A/N: After a long hiatus, I have come up with another installment. So sorry for the long wait. I hope you all enjoy reading!
007
"At Customs, they're going to check everything you have including your passport. Take everything out of your pockets, but leave nothing behind when they're done checking you. Don't draw attention to yourself, act normal, blend in and I'll meet you at the entrance."
Aaron's words ricocheted in my head as I waited in line to be checked by several police officers. Security in the U.S. was incredibly tight as several guards watched everyone closely. Ever since 9/11, no one leaves or enters the country without being thoroughly searched. Every item, clothing, accessory, electronic device, even hygienic tools like toothbrushes were examined to make sure they were not potential weapons or armed devices.
The line was incredibly long and the pace was slow. By the time, it was my turn, my legs were sore from standing so long and my hands ached from holding on to my bag. I deposited everything I had onto the conveyor belt that automatically moved through a scanning machine. Next to the machine was a walk through metal detector. Moving through it with ease, I picked up the contents of my luggage and trudged toward a cubicle with a police officer sitting behind the plexiglass.
"Passport please," he muttered, bored. He looked to be in his late forties, balding, and had a sour disposition. He glared at my passport studying it as if he was being tested on it. He shifted his small dark eyes to peer at me and squinted contemplating silently.
"How do you say your name?" he grunted, impatiently. I swallowed and tried to keep my voice calm.
"Juen. Like the month," I replied, my tone high and squeaky. He sneered and grabbed a silver tool sitting next to his fingers. Stamping my passport, he gave it back to me in a flourish.
"Never liked that month," he declared and stuck his thumb toward the hallway that led to the rest of the airport. I walked away briskly, irritated at his bad behavior. Tucking the passport in my bag, I muttered underneath my breath.
"Asshole."
LaGuardia Airport was massively big, sitting on the northeast tip of Queens. Reading the signs that hung from the sloped ceiling, I made my way through throngs of people of all types and races. The multicultural melting pot of the world was so vivid that I didn't feel left out at all. Nobody looked at anybody differently and everyone just kind of belonged.
I exited the building to a long curved driveway littered with cars, buses, trucks, and taxis. The morning dawned clear and bright. Someone behind me brushed my arm and said in a familiar voice.
"Going my way?"
I turned to look at Aaron who still had his shades on. He waved and a yellow taxi pulled up next to us as if on cue. Ushering me in, he shut the door after climbing in himself.
"96th and 2nd," Aaron instructed the driver who peered at him strangely.
Casting off, the taxi began moving toward our unknown destination. I stared out the window marveling at everything. New York City was congested with people, vehicles, and buildings. There was always something to see and nothing was the same twice.
We soon arrived and I understood now why the driver had given Aaron a weird look at the airport. We got out at a huge parking garage across from a multiplex building. I followed Aaron into the car park as he weaved through dozens of cars, SUVs, trucks, and vans. After a few minutes, he stopped at a grey Ford Taurus and got on his hands and knees. Reaching underneath the driver's side, he groped for something for a few seconds and pulled out a single key.
Inserting it into the door, Aaron opened the car and hit the unlock button on the inside. Audible clicks echoed as the other locks sprang open.
"Get in," he said and unhooked his backpack from his back. Throwing his pack to the back seat, Aaron slipped his fingers into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small knife. With expert precision, he pried the front panel of the driver's door open. The leather cover popped off easily. Hurrying around the front of the car, I climbed into the passenger seat just as he took out a large plastic bag hidden in the metal cache of the door. Slipping his sunglasses off, he got in the car and shut the door.
"Put this in the backpack," Aaron said and handed me the plastic bag. Looking through the contents, I spotted various more passports, an assortment of identification and social security cards, and several thousands of dollars wrapped in thick bundles. I did as he asked while he started the engine and began pulling away.
"There is a safe house in the city where the CIA holds their detainees. I will find Dr. Shearing there," Aaron informed as he turned left at an intersection.
"What if she's not there?"
"Then she's dead," he replied. I rubbed my fingers anxiously together and peered out at the montage of life that swirled past. He said it so nonchalantly, almost cold-like but I knew he was only voicing the truth. With abrupt realization, I caught something he mentioned.
"What do you mean 'I'? You're not going there without me," I demanded and swung my eyes to face him. "She might know something about my sister."
"The safe house is guarded by several technological means. Cameras, security systems; safety measures to prevent getting in and out. It's too dangerous," Aaron revealed and averted his glare so I couldn't read his eyes. "It's better if I go in alone."
The thought of sitting somewhere waiting impatiently for his return infuriated me. I was tired of waiting and doing nothing. Not no more. Determination gripped my heart with a pounding strength.
"Show me how to shoot a gun," the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. Aaron jerked his head to glare at me. His blue eyes filled with awe and consternation.
"What?" he blurted out, incredulous. Keeping my gaze steady, I challenged his disbelieving glower.
"You heard me," I pointed out. Aaron looked away toward the windshield,
indecision clouded his features. The silence stretched between us as palpable as hearing a pin drop. Moments past and I grew increasingly worried, but I told myself this might not be what I signed on for but I am ready nonetheless. Throwing away my inhibitions, I swallowed the fear and anxiety that creeped up within me and took a deep steadying breath.
"Please. I want the answers just as much as you do. I may not be an instrument in the symphony of controversial espionage, but the effects have touched my life, altered it so that it is never the same again. I may not have superhuman skills or the resources, but I sure the hell have conviction in justice."
Aaron listened as I continued.
"Rose's death deserves to be justified and the person responsible should be held accountable. Same as the people who are after you," I said with audacity. After a minute of thought, Aaron spoke in a voice full of amusement.
"You are determined."
"No, I'm stubborn," I jested, slyly. He grinned, his smile filling my chest with elation. The silly teasing was light hearted and lifted the tension away. Stopping the car at the curbside near a row of shops, Aaron killed the engine and got out. Grabbing his backpack, he walked briskly down the crowded sidewalk as I followed. I maneuvered past people who hurried along and walked by storefronts displaying various items.
After a few blocks, Aaron turned into an alley between two tall buildings. Garbage littered the walkway sporadically along with several dumpsters lined at intervals along the sides of the buildings. Halfway down the deserted passage, Aaron stopped at one of the dumpsters and began hoisting the heavy metal container from the wall of the adjoining structure. The smell of rotting food filled my nostrils and I crinkled my nose in disgust.
Peering over Aaron's hunched shoulders, I watched as he pried the grate off of a small vent on the wall. Reaching in, he extracted a silver briefcase from the hole.
"The most important thing to remember when shooting a gun is to steady your hands," he counseled and opened the briefcase with a six digit combination. Inside on a bed of grey foam, nestled neatly in three rows were two black 9mm handguns and three magazine cartridges. Inserting one case of the shells in one gun, Aaron shoved it behind his back underneath his shirt. Loading the other weapon, he took my hand into his and showed me how to handle the gun. The metal felt cool against my skin as he instructed patiently with a calm voice.
"Aim and squeeze. Steady hands, straight shot."
I mimicked his gestures as he quickly gave me a short lesson.
"Don't hesitate to pull the trigger. It might be a matter of life or death."
I nodded and tucked the gun into my bag. Aaron took the extra bullets and stuffed it into the folds of his jacket. Replacing the case back into the vent, he stood up and took my hand.
"The only weakness that the safe house has is that there is one guard on duty twenty four seven. The facility is so well protected with machines that humans are not needed. The good news is that all these devices are controlled from a main command terminal and can be overridden," Aaron said, his voice low.
"And the bad news?" I asked as we exited the alley onto another busy street.
"We will be detected within five seconds if any door or window opens by the motion sensors. When the security system is alerted, there is a lockdown period where everything in the building is bolted and secured. From there, we have a fifteen minute time frame. We have to subdue the guard, find Dr. Shearing, and get out before agents arrive."
"How do you know all this?" I wondered at the complexity of our dilemma. He looked at me with a knowing glance.
"I've been in there before," Aaron simply responded. I was glad that he knew what he was doing, but that didn't erase the queasy feeling in my gut.
"Sounds impossible," I pointed out, miserably. He gripped my fingers tighter as if to comfort me.
"Difficult, yes, but not impossible," Aaron quipped, leisurely. His confidence was reassuring and I tried to be as certain as him, but I couldn't stop the tremors that filled my body.
Not too long after, we arrived about fifty yards from our main goal. Aaron pointed at a brick building. The exterior was shabby, worn and looked ancient. Parts of the walls were cracked, or eroded from the weather and the roof was missing a number of shingles.
"That's the safe house?" I asked, clearly not impressed. I was hoping to see something a little bit more modern. Aaron led me to the side entrance of a small shop diagonal to the brick building.
"Looks can be deceiving," he cautioned and peered in the direction of the safe house. With calculated ease, he continued. "We need a diversion. Something to draw away the attention of the guard inside." Aaron turned his blazing gaze to me. The pointed gleam in his azure eyes made realization widen my own.
"Me? I'm the diversion?" I said, open mouthed. He nodded and then smiled ruefully. "But what am I supposed to do? Wouldn't the guard know something is
fishy?"
"Not necessarily. The guard only knows what he is told, because his job is not to know. All the guard does is answer a call from the Agency and opens the door for high priority targets. Everything else is on a need to know basis, less mess to clean up afterwards if things go bad."
I squinted toward the safe house with interest. So much secrecy kept hidden amidst a world oblivious to its' wiles. Astonishment opened up my senses to a new way of viewing reality. The magnitude of classified information that is kept mysteriously confidential from the public was staggering. Mistaking the look of wonder on my face for terror, Aaron reassured me with a soft tone.
"All you have to do is distract the guard long enough for me to disable the security mechanisms."
"You make it sound so easy," I murmured, perplexed. He stared at me with a conglomerated mix of affection and amusement. Turning so that our backs were toward the building, Aaron proceeded to explain.
"There is a small alley next to the side of the building. Go down that about a quarter of the way. You will come to a niche in the wall. Look for the numbers seven and five and press the button. The guard will then initiate standard protocol."
"What's that?" I asked, breathily.
"A fingerprint scan."
Seeing the unease in my face, he reached over and brushed his fingers against my left cheek. His touch was warm and enticingly sensual.
"Instead of doing the scan, this is what you're going to say: 'Foxtrot, Oscar, Romeo, Echo, Sierra, Tango, Golf, Romeo, Echo, Echo, November'."
I looked at him quizzically at the mention of the random words.
"Military alphabet for a secret code. Repeat it after me," Aaron coaxed as I reiterated the words back to him a few times. Satisfied that I had memorized it, he then continued in a soft tone.
"It will take two minutes for the guard to open the door for you. In that time, you will need to get your gun ready. Distraction is your new best friend. Once his attention is diverted, you will have to subdue him. Leave the rest to me."
I stared at his unwavering gaze with growing apprehension. The look of infallible conviction on his stunning face made me gulp down a minuscule part of the anxiety that bubbled in my chest.
"Okay," I squeaked, my voice squeamish and finicky. Without warning Aaron leaned down and covered his mouth with mine. The sudden touch of his lips brought heat to my cheeks and devotion to my heart. The kiss was short, but so blissfully enchanting that I was disappointed when he pulled away.
"Steady hands, straight shot," Aaron reminded me and nodded toward the safe house. At his urging, I took a breath and crossed the street. The traffic was mildly busy with a couple people strolling the sidewalks. I stopped at a narrow alley bordering the brick building. Directly in front of me was a large curved entryway with a brass doorknob. Ignoring the door, I made my way down the alleyway and stopped about a quarter of the way down. The walls on either side of me were faded red brick. Trash and debris littered the dirty uneven ground as I searched for the alcove that Aaron had mentioned. The wall was rough and cracked in many places, except for a space that seemed carved back into the building. The indentation was slight, about a half inch, maybe less. The top of the nook had four sides similar to the frame of a door.
On the top right were legible numbers written in pale ink: "1900"and "0500". After a second of thought, I realized it was military time. In between the tarnished digits, worn and rusted was a small copper, circular knob. Barely
visible, it camouflaged so well with the blocks of stone that it was unseen to the unsuspecting eye.
Throwing caution to the wind, I gingerly pressed the button. Within seconds a whirring noise erupted from the wall. A small portion of the slab where the numbers were inscribed suddenly moved. The shifting was mechanic as the brick folded down to reveal an advanced machine that glowed with an ambient blue light. A small azure touchscreen radiated soft luminescence expectantly as if waiting for me. This must be the fingerprint scan Aaron spoke of. My gaze searched for speakers and when finding none, I frowned. If there were a mouthpiece embedded in the apparatus, it must be designed to be hidden. This essential modification must be why Aaron wanted me to say the code word.
Swallowing back the fear that crept up inside me, I gathered my resolve and spoke in a firm urgent voice, hoping I did not mess up the order of the words.
"Foxtrot, Oscar, Romeo, Echo, Sierra,Tango, Golf, Romeo, Echo, Echo, November."
A pleasant female voice abruptly spoke from the vicinity of the scan, startling me.
"Please standby for Forest Green security sequence."
The scan retracted back into the wall and silence ensued. With trembling fingers, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulders and casually slid my hand inside the folds of soft fabric. The cold steel of the gun grazed my skin as I grasped it firmly. The expectation of the unknown weighed heavily on my conscience. A montage of horrible things that could go wrong raced through my mind. I trusted my gut instinct, it hasn't failed me yet. Calling upon that strength, I tried to calm my shaky nerves.
Suddenly, a hissing noise erupted from the wall and the layer of bricks inside the alcove slid smoothly to the right. A man in a blue button down shirt and black slacks stood on the other side. Strapped to his waist, protruded the handle of a semi-automatic. He glared at me with a bored expression on his narrow face.
"HPD is in room two," he said and stepped back so I could enter. Emerging into a white room with bright fluorescent lights, I watched as he pressed a sequence of numbers into a keypad. The door slid shut with a soft click and I suddenly wondered how Aaron was going to enter.
"This is the first time Forest Green has been initiated," he mumbled and led me though an entryway into a long corridor. "Well...since I've been here," he added as an afterthought.
"There's a first time for everything," I answered, hoping he didn't notice the quiver in my voice. He agreed by grunting in acknowledgement. I tightened my grip on the concealed gun in my hand and continued to follow him through a maze of corners and passages. My chance of eliminating him was quickly running out. I knew I must take him down before he can turn around or stop at our destination.
Biting my lower lip in consternation, I tentatively drew out the weapon. His back was to me and as we strode forward, I fastened both my hands on the gun. We were in a narrow hallway with doors at certain intervals. About ten feet in front of us, the way split in both directions. On the left was another corridor and on the right was a glass encased area where monitors and an assortment of equipment were.
The guard suddenly came to a halt in front of one of the doors and turned around. I realized I was a little too late. I knew I had to do something fast, so as he swung toward me, I shoved him forward.
"What the-" he exclaimed and stumbled. Slightly turning, he saw the gun in my hands, the barrel pointed at him. His surprised eyes widened as he instantaneously reached for his own weapon.
Steady hands, straight shot.
