Chapter 20
Authors Note: I'm going to be away at the country for the next week and a half, I'll be back next, next Sunday. Lol. I apologize profusely to everyone I review for and I promise I'll review like mad as soon as my suitcase is in my room and I can run up to the computer.
Authors Note 2: Special thanks to Rat for encouraging me to continue this fic. She's made me realize that I've neglected it for too long and that I should forge ahead no matter what.
"'s what bring your all the way out here. . . to this house. . . so early in the morning?"
"You hung up on me yesterday," Arnoldo stated plainly.
"I'll send a Hallmark card, what did you expect?" Sands retorted already knowing where this conversation would lead.
". . .And you sounded preoccupied."
"I was," though he made no more mention with what.
"How's Sable doing?"
"Just great," she said walking into the room. She'd heard the voices and at once recognized Arnoldo's. She noticed the relaxed pose Sands was in, but there was a tenseness in his back that betrayed his calm facade. The same tenseness would have been there if he'd been using his fake arm.
Yes, that's right, Sands had a number of disguises from wigs to colored contacts, platform shoes to loafers. Among the eye-patches and birth-mark arsenal he also had a fake arm.
During lengthy conversations he used the arm to appear normal meanwhile using his real arm to keep a gun trained on the person he spoke with. Agent Sands was never without a weapon and should anybody try anything he'd split-second fire away.
She had a bitch of a migraine and wanted more than anything to just curl up and go back to sleep, but she was Sands' partner and therefore wanted to be privy to whatever information Arnoldo was here to share.
"Dawes was suspended for a week and he'll no longer have anything to do with you," Arnoldo assured them deciding to just go ahead and state facts.
"He'd better not, I'd add a few holes-"
"Sands," Sable stopped him in mid-sentence not because what he said offended her, but because if this conversation were being taped they could get in a serious amount of trouble. Normally, she wouldn't have cared, and might have partaken in the new issuing of holes, but things were tough as it was with the whole situation and there was no need to make it any worse.
Arnoldo was glad Sands couldn't see what Sable looked like. He might have tracked down Dawes if he saw how sick she looked. Her face was abnormally pale and her eyes were half-glazed and weary. She sat with her shoulders slumped as if she lacked the strength to sit properly.
Arnoldo had expected something like that to happen, he'd once seen her shot twice and remain standing, but the drugs in the water cared nothing about physical strength. The maximum punishment for a man of Dawes' rank was a week suspension. The mixture must have taken a serious dislike to her system, it would only be about a day or so for her to be back on her feet. A day or two in which Sands and Sable would plot and run rampant.
"The mission I'm sending you on-"
"Er-"Sands was about to interrupt. . .
"In a week or so," Arnoldo finished, "is against one of the best- known kidnappers in the US."
"If he's so well known, why haven't we gotten him before now?" Sable asked.
"He's kept hidden, its been almost impossible to keep track of where he's been. Over the years its been noticed that after every fourth kill he returns to. . ."
"Oh lemme guess." Sands sighed in boredom, he'd found arsonists, drug lords, and kidnappers all to share this one trait, "he goes back to his hometown."
"Exactly," Arnoldo handed a file to Sable and one typed in Braille to Sands. "He's back here, or will be, next week. What we need you to do is go in, kill him, and get the kid out. There will most definitely be time before then for us to secure his exact location."
"Does he have any backup guys? Lackeys, you know," Sable inquired.
"Not so far as we know," Arnoldo shook his head. The amount of information he knew now was limited, and the CIA was still debating if this was a job for their corporation to accept.
"Will we know, I want to know what we're going up against. How much ammo they'll have, the types of guns they'll be using. Is the place booby-trapped, are we walking into a trap?"
"All that information will be given to you. Both of you asked for the files and that's what I provided. The rest you'll have to be a little patient for."
"Alright, alright, we'll bring enough ammo for a small army," Sands said.
"Don't you anyway?" Arnoldo chuckled, a rare thing.
"Better prepared than dead," Sable replied.
"There's no arguing that. Well, that's it then, Sands, if I could have a word with you before I leave?"
"Uh-oh, I'm in trouble," he snorted and stretched when he stood.
"When are you not?" Sable leaned her head on one of the chair cushions and was lost to the world.
* * *
"Sands, what the hell are you doing?" Arnoldo snapped bringing him back to reality.
He hated being off-center and dizzy. When he was tired or even exhausted he could keep his mind on track and in focus. Drowsiness was another thing entirely.
He just wanted to let his eyes stay shut, but when they did it felt as if he were on a roller coaster. Up and around, upside down and it made him dizzy, not good at a time like this. He knew he had to stay awake and the feeling probably contributed to that. His stomach rolled at the sensation, he had tried to take on too much in to short a period of time.
Sleep beckoned to him as mist wound its way though his head. It was so hard to keep it at bay, another weight dropped and he barely moved out of the way in time.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Arnoldo stopped the machine and came over to where Sands had stopped.
"Don't think so," he replied turning his head in Arnoldo's direction. Wake up, you fuck-mook, he screamed in his mind!
"What's going on? Are you stoned, drunk?"
"Not yet," Sands sighed and pressed the tips of his fingers to the side of his eyes. He caught his breath as the pain lanced through him. It served him well, he flinched and anger followed the pain. The burning helped unfog his mind, chased the exhaustion away.
Sable was at his house now, reporting to the CIA for training and all she had to do, she'd be donw with it by now. She didn't know exactly where they were, but he had managed to tell her what was going down.
"I know what you're trying to prove." Sands might not be able to 'read' people anymore, but he knew what it was like to be challenged with seemingly insurmountable odds. Arnoldo was trying to pull something over his eyes, so to speak, and Sands had a general idea of why.
"Do you now."
"It really wasn't that difficult to figure out. You don't think I'm up to this do you."
"Honestly?" Arnoldo had known Sands far longer than anyone and aside from that fact, he was boss. "No, I think that this much stress especially after all that happened would be extremely dangerous not only for your health, but for whomever you're around."
"I would never have believed it." Sands' voice was ice cold, "Dawes has apparently been speaking to the right people, pulling on the ol' short and curlies, eh? I wouldn't ever have thought he'd manage to convince you."
"Convince me of what? What the hell are you talking about?"
"No. None of that bullshit. You know damn well what I'm talking about. You don't think I can still shoot, as Dawes has always said, that's all I'm good for,. You want to set up tests," he pulled out the two of his favorite guns. "Set it up."
He held his breath listening, the calm was returning to him. The empty, cold place inside opened and surrounded him, this was the place he went whenever he pulled the trigger. Nothing else mattered, no pain could touch him when he was like this.
Arnoldo stared at Sands before sighing to go and do as he'd requested. He set the human-like board and stepped behind the glass shield.
Sands knew where the target was, he had heard Arnoldo moving in one particular side of the room, heard the paper rustle and when Arnoldo shouted that it was safe he opened fire. No hesitation, no doubt, if he lost the location his demonstration would have been for nothing.
Four holes papered in a straight line along the targets forehead, six in the heart-area, and one in the knee-cap. Sands grinned, then shot out its eyes.
This was what he had lived for, he knew his guns better than he knew himself. He had killed the men shooting at him after the injury had been inflicted in Mexico. Killing was a part of him, nothing could stop him, no one would stop him from doing what he needed to do.
"Prove my point," he asked with no emotion and a blank face as he put the guns away.
Arnoldo knew there was no way he could ever convince the agent otherwise, nor sure if he wanted to. This was the end, Sands would live and die as an agent, it was in his blood and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Authors Note 3: Check out Rat, Jackfan2, and my combined fic on ICHAMOO! I hope you like it, we've had so much fun writing it so far. Thanks!