CHAPTER NINE
"This is an outrage! Gates, what happened?!" yelled Director Du, his face contorting with anger.
"She managed to get an edge, sir. What did you expect? She's our best agent. The best. I don't think one person is going to stop her," Gates replied, throwing his hands up in defense.
"I just can't fathom the thought that a simple woman, a woman we controlled for..." Du stopped when Gates raised his hand.
"I know how long, sir. I'm head of the project," Gates replied, his face a mixture of guilt and remorse.
"That's right, Deputy Director. Which means your tactics haven't worked. Now, we play my game," Du said, looking at Gates coldly.
"What are you suggesting?" inquired Gates, not fully understanding what he was hinting at.
"Termination."
"Sir, I think its a little early for..."
"None sense, Daniel. She's become a difficult asset. If she really has gone rouge, she's a walking book of secrets in the world. She knows too much. She needs to be taken care of, and taken care now. Besides, we were going to kill her when we caught her, remember?" Du replied, staring down Gates with a look that could kill.
"Yes, but..."
"There is no but, however..." Du moved over and whispered into Gates ear. "Do I need to remind you what else she knows?"
"That was taken care of. We broke her down after that. She probably doesn't remember," Gates whispered back, the calmness leaving his face.
"Yes, but she might. I can't take that chance. We can't take that chance," Du said, walking away from Gates.
"Listen up, everyone! The situation has escalated into bad territory, and we can no longer afford your best efforts. I need better than your best. I need perfection," Du said, calling out to all the technicians, who immediately stopped and listened.
"The Global Justice Chiefs of Staff has asked me if I would issue a warrant for Alpha's execution. I agreed. So, now, Agent Alpha is wanted dead or alive, and I want the remaining agents, Agent Beta and Agent Charlie, of Project Falconeye activated," commanded Du, who stood like a king in front a roaring crowd.
The technicians stood motionless and silent. Not only were they confused, but afraid. Afraid of what their leader was ordering them to do. The job had never required searching for a target to kill. That job was for the people they captured and detained for life. Assassins.
"Well, move it!" Du ordered, his charisma shining.
Du walked past Gates, who was still thinking over what Du had said. He was not necessarily surprised by Du's move, but he was unprepared. He was vulnerable to the idea. Fear glinted in his eyes, as thoughts raced in his head. Forbidden thoughts.
"The Chiefs of Staff did not give you that order, and you know that," said the hoarse voice of Gates.
"They don't, and you don't anymore," Du smirked, pointing towards the technicians.
Gates turned from Du. He stared at the picture of Jen on the large monitor, and ran his hands through his blonde hair, a habit he had when he was uncomfortable. He took his black-rimmed glasses off and pulled out a cloth to clean them. The deal was getting out of hand, and he knew it...
--
Jen checked her bandage, and everything was in order. She had emptied her purse of the passports, money, and her picture of the mysterious blonde-haired man. She put the picture in her pants pocket, and then handed Mark the coat she had bought. It was a large black, leather coat, with several pockets. She gave him the money and the passport to put inside of the coat.
"Why are you making me carry this stuff?" he asked, helping her stuff the items into the coat.
"Because, I can't keep carrying that purse. Its too much of a hassle...plus it was cheap, and I'd rather buy a better one," Jen said, her feminine side still intact.
"Pff, women," Mark rolled his eyes.
"I would've liked to see you say that to your mom...when she gave birth to you," Jen joked, throwing the purse in a trash can.
"Touche'," Mark replied, opening his cellphone.
Jen's eyes caught his phone and she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. She snatched the phone from his hands, and threw it out the window. Mark looked disbelievingly at her, like a kid who just had his candy taken from him.
"That cost me a lot of money!" Mark said, his face still in shock.
"Yeah, but it may have cost us our life. GJ can probably track us on it. That's probably how they found us the last two times we've encountered them," Jen said, picking up her gun, loading it, and then placing it in Mark's coat.
"You think I'm going to need that?" Mark questioned.
"You might. I don't need it," said Jen flatly.
"So, I'm searching for information on The Rouge, and his men?" asked Mark, walking to the door.
"Yep. I'll be across town at Binkly Ross's apartment again. If I'm really part of GJ, then Binkly Ross must have been an informant fo me. How else would I have his number in my phone back at the Classy Class," said Jen, who walked over to Mark.
"Be careful. I wouldn't want you losing your pants or anything," Mark said, smiling at her.
"I believe only one of us has that problem, big boy," replied Jen, leaving a coy stare at him as she left.
Mark just giggled, and left out the door behind her. He was beginning to enjoy this spy thing...
--
Jen had made her way into the apartment easily. The two guards laid unconscious on the floor ahead of Jen, not even seeing her when she knocked them out cold. She stepped over them, and got a better and clearer view of the apartment. Most of the stuff remained, except for the recliner that Binkly Ross had met his demise in. The two men she had defeated the last time she was in the room were gone, probably dead in the river for failing this so called Rouge.
Jen looked at her surroundings, hoping to find a file just lying around, or even a computer. She went into the kitchen area, which was still in content condition. Jen walked onto the yellow tile and looked for what was her future on a simple kitchen bar. Her answer came in an envelope, which rested peacefully on a pile mail. Jen paced quickly over to it and picked the envelope up.
It was empty. There was something interesting printed on the outside of the envelope, though. Jen read the large printed letters of "ALPHA" in the middle of the envelope's cover. In the upper left hand corner, Jen read the name of a law firm.
"Joseph Jacobs Justice, Attorney at Law," Jen read aloud, the words escaping her lips with familiarity.
Joseph Jacobs...Gosh, I can't remember that name...but it says Alpha! That must mean he knows me. What does the return address say?
"1893 Fifth Avenue, Paris, France," Jen read underneath the name.
Jen could her the groans of the two guards in the other room. They were starting to come to, and Jen needed to get out before she had the police after her...if they were not already.
"Guess I'm taking a trip to Paris," she quipped as she exited the kitchen.
--
Mark sat in the coffee shop, sipping on some hot coffee while behind a small laptop. It was still early in the morning, and the shop was being swamped by people in hope of waking up with their respected beverages. Mark was more preoccupied with the task at hand.
He was really only able to turn up theories and ideas on The Rouge. One site included the assassin under an urban legend category, while another worshipped The Rouge. However, none of them agreed with anything except the fact that he was a man that was in the military, and went rouge after seeing his comrades be killed in battle back in the Gulf War. There was nothing on men in black trench-coats with green gloves, or anything on relations with a guy named The Watcher. Nothing!
Wait...what did this link lead to? A news report of man watching his friend be killed by an assassin group? Mark clicked on the link and the page loaded.
He was shocked to see the content of the story...
--
Jen waited in the hotel room for Mark to return, struggling with the thoughts that had entered her mind. Who was Joseph Jacobs? What was Dreamcatcher? Why was she part of Falconeye? Why did the Rouge want her dead?
"It's not a matter of what I want, but what my boss, who you did a fine job of pissing off by not dying when you should have"...What does that mean? Not dying?
Was that Dreamcatcher? Was she being handed over to the Rouge by GJ? No, they would not do that to one of their agents. Would they?
They would if you knew something...something that could ruin them.
What could she possibly know? She couldn't remember now if she wanted to. She could hardly remember anything.
"I have to think...what's the connection? Its obvious GJ is after me, because I didn't follow orders...what did I do? Did I do it on purpose? They could be confused just as much as me. That's why I need to make contact with them...through Jacobs," Jen said aloud, pondering everything she knew.
This all seemed familiar to Jen. The pacing she was doing, the thinking that was involved, and of course, the planning. It felt familiar in a way that she felt like she had done it often in the past. She must have, being an agent for Global Justice and all. How did she get caught up in all this anyway? She wasn't old, so she must have been in high school less than a decade of ago. That was her conclusion.
What about the blonde-haired man? Who is he?
Jen was reminded of her dream over a week ago. She had forgotten all about it! She pulled the picture of the blonde-haired man out of her pocket and looked at it. The dream flashed back in her mind, and the image of the blonde-haired man played back in her mind. She looked at the picture, and could tell it was old. Older than five years, which meant she knew this man a long time ago. Didn't she? Did she even know him? Could he just have been a target?
No, you're not an assassin. You did good for your country...didn't you? Oh, I wish I could remember more! The waiting is killing me.
Jen put the photo back in her pocket and sighed. She sat back on the bed, and the troubled thoughts subsided. She needed some rest, and she got some. She fell asleep on the bed, putting her problems away for the future...
--
The Paris museum was not a decorative one, but it worked for their meetings. The museum's pieces of art were ancient artifacts of the older Europe and its civilizations. It was worth the expensive admission fee, but not exhilarating to the point of coming back.
A tall French gentleman, dressed in a trenchcoat and green gloves, walked past a crowd of tourists and to a doorway that entranced only employees. The gentlemen had a dark eyepatch over his right eye, and walked into a dark room with no windows.
The gentlemen could feel another presence in the room, but could not see it. He knew very well who it was, because he had come to meet this unknown presence. The French gentleman only said two words to a mysterious, shadowed figure on the other side of the room.
"Club Banana," he said, embarrassed by what he said.
"Hello, The Scarecrow," the mysterious presence said in the darkness, lighting a cigarette.
"I still don't understand why we use that password," The Scarecrow said with his French accent as he took a seat nearby.
"Its random. If you don't understand it, then no one else will. Which makes it a reasonable password," the shadowy figure of The Rouge said, puffing on the cigarette.
"Yes, boss," The Scarecrow replied, obviously still not clear on the meaning, but becoming disinterested.
"Nice work with that Global Justice agent. I recieved word that he was taken out quickly," The Rouge said, keeping the piece of tobacco in her fingers.
"Yes, but Dreamcatcher got away. She even got out of The Watcher's grasp--"
"Yes, I know, but Dreamcatcher can only run so far before she gets back in my grasp," replied The Rouge, putting out the cigarette.
"She's a smart American, that's for sure, but our men are closing in on her, but the possibility of her catching her is growing harder..." trailed The Scarecrow.
"Oh really?"
"Oui, she's starting to recognize us before we recognize her. Plus, I received word she dyed her hair..."
"She couldn't pull off black hair anyways," said The Rouge, continuing to stay in the shadows.
"Right, but even so, I believe she will be found soon, and we are prepared to take any action necessary to bring her to you," The Scarecrow said, standing up.
"I should hope so. I don't care if we have to lose our own. There will be only one person that will send Dreamcatcher to her demise...me, and me alone. Au revoir, The Scarecrow," The Rouge said, initiating that the meeting was over.
The Scarecrow bowed and turned. He exited out the door, leaving The Rouge to a solitude of darkness and thought.
Revenge will be mine.
--
Well, you know the drill. Hope you enjoyed this last chapter. The introduction of a new character that you will see a lot of in the future. Please review! Thanks...