October 2004
The plans that sat on Art Graham’s desk could be best described in one word:
Audacious.
It was truly one hell of a plan. One gigantic computer database that would contain all the intelligence of the CIA, the NSA, the Defense Intelligence Agency, the Drug Enforcement Administration, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Intelligent software with pattern identification capabilities would run it, software that had been contracted to the guys responsible for Linux.
He was sure, though, that they could come up with a more attractive name for this monster than the “Common Intelligence Database.”
“El CID,” he snorted derisively, as somebody knocked on his door.
“Come in!”
The door opened, and a tall, attractive blonde woman stepped into his office. In his earlier days with the CIA, he would’ve suspected some of his co-workers of sending a stripper to see him.
But in this case, it was one of his agents. Special Agent Sarah Walker, deep-cover operative for the CIA Special Operations Directorate.
“Agent Walker,” Director Graham said, rising. “Welcome back. How was Gdańsk?”
She made a face. “It was… well, Gdańsk. Not exactly Poland’s garden spot.”
Graham laughed. “Have a seat.”
He picked up the CID file and was getting ready to put it away, but just on a whim, he said, “Agent Walker, if you were going to create a giant computer database that held all the intelligence of six federal agencies, which could be cross-indexed and referenced at will, what would you call it?”
Her eyes widened. “I… I have no idea, sir. I don’t know. The Common Intelligence Database, maybe?”
He gave her a look. “You’re REAL helpful. That’s already what it’s called.”
“Sorry, sir, that’s just how I think.”
Director Graham sighed. “I need a ten year-old on my staff. They come up with some good ideas.”
“Well,” Sarah replied, “if you ever want to become an evil overlord, that’s the number twelve thing to do – have a child on your staff to identify any flaws in plans.”
Graham’s forehead creased, a look of disbelief appearing on his face. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s the evil overlord list, sir,” Sarah said, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. “One hundred things to ensure that you do should you ever become an evil overlord.”
“Agent Walker, was Gdańsk REALLY that boring?”
“Yes, sir, yes it was.”
“Well, I hate to do this to you, but,” Director Graham put down the CID file and picked up another one, “your next assignment is keeping you stateside.”
Sarah’s face fell. “Well, okay.”
“We’ve identified one of our analysts as having incredible potential to become a field agent. We want you to train him.”
“Are you planning to have him become a deep-cover, sir?”
“No,” Graham replied. “He’s too much of a wild card for that. The reason I want you training him is because you are better at the field craft portion of things than just about any other agent we employ. That, and I’m looking to develop sort of a prototype team here – a deep-cover operative trains a standard field agent, and they become partners. They go into a mission situation, the operative penetrating, and the agent remaining on the outside as their contact and control. Because they’ve worked together, and the operative has trained the agent, there’s supposed to be more of a trust, a connection between the two.”
Sarah’s eyebrows raised, an appreciative look appearing on her face. “That’s… that’s a brilliant plan, sir.”
“Well, it was developed by the analyst who we are assigning to you for the launch of the program,” Graham replied. He hit a button on his phone. “Karen, you can send him in.”
A moment later, the door opened, and a young man walked in. Sarah turned to see who it was – and immediately jumped to her feet in surprise.
“Bryce Larkin!”
The look of shock on his face equaled her own. “Beth… Beth Reynolds!”
It was a little weird for Sarah to hear that name. She hadn’t heard it in almost two years.
“Uh, yeah,” she replied. “It’s actually Sarah Walker now.”
“Of course,” Bryce said. “Agent Walker. My apologies.”
Director Graham looked at Sarah, and then at Bryce, and back at Sarah. “The two of you know each other!”
“Bryce is the nephew of Frank and Lynn Hoover, who were my… excuse me, they were Beth Reynolds’ next-door neighbors when she was growing up.”
A look of disbelief painted itself on Graham’s face. “Three hundred million people in this country, and the two agents I pair for this program trial happen to know each other.”
“Well, Director, it is a small world after all,” Bryce cracked.
“Shut up, Larkin,” Graham replied. “Agent Walker’s earned the right to speak to me that way. You have not.”
Bryce’s eyes widened, and his face turned red. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Sarah had to turn away so that Bryce wouldn’t see the smug smile that appeared on her lips. Director Graham saw it, though, and shook his head.
“I’m just going to leave the two of you to it.”
“Wait,” Sarah protested. “Don’t I get any guidelines here?”
“No,” Graham replied, shrugging his shoulders. “This is the test program. I thought I’d made that clear. You’re making this up as you go along. Oh, and be sure to take notes.”
“Oh. Joy,” Sarah deadpanned.
“Dismissed,” Graham shot back.
As they were walking out the door, he stopped them. “Larkin, you’re supposed to be some kind of genius. If you were creating a database that had all the intelligence of six different agencies, all cross-indexed and what have you, and you had to come up with a catchy name for it, what would you call it?”
Bryce grew a thoughtful look on his face. “Um, I’d probably call it… well, how about the Intersect?”
Graham nodded. “The Intersect… I like it. Now, off with you.”
Out in the corridor, Bryce had to struggle to keep up with Sarah. He was used to just walking normally; she, on the other hand, walked with a precise thirty-inch stride as pounded into her over two years before – God, has it REALLY been that long! she thought – by Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Martin Adams.
“What are we going to do today, Agent Walker?” Bryce asked, sounding like a little boy wanting to know what they were going to do.
“The same thing we do every day, Mr. Larkin,” Sarah replied, doing her best not to smile. “Try and take over the world.”
That stopped him dead in his tracks. She got a little ways down the hallway before she realized he wasn’t with her anymore. Sarah stopped and turned around. “Are you coming?”
“You – you just quoted Pinky and the Brain!” Bryce replied, astonished. “I didn’t think deep-covers were allowed to have a sense of humor!”
Sarah looked back at him, confused. “Where did you hear that?” she asked, a note of humor creeping into her voice. “We’re allowed to be human beings, have emotions, even crack the occasional joke… we just have to be very careful about it, that’s all.”
“Learn something new every day,” Bryce muttered, jogging to catch up with her. “So, where are we headed first?”
“Weapons cage,” Sarah replied.
“Weapons what!”
She turned and looked at Bryce. “You’re trained in gun use, correct?”
“No…”
This time, she stopped in her tracks. “You’re kidding me. You work for the CIA, and you haven’t had weapons training?”
“I’m an ANALYST,” Bryce said. “What am I going to shoot, the fax machine?”
Sarah sighed. “Unbelievable.”
She started walking again, Bryce finally matching her stride. “As of today, you carry a gun,” Sarah told him. “If you’re going to be a field agent, I expect you to always have it on you. That’s the only weapon you’ll have for now, but eventually, you’ll have a wide variety of weapons that can be easily concealed on your person. If you follow your training, you will be able to kill a man over a hundred different ways by the time I’m through with you.”
Bryce’s brow furrowed. “I always thought that was a myth.”
“Not in the least,” Sarah replied, leading him into the weapons cage. She stepped to her locker and opened it. Reaching in, she pulled out a compact gun and a shoulder holster, and handed them to Bryce.
“Beretta nine millimeter,” she said. “Standard police issue, practically impossible to screw up. Keep it loaded at all times. Don’t ever draw it unless you’re actually willing to shoot somebody.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bryce replied, taking the gun gingerly. Taking off his jacket, he put on the holster, adjusting it to his chest.
Sarah pulled her gun out from where it always rested, by the small of her back, popped the clip, reached into her locker, and inserted another one. Replacing the gun, she turned to Bryce, and said, “Let’s go get some coffee.”
As they walked out of the weapons cage, Sarah pulled out her cell phone, and fired off a simple text message. “Prep SB range,” it said.
When they reached the ground floor of the facility, Sarah led Bryce into – what else? – the Starbucks by the lobby. She shook her head at the seeming pervasiveness of the company.
“What’ll you have, Bryce?” she asked.
“Venti upside down caramel macchiato, extra syrup shot, double the espresso, non fat, no foam, on ice,” he shot back.
Sarah’s face took on a look of stunned disbelief. “Go order your own damn drink,” she finally said. “And get me a vanilla latte.”
He smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sarah took a seat at a table by the front, and looking up, made eye contact with one of the baristas. She simply raised her eyebrows, and he nodded. She nodded back, giving him a quick thumbs up.
A moment later, Bryce joined her at the table. He handed Sarah her drink, and took a sip of his.
“Good Lord,” she commented, looking at his. “How can you drink that?”
“It’s good,” he replied. “That, and I’ll run an extra mile later.”
Sarah practically choked as she took a sip of her latte. “An extra mile!”
“Oh, yeah. I run at least five miles every day.”
She nodded. “Okay, that’s a good thing.”
“I ran track at Stanford,” Bryce replied. “I was a gymnast as well.”
“See, these things would’ve been useful to know earlier,” Sarah said. “Whether you realize it or not, you HAVE in fact had weapons training. Your body is a weapon. And from what you’re telling me, it sounds like you’ve trained it in a fashion that allows you to use it for speed, flexibility, and power.”
Bryce looked pensive. “I never thought of it that way,” he said finally. “I always thought I was just having fun.”
“One man’s fun is another man’s training,” Sarah replied. “Civilians – and even analysts – think that CIA agents go through all this crazy, James Bond business, but in reality, much of our training is derived from real life exercises. We don’t necessarily receive any more physical training than, say, a Recon Marine or a Navy SEAL.”
“That’s still a hell of a lot more training than the average person,” Bryce said.
“That is true,” Sarah admitted. “However, that sort of training is not the most important aspect of being a field agent.”
“And what would that be?”
Without warning, Sarah stood up quickly, knocking her chair over backward. She pulled her gun out of her waistband, raised it, and started firing. Within ten seconds, every single person in the Starbucks was on the ground, and her clip was empty.
“WHAT DID YOU DO!” Bryce screamed, leaping up, yanking his gun from the holster under his arm, and aiming it at her. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO!”
Sarah didn’t answer him. Instead, she said, “Thank you all,” and everybody who she had apparently just shot stood up and resumed what they had been doing beforehand.
She turned to Bryce, took the Beretta from his hand, and said, “You have to turn the safety off in order to shoot it.” She handed it back to him, and with a trembling hand, he put it back in its holster.
“The most important thing about being a field agent,” she continued, as though nothing had happened, “is that you have to be prepared to do anything, at any time. If that requires shooting everybody in a coffee shop, then so be it. Clearly, that’s not preferable, but it happens.”
Sarah reached down to the table and grabbed her coffee, putting her gun back as she did so. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Bryce’s hands were still trembling as they stepped outside into the crisp October afternoon. “I have to give you credit for your reaction,” Sarah said. “However, the first thing that you should’ve done upon having your gun aimed was shoot me.”
Bryce looked at her like she was crazy. “Have you lost your mind!”
“Nope,” Sarah replied. “Give me your gun for a moment.”
Bryce handed her the Beretta. Before he even realized what was going on, she had turned it on him, turned off the safety, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the air.
Bryce, his eyes wide with shock, looked down at his chest. Nothing. “What the hell!”
“Your gun was loaded with blanks, just like mine was,” Sarah replied, handing it back to him. “Everybody in the Starbucks was a volunteer. It’s a practice range, just like any other part of the facility except for the analysis and administration floors.”
“You have lost your mind,” Bryce replied slowly. “Are all deep-cover operatives crazy like you?”
“I’m not crazy, Bryce,” Sarah said. “What I’m trying to do here is employ the most effective method of instruction – learning through experience. Everything that has happened to you in the last ten minutes, you will remember the next time you’re in a similar situation, and you’ll use your knowledge to adapt.”
Bryce shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “When I came up with this plan, and Director Graham approved it, this is not at all what I expected.”
Sarah blew out her breath in frustration, and put her hands on her hips. “That’s the point, Bryce! That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand here – if you’re a field agent, you have to ALWAYS expect the unexpected! You use your body as a weapon. If you have to shoot people, you do so. If you see somebody shooting a bunch of other people, you shoot first, ask questions later. You never, ever hand somebody else your gun. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I don’t know, Sarah,” Bryce hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this after all. It seems like right off the bat there’s a lot of killing involved with this job.”
“Not as much as it might appear, Bryce,” Sarah replied. “I did that to show you some of the worst parts of the job at the very beginning.”
She sighed. “Believe me when I say, though, as a field agent, you’re not going to have to do half of what I do as a deep-cover operative. But let me assure you – everybody I’ve ever killed has been a very bad person.”
Bryce still seemed unsure. “I’m still not sure I’m cut out for it.”
Sarah put her hand on Bryce’s shoulder. “Bryce. Can you do something for me?”
He didn’t say anything, just looked into her eyes.
“Trust me,” she said. “Trust me, and stick with this. I think you can do this. I just need you to trust me, and to trust yourself. Can you do that?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “I think so.”
“Alright,” Sarah said. “Then let’s get to work.”
No comments:
Post a Comment