Scotch and Ice

It wasn't long before I found myself as the only passenger in a gleaming black, ten seater Beechcraft. It was jettin' along at about thirty-five thousand feet up. We were currently hugging the coastline of British Columbia and heading north. It looked like we were going pretty quick too. I scanned the topography below and locked onto a distant landmark – a far off peak that looked like a shark tooth. Using it as a point of reference I engaged my data center and did a quick calculation… we were traveling at mach two – or about 1,400 miles an hour.

We're in a big damn hurry alright…

The in-flight orderly, was some wide eyed kid – fresh outta the training program. He had clearly heard about me and I could see equal amounts of excitement and fear competing for control over his busy little mind.

I pretended not to see him as he haltingly made his way over to my seat.

Considering how damn secretive the CIA is known for being – you'll find no bigger nest of gossips anywhere. Like a bunch of friggin' hens softly cluckin' to each other. I'm sure once they found out this punk would be flying with me, all the senior agents had a blast telling him all about what a sadistic monster I am.

I had to give the kid credit though; he controlled his fear pretty well. Must have been all the military training. The only real give away were the subtle tremors in the hands as he handed me my drink. Made tiny ripples across the surface of my scotch and ice, causing the multiple cubes that were crammed in there to clink and rattle.

I gave him a big friendly grin as I pulled a few of the ice cubes out, dropping them on the floor.

"Thanks kid. Y'know, I'm not really as bad as they've been tellin' you, uh…" I glanced at his name tag – it was facing backwards, I flipped it around. The plastic made a thin hard sound as I tapped it with my finger. "…agent Taylor."

He smiled and seemed kind of relieved.

"Heh, oh – sure… sure, Mr. Fury – I knew the guys back at base were all full a' shi– "

"I'm worse."

It was kind of fun watchin' all the color drain from his delicate little face.

"Uh… oh. I ah, is there anything else you um, need?"

"Two things rookie: Keep those drinks comin', take it easy on the goddamn ice. Get that right and I'm pretty sure you'll live through the flight."

I watched as he walked stiffly away in the direction of the galley, gripping the seatbacks to steady himself against the light turbulence. Most of it was in his knees. I smiled and turned to the window.

I settled back in the large leather seat. It was comfortable and had a kick ass foot rest. I reached over to put my empty glass in the cup holder when Taylor appeared and took it. Then before I could ask he immediately placed a fresh one in my hand. There were only three large ice cubes. They didn't rattle.

Nice going Taylor – looks like you're gonna make the cut.