Written By: Solo's Girl

Chapter 3

"A Good Agent…."

The recruits sat around the table in silence. They looked at one another, wondering what would happen now. With the destruction of the Air Marshalls plane and the loss of Agent Roberts, the entire future of the new division was in jeopardy. It was so quiet in the room you could actually hear the wind outside as it whipped the snow around the building.

William Del Floria leaned back in his chair. One hand rubbed across his eyes then across his forehead as he thought about his friend and partner. The fingers of his other hand began to drum lightly on the tabletop. The others turned and looked at him. He looked at them, and then quickly drew his hands together, leaning forward against the table. His eyes moved to the closed door just off to the side.

Alexander Waverly stood quietly as Dickering, Hendricks and several of the other men talked. His hands folded behind him, his father's silk scarf weaving in and out of his fingers. It had washed up on the shoreline and he now held it dearly.

"Then that is what needs to be done," Dickering said turning to his top man, "Alexander, do you think the men can handle this assignment. They haven't been fully trained you know…"

"Yes sir," he said, "I believe the men are fully capable of the task." And that was all he said.

Dickering looked at the staunch young man before him. Something was different. He could see Alex trying to maintain his composure in light of losing his father. But something else was different. His hair parted differently? Slightly more to the side perhaps but that wasn't it. His mustache? That was it. Alex had shaved off his mustache.

Dickering dismissed Hendricks and the others, asking them to begin the briefing of the others. The men exited the room. For a moment the Colonel stood looking at his top agent.

Alexander didn't flinch. Shoulders back, head up but not in an arrogant manner, his firm chin out, his entire body language one of authority and obedience.

Dickering smile sadly at him.

"Alexander, I am most heartily sorry about your father," he said finally, "The Air Marshall was truly a great man and a most daring pilot."

The Colonel folded his arms and gently tapped one fist against his chin as he observed his agent.

"Thank you sir."

"I noticed that you have, ah, "washed" your upper lip…."

At this Alex let a faint hint of a smile cross his lips and Dickering saw him take a deep breath.

"Yes sir…I did it in honor of him, sir…My father never really liked it. He always told me that mustaches were for randy teenagers and elderly men trying to regain their youth….."

Dickering fought to hold back his smile. He coughed deep in his throat to suppress his urge to laugh as his fingers slipped across his own mustache. At this he saw the young man become slightly uneasy.

"No offense intended sir," Waverly said, almost choking as the phrase slipped from his lips.

Dickering smiled broadly and gave the young agent a hearty pat on the shoulder.

"None taken Alexander…Shall we go in to the briefing?"

Waverly stepped to the door and opened it, allowing the elder man to enter the other room first. He saw Willie sit bolt upright in his seat. The young American made a sad but inquisitive look at his partner. Alex simply acknowledged his partners concern with a slight nod. Willie made a half smile and gave him a knowing nod in return.

"Men….We have a traitor on the island…One Bartomal Santar….You remember the man correct?"

The others nodded that they did indeed remembered him and most without any liking.

"He has infiltrated this training mission and we highly suspect he is behind the bombing of the plane. Santar was stripped of his rank in MI5 only a few days before this mission was to begin. His recruitment file was forged and that is how he was able to gain access to the plane and eventually the island…Now, as you know we are heading into a nasty patch of weather…radio forecast another ten inches of snow possible on top of the five we have already…Winds in access of forty knots….Santar will not be able to hide out in this much longer…Even if he has found a cave or other means of shelter…" Dickering stepped to the side.

Waverly reached for the long cylinder hanging on the wall and pulled down the map of the island. He picked up the long wooden pointer.

"We have ample protection of the administration and barracks buildings," Alex began, pointing as he spoke, "There is only a small area that might possibly have a hidden cave or two…here, near the shore line…There is little protection in the woods as the trees are now almost completely bare… Each team will take a separate section starting at the outer perimeter working inward in a "pinchers" movement. There is to be no area of ground untouched or unexplored…."

Dickering stepped back and ran his hand around the map, pointing to different sections.

"There are several places here, here and here," he pointed out, "Where the terrain dips and is ridged by large rock formations…."

The recruits made notes, nodding. Many remembered these places having found them the hard-way as their aching extremities reminded them.

"These formations can easily be dug out and made into shelters, then camouflaged. I want each boulder checked….." Here Dickering smiled slightly. "Literally no stone unturned…If you find anything no matter how minute or insignificant you may believe it to be, report to your partner. Each man will be equipped with a radio, and the code phrase "Dickering" will be used to signify that you have found something. It is not ego on my behalf Gentlemen….I will be monitoring the radio frequencies and the homing devices of each radio. Once the code is used I will find your position and another team will be dispatched for back up using the various location codes Captain Hendricks has given you already…..No other information should be given out…..Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, Colonel Dickering," the recruits responded in unison.

Dickering yielded the floor to Waverly.

"I know that each and every one of you will put your utmost effort behind this assignment…You have proven yourselves capable of that in training…." the young agent said, "I know we can find Santar and bring him…." Here the words faltered in his voice only slightly.

Dickering stepped up beside him.

"We want to bring him in alive if possible gentlemen," the Colonel said, "Remember…It is the purpose of this new division to seek Justice, not revenge."

Willie looked at his partner. He knew Alex would have a difficult time with this but his faith in his friend's abilities and cool headedness out-weighted any doubts he might have.

"Good," Dickering said, "I want to see each team in the barracks hallway in full winter gear…Fifteen minutes….Make sure your weapons are loaded and your radios fully charged."

Ten minutes later.

Willie had said nothing to his friend as they changed into the white winter survival gear. He watch as Alexander carefully inspected his Webley and slid it into the holster. He noticed the almost military fashion he used to secure his weapon and after slipping on his thick jacket, attached the radio to the outer holder.

"At ease, Waverly," Willie said, drawing down his brow.

It was only then that Alex realized the way had been preparing for the assignment, as if he were going to war. Every little movement was quick, sharp and deliberate. He did ease back and looked at his friend.

"Sorry Willie," he said.

Del Floria smiled and slipped into his thermal outer pants pulling them up over the skintight layer of padding beneath. He slipped into his boots, tucking the pants in and lacing the boots snuggly around them. He picked up his weapon, checked that it was loaded and that he had extra ammunition, and then carefully put it in his holster. He picked up his jacket and gave his attire a look over. The winter outer gear was thick and puffed

"I fell like a snowman. You know….even with all the weight I've lost and the cold water gear on underneath, these pants still make my ass look huge," Willie said with a smirk, giving the waistband a tug.

He checked his back, front, and then bent forward as if he could look between his knees to see his behind. Anything to break the tension in the air. He stood upright and shrugged his shoulders.

Alexander reached over a grabbed a small section at the front of his partner's thinning hair, giving the man's head a gentle tug from side to side, looking at him inquisitively. He let him go. Willie gave his head a rub.

"No not at all," Alex said, gently clipping the other man's head with his fingers, "Your ass looks the same size it always is…!"

Willie gave him a head-butt to the stomach, knocking Alex back onto his bunk. He heard the sound of laughter, low and maybe not as whole hearted as it often was, but it was laughter all the same. And just what they both needed.

They were the first two into the hallway. Waverly cleared his throat and barked out the command to assemble. In seconds every door in the hallway opened and the agents came to ridged attention next to their respective rooms.

The main door opened and Dickering walked in.

Bartomal Santar was quietly hunkered down in his hideaway. Fashioned from an abandoned fuselage, it had taken him months to dig the passage deeper back and away from the barracks building, and then bury the plane section. He had fashioned a small Franklin styled stove for heat, the pipe cleverly connected to the base of the barracks chimney. It was warm, cozy and totally undetectable, especially now that the snow was lying thick above.

Santar leaned back and opened a tin of kippers and a bottle of Guinness. He was very pleased with what he had accomplished so far. He had established his hiding place, equipped it so it was livable, sabotaged the Air Marshall's plane and sent the existence of the new branch into jeopardy He sat the bottle down and tore a large chunk from the bread loaf. The radio however interrupted his meal. He sat the food down and placed the headphones over his ears.

The static was almost defining. He gave the knobs a few turns to try and clear it. Some sound was coming through but still not clear enough. He slowly gave the pole attached a turn, adjusting the antenna only ever so slightly.

Joseph Benderhoffen stopped and did a double take towards the barracks. His partner looked at his strange expression.

"Was ist es, Joseph?" Beldon asked.

The agent made another hard stare towards the barracks. A hefty gust of wind blew up and the small hedgerow near the building bent and swayed once more.

"Nichts...Ich vermute..Ich dachte, ich sah..." (Nothing...I guess...I just thought I saw...) Benderhoffen said giving his eyes a brisk rub then moving his snow goggles back in place.

The two agents continued their path towards the woods.

Waverly raised his arm and motioned for his partner to stop. He lifted his binoculars and focused them on Hario and Joseph. He watched carefully.

"What's up, Alex?" Bill asked quietly.

"Benderhoffen thought he saw something...But didn't say what."

Willie was amazed by Alex sometimes. Not only could his partner read lips, a trait he learned from a young, deaf French girl, but he could do so in almost four different languages. It was very useful on the job, but most of his practice was from personal use.

Both men waited for a call to assist.

None came.

"He didn't report in," Alexander said shaking his head.

He and Del Floria made their way cautiously around the administration building, checking every nook and cranny coming up empty each time. They went slowly, single file, away from the building and headed towards the training area.

By walking one behind the other, they made only one set of tracks in the deep snow. And since Alex had the longer legs he could clear the path more easily than his partner. By walking back to back they could cover each other as well in case of a surprise. Both men being right handed, their natural instinct was to always look to the right first. This way ones right was the others left and so both sides could be watched with equal purpose.

They had made it to the training area. A section of the tiny island littered with burnt out cars, old airplane engines and parts, worn machinery leftover from "the Great War", and other usefully useless pieces of ironmongery.

Carefully looking behind and under everything there they made their way around the scrap heap.

"Nothing here," Del Floria said kicking the snow from his boots.

He moved one foot back and forth pushing the snow to the sides, then gave his cold extremity a light twist to make sure it was still attached. He reached down to retie the leather strings. He gave his head a slight turn and an inquisitive look crossed his face.

"Alex," he said kneeling down, "Look at this."

Waverly walked over and knelt down in the snow, using the other man's shoulder to momentarily balance himself. Both men reached down a carefully brushed the snow away.

The ground had been frozen solid for the past month. There was hardly any grass anymore and anything that managed to penetrate the hardened earth left its mark.

"What is that?" Alex asked looking at the long divots dug out in the frozen ground.

"It looks like something has be dragged away...something rather heavy to makes ruts this deep."

They looked around. From this vantage point they had a good view of the training area and its hodge-podge collection of junk. They once again studied everything that was there.

"Something's missing...," Bill said low, "But what?"

Both men pulled their collapsible trench shoves from their gear and began to carefully push the snow aside. First heading into the metal workings. They dug and shoveled for almost twenty minutes. Then they found the answer to their question.

Alex reached down into the indention in the ground. Bill quickly scanned the area, made a few mental calculations and came up with the measurements of what they were looking for. Both men racked their brains to try and remember what had been there, that size, heavy enough to make an indent that deep.

Waverly unzipped his jacket a bit and pushed his hood back. He removed his snow goggles to get a closer look. As he bent forward the silken flight scarf wrapped around his neck fell forward. Bill smiled and reached over taking the silken tassels in gloved hand. He held them up for his partner to see. Both men smiled.

"The old plane fuselage," they both said.

"Of course," Waverly said, "It was a small section of a Vickers , but enclosed enough to make a fair shelter...Santar must have dragged it way...But to where?" He scanned the area.

Bill smiled and handed his friend one of the shovels. They looked back at the thick blanket of snow.

"We're going to need help," Alex said.

But Willie Del Floria already had his radio in hand.

"Dickering," he said clearly into the receiver.

The Colonel recognized the voice and honed in on Willie's radio. One other team was close and using the predetermined code, he sent back up to his top two agents.

Agents Smithe of Canada and Driscol of Scotland responded immediately. When Alex explained what needed to be done the two men smiled and took out their shovels.

"Me Da dug trenches during the war," Driscol said low as they began to clear the snow.

A sudden tree snap sent all four men onto the ground. Willie was the first to look up. All clear. And the digging began again.

Santar finally had a relatively clear line. There was still static and a few pops but the voice from the other side came through strong. He filled his new boss in on the status to date.

"So the new Remote system worked well did it?" the flat voice came thru.

"Yes sir. Like a charm," Santar said, "I managed to tweak the radio frequency up a few bars to penetrate the thick metal shell of the plane and just at the right time…press….BOOM! It blew into so many pieces even the fish couldn't find anything big enough to nibble on." He smiled and took another drink.

Laughter came thru the static of the radio.

"And your location?"

"They won't find me sir…..Until I'm right on top of them. I waited for the snow to start falling before moving my shelter. Covered any possible tracks. The radio antenna is well hidden…Looks like part of the hedgerow branches and with the wind you can't see it move when I need to get better reception."

"MI5 taught you very well my friend. I am most impressed."

Santar smiled and sat up a bit straighter. As if the voice on the other end could him as well.

"And what about the others?"

"Not to worry sir. I have laid out a very elaborate series of, ah shall we say, "accidents" that will occur on their seek-and-destroy mission."

"And the younger Waverly?"

"I have something very special planned for my former partner sir. Something he'll remember for a long, long time."

"What do you mean, Santar? I want Waverly dead."

"If I may sir….There are a lot of things much worse than death…"

The other end of the radio fell silent for a moment.

"You are going to make a fine officer one day very soon," the voice came back, "Keep me informed of your progress and the extermination of this new agency."

"Ja Herrkommandant," Santar said smiling.

The radio made one last squeal before the connection broke. Santar removed his headgear and once again picked up his bread and kippers. Raising his bottle in his other hand he tipped it gently towards the ceiling of his shelter.

"And to you, Alexander Waverly," he said as if the name made a bad taste in his mouth, "Ein frohes Neues Jahr!" (Happy New Year!).

Santar picked up a small metal control box and extended its antenna. He then connected it to the field radio he had been using to boost its power. A sickening smile curled across his thin lips as he flipped the toggle switch.

All of the agents worked meticulously thru the cold and snow. Every inch of the island had to be covered and they would indeed cover every single inch of it. The teams struggled against the harsh winds, heavy snow and pounding surf. Waves crashed ashore well inland and for the teams covering the shoreline the work was particularly hard. But they pressed on.

The Egyptian agent was nearly pulled out to sea when a heavy wave broke over him. But his diligent partner from Italy held fast to his arm and the jagged rocks finally pulling his partner to safety. The two men sought shelter in cave below the rocky shore. Once inside they moved as far back as possible to escape the harsh water of the sea.

"Well," Hasani said removing his sopping hood, "That was interesting.."

He slipped off his soaked gloves dropping them on a large rock. His slender fingers ran through his thick black hair, and then gave the sweat soaked strands a hard shake. His partner held up his hands to ward off the spray.

"Hey aren't we wet enough for you already," DeMonte said from behind his folded arms.

His English was still slightly broken, but until he learned Egyptian it was the only language he and his partner had in common. He lowered his arms and a wide smile crossed his lips. He pointed to Hasani.

"You look like….how you say…oh yes..you look like somebody scared you really bad," DeMonte said handing his partner his snow goggles.

Hasani looked at his refection. Indeed he did. His silken hair was standing out all over his head like little burnt matches that had suddenly sprung back to life. He tried desperately to press them down. Finally he gave up and rubbed his soft olive colored skin, bringing a faint red glow from somewhere deep within his frozen cheeks.

"Better?" Hasani asked

His partner nodded.

"Good…..I need to live up to my name you know…In Egypt, Hasani means "handsome"."

DeMonte laughed loudly.

"Did you parents miss that mark or what?" he said giving his partner a shove.

Hasani bulls-eyed his partners face with a waded wet glove. The Italian threw it back laughing.

"And you….What does DeMonte mean in your language?"

"It means "of the mountain" if you have to know."

"Would explain the rocks rolling around in your head."

"We need to find a spot back…" DeMonte said waving his hands towards the back of the cave, "Away from the water…"

He pulled his torch from his pack and they quickly found their way towards the rear of the cave. They stopped in their tracks. The agents felt their stomachs heave slightly at the sight before them.

Tossed casually against the wall of the cave were two severely charred bodies.

"We need to alert the Colonel," DeMonte said reaching for his radio.

He moved back to the front of the cave to get a signal. Hasani meanwhile moved the bodies to show them more respect than had been previously done by Santar. He said a quick prayer for the lost souls of their fellow agent and the gallant Air Marshall.

Beldon flagged his partner down and the two worked their way slowly towards the shoreline. They were the closest team. Once within the tree line it was possible to move a bit faster using the bare but thick trucked trees for shelter.

"Another team is coming," DeMonte said walking back to his partner. "You moved them?"

"They needed to be shown respect in their deaths," Hasani said standing back up. He walked over to his friend. "It is going to be awhile before back up gets here."

The two agents began to look for rocks they could use to cover the burnt remains. It would do until training was completed and reconnaissance could be sent to pick them up for proper burial. They stood back and looked at the two long rows of rocks.

The two agents leaned against the wall of their shelter. For awhile neither man said anything.

"Why do you want to do this?" Hasani asked.

"I have seen too many small men and small countries try to prove their power," DeMonte said, "It is my way of protecting what I love and believe in….You?"

"Same reason," Hasani said smiling, "I was brought up believing there is good in all mankind…But there is not unfortunately….Wait…Do you hear that?"

DeMonte turned his head and listened. A scrape. A low faint click sound. Rocks settling? Water dripping down the walls perhaps? DeMonte pointed back towards the bodies.

A faint flash of light seemed to be coming from just beyond the spot the bodies had been found in.

"Is that light from your torch?" Hasani asked.

DeMonte grabbed his partners coat sleeve and the two men turned, running with all they had towards the mouth of the cave. Sliding on the icy floor of the cave the two agents fought to keep their footing. The light form the opening was in sight at last.

They had one more small turn to make. Hasani grabbed his partner's arm with one hand, a large stalagmite with the other. With one powerful motion the agent threw his partner clear of the cave, watching him hit the raging water outside.

DeMonte struggled to get his head above the water. He looked towards the entrance of the cave and saw his partner. Hasani made it out and was heading straight for him.

Both me felt the sudden warmth as flames shot around and above them. A tremendous roar and shock wave threw them both back and under the frigid water. The back wash picked them both up and they felt their cold bodies thrown into the air.

Almost as if they were flying.

The vibration started slowly and spread across the island.

Waverly, Del Floria, Smithe and Driscoll felt themselves being thrown from side to side, a top one another, then flat on the ground. The men couldn't seem to get their balance as the ground shook violently below them. Willie felt one of the small shovels catch the side of his head as the men were thrown in every direction.

Dickerson and the others found themselves thrown violently into the floor as the administrative building shook to its foundation. Emergency calls began to pour in as the field agents tried to figure out what was going on. The Colonel could hear the various shouts of his recruits, some confused, some in pain.

A huge wall of smoke and flame erupted in front of Beldon and his partner. The ground began to cave in before them. The future back they moved the wider the gap opened. Benderhoffen slipped and quickly disappeared. He felt a sharp tug and his jacket tightened against his throat.

"Hold on Joseph!" Hario shouted over the roar of the flames.

Beldon released his grip but only one hand and pulled the glove from that hand. Once free he reversed the hold and removed his other glove. It was much easier to pull his partner barehanded. Joseph struggle as flames shoot around him singing his winter gear. He could feel the intense heat penetrate the soles of his boots and they began to smoke.

There was another crackling sound and a large tree near them began to fall. Hario Beldon watch as the tree moved in slow motion towards them. He felt the sharp pain across his shoulders and back as the tree pinned him down. Still hanging over the large fire hole, his hands continued to hold his partner while the rest of his body lay in the freezing snow.

Bartomal Santar braced himself in his small hiding place. The remote controller dropped from his fingers and a look of sheer terror closed his face.

"What the hell?" he shouted .

The small stove fell over and ash spewed all around him. He was tossed around inside the tiny compartment which was now filling with smoke. Santar struggled to find his warm gear as he desperately climbed in the direction of his tombs exit.

Forcing the small hatch open, snow falling in around him, the ex-agent crawled out into the open air.

"Waverly! Look!" Driscoll shouted pointing across the open field towards the buildings.

The chimney bricks of the barracks building were falling away.

But half way across the field….

There was a thick cloud of black smoke rising.

From the middle of the snow.