3. What's In The Box?
Marella picked up the urn that was sitting atop the files that filled the casket.
Her jaw tightened "That's not him," she said from between clenched teeth.
The others looked at her in question, clearly wondering how she would know.
"He didn't want to be cremated" she said.
She turned on her heel and strode towards an empty desk, where she promptly unscrewed the top of the canister and tipped out its entire contents.
"It's not him because he had two gold crowns!" She said shifting through the ash, her voice rising in agitation.
"He might or might not be dead, but this… is not him!" she said resolutely, "and I won't rest until I find him!"
"Dead or alive" She added in a whisper.
Chapman used that moment to enter the room.
"While I'd like to extend my condolences, I think that would be inappropriate at this time, considering the circumstances." He said, with a sense of sadness.
Marella nodded and her game face returned.
She sat down again with the others.
There was a sense of disquietude in the room.
The group knew now that the box topped with the white hat was only the first scene in the day's masterpiece theater.
Chapman waited a few moments before he held up a set of folders, "you will each have a roll to play," he said, handing out the paperwork.
"But not before looking through that lot," he said hinting toward the filed filled casket, "because you need to know how the system works."
"System, what system?" Nash asked.
Chapman grinned before handing the last file to the ever-eager pilot, "Ah Wings, always wanting to get your wheels up."
Nash squirmed under the scrutiny.
Chapman stepped up onto the stage area and cleared his throat.
What Michael has been working on is just one part of a global issue that we've been working to coordinate for years and we're almost there now. The fact that this has a personal connection, made it more urgent for him.
"After all, we're not getting any younger." He said, rubbing the back of his neck in sympathy of the term.
"In the paperwork that I just handed you are some statistics and in the sealed envelope, the characters assigned to you. Don't open it until you all agree to pursue your mission."
Chapman could feel the question marks fly at him, so before he'd have to answer, he quickly diverted the topic.
"First of all we need to throw that black chopper back together and have this wrapped up before the election"
Chapman could almost hear the collective penny drop.
Timelines were always a contentious issue, and it was a disappointment that the crew had not been able to use The Lady earlier and there was much talk over the dinner table when nothing seemed to come from that faithful November two years ago.
But the fact was that no one had actually said which election Michael had talked about when they were abord the RV Dolphin, sailing home from the last mission they had attended together.
"Well heck, I guess assuming sure went and made an ASS outta U and ME right quick," saint John said in his usual quite charm.
Chapman glanced humorously at the older man before he continued, "As you can see in your statistic page, forty-two million people are trafficked every year. In the great old USA eight hundred thousand children disappear, mark my words, that's not a mystery, it's a quota." He said pausing to gauge for a reaction.
"Do you think Adeline was trafficked by Mofett?" Dale asked almost without thinking.
"Very perceptive Dale. Michael started looking into it when he retired from The Firm, he'd received an anonymous tip that Mofett had a daughter who had "died" in custody," he said while showing airquotes, "a few months after being found guilty for being part of a trafficking ring.
"What do you mean "died"?" Cait asked.
"Well, you know how it is Cait, when you know too much and you are forced to squeal, sometimes you end up being silenced." Chapman shrugged before eyeing off Branson.
"You know how it is in your circles don't you Richards?" he asked, his provocation intentional.
"What are you implying?" Branson asked, narrowing his eyes at the man on the stage.
He knew perfectly well of course, most people with his amount of wealth didn't get that way and manage to stay out of the cult.
"Don't worry Branson, you wouldn't be here if you were one of them, not for a lack of them trying. It's actually the whole reason you are here."
"I'm not sure I like where this is heading," Branson sat up and crossed his arms.
"What's he talking about Bran?" Jo asked him quietly, reaching for his arm.
"Something I have avoided at any cost," he replied nervously through tight lips.
"Now Jo, don't jump to conclusions, your boyfriend is perfectly innocent. But it's time for him to stop with the apathy and use his powers for good." Chapman said, raising more questions than he answered.
"Project Guardian along with hundreds of other counter military groups around the world had been officially activated by the administration in 2018 under EO 13848. Our First mission was just a tester to see how we worked together on the continued A56-7W project.
"Recruits were those who walked the line and defied convention, who maybe didn't want to follow the rules if that meant they would need to sell part of their souls and who were intuitively aware of what they didn't want to be part of even if they didn't know why.
"The "in crowd" is a big club - a club you weren't invited to.
"We needed certain skills, skills that you all had. We also needed real relationships because nothing else will fly in the current game. Actors need not apply - there are enough of them out there already."
Cait shifted uneasily, "Do these… recruits have a choice?" She asked hypothetically.
Chapman stood silent for a moment rocking on his heals, did they have a choice?
He took a breath, "Well of course they do, but to sit idle is to doom eight hundred thousand children a year to trafficking and..." Chapman shrugged "and dare I say it, the evils of SRA.
"Please understand that Human trafficking IS the most lucrative illegal industry in the world – bigger than drugs, bigger than firearms. Why? Because humans can be reused over, and over, and over again. Make sense?"
Chapman looked into the eyes of each of his wide-eyed potential, assessing their mood by their expression.
Branson still had his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw was tight, his steely gaze unfaltering. He knew the rumors of what happened behind the closed doors. What happened there stayed there or else.
Jo, her arm now looped through Branson's, her body leaning into him. She broke eye contact as soon as Chapman's gaze met hers.
Cait was similarly hanging onto Saint John, the man comforting her with a strong arm around her shoulders.
While Nash had reached out to hold Dale's hand, resting on it on her thigh as she looked on bravely.
Le appeared the least troubled in the group. On the outside in any case, but Chapman knew that the man's thoughts were deep thanks to his own childhood experiences.
It was time to move onto the next step.
"I'd like you all to look over the paperwork in your spare time - make time. The documents are classified so you'll need to look them over here. We'll try and make things as comfortable for you as possible. You have till the end of the week."
"What? But…." was only one of the comments uttered as the group all snapped out of their funk and became animated again.
"Make time." Chapman repeated in a tone not to be questioned any further. "And start getting Airwolf back online, I've enlisted Diego Jr to help, he'll be ready to assist come Saturday. We reconvene before that to confirm where we all stand. I expect a favorable result from your findings.
"Remember it's for the Children." He said, knowing full well he was weaponising his words.
This was a war.
"Oh, and Marella?" Chapman waited until the agent made eye contact. "We'll do everything we can to find him."
With that, he headed out of the room, leaving the unsettled group in his wake.
