Here is the latest story in my Supergirl And The Broker series. In the previous story we slowly see how the antangonist, Dr Molly Matthews, influenced by a sick alien mind, conspires to defeat Supergirl and her allies. That story is linked below.
viewtopic.php?f=9&t=27649
Following on directly from that story here is what happens next and if you want some visual reference for some of the characters this is what I have so far ...
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FRIDAY
The large gleaming SUV powered over the terrain, its high beams carving through the darkness ahead. Nothing could stop it, the traction control held it to the tarmac, the anti-lock brakes keeping it safe as it swerved to avoid a deer emerging from the darkness onto the country road. Inside the vehicle the anxious father looked across at his wife who herself checked on their child who was safely secured by the pre-tensioning seatbelts. The anxiety inside the cabin melted away as the parents noted the perimeter of airbag panels, ready to protect them if anything were to go wrong …
“The brand new Ranger Terrano-X with QuadDrive - built to …” the voice accompanying the advert announced only to be cut off, instantly revealing a black screen.
Then a newscaster appeared, momentarily caught off guard and not quite ready for his cue. The faint voice of the director bled into the audio for a second, which triggered the news reader to begin speaking. At the bottom of the screen a big red banner appeared with BREAKING NEWS emblazoned across it.
“OK, so, we are bringing you over to us live, these concerning pictures, as you can see are from the White House. What we are watching are scenes of heightened activity as Marine helicopters drop off some cabinet members. Now, the word we have been given is that there has been an attempt made on President Garrison’s life. I repeat, if you are just joining us, an attempt has been made on the President’s life. Now, we have no official word on her condition yet, but we have been told that Airforce One has been despatched and that the Vice President has been taken to an undisclosed location…”
Behind the newscaster in one corner a looping B-Roll of footage was showing Camp David, a smiling and waving President boarding Marine One and the comings and goings of key cabinet members.
“…The President who only the other day was at Camp David had been attending an undisclosed event, which, we are being told may have been a military demonstration of some kind. We are working on trying to get more details about that, and the condition of the President as we speak. Our correspondent at the White House now has been trying to get more information but as you can see, the military and secret service appear to be locking everything down…”
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Cathy Grenfold was diligently transposing some hand written minutes onto her computer. Her office was quite small and windowless though the lighting was bright and almost natural looking. The walls were bare save for a photo of President Garrison and a glass doored shelf unit which was closed, a lock indicating that a key would be required to gain access to the contents. Through the slightly smoked glass were many official looking binders, all arranged in neat rows, by colour and by date. The computer keyboard clicked and clacked as Cathy typed, sometimes pausing as she double checked a word in the scrawled notes of her boss.
Then it happened, a not too frequent occurrence but from time to time it came to be that the blue phone rang. Cathy stopped typing and spun her swivel chair around and ended up facing the special console that was responsible for the blue line. Unlike her main phone which only allowed her to communicate within the building the blue line was a one way phone line from beyond. The person on the other end of the line could be anyone from anywhere and responsibility to deal with it fell on Cathy.
Cathy pressed a key on the console and a screen lit up which showed the number that had dialled her and the number that had been dialled. While the blue line was one line it could be reached by dialling many different numbers. Cathy's first job was to determine who the caller thought they were calling. The console blinked “Loading Procedure” for a second or two before the screen changed, a pre-arranged script appearing before Cathy's eyes.
Oh, not seen this one before
“Hello, Doug's Hardware Supplies, can I help you?” Cathy began, reading her script naturally.
There was a pause.
“Sure can you give me your loyalty card number and those of other members if you are doing a joint order?” Cathy continued, her eyes scanning the script.
The voice on the other end of the line sounded anxious but was clear, solid and concise. Cathy was used to that, though it had been a while since a female had called her last. Usually the blue line brought with it the voices of confident, professional sounding men, which considering what line of work they were in was of no surprise.
“OK, thank you, and how can we help you today?” Cathy asked, her screen flashing that the card numbers were approved.
Cathy began to type into her console as she listened to the voice at the other end. The other woman's words whilst delivered clearly had a hint of anxiety behind them.
I bet this is her first time
“OK, give me the three part numbers please ...” Cathy said as she began typing in the caller's order.
With a steady precise cadence the voice read out the three sets of numbers, nine digits each and Cathy typed them in.
“Very good, and what size and colour options would you like those in?” Cathy asked brightly as she continued through her script.
The keys clicked and clacked as Cathy worked to process the order, the various drop down menus on her screen revealing the nature of the choices being made by the voice on the other end of the blue line.
“I am required to tell you not to read back the following information. If there is an error you are to resend me your part numbers. Do you understand?” Cathy said firmly.
There was a pause and then she heard the voice once more confirming for her to go ahead.
“Very good. Item one – Gender - female - organisation – FBI – Position - Special Agent –Racial profile - Afro-American – Age …” began Cathy, reading back the order slowly and steadily.
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At the other end of the line Neyra Thornton stood, eyes closed, heart racing, her head resting on the edge of the cowling protecting the public payphone that she was using. In baggy jeans and a grey form hugging hoodie which she used to hide her face and her beautiful short spirally hair she sought to prevent anyone identifying her.
Back came the information that had been processed by the lady at “Doug's Hardware”, the reciting of the information coming back to her sounding more like a death sentence at every moment.
McGee, Supergirl, I hope you know what it is you are asking me to do! thought Neyra.
Then the lady at Doug's read back Lucy's details. Lucy had mentored Laura, the fledgling Spydra. Lucy had taught her all that she could, raised Laura from being just an empowered but unguided weapon and turned her into a focused, honed warrior. It was mainly for Lucy that Neyra was now jumping through this hoop of fire. Lucy might be flying into a lot of danger at her destination and Neyra was going to try and get her out of it.
“Item two – gender - female - organisation – FBI – Position - Special Agent – Racial profile…” continued Cathy.
Well thank god that's Lucy taken care of, for now at least
“Item three, gender – female – organisation – FBI – position - Special Agent – racial profile – Caucasian …” , Cathy continued to read through her script though she was close to the end.
Neyra listened intently, mentally tallying each attribute as the woman on the other end of the line red them back to her.
“Is your order correct?” Cathy asked, her finger hovering over a key on her keyboard at the console.
There was an uncomfortable pause as Cathy waited and then with a nod of her own head she struck a key as she heard the voice at the other end of the line respond.
CLICK
“Thank you, your request is being processed, your loyalty card contains details of how to track your order,” Cathy said brightly.
There was another pause and then Cathy smiled as the appreciative voice at the other end of the blue line said their thanks and hung up. Cathy's eyes watched her console as it continued on its own predetermined script.
“INFINITY MEGABIT ENCRYPTION COMMENCING...”
“ENCRYPTION COMPLETE”
“ACTIVITY LOG FORWARDED”
“PROCESS COMPLETE”
Cathy noticed the job was ended and spun around with a sigh and prepared to resume her typing on the other computer.
Just another day at Langley!
Neyra discreetly wiped the handset of the phone down with a handkerchief and set it back on the cradle then glanced cautiously about herself. No one was around and so she headed back towards her car which had been parked a short walk away.
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To Andy Matthews the view ahead was one big blur, pastel pale blue over bland dark grey. The twinkling lights, the myriad of distorted clock faces and rows of thorny spikes formed one continuous blurry wall. And as for the sounds, they were merely notes in a chaotic song that had no melody, no rhythm and no end.
Turn the twirly thing...
The view fluttered black a moment, lazy, drowsy eyelids seeking to plunge the unfocused eyes behind them into perpetual darkness. With a struggle the unfocused blurry view was maintained though his two drunken eyes were struggling to hold a lock on to the row of numbers right in front of them.
Numbers less… less numbers… down… down…
A light coloured snake flopped upwards into view, slapping in to the myriad of frozen pools of water. A groan protested the snake's failure to strike home and so the white serpent continued to slide higher and higher towards its destination.
Why not easy?
The head of the white serpent snaked its way across the twinkling lightning bugs and over thorns in the wall as it sought to go higher. Bashing into ridges and dropping into troughs the snake rose upwards on its meandering path.
Make it not big…
The snake found its way on to a smooth rocky ledge, its jaw lazily opening and biting weakly onto the stem of the juicy mushroom. With a weak squeeze the snake clung on, its writhing torso seeking to twist the mushroom clean out the outcrop of rock it grew from.
Less… less... less...
The white snake began to twist and twist at the little mushroom, a pair of nearby lightning bugs extinguishing their light in disgust. Much to Andy’s delight the snake’s head reared up and slammed down on the mushroom's dome top causing the remaining lightning bugs to flash excitedly.
Wait… better… wait…
The snake, job done, skidded back down the wall, it's long white body coming to rest dangling over a tree trunk.
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Supergirl drifted down to the grey surface, in her hand a large cylindrical object which she held by a grab handle. Taken from a robotic machine that had attacked her Supergirl had been told the cylindrical module seemed to be a danger to her, though now closed up it seemed to have no effect on her at all.
The green glow …
Supergirl set the module down causing the powdery ground to kick up a momentary cloud which settled back in slow motion. Now curiosity got the better of the heroine and for the first time she began to examine the module. On the one hand it seemed familiar to her, like something from a fading dream, though, she was confident if she had encountered the mechanised behemoth and its dangerous weapons before she would have remembered.
Need to see inside...
Supergirl frowned in frustration as she sought to look inside the module and then flinched as suddenly her field of view was confronted with a hazy white barrier preventing her from seeing inside the unit. Supergirl waved her hand past her eyes, revealing the bone and muscle inside and flexing her fingers with interest before gazing back at the module which was a whited out mass.
It must be lead!
Supergirl shook her head dismissively and decided her current plan was best. Leave the module far away from people, safe from being meddled with or being used against her. If she needed to come back to it she knew exactly where she had left it. But now she had to …
What was I doing before dealing with this?
Supergirl looked up into the pure black void above with its grand light show, the Milky Way glowing in all its glory, and then towards the small pale blue disc that sat above the horizon. Earth.
Ah yes … THAT!
With a silent smile Supergirl took a few confident steps forward and then took off, her playful giggle being generated by her voice box left muted by the lack of air to carry it. Supergirl soared higher and higher and then in the blink of an eye was out of sight from the lunar landscape.
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Neyra entered through the front of her house not knowing for sure what she would find within. To her relief though everything was fairly quiet and tip-toeing past the living room she noticed Laura was more or less where she had left her. Under a duvet, TV remote close to hand Laura slept deeply, crumbs of pizza on the plate in front of her and the remaining dregs of cola in the large bottle alongside.
It had been a couple of hours since Spydra had returned from her adventure but evidently she was still reeling from her effort. Laura had mumbled to Neyra how deeply discharged she had become, only able to complete her mission drinking some cola she had been really lucky to find. Now the cute freckled red head was sleeping it off and recharging her batteries on the calorie rich meal she had consumed.
Neyra permitted herself a second to admire Laura, proud of what the heroine had managed to achieve and then moved on to the stairs which she climbed swiftly but quietly. She had to move quickly now and temporarily abandon her current life. Opening her wardrobe she parted some shoe boxes on the top shelf and pulled down the small metal case hidden beyond.
Popping free the latches on the case she took a deep breath and wondered; who was Neyra Thornton becoming?
The six cards, credit card sized, awaited. Three remained in their “Doug's Hardware” state but the other three....
“Nerys, Nerys Jones, Federal Bureau of Investigation” whispered Neyra to herself as she plucked out the first card.
Flipping the card this way and that it looked pretty official to Neyra's naïve eyes. She had to trust they looked just like the real deal.
“Time to ditch Neyra then, I guess,” Neyra reasoned. Popping open her purse she ditched everything that had her name on it. Her driving license, gone, credit cards, gone. Scooping them all up she placed them in her bedside table.
“Luna Wang, no prizes for guessing that one is for Lucy” Neyra said to herself, holding up the next card. Again, marked up as FBI it looked pretty official.
“And lastly, Celine Weiss, which I hope to god is Selena or else I have just caused someone to have a really bad day,” Neyra thought, her stomach doing a little somersault with apprehension at the situation.
Neyra slid the other cards into her wallet and then took a deep breath. She had to get moving and so continued with her hurriedly crafted plan.
Go-bag
In her wardrobe a backpack awaited. On the insistence of the others she had prepared a bag of clothes, some cash and essentials for if she ever needed to hit the ground running. Thank goodness she had done so but she had always imagined it would be about being able to support Laura. She had never imagined she would be called upon to do this by herself though.
Now a burner
In the house were a group of brand new, never opened burner phones. At some point along her new adventure with Selena and her gang Neyra and Laura had been advised to stock up, just in case, and now was the time to break one of them out. Neyra pulled apart the packaging, installed the waiting new SIM card into the cheap looking phone. There was already credit on the phone which was useful and inside the packaging there was a handy card that had the instructions for topping up her credit. Neyra paused a moment then pulled the SIM from her own phone, putting it into her purse.
Just in case I need to call home!
Neyra took a very deep breath and composed herself. Her life, albeit temporarily was being cast off, ready to take on who knew what. To think, Selena was prepared to do it, Lucy too, and at the drop of a hat. How could they do it? Perhaps it was a lack of an anchor to things that mattered, like family and friends. Maybe it was that difference that made doing this hard for Neyra, but all she knew was that the others needed her.
Time to make that call
Picking up her new identity card Neyra consulted the reverse for the new number that the lady at Doug's Hardware said would be there. Neyra powered up her new cell phone and with a deep breath dialled the number. Who would be waiting at the other end?
“Hello,” Neyra began as the number was answered.
“Deputy Assistant Director Ingram speaking” said a male voice at the other end.
“Errrr, hi. I am Ney... err Nerys, Nerys Jones, I was instructed to check in with you,” Neyra said, her opening words spilling clumsily from her mouth.
“One moment Mrs Jones,” responded the voice.
There followed an agonising pause, one where Neyra could feel her pulse in her neck beating into the base of her brain. She was a fake, a phony, a fraud with a pretend identity and without anywhere near the skills to back up her masquerade. What questions might come? What was going to trip her up? What was going to smash this mask she was wearing?
“Special Agent Jones, you are being re-activated, your new assignment is within the OPE, reporting to me. We will bring you in. You have your ID card, correct?”
“Yes, correct,” Neyra responded. She was trying to keep her responses short, tight and limited, she had no idea how much this Ingram guy knew about her. As for OPE, she was hoping to figure that out as quickly as she could.
“Good, nominate a collection point, I will have someone there in an hour,” Ingram said.
“An hour? OK, collection, the bus terminal, Littleton City,” Neyra suggested. She certainly wasn't going to be picked up from her house or her work place. The bus terminal at least gave an illusion of just passing through.
“Littleton City, Bus Terminal, one hour. You will be taken to the nearest field office; you can establish yourself there and then we will talk again. Welcome back to the Bureau,” Ingram added before hanging up.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I did it!
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Andy Matthews blinked as the intercom phone rang. The wall ahead of him was starting to make sense. Lights, sounds, switches, dials, all replaced the nonsensical garden wall with its mushrooms, pools of water and firebugs that had confronted him before.
“Where… am… I...?” groaned Andy. Raising his white shirt sleeved arm which mopped his sweaty brow he then turned to …
“Jo? Jeezus … fuck … fuck … fuck …” exclaimed Andy as he saw the captain leaning over to one side, drenched in blood which seemed to have erupted from his neck. Andy recoiled in horror from his grim discovery. The hands and face of the captain were pale blue and a momentary and reluctant touch from Andy confirmed he was cold and utterly lifeless.
WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP
“Are you there? Stevenson! Help us! What's going on!” pleaded a voice from beyond the cockpit door, no doubt one of the cabin crew.
Andy flinched and looked over his shoulder at the door realising it must be locked. Andy reached towards the controls for the cockpit door before his hand recoiled. The dial had been set to “deny”. Then he looked back at Stevenson and that was when he began to remember something, something horrible.
“Did... Did I do this?” Andy said, fear in his voice. Looking around behind his and the captain's seat he saw the makeshift weapon that had killed the man sat alongside of him, on the floor, covered in blood.
Wha... what do I do …?
WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP
“Stevenson! Matthews! What is going on!? We have passengers down! We need to get medical assistance for them!” demanded the voice beyond the door.
That was when the intercom phone rang again. Andy blinked then reached to the phone and picked it up.
“Ye... yes ...” Matthews answered nervously.
“Oh thank god, Andy! We have to land … we've got dead passengers everywhere. I … we … we've got to land ...” pleaded a voice. It was Jackie, one of the junior cabin crew from coach class.
“We've had a… errrr... some sort of emergency here, where is your first? Where is Janet?” Andy asked.
“I can't wake her. Janet is down, Carol and Lena too,” Jackie said frantically, naming the three most senior cabin staff aboard.
“OK. Try and round up what crew you can and organise helping the passengers. I... I am going to get us down,” Andy said.
“OK, I can do that, I can do that ….” the voice said, trying to reassure themselves.
Andy hung up and then looked mystified at the controls trying to understand the state of play.
OK, autopilot on. Altitude is … really low … why is it so low? God, depressurisation, hypoxia, we decompressed. When we realised we must have dialled in a lower altitude...
Andy continued to check the rest of the controls, checking speed and the fuel situation and then began to work on working out his aircraft's position. Fortunately the autopilot seemed to be keeping everything on course, only the altitude was wrong. Andy did the maths and quickly concluded turning back was his best option. Pressing his radio button Andy took a breath then spoke.
“Gander Control, BlueGlobe 251,” Andy announced, his voice shaky. There was a pause, the dead silence lingering in the co-pilot's ears.
“Gander Control, BlueGlobe 251,” Andy repeated anxiously.
Again silence was the only reply he heard. With a frown the co-pilot then began to check the settings of his radio only to notice the lights on the control panel were out.
“What the?” Andy said, worrying about the extent of the meddling that had happened in the cockpit.
Glancing to the centre console Andy quickly saw that the transponder was set to off. As far as the rest of the world was concerned they were invisible! Quickly Andy turned the transponder back on then looked to work on the radio.
ACARS …. ACARS
The ACARS system was like one of those special boxes you plug into your car to diagnose a fault which would be been logged by the on-board computer. The plane had thousands of sensors and relays and tiny little components everywhere and this was an effective system to report what was wrong with the complex beast.
Fuses?!
Spinning in his seat Andy went to unbuckle himself to check the fuse panel when he noticed what was caught up in his lap. There was a white slip of paper and unfolding it he quickly saw it was written in his own hand, despite not remembering having done so. With only a few lines they were simple reminder notes...but to himself.
“Pull the fuses, kill the transponder … god, depressurise the plane?! What have I done?!” Andy whispered to himself as he read the note.
Anxiously looking upwards he finally saw one of the key problems of the flight and reset the pressurisation to automatic. Survivors on the plane were going to find the quality of the air supply improve very soon now.
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Will Mitchell maintained his stony silence along with his team of engineers in the back of a troop transporter. They were all sat, wrists bound in front of them with cable-tie type restraints, and had been ordered to stay quiet. Sat nearby stern looking soldiers ensured that their prisoners did not confer with one another.
Mitchell had been the one who had used a spare Mech to prevent Molly from killing the President, but in thanks he had been arrested along with the rest of the engineering team from the tech-demo. Molly Matthews, the brain child of the Mech weapon platform had also been arrested and was in a separate vehicle, as was Captain McAllister who had been the test-pilot of the Mech when everything had gone wrong.
Now the trucks were entering into a military encampment and Mitchell was sure that soon this would all be cleared up and he would be freed together with all his other colleagues who he was sure were innocent. With a hiss the pneumatic brakes brought the truck to a halt, the rear tailgate dropping promptly afterwards.
“Right, everybody out!” a Sergeant gruffly commanded his prisoners.
Mitchell and his colleagues were roughly drawn to their feet by yet more soldiers and guided down from the back of the truck. Mitchell was among the last to leave the truck, his colleagues man handled away from the vehicle and led towards some kind of military building. As Mitchell dropped down to the hard dusty ground behind them another figure fell into a heap in front of him from another vehicle parked alongside the truck he had been in.
The figure looked up at him. It was HER. Matthews. Her eyes widened realising that for this split second she was at his mercy, and she could see in his eyes that he had none.
“You, you fucking bitch! YOU DID THIS!” Mitchell snarled, his foot slamming onto Molly’s chest and forcing her back in to the dirt. Molly’s head was at Mitchell’s feet and with rage in his heart his right foot swung back, ready to deliver his wrath into her face. A cheap shot, but one he had no hesitation in taking.
“KNOCK IT OFF!” a soldier said angrily, his powerful arm pushing Mitchell off balance and away to one side, preventing him from striking.
“PAH!” Mitchell, seeing the gap open between himself and Molly decided to spit in her direction, clear liquid striking her on her cheek.
Matthews glared angrily back, though it was a fearful anger, and then wiped the spittle from her face with her shoulder. Her upper arms were held firmly by a pair of soldiers who hauled her up to her feet and she shrugged them off her once she could support herself.
“Sergeant, get them in their cells, we have to wait for the suits to get here before we can interrogate them. And don’t let them talk, we don’t want them getting their stories straight,” an officer commanded, a shake of his head indicating his disapproval at his prisoners’ conduct.
“Yes sir!” responded a Sergeant who was with the soldiers escorting the prisoners.
Mitchell looked ahead to the building and then saw it was the MP’s section, barred windows evident down one flank of the structure. Mitchell groaned realising that this was all going to take some time to sort out.
“I should have known that genius bitch was a frikking psycho,” Mitchell uttered.
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Marvin Church paced slowly behind the line of air traffic controllers who diligently watched their screens as the daily tide of flights ebbed and flowed through their assigned sectors. Marvin, who was the daily supervisor, was there to lend a hand if things got busy or if one of the junior hands needed some experienced input. Often though Church was merely there to give a supporting nod if an important decision was required to be made.
In front of him one of the duty controllers was signing off communications with an aircraft. Having been slotted into its assigned flight corridor and altitude it was normal for the plane to break communication while it was in the mid-Atlantic only to check in again with the receiving air controllers at the other end.
Then, the controller's phone rang and he picked up the handset.
“Hey, yep it’s me. What's up?” began the controller his voice relaxed.
There was a pause while the controller listened to whatever message was being conveyed, his mouse hand making a quick flick of the wrist as he sought to pull up some information on his screen.
“Yes, BlueGlobe 251 … yeah, it left us on time… yes… yes… thirty minutes overdue? No, you are right, they should have a tailwind. OK, I will raise the alarm here; keep in touch, yeah, bye …. Oh … what? OK crap, I will pass it on …”
The controller replaced the handset of the phone back in its cradle and sank back in his seat, slumping like a great weight had been put upon him. Then, with decisiveness he spun around in his chair to see Marvin his supervisor stood close behind him.
“I don’t like that look, what you got?” Marvin asked, his face mirroring the concern on his colleagues face.
“BlueGlobe 251, it's overdue in Shanwick. They have had no radio contact. There is no transponder signal, no data at all,”
“Speak to tailing traffic; see if anyone has an eyeball on this guy.” Marvin said, leaning in closer to the monitors. Lined up in neat rows in their various assigned corridors there were other aircraft making the journey across the Atlantic, perhaps one of them had seen their errant companion.
“Shanwick already did, they have not seen anything,” the controller added.
“Oh boy, alright, let’s go by the numbers. What equipment is it?” Marvin asked with dread.
“It's a 380… I’ll get you a head count and there is something else you should know. Their company, their maintenance section has just noticed there had been some screwy ACARS information before the feed went down. They spoke to Shanwick first, hoped the flight was in their sector,”
“OK, I need to call this in… wait… what is that?” Marvin said his words slowing as a red tag appeared on the screen behind the controller.
The controller spun around in his seat and noticed the red unscheduled contact appear in one of the flight corridors linking across the Atlantic. The pair drew in close to the screen and eyeballed the red contact.
“That transponder code, that’s them. But, what are they doing! They are into opposing traffic,” the controller said in disbelief.
“I guess they’ve had a decompression or something, that’s more or less safe altitude for that. Separation is good for now down there. There is twenty thousand feet of clearance between them and anyone else coming the other way,” Marvin suggested said as he quickly analysed the emerging situation.
“OK, but I am going to clear out that corridor, just to be sure. I will switch traffic back into it once they have passed. It’s going to get a little gummed up for a bit while I juggle all this,” the controller said, his hand gesturing at the contacts he was going to have to move out the way.
Marvin peered at the readings on the screen in dismay, “See if you can raise the plane while I contact Shanwick and let them know we have them,”
The controller nodded and began to try and raise the rogue aircraft on his headset.
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Backpack over her shoulder Neyra must have made for an interesting sight. In a dark jacket and matching trousers she had tried to get that “Fed” look with what was in her wardrobe but her shoes, while practical were not the best match with the rest of her outfit. Glancing around the perimeter of the bus terminal she was trying to keep an eye out for whoever was meant to collect her.
If I were FBI what would I be driving?
As the appointed moment approached Neyra's heart ran faster. Would it be a male, a female, younger, older? Were they going to figure her out straight away, or would they just accept her? Were they going to be high in rank or some lowly agent sent on an errand? She was sure all these questions were going to be answered really soon.
Then she saw it, a dark Escalade making the crossing over a junction, preparing to make a slow drive by of the terminal, the young male driver looking anxiously at the rows of parked buses searching for his passenger. Neyra looked intently back, hoping to draw attention to herself and the pair were suddenly locking eyes on one another. The Escalade parked on the side of the street and to Neyra's embarrassment its red and blue lights lit up with all officialdom, the headlights strobing in sympathy.
Oh jeez …
Neyra trotted up to the passenger door of the Escalade, the window of which electrically lowered. The middle aged man in the driver’s seat leaned closer towards the passenger side and looked towards Neyra who approached.
“Special Agent Jones?” the man asked.
Neyra nodded and produced her purse, revealing her card and passed it through the window. The man glanced at her ID a moment then returned it. Pressing the door lock button on the big centre console the clunking of locks could be heard.
“Jump in,” the man said.
“Wait, your turn, who are you?” Neyra asked, her body language indicating her indecision to enter.
“Oh, sorry … Special Agent Mark Denton,” Denton said, plucking his ID from his inside breast pocket of his jacket.
Neyra made a quick glance between the man and his ID and with a nod entered the vehicle, tossing her backpack onto the back seat.
“Hi,” Neyra said, offering out her hand.
“Hi, I hope you haven't been waiting long. I was suddenly pulled off what I was doing to come collect you,” Denton replied, quickly shaking her hand before preparing to pull away.
“No, I have not long arrived here,” Neyra said, instantly feeling the pressure of the questions, despite them being innocuous.
“Arrive on one of the buses?” Mark asked, continuing with the small talk.
“It's kind of complicated,” Neyra fibbed. It may have been an innocent question, or perhaps the probing had already begun in earnest.
Special Agent Denton glanced across at Neyra immediately intrigued by the attractive woman sat alongside him.
“Uh oh, I know that look,” Neyra added with a smile which always seemed to soften people that she was speaking to.
“Sorry, didn't mean to pry. My supervisor didn't tell me much, just to get you back to the Field Office ASAP,” Denton continued, his eyes checking for traffic in his mirrors as he switched lanes.
“How long do you think it will take us to get there?” Neyra asked, glancing about her, the view from an FBI vehicle looking more commanding than in her usual ride.
“If the traffic is fine, about 3 hours,” Denton said after a thought induced pause to calculate the timing.
Neyra looked at the time and added on the hours. Getting to the office was going to happen late in the working day and she would need to arrange somewhere to crash once she got there. That was the first thing on her mind, but getting in touch with McGee was next.
“So, did your Supervisor mention anything else?” Neyra asked, wondering who knew what about her and her less than conventional entry into the ranks of the FBI.
“Well, just to get you settled in. I will organise a motel for you for tonight and later we can work on something a little better if we need to. I guess then you can get started on whatever assignment it is you have,” Denton offered helpfully.
“I hope they didn't pull you off anything important to get me,” Neyra said, apologetically.
“At the moment everything is important,” Denton said, the cadence of his words broken up as his concentration switched between navigating a busy junction and talking.
“Oh?” Neyra said, glancing at her driver.
“Well, I often liaise with the local police department here and … well the shit is about to hit the fan with these guys. Really I should be around for that. In the meantime I’ve just heard the terror threat level has just shot up…something is happening! And to top it all you arrive…” Denton explained.
And then it came to Neyra. Spydra's hard work overnight had sparked the FBI into life investigating the corrupt “Club”, its police members in particular. Now the bigger picture, the INFINITY plan that Supergirl had given her had come to the fore, Agent Denton trapped between the two. Throw in whatever this terror threat was and it was obvious life was going to be busy for the FBI right now.
“So, where do you want to be, dealing with what is here, or the terror threat?” Neyra asked, her eyebrows rising.
Denton glanced at his perceptive passenger and became guarded at her question. Was she testing him? Neyra read Denton like a book, the miniscule movements of his face, the movement of his eyes, she knew exactly what she had done, albeit unintentionally.
“Hey, it makes no odds to me,” Neyra said, trying to reassure her escort.
“That obvious huh? Sure, what is happening could be another September eleventh, or it could be nothing. But, equally my job is here in Littleton and right now I could be making a difference figuring out what is happening here,” Denton confessed.
“I think I must have missed some developments. I heard on the radio that they were rounding up people on the succession list but ...” Neyra began, evidently the terrorism threat becoming bigger than she realised.
“Heck yes, the word is there has been some sort of plot to assassinate the President. Everything is clamming up shut as we speak, they are going into lockdown in D.C,” Denton explained.
“Oh my god, is there any word on how Garrison is?” Neyra exclaimed. Garrison, being America’s first woman president was obviously held high in her estimation.
“Not yet, but rumour is Supergirl showed up to help save her. Apparently what happened was too big even for the Secret Service detail to deal with. Shit, even the army had been there, apparently,” Denton continued.
“Kara ...” whispered Neyra quietly, her eyes gazing off into the distance in deep thought.
“What was that?” Denton said, not hearing what Neyra had said.
“What… oh… just thinking,” Neyra said innocently though her mind now was churning all the new information.
What did it mean? Kara had told her that Vel's monster was up to something and now there had been an attempt on the president's life. Did it have anything to do with McGee's plea to have Neyra help with Selena and Lucy's plight too? Or was it something else?
“Well anyway, before I can help Littleton or get any new assignments I have to get you back to the office,” Denton said before turning the wheel and taking the Escalade up the on-ramp to the highway.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Andy Matthews looked over his shoulder and caught sight of the air force fighter jet that loitered just off the wing of the giant Airbus A380 he was piloting. Andy was sure if his captain was not dead in his seat he could also have put eyes on another jet off the other wing. The passengers that had regained consciousness were startled and alarmed to see their armed escorts.
Since his escorts had arrived Andy had started to receive instructions by a new voice, a military voice, and was being guided to his new destination. First he had been ordered to dump fuel out at sea. Andy was cynical in thinking it was to prevent him using his plane as a flying bomb, but considered they were planning to land him soon which required he reduce his plane’s weight. Afterwards the route Andy had been given was odd at first and then he realised why. Being over New Hampshire, the green hills were sparsely populated, and, if he did try and plough his plane into the terrain the death toll could be kept down. No doubt any false move by himself was only going to get himself shot down at this point, passengers or not.
Then the radio barked into life in his ear again, his vigilant babysitters handholding the wayward aircraft to its final destination, “BlueGlobe 251, turn left onto heading oh-nine-oh, descend to five thousand,”
“Turn left to ... err ... turn left to oh-nine-oh and descend to five thousand, blueglobe 251,” Andy repeated.
Andy reached forward to the autopilot and dialled in the left turn and the change in altitude.
“Where are they taking me,” Andy wondered anxiously aloud. The course he had been given was more or less going to point them back the way they had come.
“Err, control, if you intend to land me soon can I at least have weather and runway stats please? You may not have noticed but this is a lot of plane I have here, and I have to prepare the cabin, BlueGlobe 251” Andy asked anxiously.
“BlueGlobe 251, for airport equipment see Sierra Whisky Foxtrot. Wind is zero to two knots from the east. Continue and await instructions,”
“Airport sierra whisky foxtrot, waiting for instructions, BlueGlobe 251,” Andy replied then quickly loaded up the layout of airport code SWF and saw …
“Oh, Stewart …” he mouthed. Both an airport and National Guard airbase it was capable of at least landing his large plane. The much respected Galaxy transport plane operated from the base and if it could land here then so could he.
“Crew prepare cabin for landing,” Andy said, his thumb resting on the button to transmit to the cabin.
Andy had the aircraft flight computer import the SFW airport settings into his various flight computers, the ILS frequency and other navigation aid settings and then computed the correct flap requirements and airspeeds for landing. Just then the plane levelled out, the turn to the east completed just as they reached five thousand feet. In the distance the twinkling white lights of the runway threshold were visible.
“BlueGlobe 251, you are cleared to land on runway zero-niner, await crossing and taxi clearances,”
“Cleared to land runway zero niner, awaiting crossing and taxi clearances, blue globe 251,” Andy responded, as was his second nature to.
Andy picked up the glide slope to the runway, the ILS system showing him the way. The auto-throttle played gently on the controls as the descent continued.
“Flaps two,” Andy said instinctively his hand resting on the flap controls. He glanced at his captain, ready for his assent and then the young second in command remembered he was dead. There would be no reassurances. No corrections. No advice. Andy was on his own. With a gulp Andy reluctantly pulled the flap control lever.
VWEEERRRRR
Now it was time to do some manual work, Andy reaching for the throttle controls, killing that feature of the autopilot. Andy teased at the throttle, holding the aircraft’s speed at a seemingly impossibly slow one hundred and sixty knots.
“TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED” the aircraft’s warning system barked.
“Gear down,” Andy announced instinctively despite knowing no one was there to hear him.
CLUNKCLUNK…………..CLUNK
The gear-down lights illuminated, the immense metal struts that would take the weight of the plane on the ground were all locked into position. Onwards the plane went, the ground slowly getting closer and closer.
“Flaps three,” Andy said, though this time more quietly. Nothing could supress the disciplined mind of the pilot from going through with his drilled call-outs.
The fighters surrounding the plane continued to shadow the airliner though one powered on ahead and climbed away from his view. Andy checked his speed, his glide slope and then set flaps to full. Gear was down and locked. Flaps were set.
“TWO HUNDRED – MINIMUM!”
Andy’s nervous hands worked the throttle gently, his eye momentarily distracted by the Humvees parked on the taxiway to the side of the runway.
“ONE HUNDRED”
“Speed good, sink rate, good,” Andy murmured to himself as the giant plane passed over the threshold of the runway, the ‘piano keys’ swiftly passing by beneath him.
“FIFTY … FORTY … THIRTY … RETARD… RETARD … RETARD” the automated voice ordered.
Andy pulled the throttle back and the nose up slightly, flaring for the landing. There was a pause and then the plane subtly touched down.
DUMPF ………
Andy put the thrust reverses into action as he heard the spoilers deploy, all helping bring the aircraft’s speed down to a respectable taxiing speed.
THUD...DUD…THUD...DUD ….THUD…DUD …. THUD …DUD… The staccato rhythm of the wheels passing over the rough seams between the tarmac segments that made up the runway surface played like drums through the undercarriage.
“BlueGlobe 251, clear to cross runway thirty four and expedite exit at Alpha Five, taxi via Kilo and Stop,” ordered the voice that had micromanaged him since the jets had intercepted him on the way back to the mainland.
Overhead the other fighter jets powered by with a roar, their shepherding over with for now. Little did Andy know that the first jet that had passed by before had already done a loop around and was far enough behind to check he was committed to his landing. If not … well … the cannon in the nose of the fighter would make sure the airliner never took to the air.
“Roger. Clear to cross thirty four, expedite exit Alpha five and taxi via kilo then stop, BlueGlobe 251,” Andy responded.
To one side of the runway on the taxiway the Humvees drove at speed, escorting the mammoth aircraft as it headed towards its destination. The large machine guns mounted to the top hatchways of the Humvees were manned, the guns trained on the aircraft.
The aircraft tentatively reached taxiway Alpha 5 and turned, passing between Humvees which were guarding against any escape attempts and steering the plane towards the area of the airport segregated for military use. Lined up in neat rows ahead was a small fleet of Galaxy transport planes but between him and them would be his final destination. An aircraft handler with coloured batons waved Andy to approach and once the plane reached the desired spot crossed the batons over his head, the signal to stop.
“Shut down and prepare for boarding,” the voice on Andy’s radio ordered.
Andy reached to the controls and shakily began to power down his plane, the whine of the engines slowly fading. On the tarmac fleets of troop transport trucks arrived, the men in the back disembarking and forming up into rows while another airport vehicle drove into view, its sole purpose to carry sets of stairs to gain access to the plane. Hidden from Andy’s sight were men with chocks who began to imprison the wheels of the aircraft, preventing it from moving.
Then the fleets of military ambulances came, their blue lights flashing. They lined up close to the ranks of troop transporters and then the medics began to disembark too, some officers approaching them, no doubt to discuss their plans.
Andy pressed the intercom button and spoke, “Crew, disarm doors and cross check,” then, with remorse, he put his head into the palms of his hands and sobbed. BlueGlobe 251 was more or less home, but far from its intended destination and no doubt with fewer living souls on board than when it left.
Jackie Gould was now, by virtue of the death of several of her colleagues the senior steward of flight BlueGlobe 251. Together with the remaining cabin crew they had begun segregating the living from the dead and trying to give attention to those that needed saving. Hastily they had put together a list to help the emergency services locate passengers in jeopardy, a list which now was in her hands as she looked out the window of the port side door with the cabin PA phone in her hand.
“I need everyone to stay in their seats while the authorities board the aircraft first, thank you for your patience,” Jackie announced shakily. The ordeal of the flight, coupled with her sudden and unwanted rise in responsibility had hit the woman hard.
Passengers looked out the side windows of the plane and could see the soldiers forming up on the tarmac together with the ambulances behind. The alarm in the passengers’ voices was evident as the consequences of their terrifying flight now became apparent. This was something more severe than a technical problem that had struck the flight. Jackie released the door mechanism of the plane and swung it open to be confronted by a soldier, his gun raised.
“GET DOWN! EVERYONE GET DOWN!” raged the front row of soldiers who forced their way in.
Jackie dropped to her knees sobbing, piece of paper in one hand that was clasped on her head. Soldiers passed her, guns raised as they worked their way into the plane one after the other. The sobbing and terrified passengers recoiled in their seats, some wailing and shrieking in fear at the demonstration of force. Then some officers entered next, the first cabin section now secured meant it was now safe for them to enter.
“Are you in charge!?” demanded a Major of Jackie.
“No, no, err, Captain Stevenson is but ... but I’ve not spoken to him, only his first officer, Matthews,” Jackie replied defensively.
“But you are in charge of the cabin, correct? Correct?!” the Major demanded.
“Yes, I guess yes … I … I have numbers… souls… we should …” Jackie stammered, trying to recompose herself while offering out her sheet of paper.
“But who took the plane? Was it a passenger?!” demanded the Major before he even looked at the information he had just been given.
“No... no one … only the two pilots are on the flight deck, no one took the plane,” Jackie replied in confusion as she gestured to the doorway guarding the cockpit.
The Major glanced at the Asian woman who was covered in a blanket and placed in the recovery position lying against the cockpit door.
“What’s her story?” The Major asked.
“Her … she … she was in Business class … she … she was seen pleading to the flight deck before … well … before we descended. She, she seems to be unconscious now. We have to get her seen to as soon as possible, she is on the list,” Jackie replied, retelling what she had seen while she had been trapped in her seat, sipping air on the shared emergency supply.
“I see,” the Major responded with suspicion before gesturing to one of his men who then slung his weapon over his shoulder and moved towards the blanket covered woman.
The Major then looked at the piece of paper he was just given and cussed under his breath, “Jeezus... this is a shit-fest,”
In his hand was a list of seating locations for the hastily triaged passengers and a quick tally at the bottom.
Souls On Board
Total 536 (From h/c) +2 on flight deck
62 Dead (inc 4 crew)
92 Non-Responsive (inc 2 crew)
131 Minor
251 OK
Passengers On Board 514
Crew On Board 24
Total 538 – 536 = 2 unseen on flight deck (Cpt Stevenson / FO Matthews)
All the while the Major assessed the situation more soldiers poured onto the aircraft, the men filtering through the two decks and working their way back to the tail and ensuring the plane was secure.
In business class an army captain stepped into the opulently furnished cabin, his Sergeant giving the nod that the area was safe and clear. The captain walked up to the first few groggy passengers and gave his assurances that everything was going to be ok. Moving on he was about to do the same again when …
Selena who had been unconscious began to awaken, the now redundant yellow oxygen mask still on her face. As her eyes struggled to focus she locked on to the outline of a face that was in front of her. Slowly the face began to come into focus, the nose, the eyes, and the shape of the mouth sharpening into one coherent image and…
“Yo….you...” exclaimed Selena weakly before falling back unconscious. The hint of recognition of the man that had been in her eyes was unmistakeable.
The Captain recoiled from the woman in front of him in shock. Could it be? Could it be ‘her’?
“You’re shitting me! … Err, Sergeant, detain this woman, have the MP’s put her in the lock-up,” the Captain exclaimed.
“Yes sir!” the Sergeant responded, immediately selecting two men from his detail to carry out the Captain’s orders.
The Captain was gobsmacked. The red headed woman looked normal now but those eyes had betrayed her. Her glare he knew from when he first met her would haunt him till he met his grave. She had been in his custody while he was a Lieutenant after she had been captured in the desert in a far off Middle Eastern hell hole. The lie he had been told was that she had been a sympathiser who had been helping Islamic fundamentalists.
It was while this lie had been allowed to prevail that her mistreatment at his and his colleagues’ hands had taken place. His only saving grace, so he felt was that she was a criminal of a different kind and was promptly sent to Leavenworth. It was not long later he learned that the hideously scarred woman he knew as ‘The Thing’ had escaped that prison and was loose. Now the Captain was going to be sure that she returned where she belonged once he confirmed her identity but he was very sure that who he saw in front of him was her. And, if he was to relive a little fun while he had her in his clutches, then so be it … playing with ‘The Thing’ had always been an enjoyable experience.
“And the greatest thing is, they will thank me!” the Captain thought.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Special Agent Denton led Neyra, or Nerys as her fake ID now named her to the elevator that was in the basement garage and that would take them up to the second floor, as high as she could go on her current identification.
“OK, I will hand you over to the administrators and then I have to check in with my section head and try to find out what the heck is going on,” Denton said with a sigh as he swiped his ID card on the elevator control panel.
Neyra was filled with dread knowing that she was going to be separated from the man who she barely knew yet had built up a rapport with on the car journey to the field office. He had accepted her at face value but now she was going to have to pass the imposter test again with new people, administrators.
The elevator did not have far to go before the doors opened again and Neyra found herself on the second floor and a low tier administration section. Denton stepped forward a moment, his foot holding open the elevator door as he pointed the way.
“OK, this is where we part company for now,” Denton began, offering out his hand, “Down there, second on the left you’ll find personnel, between you and them they will get you to where you need to be,”
Neyra reached out to the agent and the pair shook hands.
“Thanks for getting me here,” Neyra said, casting a nervous glance down the corridor.
“Don’t sweat it. Right, I have to go I will see you around,” Denton said, backing into the elevator, “and don’t look so worried, they don’t bite down there,” he said with a chuckle.
“What? Oh? Yes, sure … and bye …” Neyra responded. Then with a ping the elevator doors began to close, letting her see her one and only friend in this hostile place slowly get put out of view.
Neyra looked one way then the other and knew what she had to do. One charade had ended, now another was about to begin. But at least if she could do it once she could do it again.
OK, I can do this
Neyra walked down the corridor, passing the first door on her left then arriving at the …
“Oh,” Neyra said quietly as she found herself in an open plan office with several desks that were taken up by smartly dressed men and women.
The man nearest to the entrance looked up and saw the new face in front of him, “Hi, can I help you?” he asked.
“Oh, yes, I am Special Agent Nerys Jones, I ... I have just been recalled,” Neyra explained, clumsily.
“Recalled? Odd. Do you have any identification?” the man asked, sitting up attentively at his work station.
“Oh, sure,” Neyra responded as she patted a pocket and produced her card. Having once been emblazoned with the title ‘Doug’s Hardware Supplies’ Neyra was relieved to see it was still transformed into a FBI ID card.
“One moment,” responded the man has he began to transpose details of the card into his computer, “Oh, you are OPE right. We … we got a flag on the system that you were going to turn in somewhere. Welcome back, well, assuming this is what you wanted…”
“This. Well, someone has to do it I guess,” Neyra responded nervously.
“I just need to create a new OSAC for you Special Agent Jones and then you can get up where you belong,” the man said, dryly as he drew a set of keys from his desk drawer.
“OSAC …” mumbled Neyra. Yet another acronym she needed to know, assuming it was important.
The man rose from his chair with his keys in hand then spun away from his desk, “I will be back in a moment,”
Thoughts of doubt whirled through Neyra’s head. Had she been found out? Was she going to be turned in and placed under arrest at any moment? Neyra looked around the open plan office, each glance at her, each hushed phone conversation potentially about her, that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. When was the end coming … when was the …
“Here you go, Special Agent Jones, sorry about the delay,” the man said returning to his desk.
Neyra jumped in surprise and then realised who had spoken to her. The man held out yet another card, this one featuring a magnetic strip along with what appeared to be the same photo she had supplied for her current driving license. INFINITY had to get the images from somewhere it seemed and had stripped the information from the only place it could.
“Oh, thanks,” Neyra replied, taking the card from the man along with a nice new lanyard.
“Do you know where you need to go next?” asked the man.
“I have…” Neyra began taking in a breath, “…absolutely no idea,” confessed Neyra as she clumsily mounted the new card into its holder before placing the lanyard over her head.
The man scoffed with a smile, the response was common from new site visitors, “OK, take the elevator up and …” he began to explain.
Soon Neyra was in the elevator again which responded to her whims now that she had a card of her own. Studying the card in the privacy of the elevator she discovered that OSAC was the ‘On Site Access Card’ which allowed he to move through the various security doors and make use of the elevators, something her basic identification failed to provide.
PING! Announced the elevator as she arrived on floor four where the OPE section was housed in this particular field office. A useful floor directory told her where she needed to go, office 4200.
“Four-two hundred … where are you?” Neyra said to herself quietly before seeing the way.
Strangers moved through the corridors barely noticing Neyra as they focused on their work though no doubt a few comments about the attractive newcomer would be made at the watercooler. How long would this anonymity continue, she wondered. When was the charade she was playing going to step up in difficulty?
Neyra rounded a corner and was greeted by a large open plan office again, some glassed walled offices marking the perimeter. Some desks were unmanned while others had either agents or administrative staff carrying out their duties. At one desk a suited man was sat, looking at his computer while another older man stood leaning over his shoulder looking at the screen. Neyra’s arrival caused the pair to look in her direction though and the senior man patted his seated colleague on the shoulder, ending the conversation.
“Agent Jones, I presume?” the senior looking man said, rising from his leaning posture. A little over weight, his baldness leaving two flanks of short grey hair either side of his head confirming his … experience.
“Yes, err, Sir,” Neyra responded feigning some confidence though inside she died a little more from yet another compounded lie passing her lips.
“Good, my office, let’s talk,” he responded. Was that a hint of sarcasm, annoyance, or badly conveyed nicety?
The man spun around, a trailing arm beckoning Neyra to follow him towards what appeared to be a corner office. Neyra followed, her heart pounding again as she sensed confrontation was imminent. What was this man going to want to know? What was he going to say? This nightmare that Neyra had freely jumped into seemed without end. The man swung open the door and entered then turned, beckoning Neyra once more.
Neyra entered, and saw the man’s desk. On it, facing her was a nameplate, ‘ASAC Edward Rowland’. On the wall behind him, President Garrison smiled down at the pair.
“Please, take a seat,” Rowland said, closing door behind Neyra and walking around to his side of the desk, planting himself into his leather executive chair. On his desk sat a pair of reading glasses that he put on, resting them on his slightly pointed nose and peered at his computer screen.
With a few clacks of the keys there was a pause as Rowland read something from his computer screen and then with a sigh he reclined back, then gently tossed his reading glasses onto this desk again, taking in the sight of Neyra in front of him.
“OK, so what is it, Special Agent Jones? It’s not often Deputy Assistant Director Ingram calls me so, to have him buttering me up about my budget allocation this year and then casually dropping you into the subject has my alarm bells ringing. Why are you here?” Rowland asked.
Neyra sensed that Rowland must already be sensitive about something. Anyone at ease with their boss would not be suspicious about anything they might do. So it was easy to see Rowland’s distrust of his boss was going to reflect onto her. She had to remove any sense of collusion from Rowland’s mind if she was going to make friends with him.
“Well, sir, I merely had a call from the Deputy Assistant Director telling me to report in. I was being ‘Recalled’, he said. It is only coincidence that I am here; I was travelling when I got the call near Littleton. Half an hour later and I would have been on a Greyhound and probably would have ended up in a different field office,” Neyra explained, building on her lie.
Rowland processed what he was being told. He recalled the chatter being that Agent Jones was being collected from a bus terminal.
“So, your assignment isn’t specific to this office?” Rowland frowned.
“No Sir, not that I believe,” Neyra responded quickly seizing on Rowland’s softening mood.
“Ingram told me you were to report directly to him. You can understand how that makes me feel left out the loop just a little,” Rowland confided in Neyra.
“Yes sir, but I suspect that I am going to be mobile, I don’t think I will be working from your office, if that’s any consolation. I was just in the area when this all started,” Neyra explained, taking a crumb of comfort from the seed of truth buried in the lies.
“No doubt the Deputy Assistant Director will do me the courtesy of telling me. Do you know what your assignment even is? I saw in your file your background is in business so, white collar crime perhaps?” Rowland asked, fishing for answers.
Neyra’s mind whirled. Certainly her real life skills were art based but she had some qualifications in business too and these seemed to have rubbed off onto her alternate identity’s CV thanks to INFINITY. Her father bad been quite wise in ensuring his daughter had a backup qualification if art did not work out for her but it was Special Agent Jones who was reaping the benefits, having a solid education to rely on.
Neyra took in a breath, about to respond when there was a tap at the door. Rowland looked up to see one of the administrators at his door, a large thick padded envelope in one hand, the other hand gesturing between it and Neyra. Rowland beckoned the shirted man to enter.
“Sorry Sir, this just came in for Special Agent Jones,” the man said.
“You are a popular person, Jones. Ok Peter,” Rowland said, nodding to the newcomer who passed over the large package.
“Oh, for me?” Neyra asked in surprise accepting the package.
“Peter, what offices do we have free? I imagine Jones here wants someplace where she can get herself organised,” Rowland said.
Peter glanced between Rowland and Special Agent Jones, who in his eyes was probably the most attractive creature he had seen in the ranks of the FBI.
“Peter?” Rowland pressed Peter into action, seemingly being lost in thought.
“Oh, umm, two-oh-six is free,” Peter responded, flustered a moment, “I will show you where it is,” he continued, looking at Neyra.
“OK, Jones, you’re good to go. I am going to get onto Deputy Director Ingram and check what it is we are meant to do with you,” Rowland said as he leaned forward, gathering up his reading glasses once more.
“Yes Sir, thank you sir,” Neyra said before rising.
“Please, come with me,” Peter said quietly, gesturing with his hand towards the door.
It was a short walk to one of the offices that made up the perimeter surrounding the desks of all the rest that worked there. Peter tugged the door open and let Neyra in, then hit the light switch, illuminating the inside.
“Your extension number is on the phone, and there is a directory in one of the drawers. If you need any help with anything site related, well, I’m your guy,” Peter said, his tone highlighting his shyness.
“Thank you,” Neyra said as she spun around in the office, taking in what her fake persona had obtained for her.
“OK, well … I hope you settle in ok,” Peter said, retreating to the doorway.
Neyra moved behind the desk and took her seat and placed the package on the desk glancing between it and the man who now stood at the door.
“Yes. Now, thank you, but I should get on,” Neyra responded, confidence rising slightly.
Peter nodded and spun away closing the door behind himself and locking out the sounds of the office beyond. Peter made a fleeting glance at the black beauty he sought to know then relented, returning towards his desk.
Neyra paused, then with a sigh tugged open the padded envelope dreading what may be inside. Beyond the glass wall of her office no one looked in her direction, her office being no more different than the hundreds of others. With a subtle angle Neyra carefully tipped the contents onto the cleared desk of the previous occupant. First, a black leather wallet. Neyra opened it. Inside was a gold badge.
Federal Bureau of Investigation - Department of Justice
“Oh fuck,” Neyra said as the reality set in, but how much worse could it get? She tipped the envelope further.
CLUNK
A clear plastic grip seal bag appeared next with its heavy contents inside, a Glock with a field maintenance kit and two clips, both full to the brim with nine millimetre rounds.
McGee, I will … I would … oh McGee what have we done? I fucking hate guns and now… I have to wear this thing. And what about Kara? Does she even know what I am having to do in her name? And what about Laura?
A holster kit slid out next, then a set of handcuffs, a pouch to hold them and the keys that went with them.
Well that’s just great, McGee, just great!
Next was a plastic bag with some items in it. Neyra’s eyes widened as she saw the contents. A passport and driver’s license for Nerys Jones, a personal credit card, an FBI expense account card, and a health insurance card. Neyra’s mind processed what it meant. These things had to come from someone who was “in on it”. Someone had made sure that the INFINITY persona Nerys Jones could do whatever it was they were meant to do. Lastly a cell phone appeared with a charging kit.
Neyra drew the cell phone towards herself and turned it on. There was no lock set yet and a message reminded her as such. Being technologically minded she knew her way around the menus in the phone and checked the contacts list and found it had only a few entries.
DEPUTY ASISSTANT DIRECTOR INGRAM
SPECIAL AGENT CELINE WEISS
SPECIAL AGENT LUNA WANG
This was her world now. Those three names. Well, it was Special Agent Nerys Jones’ world at least. She had brought two of the others into the world with her phone call and Ingram was their boss, or so she thought. Or perhaps she hoped, she wasn’t sure. She still needed to speak to Ingram and feel her way around the problem of figuring out exactly what he knew about her. As soon as she resolved that the easier it would be to progress with her mission which was what McGee had asked her to do, save Weiss and Wang, err Walsh and Wuan, from whatever their fate might be.
Neyra looked out the windows of her office and noted that the world continued in ignorance of her clandestine mission, save for Peter who cast a glance at her, only to feel spurned as she ignored his desires. Neyra’s heart was, after all, held back for a special someone else. Neyra stared at the contacts list and with a deep breath dialled out to Ingram, clamping the cell phone to her ear.
Beep boop deep deep bip bip beep doop de dooop da beep – dialled the phone.
BEEEEEEEP … BEEEEEEP – fuck it’s ringing! Neyra had half hoped it would be a busy tone, and forever, but no. This was going to be a painfully fast encounter it seemed.
“Ingram,” answered the Deputy Assistant Director.
“Sir, it’s me, err, Nerys Jones,”
“So I saw,” Ingram began, referring to the caller ID that appeared on his own phone, wherever he was. “You have your package then, good,”
“Yes Sir,” Neyra responded. So far, so good, but what did he really know about her. “Sir, I am a little confused, I am not sure what you know about my .. errr … recall ….” Neyra continued, dipping her toe into the murky water of intrigue. Was it full of happy goldfish or were there a load of piranhas ready to devour her to the bone.
“I know what you are not, understand? The OPE is the best place for INFINITY generated FBI personas so here you are. I don’t like it but somehow it seems to work, so, here we are. Now then, you have called in but the other two, Weiss and Wang have not. What is the hold up?” Ingram asked with concern.
Shit, what should I tell him? I guess I should start with the truth if I am to get him to trust me.
“Sir, Weiss, Wang, they are on a flight to Amsterdam,” Neyra began recalling what McGee had told her.
McGee suspected that with Andy Matthews installed on the flight as replacement pilot, and Lucy and Selena on board as passengers it might be a trap. All he could do to protect them was have Neyra change their identities. If they did survive whatever it was they were facing it could help them escape later, being bullet proof INFINITY identities, rather than the aliases they were using.
“WHAT! What? Not BlueGlobe251!” Ingram blurted before reigning himself in, “You only just got these identities for them. You’ve switched them out mid journey?”
“Yes sir, I had to …” Neyra began to try and explain.
“Are you… this is a …” Ingram was speechless.
“I know it’s not ideal but …” Neyra began to try and say something consolatory.
“NOT IDEAL? Have you any idea what trouble that is going to cause? They are Weiss and Wang now but they will be carrying the passports they used to board the flight. When they run checks on all the passengers and … jeezus Christ,” Ingram fumed.
“I don’t understand. Why would they do that?” Neyra asked, trying to placate the stranger’s voice.
“Turn on the news! That flight, it has turned back! You better pray your two friends aren’t responsible for that or …. Jeezus…,” the voice growled.
“Oh… god... ok … ok … we can fix this …” Neyra stammered. McGee had told her that Kozny knew something was up with the flight but nothing quite like this.
“No, YOU will fix this. If you jeopardize the INFINITY system there are safeguards to burn you all, understand?” Ingram said, his tone threatening.
“OK, OK, I am on it. At least let me try and figure this out,” Neyra pleaded.
At the other end of the line there was a sigh, obviously indicating he was thinking due to the pause before he spoke again.
“If they double check the passengers you need to come up with a credible explanation as to why they were on false travel documents. Do that and I will do what I can to make everything line up this end, you understand?”
“Yes sir, I’ll work on it, I promise,” Neyra said firmly. She didn’t have the answers now but she was sure that with time and maybe some input from McGee she could come up with something workable.
“Fine but if this starts going south I will pull the plug, understand? I can give you a heads up before it happens but Wang and Weiss? They will be on their own,” Ingram warned Neyra.
“Yes, sir, I get it and no doubt my first move should be to meet up with them both and get them on board,” Neyra said. Sure she had screwed up and the man she was speaking to was angry at her but he was all she had, she had to build a plan with him.
“That would be my first move too, but hurry before I pull the plug on them, now good bye, Special Agent Jones, and don’t call me until you have some positive news,” CLICK!
Neyra recoiled from her phone and pushed the red disengage button, terminating the call from her own end.
“McGee … I need McGee. It was him that got me into this mess anyway,” she fumed. Putting her newly issued FBI phone to one side she fished in her pockets. Out came her burner phone and with some sleight of hand she inserted her personal SIM card back into it.
MCGEE
Doop dip deep dip beep boop deep dip dup up beep – it dialled.
Neyra listened to the ringing tone patiently. Once, twice, three times … four … fuck McGee, pick up, pick up, pick up!
“McGee here … oh Neyra, thank god” McGee answered.
“Don’t give me ‘oh Neyra’! Where the hell are you? I am dying here!” Neyra hissed into the phone. In the open plan office Peter caught sight of her outburst then averted his eyes.
“Neyra, keep your head! Have you seen what’s going on? The flight, I have just heard. It’s coming back.” McGee said calmly.
“Yes, I just heard. My INFINITY boss is pissed because I activated the new ID’s for Lucy and Selena half way into the flight. They are going to have their own passports on them when …” Neyra continued with her protests until she was cut short.
“OK, ok, I understand. You need to get to them. I thought this trap was going to play out in Amsterdam or … well … in the air, but okay. We have to deal with what is in front of us.” McGee said, he sounded a little tired.
“Where should I go, McGee? I need to hook up with Lucy and Selena as soon as I can. I hope to god they just get turned off that flight as innocent bystanders,” Neyra asked.
“Head east. Get to the eastern seaboard, that’s where they should be. New York probably,” McGee said thoughtfully.
“Are you sure?” Neyra asked.
“The news is they’ve landed near there, details are sketchy at the moment,” McGee said, his voice highlighting his concentration as he thought on the subject.
“OK, McGee. New York it is,” Neyra agreed.
“Listen, I know you have a rush on but you need to be patient. Whatever has happened on the plane has triggered a ground-stop. Nothing is taking off. It is going to be days before things return to normal. Believe it or not no badge is going to make you get a flight any quicker,” McGee explained.
“Fuck, what am I going to do? Don’t they … we …you know, the FBI have transportation of its own?” Neyra asked anxiously. She was desperate to move on to New York and out of the goldfish bowl of an office.
“Yes but you’re going to be real lucky to find anything free right now. If you’re a lowly SA you’re going to be bottom of the pecking order. Get in touch with your travel office and see what they can … no … wait. Let me do it, I might be able to swing something more quickly for you,” McGee explained.
“McGee, thank you. I’m sorry I snapped at you before," Neyra said with relief in her voice.
“It’s okay. You’re doing well, just hang in there, I am on your side,” McGee responded.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
