.
James "Smoke" Porter
…
"Right, my turn…"
"Ah, crap."
They had been trading stories for about an hour now, waiting for a call from the desk officer. The lobby at Thames House, while quite furbished, didn't provide much entertainment.
"…What's your single most painful experience, Evans?"
"*sigh* Cut my hands vaulting a barbed fence in a foot chase. Didn't have my gloves on."
"What, ya just flubbed like an amateur? Never been shot before? Stabbed?"
Sitting in a couch with James, the bald black woman took a deep breath and pointed at her L2 vest in response. An annoyed glare followed her gesture, but what she got in return was a mocking smile, which the man knew would cause her temper to boil.
"You bobbies (cops) wear that all the bloody time.", he chuckled and shook his head. "Won't hurt to break the rules every once in a while, y'know?"
"So says the war criminal."
"'Ey, don't believe those twits back at Base. My babes haven't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it."
"Sure…"
"I swear!"
That bit had a thin layer of truth- the White Masks used Compound Z, the predecessor to the Z8 Gas in his toxic beauties, when they attacked Bartlett University. A grim story, still less than a year old. Foreseeing where their talk was headed to, James dropped the topic altogether and leaned back on the couch, letting the minutes crawl once more with a sigh.
It's already afternoon. The ex-SAS trooper was donning his off-duty casuals, running a bit famished so late in the day. Preparations were well underway for the training exercise at the Kasbah Sehkra Mania, approximately 60 hours from now. That meant checking inventory, filing papers, and phoning people; Meg made it abundantly clear to get the ball rolling ASAP during the meeting earlier today. But while everyone was scrambling to get the pieces into place, the esteemed Rainbow Six herself still found a reason to send two of her people on an errand. To personally deliver an important message to an old friend in London, in light of this latest change in their training schedule, for transparency's sake. A four-hour drive from Herefordshire, even with optimal road conditions at the A40. A lot of trouble just for one, thin brown envelope.
James Porter and Morowa Evans were the would-be couriers, with the former resting their package on his lap. The arduous trip left the two Operators exhausted and stressed, not helped by the incessant ticking of the clock in the lobby. The man, more bored than knackered, had slightly higher spirits. The feeling had just sunk in that he was back in London. Home. A place he could relax, with people he could trust.
"Ever shoot an automatic weapon before?", he resumed the inane prodding.
"Yes.", Evans bluntly replied.
"Ever been to a car chase?"
"Yes."
"Ever shoot an automatic weapon whilst in a car chase?"
"Hmph. I wish…"
"Hah! That a no then? Well… me, Seamus, and the Old Man dropped into Egypt a few years ago, see? High-Value Extract in the dead of night..."
"More war stories? Just get to the point, Porter."
"Babe, I'm about to teach ya somethin' that can save your arse from ending up brown bread (ending up dead), so pay attention!"
He frowned at her, feigning offense. In truth, he couldn't wait to share the gory, grim details of that episode in his life that would rightfully give her a little scare. The loud pops of bullets, the ceaseless yelling and constant adrenaline. And of course, the ever-sweet aroma of smoky gunpowder. But before he could continue, a bespectacled woman entered the lobby and approached their seat. She seemed like the secretary of the man they were waiting for.
"Detective Evans? Director Sweeney's ready to see you."
"Finally. 'Bout time.", the black woman sighed.
She stood up and went straight to down the hall, leaving her erstwhile chum alone in the couch. James laughed to himself, impressed by the woman's gumption. He followed her, crossing the threshold from the lobby and into the main hall, all the way to the lift waiting at the end. It was their ticket to the Tactical Operations Center of the British Secret Service, or 'MI5', where one Kevin Sweeney was posted. Knowing this place like the back of his hand only hammered home to James he had finally returned to the fold, even it's only for a short while.
The sound of keyboard strokes and ringing phones came when the elevator doors opened. A familiar sight. Pencil pushers still making the rounds, analysts and operators manning their workstations, almost everyone speaking into their headsets. Phones and fax copiers ringing off the hook. As usual, MI5 had been working their people hard. It felt like a decade since James had been to this exact spot, when London declared Threat Condition Red in the wake of escalated terrorist activity at the time. Aside from the obvious equipment upgrades, nothing much of import had happened in the interim. As he and his partner walked across the busy office space, he scanned the room for their destination, and quickly set his eyes on the brand-new label on one of the opaque, glass doors. The bronze stamped tag was a nice new touch. 'Assistant Director General'.
*knock knock*
James let the cop do the honors and enter the room first. Beyond the swung-open door laid the recipient of their package, hard at work behind his desk. A dark-skinned man of average stature, broad build, and a quiet disposition. A suit and tie painted him as a different person, a far cry from the counter-terror field operative he used to be.
"Director?", Evans asked for his attention.
"Close the door…"
He ordered her without lifting his head. James, seeing that the 'Skipper' was still in his old habits, mentally told himself to be in his best behavior. At least until it was his turn to talk.
"…You have something for me?"
"Sir…"
Evans then bid James to give him the envelope, to which the other man promptly opened the parcel and relieved it of its contents. He produced a thick ream of documents held together by binder clips, about a few hours' worth of paperwork back at Hereford. Consummate eyes then started to scan the papers left to right, digesting every written word therein. Director General Sweeney didn't even ask the duo about their drive from the SAS base all the way to London. Heck, he didn't question the good Detective herself if she had been treated well by her new coworkers so far. Then again, he always did prefer getting straight to the point, despite his soft-spoken nature.
"…Full manifest of everything Rainbow will be bringing to the Atlas Fortress, three days from now."
"15,000 tech components?"
"All shapes n' sizes, Director. Enough to fill a lorry or two. Or a war room."
Sweeney gave his guests the evil eye, then resumed reading. After a few seconds, he sighed to himself and rested his chin on top of two propped up hands, clasped together. He glared at them as he shifted his seat and propped his back. He seemed cross.
"This much hardware and manpower… Seems to me Rainbow's planning to stay in Morocco. You sure you lot aren't using this exercise as a cover to jump ship?"
"The excursion's legitimate sir.", Evans started to elaborate. "There's an agreement between the Program's Board and the Minister Delegate in Rabat. Plus a written memo signed by the GIGR Commander himself. They'll accommodate us for only 30 days, then we'll RTB to Hereford."
All the bells and whistles, in other words.
"Now that's what I call transparency!", James boasted. "Ya see Skipper? Perhaps MI5 could learn a thing or two from us after all."
His jest was met with stoic eyes from the other man. It mattered little to the former subordinate, as he had enough experience working with the British Secret Service to back up his claim. He found it ironic for a highly-secretive organization to suddenly ask for honesty from the likes of Rainbow. The personal delivery of confidential documents should had been more than enough to build trust. Yet despite that, the spooks still demanded more proof. On the one hand, it was hard to fault the men and women of Thames House to be cautious. On the other hand, they wouldn't be having trouble making friends had they been forthcoming with their intentions all the time.
James learned this lesson the hard way. One thing about Egypt that he didn't yet tell Evans was the absolute… carnage that happened during the escape. The VIP that he and Baker's boys were sent to retrieve wasn't told the reason behind the rescue, well before it was launched. Had he known in advance, he would've brought his fiancé with him so they could live a quiet life in England together. Instead, he demanded the SAS team to make a detour, which burned a lot of time. Which allowed the bad guys to catch up to them…
Secrets get people killed.
"You may take your leave, Evans."
The Detective was stunned by the order, and briefly looked at James with abject confusion. He smiled at her, confidently, as if to tell that he would be fine without her company. Naturally, that left Evans with no other choice but to comply. She saluted her superior like the model cop that she was, then went out of the door. Both men now found themselves with the privacy that only one had asked for.
"What's going on Porter?", Director Sweeney resumed talking.
"Be more specific?"
"Six. What she up to, eh?"
Once upon a time, the aging black man had been a part of Rainbow. Unsurprisingly, he was also one of the handful who actively lobbied for their return to the UK. Neither tale seemed to hold water now, judging by his stern tone of voice.
"You tell me, Skip.", James shrugged. "You've known her longer than any of the lads did."
"MI5 is still concerned about what happened in America. We've asked Homeland Security about it, but the bloody Yanks have been stonewalling us at every turn… Now, I'm hearing Under-Secretary-General Barston's calling for an inquiry; someone at the UN has been sniffin' around."
"That right? What happened to hunting the bastards who sold the formula for my babes to the black market? We're forgetting that?"
James made it clear that the events preceding the attack on Bartlett still bothered him a great deal. Compound Z was neither his brainchild nor his exclusive toy, but it still felt like a personal affront to see a bunch of psychopaths get their hands on the stuff and kill some kids with it. A mad lad he might be with his 'babes', James was appalled to have them used against the very people they were designed to protect. He was seriously against senseless slaughter, much as he relished the thrill of battle.
"I heard you've got that end covered."
"Ooooh, the busybody's got an insider, huh? That's brill (cool)."
"The world's changed. We've just had a crew of psychos launch a global terror campaign right under our noses…", Sweeney continued. "…If Rainbow's version of what happened in New York is true, then Parliament needs to be aware of the ramifications of bringing you boys to the fold."
James chortled in response. It took them quite a long time to spot the obvious. He was… disappointed, to say the least.
"Do me a favor, Porter. If Rainbow gets compromised… make sure Baker and the rest won't catch the fallout. But to do that, I need to know first if the dear missus has a contingency plan for when that happens."
"What do you mean 'when'?"
"It's only a matter of time. Your friends are becoming a liability."
The other man grinned and crossed his arms.
"I hear that right? You want me to be your eyes 'n ears?"
"You of all people know I'm not asking for too much."
"My sleuthin' days are over, Skip. I'm a changed man…"
That bit only had a thin layer of truth in it. The urge to lie and muck about still ran strong in his blood, but thankfully the SAS had tempered him enough. Much as he'd like to indulge in ruining someone else's day, he had learned to make do with the sods who really deserved what was coming to them. What many people would call poetic justice. Someone who relished that kind of mayhem wouldn't be the type of person that Evans should be working with. But hey, at least he would be honest about it. All it took for him to change from a troublesome boy to a professional soldier was the company of a Scottish giant, an angry English codger, and an annoying Yorkshire twit.
"…and the boys and girls I'm hanging with are proper good ones. They don't deserve one of their own to be snoopin' about, making a mess of their work."
"…"
"That'll be all sir? You got the papers, I got meself a date with an angry bobby outside. So..."
The package had been delivered, after all. There was no more point in staying in the office. With the business concluded, James mocked a salute turned around to reach the door behind him. He needed a change of scenery, so quickly. Privately, he was taken aback by Sweeney's words; he didn't realize that even British Secret Service, Rainbow's supposed ally in the UK, would be distrustful of his mates. Truth be told, perhaps the trip to Morocco would actually be a good chance to get away from all the politics.
James was certain about one thing, though: Sweeney or any of his gophers wouldn't be getting anything from him. No stories to tell, only faux-ignorance mixed with genuine ones to keep himself from being an insider. Perhaps someone else at MI5, or maybe even that Barston-fellow in the UN, might make a move. It was one thing that the ex-SAS should be wary of, moving forward. Too much was at already stake for the supposed "good guys" to be casting stones on each other.
"Porter."
Director Sweeney called to him one last time.
"Do not forget where you came from. Where your loyalties lie."
"I'm sure o' mine, Skip… Just hope I could say the same for your people, huh?"
…
…
Outside of Thames House was bright and vibrant, signaling the few hours left before sundown. It was good to be away from that grim atmosphere indoors. This trip had been quite strange- what was Six trying to accomplish by having them personally pay that geezer a visit?
No matter. It was good to be home, back in the streets of London. James started thinking about excuses he could give Evans so that he could slip away. He missed the sights and sounds. There was this pub at King's Cross that recently closed, or so he heard, and he needed to see it for himself. He wanted to know if there's one less reason for him to even think about going home, now that he had his hands full in Hereford. The thought was among many that occupied his head, as he and his female friend walked towards their car, which was parked on the sidewalk.
"So, you were saying?", she asked.
"Pardon?"
"Egypt. You, Cowden, and Baker, nighttime VIP mission, gunfight in a car chase... You left me hangin'."
For a moment there, James had forgotten that he owed Evans one more story.
"Oh, so now you're interested."
"Shut it. If I'm gonna survive with you lot, I'll have to take all the advice I can get."
On that James could agree, especially since she was more at home quelling riots than fighting psychos. A job that would entail fighting dirty every now and then. Well, she could certainly learn something good, seeing that he himself was a subject expert in that regard. His life with the boys and girls of Rainbow had been nothing but mayhem and carnage, just the way he liked it. And as for that particular episode in Egypt, his survival hinged on someone handy on the wheel and another bloke who could keep their head on the level. A useful lesson even unto present day.
"It's easy, really. You need good aim and a good driver."
"…That's it?"
Evans was annoyed by his oversimplification, glaring like she did earlier in the lobby.
"Hah! I was just messin' with ya! Come on, I'll tell you all about it along the way."
"Just get to the bloody… ugh, forget it."
"Your flat is near, right? Pop on your best dicky dirt (shirt), 'cause we're goin' places today!"
"Wait, what?!"
Of course, James ignored her exasperation. He simply took out the car keys from his pocket and unlocked the doors. It was his turn to drive. He already had a good excuse lined up for an unscheduled stop at his gaff, and it was best they get a move on while the sun was still up. The Detective seemed to have read his mind as well, and gave him another stern look while they both strapped themselves inside the vehicle. But at this point, she was more than willing to relent. She, too, wanted to loosen up a little after a long afternoon.
But none more so than James, who wanted one last respite before the big day. He had learned quite a few new things from this visit to Old Sweeney. There might be trouble brewing among Rainbow's erstwhile friends, doubts and suspicions on their next steps. And then, there's the matter of Barston's spy to sort out, assuming the politician had the stones to send one in the first place. Or maybe it would be someone from MI5 instead. Hopefully, anyone with a cheeky idea wouldn't prove too much for the Team to deal with, as their last few days were already quite outrageous by themselves. Certainly a lot more turbulent and chaotic than the busiest days of the SAS ever did. It was just the way James liked it.
One thing was certain: the trip to Morocco had just become more interesting. Perhaps one more story that he could save for a future occasion.
…
Author's Comments/Notes: Smoke is one of the most mysterious characters in the game. Nobody knows what he looks like, and his gadget is actually the one used by the White Masks in the Article 5 situation. I personally don't subscribe to the fan theory that he might be a double agent for the bad guys; I like to think he's still one of the good ones, just a bit more violent and thrill-seeking. Aside from Clash, the other characters mentioned in this chapter all came from background lore.
It's just about time for me to tackle Siege's latest season. Kaid is up next!