Private could hear muffled shouts from the room across from him. It was Barry. He'd been on the phone with his mother for less than a minute and already the troubled teenager was furious.
"…But mom, you promised…!" Abruptly, the shouting stopped and a very annoyed Barry stormed out of the room.
"She can't make it to the award ceremony, can she?" Private asked, hoping he was wrong. Barry could handle his parent's absence most of the time, but this meant a lot to him.
"Of course she's not," Barry snapped, "And of naturally she can't tell me why she can't. Probably feels too guilty to admit she just doesn't want to spend any time around me," he landed on one of the beanbags in the centre of his room, switching on his JulianConsole, "She could keel over and die for all I'd notice." Private winced slightly. That was exactly what he'd thought about his mother, and that was exactly what happened.
"I wouldn't say that." Private stated diplomatically. Barry seemed to realise his mistake.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"It's fine." Private had told Barry a doctored version of how he'd come to be with the team, leaving out all the secret agent stuff.
"How did she…"
"Stabbed twice in the chest, bled for three minutes," Private recounted, the bile rising in his throat. Skipper had described the wounds in graphic detail, but had forbidden him from seeing any photographs or reading any of the reports, "finished with a single shot to the head."
"Sounds a lot like the Hornet House assassinations." Barry pointed out, "I mean, it's kinda strange how she never screamed."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, that was what they asked about the Hornet House," Barry continued, "all the guards were in the next room, and the guy lived a decent amount of time, two knife wounds just like your mother, before the killer shot him. Then all the guards came running when they heard the shot, but he was long gone. They never did work out how…"
"Rare nerve toxin paralysed the vocal cords leaving no trace post mortem." Private answered out of habit.
"Really? I never saw that in the papers." Barry replied. Private's virtual car ground against the side of the tunnel, his surprise causing him to release the controller. He really shouldn't have mentioned that.
"Um… my dad was one of the investigators… you know, back when he was in homicide." Private replied hurriedly. Skipper had given him the hornet house assassination case file to read, as an example of what a good agent could accomplish on a 'perfect day', a concept Private still found hard to understand.
"Well, maybe whoever was after your mom, you know to keep her from talking, hired the same assassin guy." Barry hypothesized.
"Skippah told me mum's death was an amateur job though," Private replied. Barry did have a point, but it couldn't have been the same guy. Private didn't actually know who the Hornet House assassin was, but he knew it was an official Penguin mission and Penguin agents don't work for hire.
"I dunno, I mean, it sounds pretty controlled to me," Barry replied, "two completely non-fatal wounds that hurt like crazy, then the killer suddenly remembers that he can use a gun a whole lot better than a knife, and shoots her? Plus, without the neurotoxin, how'd he keep her quiet? They would have found trace evidence or bruising if he'd gagged her."
"Did you go to med school without me noticing?" Private asked incredulously.
"Nah, I just read up on all that forensics stuff since that roommate of yours, Kowalski, caught us by tracking our foot prints," Barry replied calmly. If he was lying, he did a much better job of it than Private did, "Still, your mom's death sounds pretty suspicious. I don't know, maybe you should look into it."
"What do you mean you are cancelling-ed de investigation!?" Julian screamed. Rockgut figured that if the guy got any madder, his voice alone would bring down the entire building.
"I'm cancelling the investigation because it's going nowhere," Rockgut answered, trying his best to keep calm, "and because I'm sick of dealing with you. And since…"
"My ears are hearing things, but dey are not making any sense!" Julian denied childishly, shouting over the senior officer.
"Special Agent Rockgut…" Maurice started in a more balanced tone. This seemed like a good time to step in before things got too heated, and Maurice knew, as bad as things seemed, with Julian they could get a whole lot worse.
"The answer's no." The agent interrupted.
There was a knock on the door of the office, and Rockgut's secretary entered. Despite valiant efforts to hide her fear, her face was pale, and her hand, which held the cup of coffee Rockgut had asked for five minutes ago, shook like a leaf.
"I'm busy," he shouted, already annoyed, "if it's Elshaw asking for reinforcements, assign him whatever we've got, if we've got anything to assign him. Mackerel, I wish we still had Skipper and his team."
"Sir, there's someone here I think you should see." She continued, swallowing nervously.
"Is it the president?"
"No."
"Is it one of the higher ups who could get me fired?"
"No."
"Well tell him to come back in an hour."
"But sir…"
"Come back in an hour!"
"It's Agent 526, sir!" It took a few moments for Rockgut to digest this information, then he slowly nodded, giving no indication of shock or surprise, though equally none of calm or expectance.
"Mr King," He turned to his annoying partner in the recently cancelled investigation, "It would seem I owe you an apology. However, I would appreciate it if we could end our meeting now."
"Thank you for your time Mr Rockgut." Maurice guided Julian towards the exit.
"Nobody, even dis agent 526 guy, deserves an audience more than de king!" Julian protested.
"We will speak later." Maurice, after practically dragging his employer by his tie, managed to get the small party to vacate the room. After Julian had entered the elevator at the end of the hall and was at least two stories down, Rockgut's secretary opened a broom closet and the man Rockgut had never expected to see again stepped out. Yes, he'd had some warning, but it didn't make it any less sudden.
"Thanks, Janice," Skipper smiled somewhat flirtatiously at the secretary who blushed. Now that brought back memories. He promptly walked over to the door of the office and entered.
"I see you're enjoying retirement." Was the first comment the superior officer made. However, as soon as the door shut behind him, Skipper's mood immediately changed.
"Kitka says you're clean, but do anything that even remotely hints LEOPARDSEAL, and I will take you down with the rest of them." Skipper threatened.
"LEOPARDSEAL?" Rockgut questioned.
"Bertram Kowalski AKA George Kowalski. Agent Owen C. I. Rufus. Initials: O. C. I. R, backwards, that's Rico."
"Agent Rufus disappeared…"
"Five months before Rico turned up," Skipper finished, he had no time for pleasantries, he needed answers, "George Kowalski defected to LEOPARDSEAL after he fell in love and Maxwell Flynn-Godfrey was the youngest agent of LEOPARDSEAL ever reported. He'd be about 16 today, which would make him the same age as Private. Do you understand where I'm going or do I have to pull out the files on LEOPARDSEAL's supposedly abandoned Project: Familiar Face?"
"Project: Familiar Face…" the meaning of the words hit the more senior of the agents almost as hard as it had Skipper when he was first told, "I personally did full background checks on…"
"LEOPARDSEAL agents have gotten past our checks before. Now, I need to know the name of your superior. I have reason to suspect he's not who he says he is."
"I'm afraid that's classified information," Rockgut replied, "But I'll vouch for his honesty."
"I would have said the same about Kowalski. Now, I understand that you are unable to disclose the name of your boss, however I need you to tell me why you were in a bank in Zurich in 1972, and I need to know why you wiped all information concerning your removing the Red Squirrel's funds. I don't know why, but my gut tells me it has something to do with Project: Familiar Face, and I never question my gut."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"And I've got security footage. From 1972."
"Yes, I was in Zurich in 1972, but I wasn't in a bank. I couldn't have been in a bank."
"And just why is that?"
"Because only a few hours later they dragged me out half-conscious from under the rubble that used to be the Squirrel's hideout," Rockgut countered, glaring at Skipper, "Do your homework before you start pointing fingers, cupcake."
Kowalski's mission was clear, as well as completely off the books. He and Doris were going to see a movie; some film about friendship and romance. He was picking Doris up from her place, and well, what was the number one thing you could count on from Doris other than betrayal: that she would take longer to 'just fix her hair' than it took Leonardo da Vinci to paint the Mona Lisa. So, if Doris is in her bedroom instead of supervising him, and Blowhole is in the lab blowing stuff up, he'd have the perfect opportunity to raid the safe with the combination he'd memorised from his last visit. Kowalski was sure it was fool proof.
"What are you doing?" Blowhole asked.
"Um…" Kowalski glanced guiltily at the open safe behind him. Well, the plan was fool proof, but apparently not evil genius proof.
"Well?"