'A Good Story...Pt 1'

ST. PETERSBURG

The elegant dining room was filled with tables holding cutlery and decorations of extreme wealth. Never would anyone have guessed the room was part of a building used as a base by one of the most dangerous, and mysterious, terrorist organisations the Western world, infact the entire world, have faced in years. The Covenant.

On one of the tables lies an almost-entirely full bottle of expensive champagne that McKenas Cole reaches for, pouring the contents into a large glass, which he hands to his younger associate, Julian Sark. Cole raises the champagne bottle, intending to toast the successful solution of the Doleac Agenda problem.

"Julian, a toast…to the future…"

Sark raises his glass to the toast, seeing Cole's broad, all-American smile.

"The future." he replies, taking a little sip while watching Cole guzzle back a large amount of champagne from the bottle, growing ever more curious about the man before him.

"Damn, that's good stuff!…" exclaimed Cole, once the champagne was safely down his throat.

"So, now that we have formal business out the way," said Sark. "I have a question…"

"Sure." Cole replied.

"How exactly did you escape from CIA custody?…" Sark enquired, genuinely intrigued by the possibilities of the answer. "I spent two years at their mercy and with all my resources, I still failed to extricate myself. It was the Covenant, wasn't it?…"

Cole couldn't fail to suppress a slight chuckle. "I told you before, Mr. Sark…it's a good story…"

"Humour me."

The smile fading slightly, replaced with a momentary flash of paranoia, Cole observes the attractive young man before him, unsure whether or not to go along with his request to know one of Cole's most recent secrets. He soon concluded that for his years, Sark was a remarkably erudite guy and, though not really to be trusted, would most likely appreciate the delicious irony inherent in his tale. Cole also knew that if Sark breathed a word to anyone, he could easily kill him. The Covenant could kill anyone. He was part of something that would soon bring him more power than he ever dreamed, of that he was sure.

Consequently, Cole laughs loudly and slaps Sark jovially on the shoulder.

"Hey, what the hell?. It's not a state secret, or anything…well, not quite…" he grinned as he sits down at the table as he guzzles the rest of the champagne in the bottle. The more refined Sark follows his lead, still having barely drank half the champagne in his glass, wanting to remain alert around such a volatile character.

Cole grabs a second champagne bottle already set on the table and pops the cork as he speaks.

"Let's go back a year…"

CAMP WILLIAMS, NSC PRISON.

The large, concrete prison ravaged the open desert plain like a cancer inflicting the landscape. Camp Williams was as ever on alert for potential attacks by terrorist groups or criminal organisations looking to extract certain people who remained permanent residents of the National Security Council inside the intimidating facility. A black helicopter began swooping in from the sky and made an approach to land on the pad at the centre of the facility, obviously to deposit someone of importance.

"Ever since I had been captured by the CIA, they'd held me at Camp Williams," Cole told the intrigued Sark. "Where the NSC interrogate suspected terrorists under the banner of 'national security'. Really, it's just a place they store people they fear, on whom they don't have the evidence to bring to trial. I'd been in worse places. But, the NSC don't exactly welcome you with chocolates on the pillow!…"

A fist came flying into the face of Cole, knocking him hard to the ground. In the cell-filled bowels of the hi-tech prison building, the former SD-6 freelancer was being routinely beaten by a couple of burly NSC guards inside an extremely dark interrogation room, seemingly for refusing to bend to their will.

Cole was putting up with the beating with a fierce bravado.

"That all you NSC pussies got!…C'mon!…" he said, effectively laughing at their 'interrogation techniques. The remark got him yet another hard barrage of punches to the face and stomach.

Outside, in the prison courtyard, the black helicopter lands and several heavily-armed NSC guards proceed to open the sliding side door in almost militaristic fashion, greeting the VIP, in the world of intelligence, who emerges. He was the director of the National Security Council, the charmless Robert Lindsay.

"Has the agent I requested arrived yet?…" asked Lindsay to the guards before him, as he stepped off the helicopter, flanked by three aides who flittered around him like bees to a honey pot.

"Should be arriving any minute, sir." replied the NSC guard, who with his partner slid the helicopter door shut behind Lindsay as he stalked with his aides into the facility.

Back in the 'interrogation room', the beating continued as Cole began sporting bruises and cuts all over his body from the relentless pummelling of the two NSC guards before him. He still managed to stand up and spat out the blood congealing from his mouth. He started to chuckle and taunts the guards with Rocky-like boxing maneuvers.

"I am the Greatest. I sting like a butterfly…float like a bee!…yeah!…" Cole taunted, beginning to avoid the punches of the increasingly frustrated and unamused NSC guards. As he ducks and dives the punches, he starts unloading a few of his own in places on them, angering the two men even more.

The sound was audible of the electronic prison gates sliding open routinely as a visitor begins entering the dark cell rooms in the underbelly of the black-budget prison. Lindsay was approaching the cell with his entourage, one of whom clutched a slimline briefcase like his very life depended on the contents.

In the cell, Cole began to prove that despite several years being questioned in CIA custody, he still retained the fighting acumen that made him such a fierce opponent. As one of the guards went to hit him, Cole unleashed a quick barrage of sucker punches which knocked the man dazed to the ground.

He turned to the second guard. "One down…you to go!…"

The final NSC guard charged toward him, straight into a roundhouse kick that Cole provided, followed by a sucker punch to the face that knocked him painfully to the floor, almost unconscious. Cole then heard the final electronic gate unlock and turned to see Lindsay and his entourage appear behind the frosted glass separating his cell and the corridor.

"Ding-ding!. Seconds out. Time for a new challenger. Director Lindsay?…" he enquired, observing Lindsay not even respond with the hint of a smile.

"Still the same old McKenas Cole, I see," said Lindsay. "Mouth quicker than an express train."

"And the same old Bob Lindsay," replied Cole, looking up and down at what most would say was a finely-tailored suit adorning the powerful director. "No idea what makes good threads!…"

Lindsay ignored the mockery of his dress sense and turns his attention to the two floored, dazed NSC guards, as they began climbing to their feet inside the cell.

"You two, clean yourselves up." he ordered, in a chastising manner.

The pair of NSC guards both began heading out of the cell, giving Cole looks of pure hatred as he taunted them once more through feigning boxing maneuvers, remarkably light on his feet after having suffered such a battering. As the guards leave, Lindsay enters with his entourage of suits and three heavily-armed guards.

"So, you here to go a few rounds with the Cole?…" asked McKenas. "Or d'you just come by to talk about the box scores?…"

"Actually, I'm here to make you an offer." replied Lindsay, staring straight at the prisoner before him without a trace of fear, but with an element of distaste.

Cole couldn't help but be curious at the announcement. "I'm all ears, baby." he said, sitting down on the rock hard surface that passes for a bad, waiting to hear what the director has to say.

Clicking his fingers once, Lindsay motioned for the suit clutching the slimline briefcase to open it, which he did. As he addressed Cole, the director removed a thick government form that he started to flick through the pages of with one hand, while removing an expensive pen from his pocket with the other.

"This is a document, signed by myself and the Director of Central Intelligence, that authorises the NSC to officially release you from custody and provide you with immunity from prosecution," announced Lindsay, signing the form with the pen once he manages to track down the page for his signature. "Your record will be exonerated. You'll be a free man. Chance to start over."

Lindsay threw the document over to where Cole sits, who caught it and started flicking through as the director did. He soon finds both signatures as promised, the form being genuine. Lindsay said nothing and remained stony-faced as he awaited a response. Seeing the contents, Cole began nodding with a mock seriousness.

"Sure, this is cool," He said. "But, you know, I kinda' get the feelin' this ain't comin' as a freebie."

The intuition of the man before him finally convinced Lindsay to give up a slight smile.

"What is it you want from me?…" asked Cole, with a genuine seriousness rare to his demeanour. In response, Lindsay turned to the subordinate with the briefcase, who opened it up again allowing Lindsay to remove a single page holding a photograph. He held it up for Cole to see.

"We want you to find, and kill, this person." The director announced.

Studying the photo, as Lindsay studied his response, Cole began nodding with great curiosity.

ST. PETERSBURG

Intently following the story being recited to him, Sark can't help but reach a conclusion with this latest development, which Cole detects as he guzzles back more champagne from the bottle.

"Who was the photograph of?…" Sark asked.

Resting the champagne back on the table, Cole just smiles enigmatically at the question…

CAMP WILLIAMS, NSC PRISON

A smile formed over the face of Cole as he looks into the face of the person in the photograph Lindsay holds up before him. Lindsay's face had no such lightness.

"I see…I see…" mused Cole. "Is this a joke?…"

"I don't joke, McKenas." Lindsay replied, without a trace of mocking. "Now can you accomplish the task asked of you?…"

"Well, we both know the answer to that. If I couldn't 'accomplish the task', you wouldn't be standing here in your not-so-fine-pressed-suit playing all Mr Senior Pants, would ya?…"

"Then, we have a deal?…" enquired the director. "Your freedom, and immunity, in exchange for delivery of this person's body?…"

Once more, Cole studied the photograph. He studied Lindsay. He didn't understand any of this. Ever since he'd been captured by the CIA, Robert Lindsay had been a thorn in his side, constantly pushing the powers-that-be to, at the beginning, have him used as an experimental guinea-pig on his neuro-shock therapy treatments, hoping that they'd learn secrets about those he was formerly affiliated with, Irina Derevko in particular. And later, to have him sent to the chair after it was concluded he held no further intel on those he once worked with, who were either now dead or in custody anyway.

And now, Bob Lindsay wanted to set him free, simply for the price of doing something he'd done countless times before. Of killing someone. The fact was, though, it was the 'someone' the NSC wanted him to kill that puzzled McKenas the most. It made no sense to him. What could they possibly gain?. It dawned on Cole that Lindsay was devious enough to set all this up as a way of permanently getting rid of him. But, if that was the case, why show him the person he did. Why not Derevko?. Or Arvin Sloane, for that matter, who Cole hated to hear had escaped the fall of the Alliance and was now a 'reformed character'. Thing is, he knew this may be his only chance of not spending the rest of his life trapped in the concrete jungle that was this prison.

And if Lindsay was planning to double-cross him, he'd deal with that at the time.

Cole proceeded to nod at the director's question, which seemed to please Lindsay, though he tried not to show it.

"Okay." He said. "But, you gotta know…if the food were better here, I'd be staying, man, I gotta whole lotta guards still left to smackdown!…bam!…"

The humour of the prisoner, who began chuckling to himself, is ignored by Lindsay, who showed no hint of finding him funny as he picked up the immunity agreement and handed it to his subordinate, who put it back in the briefcase with the photograph, which was then sealed up and clutched safely once more.

"You'll be supplied all the combined CIA/NSC intel we presently have on the target, who we've codenamed 'Nightingale'." announced Lindsay, giving away no hint of the codename's relevance. "Your partner, one of the NSC's finest, will be along shortly to give you all the relevant files before you transfer out of here."

As Lindsay began making for the door, feeling the conversation was over, Cole began raising a voice of opposition.

"Hold up there, Bob, nobody said nothing about no partner." He reminded the director. "I don't do 'partners'. Teams, I can deal, sure, but partners…nah-ah…too many complications…"

"It's either a partner, or this cell for the next thirty years." Declared Lindsay, in uncompromising fashion. The announcement forced Cole to acquiesce on this point, which Lindsay noticed as he stepped out of the cell with his entourage, looking down the corridor at the prison gate as it electronically sounds open.

"Ah, and here she is…" he announced.

Cole moved closer towards the cell door, blocked by the cold-looking, heavily-armed guards, observing the shape of a very slim, very well-dressed and very attractive woman moving down the corridor through the last gate. He noticed she had milky white skin, a full bosom, and neat, long, blonde hair.

Lindsay provided the introductions as the woman fully appeared. "McKenas Cole…this is agent Lauren Reed…"

Out of the prison corridor, the sultry figure of Lauren Reed appeared at the guarded doorway and smiled at her boss, glancing upon McKenas for the first time.

Cole smiled upon seeing her, instantly finding her attractive and, being the way he is, unafraid to show it.

"Well!…" he said. "Having a partner may be more fun than I thought…"

Hearing the remark, Lauren smiles at him in a devilish way…