Chapter Twelve
The Question of Existence
Claudia and Steve's operation in San Francisco had been the quiet resolution to a very noisy and disruptive case which had effectively begun with no explanations and ended with no evidence.
Artie and Leena's work in West Palm Beach had been noticed by many, but through the judicious use of artifacts, no evidence had been recovered that could lead back to the agents.
However, in New York the deaths of dozens of men and women in Prospect Park, Barclays Center, Union Square Park and the capture of a man, a jewel lined bow and a quiver which trace back not to Brooklyn but to the British Museum, the denouement taking place on a very public set of stairs cannot be hidden or explained away.
However, the most common problem that the agents face is 'what to do once the smoke clears'.
As frustrating as it is to admit, none of the guilty parties in these three conflicts are likely to ever suffer the consequences of their acts.
Whoever had used a fragment of the cornerstone of the Black House to disrupt communications on an immense scale in San Francisco is unlikely to ever be found. Claudia and Steve have the shard and have so coated it and the cornerstone with neutralizing goo that it will no longer be a danger.
Paul Carson in West Palm Beach is technically guilty of two attacks on Alfred Ganze, as well as several other victims, but the Silver Dollar has been snagged, bagged and is now tagged where it rests in the Feng Shui Circle room awaiting Leena's placement in the appropriate location.
But the incidents in New York are far reaching and complex. Dozens of men and women are dead, and though Myka and Pete have recovered the artifacts in the midst of a great many witnesses, they cannot be evidence in any potential trial.
Myka's position, in fact, is that if they can get the ear of Mrs. Frederick, it would be a very good thing if Rybak could end up at Guantanamo Bay or the Bronze Sector, but each of those potential solutions will have to come from atmospheres far more rarified than either of them are likely to breathe.
x
Myka and Peter had instead, in short order, gone from being prime guests of the Midtown South Precinct to One Police Plaza behind City Hall to the Department of Homeland Security, to the Central Intelligence Agency Field Office and to that body's Washington D.C. Main Office before they'd ultimately found themselves in the Headquarters of the U.S. Secret Service.
Old Homestead indeed.
And through all of this two-day rendition of 'Hot Potato', they'd availed themselves of a paraphrased recommendation from the Old Testament 'Book of Isaiah': 'And like sheep which before their sharers are dumb, so opened they not their mouths.'
xx
In the past they had had some powerful support in this building from their regrettably late boss Daniel Dickinson, but Elise Yoo, the present Deputy Director, is not as favorably inclined as her predecessor had been.
They are eventually guided to and placed into that woman's private office, probably with the intent of impressing on their minds the seriousness of their situation.
However, they are not concerned with anything other than maintaining silence and waiting for the inevitable, a 'rescue' by the Warehouse's Caretaker.
But when intervention comes, it is not from a source either had anticipated. It comes not with a knock at Yoo's door but by that portal's opening, and the entrance of two men who flank it, all without consulting the Director's wishes.
The third man who enters is tall with a shock of white hair and a familiar face; recognition of which brings the briefly outraged woman to her feet, in as much a posture of Attention as a civilian may adopt, which brings Myka and Pete to a similar aspect which surprise had delayed.
"Good evening."
"Good evening, sir," the three respond in broken chorus.
"I came in person so there will be no doubt that these orders come from me, and there will be no written record of these orders."
"Yes, sir," Director Yoo replies.
"Oh. At ease. Director, these two people, Secret Service Agents though they are, together with others represent a combined Secret force within the various disciplines in support of this Nation, and as such they do not exist."
"Sir, that … thing killed dozens of people. It is evidence in a mass murder spree – ."
"And that is deplorable. I assure you I hate what has to be done. I wouldn't do this if I had a choice, but there are too many things, too many dangers, that cannot see the light of day.
"I'm sorry, more so than I can express, but the thing that killed those people must remain secret."
He stops, and all within the room see the weight of his decision, and perhaps they partially understand what it costs to make it.
"You will therefore delete and destroy all records of their activities in this incident, and exclude the names of these agents, and those of others of whom I may in due course inform you, from all references to the events in Brooklyn and Manhattan."
"I understand, sir."
x
He turns to Myka and Pete, and in his eyes they can read the loss this decision puts upon his soul.
They have known that cost too many times, and know that the three of them, and others, will have to pay it too many more times in the future.
But for the moment he pushes it aside, until the next nightmare invades his dreams.
"My second reason for my in-person visit is to meet you, and to thank you for your Service."
"Thank you, sir."
"I hadn't, before today, been able to meet you. My boss back then took care of all those encounters."
None will point out that, in the intervening four years, no information had ever been revealed to the interloper of the Warehouse's existence. The consequences to the entire planet of that knowledge were too terrible to risk.
"You are always welcome, sir."
"Thank you, Agent Bering, though that would be difficult, as you and the facility in which you work does not exist."
"No, sir."
He extends his hand to each. "So, I take this opportunity to thank you, and your fellows, on behalf of a grateful Nation."
.
.
.
.
Next Adventure: A Moment: The Agents battle a threat that cannot be perceived, nor can it be defended against.
And they must deal with consequences to the Warehouse life that can tear the soul.