or they carried him out of his office covered in a sheet. He didn't like the visual that accompanied that thought. He reached out to hit the intercom.
"Miss Marshall?"
"Yes, Mr. McKraken?"
"Would you call security and have them prepare to lock down the building, my order. Have the officer in charge report to my office as soon as possible."
"Right away, sir."
"I assume all department heads are in the conference room?"
"Yes, they're all there."
"I need you to inform them that the building is going to essential staff only. The building will be locked down at 5:00pm. After that time only cleared personnel will be allowed entry, no one shall be allowed exit. All other personnel will be on indefinite leave with pay until the current situation is resolved. Is that clear, Miss Marshall?"
"Very clear, sir. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, this morning's meeting is postponed until 1:00pm, attendance is still mandatory. That's all, Miss Marshall, you need to get started."
"Yes, sir."
He leaned back in his chair, listening to the announcement go over the building wide intercom. Goddamn it, this was never supposed to happen.
--------
Piper sat at her desk and thought about her first hours with Bailey Cameron. Prior to today, she had only seen her from a distance at Clinton's funeral and then only briefly as she had only stayed long enough to speak to the widow for a few moments following the service. Having worked as Clinton's assistant for just over two years, she considered it strange that she had never once caught sight of her at the office. She had been surprised when Bailey had called her at home to ask if she would be interested in working as her assistant.
When she came in yesterday to move her things from John's office to Bailey's, she had been the recipient of many words of sympathy and looks of condolence from the staff concerning her new position. Everyone apparently thought that she would never be heard from again once she descended into the lair of the Princess of Darkness. Yet here she was, sitting at her desk with a twenty-four thousand dollar raise and a promotion and it wasn't even 9:00am. She had even been asked by the malevolent Princess herself, to call her Bailey. Having seen the woman up close for the first time was an experience that she would never forget. The woman sent shivers down her spine she was so striking. And her eyes, Jesus. She can't be much older than I am but you look at her eyes and she seems ancient.
She could tell that Bailey had been trying to intimidate her at first, probably to see what she was made of, but by the end of the conversation she had been shockingly pleased and flattered to see a blush on her face. Apparently, the woman wasn't made of ice, as was the general consensus. She must be lonely. And with that thought, she decided that she would try to break down some of the walls that surrounded the enigmatic Bailey Cameron, and hopefully find a new friend or, she smiled, perhaps more. She sipped at her coffee and applied herself to the rapidly filling inbox.
--------
Terry awoke surprised that he had drifted off at his desk. The blackness outside the window telling him that night had fallen. He frowned as he wondered how in the world he had slept the day away. Suddenly, he realized that there was another person in the room. A figure with features that he couldn't make out in the dark, was sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"I always hated that tie, Terry," came a feminine Irish voice.
In a motion so fast that if he had blinked he would have missed it, the figure stood from the chair and waved an arm back and forth in the air that separated them. His hands went to his throat to ease the sudden burning sensation. He tried to speak but his mouth filled with a hot, metallic tasting fluid that spilled over his chin with a gurgle. His hands were wet and he could feel liquid pouring through his fingers and around his palms. His chest felt warm and sticky and he looked down to see a crimson stain on his shirt that was spreading at an alarming rate. Strangely, he noted that his tie had been cut off about an inch below the knot.
He looked up to see the figure in front of his desk clean, with what he realized was the remains of his tie, a long blade that glittered in the dark. The figure casually threw the tie to the floor and sat back down. His vision started dimming as he saw the figure lean forward in their chair, obviously interested in the spectacle that he knew was going to be his final moments. It was becoming very hard to keep his eyes open and he started to feel himself fade away just as the face of his murderer came into focus.
"Goodbye, Terry," Bailey purred darkly.
"Mr. McKraken, Lieutenant Pittman from security is here. Shall I send him in?"
Terry awoke to the sound of his secretary's voice coming from the intercom and almost screamed, his hands going immediately to his throat. He sat in his chair, his breath coming in large gulps as he slowly began to reclaim some composure. With an effort, he leaned forward to hit the intercom.
"H…Have him wait a moment, Miss Marshall. I'll be with him shortly."
"Very well, sir."
He stood up from his chair and attempted to collect himself. Jesus Christ. There wasn't a square i
nch of flesh on his body that didn't feel like it was covered with sweat. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, the aftereffects of the dream still making his hands tremble. He sat back down at his desk and ran his hands over his hair. After taking several deep breaths he hit the intercom.
"Miss Marshall, send in the Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir."
He watched silently as the door opened and the Lieutenant strode in to stand before his desk.
"I understand that you have put the building on alert, and wished to speak with me, sir."
"Yes, we have a situation. Until it's resolved I'll need you to follow the security protocols for local lockdown. Are you familiar with those protocols, Lieutenant?" Terry asked, slowly getting himself back up to speed.
"Yes, sir. When does lockdown commence?"
"5:00pm today, Lieutenant. Any other questions?"
"No, sir."
"Dismissed."
He waited for the Lieutenant to leave the room and viciously tore off his tie as soon as the door closed. He thought it a prudent course of action not to wear one until he could safely say this ordeal was over. He folded the tie and reached in his pocket for the keys to his desk. Inserting the key into the lock, he was startled to realize that he didn't need it. A sickening feeling hit him in the gut and he closed his eyes as he very slowly opened the drawer he knew the file was in.
He knew it was going to be bad, he just fucking knew it; he could feel black thunderclouds forming over him. He opened his eyes, only to close them again a second later. The thunderclouds started rumbling and he suspected that at any moment they would open up and piss all over him. His hand flew out to hit the intercom button with violent force.
"Miss Marshall," he almost screamed.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want Mr. Phillips of Internal Security in my office in five fucking minutes with the video of this floor, and specifically my office, for the last twenty-four hours."
He disconnected before he got a response. He couldn't believe that it was only 9:45 in the morning. The blows just kept coming. The missing file presented a problem of potentially enormous proportions. Surprisingly, he wasn't anxious to see what information the video might yield. He didn't know if he could take another kick to the head. His whole body was trembling and he barely contained the almost overwhelming urge to throw what his mother would have called a conniption fit. Scowling, he slouched in his chair and waited for Mr. Phillips to arrive.
Stories by Kiera Dellacroix Page 5
