Mina Cortez: From Bouquets to Bullets

by Jeffrey Cook

  She wasn't looking forward to taking this call.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mina's parents weren’t happy about her bike accident, but at least they bought that as a story for why she was sore and bruised. They gave her the rest of the day off, reluctantly. As soon as she was away from the shop, she falsified her location so she'd appear to be heading to her apartment, then headed downtown. The Director was waiting for her, looking none too happy.

  The woman didn't need to say a word for Mina to look down sheepishly as she stood across the desk.

  “Agent Cortez, I was hoping it was going to be a very long time before we met face to face again. Having to call agents in here too often is frowned upon. However, I thought that perhaps a comm wouldn't get across the gravity of the situation.”

  “I'm very sorry, Director. I didn't mean ...”

  “I'm sure you didn't. I believe your express orders were to not draw attention to yourself. Were they not?” the Director interrupted.

  “Yes Ma'am, but ...”

  “What part of leaving three armed men unconscious, before chasing down a delivery truck on the freeway, is inconspicuous? Please explain.”

  “I ... I ...”Mina started, before collecting herself. “There were lives in danger. Some of them were my fault. I didn't chase them down ... they, well, they drew their guns in the place I was delivering to.”

  “Yes, that's what the reports say,” the Director said. “Do go on.”

  “The guy with the truck ... he was one of them.”

  “And this vaunted sense of responsibility could not settle for stopping the shakedown, once lives were no longer directly endangered? Besides, of course by you?”

  “I—!”

  “Oh, of course, I'm sure no additional bystanders were put at risk by causing a highway accident,” the Director continued over Mina's attempted protest, her voice dry. “It was impossible to let the truck go? Or call it in?”

  “What should I have called it in on, Ma'am?” Mina asked, finding her voice. “I didn't see the license plate. I was too far away, and none of our people were anywhere close.”

  “Well, perhaps you could have reported the situation to someone who remembered what your job was,” the Director said. “Was it worth ruining years worth of investigations into the shop in order to thoroughly stop one hold-up? The first part might have just made them shut down that part of their operation for a bit. Succeeding at a car chase from a bicycle, however, has made certain they'll shut down operations there entirely. Worse, whoever they were reporting to will be a lot more paranoid now. But at least you caught a single two-bit thug.” The words were almost individually bit off.

  Mina flushed at that. She hadn't meant to mess up the investigation. She still couldn't bring herself to believe she'd done the wrong thing in the first shop, at least, though. “I'm very sorry. I won't ...”

  “You won't be doing much of anything for a while except training and consulting, Agent Cortez. You're off of active surveillance for the time being.”

  “So I'm ... still an agent?” Mina began, a little startled.

  “The FBI is screaming over a botched sting, without having a clue where it went wrong. Lucky Pho has been investigated thoroughly ... the police found enough contraband to arrest everyone on site. There are numerous reports of a horrible bicycle accident off a bridge, but no one seems quite certain what happened. Your bicycle was stolen ... which is actually much easier. The pink and green bicycle somewhat stands out, especially while being ridden by a teen male.”

  Mina bit her tongue to prevent herself from mentioning that the bicycle was lilac and emerald. This was not the time.

  Fiona Richter continued. “Bicycle thieves are far less credible than witnesses turning a crashed bicycle in. You otherwise covered your tracks reasonably well. Agent Park is handling a lot of the rest of the covering up for you. You also did quite possibly save four lives, and while you didn't help catch the big fish we wanted, one safehouse for the black market has been shut down, so it's not nothing.”

  She fixed Mina with a stern glance. “This is, in no way, a 'good job', Agent Cortez. This is not the gold star that covers up massive professional, and literal, damage. These are a few mitigating circumstances. Most important among them is what we did not find. There was no sign whatsoever of any of the programmers. We're still waiting for proper circumstances to allow an interrogation of the captured men, but we've found absolutely no sign any of them have the first clue about the case you're on. There are a lot of very upset people right now, Agent Cortez. You ruined years worth of work, made many people's jobs much harder, and have put me and your fellow agents in a difficult position. However, you're still an agent ... but you now have an official reprimand on your record, and I don't want to hear about any further incidents of this nature. Is that clear?”

  Mina nodded quickly. “Yes, Ma'am.”

  “Good ... then go home and rest up. I suspect you're going to need it. Agent Park is working very hard to clear up your trail within the police department, and I suspect your training tomorrow isn't going to be any fun.”

  * * * *

  The Director had been right. Training wasn't any fun. Unlike the Director, Agent Park didn't scold her. Mostly, he just gave her the exercises and reps, and otherwise didn't say a word. Even when she apologized, he just nodded quietly. In a lot of ways, it had been worse than the verbal dressing down. She suspected for a while that the workout had been dialed up a little more than she'd have thought, but eventually figured it was probably because she was still sore. Agent Park would have followed the book, like every other agent but herself, apparently.

  The lack of conversation did mean she didn't end up staying quite as long. After the exercises and a brief water break, she was ready to be on her way. Agent Park did offer a brief “See you tomorrow.” But that was it. Under the circumstances, she couldn't entirely blame him. She could only hope things would be a little more relaxed the next day, as she was finding she really didn't want to disappoint her mentor, or come up short of her grandfather's legacy. Amidst the exhaustion, she even spared a few thoughts for not wanting to look bad this early in any records that Agent Hall might see.

  With some extra time before her parents would be expecting her back, Mina decided to find somewhere to sit down and have a quiet lunch, instead of one of the rushed affairs back at the shop. That thought lingered a bit, turning into a broader idea. If someone was holding a bunch of programmers, those people would still need to eat. She started using the chipped data to pull up recollections of maps and shops in different areas. At first, the train of thought was overwhelming. There were a lot of places that served food very cheaply. Then a memory hit her.

  “Cheap is all very well,” Scott had said. “Fast food is one of the wonders of civilization. But it's not just about taste, and not just about affordability, but productivity.”

  “And that's why you made a graph?” Mina had asked drily.

  “That's why,” Scott had replied, unembarrassed. “Got most of the major work-food contenders. Axes are 'Easy' and 'Clean.' Pizza's in quadrant four, because hey, it's simple, but I am not getting grease on my machine. But in quadrant one is that great innovation of the legendary Earl of Sandwich.”

  At this time of day, whoever had them would want the programmers working. They might even let Scott or someone like-minded choose the food options while they did. So sandwiches she would go with. Whoever it was wouldn't risk delivery. Someone might see too much, wherever it was.

  It was a long shot, but after her colossal mistakes before, Mina desperately wanted to do something to help put the case back on the right track, and reassure herself she could handle detective work. She found all the sandwich shops she felt she could safely hit and still make it back to work within fifteen minutes of when she was expected back. While she had originally intended to sit and eat, she gave up the idea in favor of her investigation.

  The first four had the typical traffic she would ha
ve expected in the pre-lunch hours. The fifth was only a little busier. She was about to leave when something about one of the vehicles in the lot made her pause. The car was a nicer model than most of those parked at the various shops, particularly this one. The shop was near two middle-class schools, giving it a regular customer base of teenagers with inexpensive cars. That alone merited only a cursory glance, but that glance picked up on the University parking pass. There were plenty of food options closer to the University, though she supposed it might be someone with only occasional need to stop there.

  Nevertheless bothered by this, she decided to go inside and see if anything else stood out. On entering, three people stood out. While most of the few people inside looked like high school students away from campus for lunch, she quickly matched the three older, well dressed men near the counter with the car. Blending in as best she could with the handful of other people her age, she made her way closer to the counter. The person currently at the counter finished his order, with the three men next. As she got close enough, she picked up the odor of gun oil, and hints of cheap cologne amidst the various body washes, soaps, and overloads of perfumes common among some students.

  Mina listened as they placed a large order, two dozen sandwiches in all, one of them reading off a list, some of the orders being very specific. The one that caught her attention was the turkey & Havarti, no tomatoes, extra pickles and olives. Scott's usual. She couldn't control a small sound of surprise. One of the men turned, and she caught the sight of his hand darting under his jacket as a reflex to being surprised. She ducked her head down a bit and turned for the door, trying to disappear amidst the few little knots of other students. While she thought they'd missed seeing her face, there was still some commotion behind her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mina darted for the door and then the bike rack, hearing yells and protests behind her. A glance back told her that two of the men were still trying to work their way through people, but one of them was right behind her—the man who'd gone for something under his coat. She was grateful to see he'd thought better of drawing a gun in a shop and drawing more attention to himself, but a quick assessment told her that he'd reach her before she'd be able to get her bike off the rack and get out of the lot.

  She pulled her bike free as she reached it, then whirled, trying to catch him off guard. To her surprise, as quickly as she was moving—and much as she thought she'd read him right—he blocked her swing perfectly. His left hand came in low before she could recover herself, knocking the wind out of her. She went into a more defensive stance, and tried to feint to open him up for a return shot, her chip feeding her information and moves as fast as she could process them. He ignored the feint and once again blocked her swing, catching her wrist mid-punch and pulling her into a swing of his own. Mina saw stars as she hit the ground.

  “Hey!” came a shout from the parking lot. “Leave her alone!”

  Two boys around her age had been leaning against an old beater car, eating their lunch between classes, and had finally caught up with what was going on enough to react. Mina saw the man again go for his gun by reflex, think better of it, and turn to face them. She could see the other two men reaching the doorway, even as the restaurant was exploding into chaos.

  Mina kicked as hard as she could for the man's ankle while he was distracted, and he went down hard with a yell. She kicked up to her feet, grabbing for her bike. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw one of the other men who'd been in the restaurant going for a gun, before the last punched his shoulder, shouting something about not being an idiot.

  Jumping on her bike, Mina spared a glance back over her shoulder as she headed for the nearest alleyway that went through to the next street, trying to make sure she could disappear before a car could catch up with her. All three had given up on their sandwich order and were running for their car, shoving students out of the way as necessary and keeping their heads down.

  It was only when she was several blocks away with no signs of pursuit that she relaxed. As soon as she did, the realization struck her. She'd had to get close enough to pick up the hints of gun oil. Her chip hadn't told her the men were armed. The man who almost caught her—it had read his training, stance, and moves entirely wrong. Worse, he'd moved every bit as fast as she could, countering her perfectly. Something was horribly wrong.

  * * * *

  After the encounter at the sandwich shop, Mina was positive the three men had something to do with the abduction, and the evidence suggested Scott was still alive. Or someone had the same tastes and allergies he did. As soon as she felt like she had definitely eluded any pursuit, she called the Director. The fact she hadn't entirely caught her breath yet didn't help matters any as she tried to explain what had happened. After forcing herself to slow down, she started over.

  “Yes, this is Mina ... I have ... have information.”

  I'm aware of that, Miss Cortez. I know your number and voice, but you shouldn't be calling here.”

  “Unless it’s an emergency, yes, I know. This qualifies.”

  There was a brief pause on the other end, and the Director's voice went from mildly scolding to serious. “Are you in some kind of trouble ... again?”

  “No ... yes ... I mean ... not immediately. I found something ... someone ... someones. I have a license plate number.” Mina stumbled over her words, not at all appreciating having the recent events brought up when she was trying to relay critical information.

  “What have you done? And what's this about a license plate?”

  Mina relayed the numbers and letters. “You need to trace that. It has something to do with the case.”

  “I'll determine that when you tell me why you think that.”

  Mina kicked a wall in frustration, but went through the sequence of events. She emphasized how they'd been moving and reacting as quickly as she was, and she hadn't picked up on their being armed until she got close. To her further annoyance, the first thing that got a verbal reaction was when she was asked to explain the bit with the sandwiches again.

  After the explanation, the Director began again. “So you got their attention, because they ordered a turkey sandwich?”

  “With no tomatoes, extra pickles and olives, yes. And Havarti, not Swiss or Cheddar. You have to specifically order that,” she explained, a bit lamely, she felt.

  “So you're suggesting that Mr. Szach is in good enough with the kidnappers that he's getting special orders?”

  “No, no ... he's ... he's allergic to tomatoes. So it has to—”

  “There's a bit more to it than that,” came the interruption. Mina, amidst her frustration, was struck by the irony that Director Richter would use that particular phrase, however correctly, when she was the one skipping from criticism to criticism, first implying the sandwiches weren't worth gasping over, then using them against Scott, instead of acknowledging the seriousness of the attackers or researching their vehicle, since they clearly were important.

  “Yes, but ... all of the sandwiches ...”

  “I got that. Still highly peculiar for a kidnapping, don't you think?”

  Mina wanted to scream that that wasn't what was important here, and to forget the damned sandwiches, but felt a few pangs of doubt herself. That was an odd detail, she had to admit, in retrospect. “I suppose, but there's more going on here.”

  “Yes, clearly someone has chips that at least partially cancel yours out. So they've already gotten something out of the programmers, and seem well aware of us. Did they get a good look at you?”

  “I ... I'm pretty sure they didn't. There were a lot of taller people around, all about my age. Even the fight was only a few seconds. They might know these clothes, but—”

  She was cut off. “Then you'd best go get changed. I thought I told you to keep your head down, and that you weren't to be involved in the active investigation until further notice?”

  “I was just ...?”

  “Just investigating, and put yourself in a great
deal of danger in the process. I mean it, Miss Cortez. Head down. You're off duty for the weekend. Get your apartment in order, or whatever you're going to do. We'll look into the car.”

  Amidst the scolding, Mina wasn't sure how sincere the Director was being, or how seriously she was being taken in general, but at this point, the Director's tone told her that was the best she was going to get. “Yes, Ma'am.”

  Mina was able to describe the three men, but just as she was pretty sure they hadn't gotten a good look at her, most of her details were vague. She knew what kind of clothing they were wearing, their hair colors and rough ages, and that they had on cheap cologne, but she wasn't sure what type. All in all, even to her, it didn't sound like nearly as much as she had thought she had. “Thank you, Ma'am. Yes, I hope there's something useful there, yes,” she finished before Director Richter hung up.

  * * * *

  As soon as the Director had hung up, Mina pondered her options. She would have to get back to the shop and back to work soon. Her stomach still hurt, and she was pretty sure she'd be bruised from the fight, but felt she could manage work. What bothered her more was the implications of the people who moved as fast as she did, and perfectly countered the moves her agent chip gave her.

  Above and beyond even that, she was suddenly not at all certain of the Director. They'd brought her in on all of this for some kind of insight, and now that she'd given it to them, it had seemingly been dismissed, or worse, used as further proof of the Director's pet theory.

  The situation and lack of sympathy brought Deborah Lasko's offer to mind. Where Mina was hitting a brick wall, maybe the AIA's liaison could do something. She was pretty sure the Director wouldn't be pleased if she knew Mina was calling Miss Lasko, but until she'd done everything she could to make headway in the case, she couldn't give up. Mina dialed the number, which rang several times. As she was about to give up, a familiar voice answered.