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GI JOE Season 3: episode 2
"Invincible Shield"
Chapter 5
GI Joe Headquarters – November 3, 1989
Lt. Jenkins slowly stirred the sugar into his morning coffee. "Akamatsu, what was so important that you had to call me in the middle of the night?"
"I was being proactive," Jinx said. "I got a hunch yesterday when Cover Girl told me, in passing, that they were shipping de-milled equipment to Sierra Army Depot—"
"Yea, I already know about that. The equipment is to be stripped and resold through the DoD. It's to offset some of the cost for the new fleet of ground vehicles."
"Well, last night I paid a visit to the Motor Pool and sat in on a shipment."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "What do you mean by sat in?"
She gently bit her bottom lip in hesitation. "I... still have access to building six."
His interest now piqued, he put down his coffee and clasped is hands together atop his desk. "Continue."
"The convoy didn't come from Sierra. They were shipping to and from Ft. Irwin."
"Is it possible that you misunderstood?"
"No. The plates from the transports were from Ft. Irwin, but the manifest indicated delivery from Sierra. I believe that the manifest is a deliberate forgery."
"That is suspicious. But, I can think of a number of reasons how that could happen."
"So could I. That's why I inspected the equipment after the swap; they're not assembly-line new. In fact, I believe it's our same equipment – it's just been recycled."
"And you're sure about this?"
"Absolutely, one of the supposed 'new' vehicles was a HAVOC I used to work on. They put on a fresh coat of paint, and a new set of serial numbers, but it's the same piece of junk."
"In order for that to happen, key personnel would have to be acting in collusion," he mused.
"Add last night's shipment with the rest of our ground fleet, and I think we've found the ten million dollars."
Jenkins continued to appear detached as he brought his hands up to his face, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. "So, Hawk ships off his own equipment to keep up appearances – a few items at a time to escape notice. He then buys the equipment back, writes up an invoice, and pockets the cash... it fits."
"So, at a minimum, this mock purchase involves at least General Hawk, the Motor Pool, and the A/R managers at two other Army bases."
He eyed her warily. "Have you told anyone else about this?"
"No. But at some point we have to report it."
Jenkins shook his head. "I want you to continue to follow the paper trail. We don't have enough to go to the Auditor General: Hawk is a highly decorated soldier, so we need more than theories."
"But, how can I do that if I can't trust the paperwork?"
"You just might get lucky. Besides, the problem with reporting it now is that any evidence might conveniently disappear. I'll re-check the books, while you go through his service record. Look for any discrepancies that involve anything Black-Budget. Make sure you go all the way back!"
"If Hawk is good at anything, it's paperwork. You said yourself that everything reconciles."
"Yes, but if we can establish a pattern, it doesn't matter. It'll be enough to request an informal inquiry. This is why we have audits." Before she could say anything else, he dismissed her and continued to drink his coffee.
She stood up, but hesitated. "Sir, I—"
Sensing the trepidation in her voice, he cut her off. "I know what you're thinking, but I need you to stay focused. Just do your job." He watched her turn around to leave. Before she reached the door he said, "You did good, Corporal."
tick...tick...tick...tick...
Time is the ultimate sadist: unsatisfyingly fleeting during periods of bliss, and excruciatingly slow during periods of angst. Human beings are naturally curious. When presented with a mystery, it is human nature to try to solve it. Searching for, and uncovering, clues can be edifying, thus their appeal. Jinx was no exception to this. She allowed herself to get caught up in the romantic notion of uncovering some grand conspiracy. After the meeting with Jenkins, however, the allure quickly faded when she started to ponder the consequences. General Hawk was a person she had come to admire. She couldn't help but wonder, Is this a mystery that I want to solve?
tick...tick...tick...tick...
She glanced at the wall clock; it was time for lunch. On her way to the mess, her sensibilities began shift. If their positions were reversed, would General Hawk press the issue? Of course, she already knew the answer to that.
Now, more than ever, she felt like an outsider. She circled around the dining area looking for a table where she could dine alone. After her third circuit, she noticed Alpine and Footloose getting up to leave. When they left, she immediately took the table. Once she was settled, she looked around to make sure she wasn't being watched. Although she was hungry, she was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she couldn't bring herself to eat. With her fork, she made tracks in her mashed potatoes.
"Mind if I join you?"
She sat up straight with a start when she heard the voice. She looked up to see Stalker standing over her with his lunch tray. Without waiting for an answer, he took the seat across from her. He started to eat in silence as Jinx looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering why, out of all the other tables in the mess, he decided to sit here.
He reached for his tea and took a sip. When he put the glass back down, he noticed that she was looking at him. He smiled at her and made an off-hand comment about the weather. Blushing, she returned his smile and looked down at her tray trying to appear fascinated by the way the peas where arranged on her plate.
"Pass the salt, please," he said.
She looked at the saltshaker next to her tray; it was then that she noticed she had been tightly gripping the sides of her chair all this time. She released her hold and handed him the saltshaker. "Better not let Roadblock see you use that."
"I'll take my chances," he replied, and he sprinkled the salt over his plate. He regarded her as she continued to make tracks in her potatoes. "Aren't you eating?"
She looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone, but in order to keep up appearances, she speared a stalk of broccoli with her fork, put it in her mouth and chewed slowly.
He tasted his food, then added more salt. "I got an interesting e-mail from the data desk... you've been granted secret access to our central archives."
"Why would they bother you about that? The files are kept at the Pentagon."
Stalker shook his head. "Before you joined up, Cobra breached the Pentagon Firewalls. They were able to retrieve personal information on some of the teammates and used it to kidnap their family members. Since then, Hawk has had all information from the Pentagon concerning GI Joe transferred here. We get a flag anytime someone requests information."
"I see. But, is it so odd that Finance would need access to the archives?"
"No. What's odd is how quickly this was pushed through. Is there a problem that we should be aware of?"
She shrugged. "None, sir."
He leaned in closer and spoke softly, "Are you sure? Maybe it's something that we can help you with. Is there something specific you're looking for?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I'd rather not say, sir... unless, of course, this is a direct order."
"Relax, Corporal," he said, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "Just be careful about what you choose to stir up while you're poking around in there."
o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o
After lunch, Jinx headed for Archive Central – a secured repository housing data on all of GI Joe's operations. The fact that the archives were on-prem meant saving her a plane trip to Virginia. Unfortunately, it also served to add to her suspicions of Hawk's intentions. She found it disturbingly convenient that he would keep them so close – under his direct control – regardless of whether he was justified in doing so or not. She signed in at the data desk and went to the computer lab. She logged into the patriot shell, impatiently clicking over the pop-ups warning her that she was cleared for secret access only.
She had a daunting task ahead of her: GI Joe was very prolific when it came to counter-terrorist activities. She limited her queries to operations directly involving General Hawk. She was in awe as she read his service record. With all the accomplishments and commendations, he appeared to be someone above reproach. Suddenly, she was less sure of her position. Going after an officer of Hawk's repute was dangerous. If she was wrong, the consequences could mean more than a demotion... Demotion: the word gave her an idea. She changed her query string to: Colonel Hawk.
The result-set came back with less whitewashed information. It was an older part of the database, so information was sparse: all of the indexes referred her to a cryptic archive code. She printed out the page for future reference and continued her queries. However, every index of interest returned that same mysterious code. Frustrated, she hit the power button on her computer, as opposed to logging out properly, and stormed out of the room.
She went back to the data desk where Mainframe was manning the terminals. She stood over him, drumming her nails across the counter, until he acknowledged her.
"What can I do for you, Jinx?"
"I need help with this archive code." She handed him the printout. "I want to know what it means."
Mainframe glanced at the paper and handed it back to her. "It means that the data in question hasn't been transferred to digital media yet. It's still on paper hard copy. "
"Okay, so how do I get access to the hard copies?"
"You can't, you just have to wait until they've been indexed into the database."
"When is that going to be?"
"Why don't you ask your CO Jenkins? His budget cuts have taken away all the Green Shirts. I don't have enough people to do mundane tasks like data entry."
"So, you're telling me that I can't view these files, even though I have the appropriate clearance for it?"
"The files are kept in storage room F1. Physical entry into that room requires top-secret level access. Unfortunately, you only have secret clearance."
"Aw, c'mon, Mainframe, you're splitting hairs. All you gotta do is buzz me in; it's not a big deal."
"I'd like to help you out, Jinx, but Lt. Jenkins' pet project isn't really high on my list of priorities. Besides, the last time I buzzed in a chick above her security clearance, she tried to blow me up."
Jinx rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why any woman would try to do that to you, sir."
He watched her walk away. When she exited via the elevator down the hall, Mainframe picked up the phone and dialed:
"Hey Stalker, it's Mainframe. She just left... Yea, I ghosted her session; she didn't find anything."
o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o
"Jinx?"
Jinx stared blankly at her computer screen. "Hi Amy."
"I got those financials you requested." Amy pushed a two-tiered cart, which held boxes of papers, next to the desk.
"Thanks," Jinx replied absent-mindedly.
Amy regarded her with concern. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Hmm?"
"I've noticed that you've been distracted lately."
Jinx finally looked up from her monitor. "Sorry, I don't mean to be."
"Anything I can help you with?"
"No, this is something I have to work through alone." She took the papers off of Amy's cart and placed them on her desk. "You know, I blew through all my Finance courses in college. I just didn't give them a second thought. I figured when I joined the Army, that I would never have to use any that stuff."
"I know what you mean. I took dramatics in college with the intent of going to Hollywood and becoming a star," she said, striking a playfully dramatic pose. "Ten years and countless auditions later, here I am: a lowly contractor. And to top it all off, given my background, it's been hard to be taken seriously. There's a bias against actresses, even if they have a brain."
Jinx, amused by her theatrics, replied, "It's funny that you should talk about bias, because it's been weighing heavily on my mind lately. In our profession, we're taught to be unbiased. In theory it makes sense, but in real life it's not that simple."
"You're so right. I imagine it's worse for you since you're stationed here."
Jinx nodded. "The Lieutenant certainly doesn't help matters either."
"I know he's abrasive, but he gets the job done. At my last assignment, we worked at a DIA branch office where I was ordered to reconcile a large number of unused plane tickets."
"Yes, undercover operatives often purchase multiple plane tickets in order to hide their movements."
"Right, that's how it was explained to me too. Anyway, after I reconciled the balance sheet, I decided to seek refunds from the airlines for the unused fares. I was trying to save the taxpayers some money."
"Sounds reasonable. So, what happened?"
"I got a call from the colonel, ordering me to stop wasting my time."
"Odd that he would even care about something like that."
"I felt the same way, so I took my concerns to Lt. Jenkins. After some digging, he found out that the base commander was using the unused miles to ferry his mistress back-and-forth from Seattle. Needless to say, it turned into a very public mess."
"I think I remember seeing that in the news... So, Jenkins has gone after high ranking officers before?"
"Men in positions of power are like children: they can't keep their hands out of the cookie jar."
"Does Jenkins always get his man?"
Amy nodded. "The man is driven: once he smells blood, he's relentless."
"He sounds like someone with an agenda."
"Girl, this job has taught me that everyone has an agenda."
"Then who do you know to trust?"
Amy shrugged. "Find someone whose agenda doesn't conflict with yours."
Her eyes widened, and she snorted. "Amy, you're a genius, and I'm not just saying that because I'm biased." She bolted from her desk and logged out of her computer.
"Where are you going?"
She smirked as she put on her jacket and said, "To see a man with an agenda."
"Well, when you're finished, put the files back on the cart. I'll drop it off at the end my shift this evening."
Jinx waved and left the office.
o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o
"I need to talk to you... alone."
Mercer regarded Jinx and became outwardly annoyed; after all, his time in the gym was the closest thing he had to a break during the day. However, he also had to admit that he was intrigued by the urgency in her tone. He put the barbell back on the rack and led her out of the weight-room and into the hallway. Jinx followed him through an exit that connected to a staircase leading to the floor above. There was no air-conditioning in the staircase, so she unbuttoned her jacket. They went halfway up, to a horizontal pivot-point, where he sat on a rail and retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. She politely declined when he offered her a smoke. From the number of butts that littered floor, she surmised that he must spend a considerable amount of time here.
He lit the cigarette and took a drag. "Normally, I would say it's social suicide for a young lady, such as yourself, to be seen associating with the likes of me. However, the word on the street is you're a bit of an outcast yourself these days."
"I need dirt on Mainframe."
"Straight to the point. I like that. But, I must ask why?"
"I think he's stonewalling me."
"He's a boy scout, what do you hope to bribe him with?"
"At the betting pool, I noticed that someone spliced into the security cam feed. I figured Mainframe had to be behind that."
"So, why come to me?"
"You're an opportunist. You make it your business to be in the know when shady stuff like that goes down... No offense."
"None taken... assuming I do know something, why should I tell you anything?"
She looked sheepishly to the ground, kicking an old cigarette butt over the side of the railing. "I was hoping you would do it as a personal favor... for Falcon."
Mercer laughed. "Let's get one thing straight: just because Falcon was in my unit doesn't mean we were friends. Don't expect any favors just because you two used to suck face."
She frowned. "Fine, I'll give you something in exchange." She noticed that Mercer began eyeing her up-and-down, paying particular attention to her thin formfitting undershirt. She fastened her jacket, afraid to ask what he wanted in trade.
He sneered. "Don't flatter yourself; you're not my type. Although I wouldn't kick you out of my bed the way Falcon did."
She glared at him. "Do we have a deal or not?"
He shrugged. "Deal. You first."
"Snake-Eyes threw the fight with Slaughter."
His eyes narrowed. "Why should I care?"
Jinx grinned. "Because you bet on Snake-Eyes, didn't you?"
Mercer snorted. "How did you know I bet on Snake-Eyes?"
"It was a hunch. You weren't in line when Ace was handing out the winnings. Also, you didn't join in with Red Dog and Taurus when they started teasing Shipwreck."
Nodding, he stroked his chin. "I knew something wasn't right about that fight!"
"Okay, viper-boy, tit for tat."
"You are correct. Mainframe spliced into the feed. Unfortunately, there's nothing to get him on because he was doing maintenance on the system anyway."
She frowned. "Dammit."
"Don't lose heart; I heard that he's in the middle of changing the surveillance algorithm for all the security cameras on base. Camera performance will be spotty for the better part of the evening until the new programming takes effect. Security is still tight, but it should be easy enough for a ninja to get around undetected."
Her smug grin disappeared. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't."
"Er... can I ask you something else?"
"You can ask."
"Why did you, of all people, bet on Snake-Eyes?"
He took another drag from his cigarette. "I like you Jinx, so you can consider this a freebie. When you're on the bottom of the food chain at Cobra, your superiors tend to treat you as if you're invisible. As a result, Cobra Commander often let certain information slip when I was on guard duty. Apparently, Snake-Eyes did a lot of GI Joe's dirty work behind the scenes. Ergo, he was considered an Alpha-level threat."
"What do you mean by Alpha?"
"Let me put it to you this way. One day, when I was on post, I decided to... browse through some of Cobra's intel documents kept below the commander's throne room. The files they had on all the Joes were kept there as well. The data gathered on each Joe – even data on Hawk – is only about 50 pages worth, on average. However, an entire cabinet, longer than my arm, is devoted only to data on Snake-Eyes. The commander feared him in particular – I suspect that's why he hired the ninja, Storm Shadow, as his personal bodyguard."
Gambling that Mercer would indulge her further, she continued to press him with, "What... did the files say?" She tried to come off as being only passively interested, however she saw that Mercer wasn't buying it.
"You really fancy him, don't you? I'll have to remember that. Unfortunately, you'll have to find anything concrete about him on your own. Most of the intel that Cobra had on him was hearsay. One report claimed that his face was disfigured in a helicopter accident during a rescue mission. Another report even claims that he and Storm Shadow belonged to the same ninja clan."
"Interesting, I've heard, from the guys in the Motor Pool, that he and Scarlett used to be an item."
"It's all rubbish, of course; most of that gossip reads like it came straight out of a comic book."
She paced, giving this new information time to sink in while Mercer finished his cigarette. "I would say, thank-you, Mercer, but I get the impression that you're the one who got the better end of this deal. I take it that you're going to get your winnings back?"
"Are you crazy, that information is worth more than my meager winnings. I'm going file it somewhere – in the back of my brain – until a more lucrative opportunity presents itself."
She rolled her eyes and left.
As he watched her walk away he said, "You've taken a big risk trusting me with your intentions."
She broke no stride during her reply. "I may not know who to trust anymore, but I do know that nobody trusts you. I figure an ex-snake wouldn't owe anyone any allegiance... No offense."
The door leading out the staircase closed, and Mercer grinned. "None taken." He dropped the smoldering cigarette on the floor and stamped it out.
o-o-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-o-o
The elevator door opened. Amy stepped off, pushing a service cart. She approached the data desk at Archive Central and signed in. Stalker took a logbook from her and started to check in the items on the cart.
"I want to thank you guys again for putting those financials together for us so fast," she said. "It's just been crazy lately."
"Not a problem. I know you guys in Finance have had a rough time fitting in around here. It's hard to do an unpopular job, especially when there's a perception from people that you're out to get them," he said, winking at her.
"Thank-you, sir," she said, blushing.
Stalker smiled. "You're a civilian; you can call me Lonzo." He returned to the cart, checking off the items on the list. He came across a small metal container on the bottom shelf. He knelt down next to it as he searched for it on the log-sheet. "What's this? It's not on the list."
"Oh, that? Jinx left me a note saying that she found some old tax forms in the basement. Apparently, they were numbered incorrectly. She figured it would be okay to leave it temporarily with the rest of the financials until it was fixed."
"I see. That shouldn't be a problem. I'll buzz you in." Stalker swiped his key card in the terminal. He paused before entering his password, saying, "You know what. On second thought, leave it in the computer lab instead. I'll take it up with Lt. Jenkins personally in the morning."
Stalker buzzed her in. Amy obediently left the service cart in the middle of the lab, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. The room was dark and quiet. The small canister on the cart twitched and then toppled over. The lid popped off and an object slid out and slumped onto the floor. The tightly wound object uncurled itself from the shape of its prison and expanded. Arms and legs slowly unwound from the center transforming itself into the shape of a person: it was alive.
Eyelids fluttered as the entity fought for consciousness. Breathing, that was once shallow to conserve oxygen, became full and regular. The extra air jump-started the heart. Blood began to pump, bringing life to what was previously near death. When the body was ready, the mind of Jinx awoke from its trance.
She laid there for several minutes. The sinews slowly stretched back into a normal position. The vertebrae in her spine collapsed back to their familiar curvature. She slowly stood up and finished massaging her muscles. By now, her eyes had become adjusted to the darkness. She quickly surmised that she was not at her intended destination. Fortunately, she knew that once behind the concrete security wall, most of the rooms were connected by a common ventilation system. She crawled into a nearby grate and climbed up into the ceiling.
She explored the network of conduits and came to a light shining through a meshed grate. When she peeked through the mesh, she could see that she was looking down upon the data desk. Stalker was seated at a terminal that rotated between displays of various security cameras. He appeared to be talking to someone. She couldn't see who it was from her vantage point, but from the sounds of things, he was enjoying the company. After studying the security readout, she continued to her destination: storage room F1.
Using the data desk as a point of reference, she calculated that her destination was fifty feet west of her position. She crawled through the conduit in silence – careful to distribute her weight evenly along her knees and elbows so as not to cause noise from the warping of the metal of the surrounding duct. A rush of cool air greeted her when she turned a corner; it felt good against her skin. When she came completely about, her thigh brushed against a small object. She took out her flash light and illuminated the area. Her heart raced when she realized it was a security camera, the lens staring her in the face. Luckily, the camera was not active. She sighed in relief and silently gave thanks that Mercer's intel about Mainframe's diagnostics was correct. However, that was no reason for being sloppy. She decided to exit from the duct at the next available grate and go the rest of the way on foot; it was too hard to see in those narrow crawlspaces, and there could be other security measures present that she didn't account for.
She opened the grate and peeked into the hallway below. When it was clear, she dropped down, landing silently into a three-point stance. She was wearing her black ACU so as to blend-in with the support staff. She retrieved a blonde wig from her pocket and put it on.
She came upon an adjoining corridor and stopped. By her estimate, storage room F1 was one corridor over just south of her position. She took out a small mirror from her pocket and peeked around the edge of the wall using the reflection. Sure enough, there was an active security camera sweeping the hallway. She waited until the camera panned away before turning the corner. She hugged the wall – staying out of the camera's field of vision – until she made it to the block containing storage room F1.
She arrived at the door marked "F1". Before going inside, she put her ear to the door and listened. Her eyes widened and her heart raced when she heard movement inside. She looked for a placed to hide in the barren hallway. Nothing...! She pressed her hands and feet against the walls on either side of her, using her body to span the length of the narrow hallway. Leveraging opposing pressure, she scaled the walls all the way up to the ceiling.
No sooner did she reach the ceiling when the door swung open. Beach Head stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. He paused, took out his walkie-talkie and pushed a button:
"Hey, Stalker," has anything unusual happened your way?
"Negative, Beach. All's clear. What's wrong?"
"Nothin', I just got a feelin'."
"You always have a feelin'..."
Why are you just standing there? Jinx thought to herself. From her position, she could see the top of his head as he scanned the hallway. Don't look up... Don't look up... She started to feel the strain from supporting herself in such a precarious position. She was so close to him that she didn't dare breathe – even though her muscles would soon start to cry for oxygen. As her arms and legs began to shake, she closed her eyes and found her center:
There is no body: I am insubstantial. I am the air. I am invisible...
She opened her eyes when she perceived that Beach Head had left. She dropped down and entered the storage room. It was like stepping into a time capsule. Old boxes full of papers and microfiche were stacked to the ceiling. She took out her list of reference numbers and began looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack of paperwork.
She found herself fascinated with the history documented in this room – most of it, sadly, would never see the light of day in a history text. Given the opportunity, she would love to explore and study that history. However, time was never her friend. Hours passed, yet she made no progress. It didn't help that she had to search in the darkness with only her flashlight to read by. She checked her watch; if she didn't find what she was looking for soon, she would have to abort.
At the end of hope, she came across a file cabinet hidden in the back of the room. She compared the reference numbers on the files to her list. Jackpot! She laid the files out and began to sort through them. One folder caught her attention. It was simply labeled: "K Company". It stood out because the designation did not specify a battalion or brigade division, as with standard Army nomenclature.
As she read through the classified documents, she realized that the events chronicled pre-dated GI Joe. She recognized some of the names in the various mission reports: notably Hawk, Stalker, and Snake-Eyes. She gave pause, however, when she got to the end of the file. Many of the reports that outlined the events following the final mission were censored heavily. Some pages were completely blackened – only allowing the reference number to be visible. Furthermore, the censoring of the documents appeared to have happened recently; the pages were still warping from the moisture of being heavily markered.
Is this what Beach Head was doing in here? She cursed, afraid that she was too late to find anything meaningful. She glanced at her watch and cursed again. The maintenance window for the security upgrade was almost over.
Determined to glean what information she could, she continued to examine each page with care – ignoring that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that time was running out. Her persistence paid off when she held one of the documents up to the light. She noticed that due to the indentation of the typeset, that the ink from the marker had not completely bled through the page in certain areas. If she looked for the indentations, she could still read a decent portion of the text. She worked quickly – using her spy camera to photograph what she could and taking notes longhand for the rest. She had just finished going over the minutes taken from a formal inquiry investigating Colonel Clayton Abernathy: Hawk. She arched an eyebrow when she got to the last page. There was a death certificate appended. She gasped audibly as she read on.
"Oh, my God."