The Intruder
Chapter 11
Sam and Fi had gone to the grand house of The Butcher's mother to try to ascertain any information regarding the whereabouts of her son.
Fi felt Gideon Hunter, aka The Butcher, had possession of the book with the microfilm in it, since he had been in the bookstore posing as Benjamin McGrath. Getting her hands on that book was all Fi could think about.
For failure was a word not in Fi's vernacular.
While she sent Sam up ahead to see if he could reach the second floor bedroom, Fi had stayed behind to make sure the grounds were secured.
And that's when she heard a snap of twigs behind her as she hid in the bushes.
She smiled to herself at the thought that there would be some action at last. Outside of the car chase, this entire mission was a snoozefest.
Her luck has changed at last.
Fi had so many options to choose from as to what action to take, and they all ended with the guy on the ground.
At some distance ahead she could dimly make out a dark mass of artistically prune hedges. Great, she thought, it might be best to have that person reveal him/herself out in the open.
Fi covertly left the safe confines of the bushes and crossed the long sweep of greenery before reaching the long column of hedges. Using peripheral vision, she turned slightly, enough to see her pursuer emerge from behind the tree and start towards her.
There were no doubts that it was a male pursuing her. The more muscled- bound, the better!
There was a tall decorative outdoor lamp and Fi stood beside it, knowing she would be an easy target. She pretended to look ahead but she was actually listening behind.
It was a waiting game now, as she braced herself, waiting for him to be close enough for striking distance. Her heart began beating fast as adrenaline flowed throughout her body.
The wait seemed to take forever and her ears were attuned to the silence surrounding her. The lamp was an excellent choice to stand near, for it now cast a light on the ground. When Fi stared down at the ground, she could make out a dark shadow directly behind her.
It was like the boogeyman was coming for her and Fi could not be more pleased.
When the shadow loomed large enough, Fi took charge.
She turned around unexpectedly, surprising the man. Before he had time to recover, she viciously delivered a karate chop to the side of his neck. One strike was enough. She knew the exact location to hit on the neck to do the most damage. Without a sound the would-be assailant crumpled to the ground.
That's it?
She stared at her knifed hand, thinking it was stronger and more accurate than she had anticipated. Fi looked down at the fallen form, disappointed that it had ended so quickly.
Fi then straightened up, shrugged and thought, that's what he gets for getting in the way of my mission, and it's best that he learned that behind every silver lining is a dark cloud.
A moment later, Sam appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
"Fi, I wasn't able to-...er, just whoa there, whoa..." he stared down at Fi's handwork, "What the devil, Fi?".
"Looks like an admirer, Sam," was all Fi said.
"Crap, Fi, Can't I leave you alone for 10 minutes without you striking someone down?"
"You make me sound like lightening, Sam. Anyway, he was the one following me," Fi said casually, as if that explained everything, "and you know how I hate secret admirers. I prefer they send flowers or a nice Hallmark card."
Sam knelt down to observe Fi's latest victim, "Well, you sure nailed him! He's out cold."
"Any chance that it's the Butcher?" Fi asked.
Sam beamed the flashlight at the man's face.
"Nah, not him," Sam said, sounding disappointed.
Fi maneuvered herself to get a better look at him, too, "Who could he be? I don't know why, but I think I've seen him before..."
"I'm not surprised by that comment," Sam said, as he continued viewing the body,"You've certainly seen your fill of unconscious people!"
"Let's find out who he is," Fi said, "Sam, you should go through his pockets..."
Sam turned with an incredulous look at Fi.
"What …and have him wake up with my hands all over him? Not a chance, sister! You knocked him down, you frisk him!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sam!" Fi said, as she bent down. She fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out his wallet.
Sam flashed his tiny flashlight on the ID.
"It says his name is Harry Grant," Sam read.
"Hmmm…Harry Grant…sound familiar to you?" Fi asked.
"No," replied Sam, "you?"
"No," said Fi, "but if this one guy was walking the grounds this late at night, chances are there'll be more thugs to follow."
"I figured that, too," said Sam, as he slowly got up on his feet, "And the news isn't any better at the house. I heard some people noise coming from the interior, so I came back to tell you that maybe this isn't the night we do the scavenger hunt."
"Damn!" Fi mumbled under her breath.
She hated to think it was a wasted night. She then glanced down at Harry. Well, maybe not completely wasted, she thought with a smirk.
"Wait..." Fi was fumbling in Harry's wallet, "there's something else here...look, Sam!"
Sam pointed his portable flashlight. It showed a CIA badge and identification.
"He's...one...of...us..." Fi said.
"You mean, one of you, Fi," Sam reminded her, "maybe we can call the name into Pearce and see if he's one of the good guys."
"That's the thing, Sam," explained Fi, "Even they don't even know who's good or bad. I should have hit him harder, just to be on the safe side."
"You know, Fi," remarked Sam, "Perhaps you should talk to Pearce anyway. Let her know what's going on. Big agencies like the CIA want to hear from people out in the field. When I worked for the SEALS, we constantly had to update our positions with our superiors."
"Please, Sam, not another SEALs story."
"Hey, I'm just saying," Sam said, "They are probably wondering where you are. And you haven't talked to Michael yet, either."
Fi's heart slightly dropped at the mention of Michael. But no way was she letting Michael know that she had not completed her first mission. She did not want to see a look of empathy from him, she wanted a look of admiration. Pearce too.
"Now's not the time," said Fi, decisively, "I don't plan to communicate with Pearce or Michael until I find out what has happened to that book with the microfilm...and...whether or not I knocked out a good guy or bad one."
Sam took one last look at the body.
"At least this Harry Grant character is still breathing…come on, Fi, we better scram."
Just in time, they heard in the distance the sound of a familiar car engine. Roberto had driven the car silently up the driveway.
"Roberto's back," Sam announced.
"I'm right behind you, Sam."
Sam limped into the back seat while Fi jumped into the passenger side as Roberto made a small u-turn and drove them quickly away, towards the lights of the city.
"¿Teníamos éxito? Were we successful, Amigos?" Roberto asked, once they were safely back on the road.
"If you mean in terms of coldcocking a guy, I would say we were very successful," said Sam "but otherwise, we didn't learn anything new."
"Sam is such a pessimist," stated Fi.
Sam looked stunned, for that would be the last word used to describe him.
"Give me an example of how I am a pessimist" Sam challenged.
Fi didn't even blink, "Ever since you've joined me on my mission, you've not been happy with how I am handling this mission. 'Fi, don't drive like a lunatic on busy streets' 'Fi don't hit that car head on' 'Fi, don't shoot the thug dead!' You should be thankful that I got you out safely each and every time with just a minor bullet scratch on your leg!"
"Minor bullet scratch?" repeated Sam, "How is that even a term? Besides that, Fi, everything you have said is so wrong on so many levels..."
From the front seat Fi turned around to the back so she could look at Sam directly.
"Sam, don't you get it?" she attempted to make a point, "Don't you understand what is going on? It's not a matter of me being right or wrong in a decision, it's a matter of me being strong enough to make some kind of a decision!"
Sam opened his mouth to refute what she said, but then her words sunk in.
Instead Sam let out a long breath, "You know, Fi," he acquiesced, "you're absolutely right..."
Fi turned back to face the front, looking quite pleased.
"I don't know about you two amigos," Roberto interjected, "but that exchange you have right now? It has left me exhausted and stunned at the same time."
"Welcome to my world, pal," Sam said.
Roberto smiled as he continued driving, "So getting back to what I say before, what happened back there?"
Fi shrugged, "While we were on the grounds doing recon on the place, someone got in the way of me and the house. I had no choice but to knock him out."
"Was he a guard or something?" asked Roberto.
"All we know is the ID we found on him," explained Sam, "He's a CIA agent, but we don't know which side he batting for. His name is Harry Grant…that name sound familiar to you, Roberto?"
"No, but I have been in isolation at the safehouse for so long, I am not familiar with all agents out in the field," explained Roberto, "however, when we get back, I will look up el hombre's name. Maybe the system will tell us more."
When they arrived at the compound, Peppino was there to open the gate for them. Roberto drove to the rear of the warehouse while Peppino closed the gates and locked them again. Once out of the car, Roberto, Fi and Sam made their way to their respective rooms.
.
.
Night had fallen and it was well past midnight.
Fi was too restless to sleep. With a pillow propped behind her, she got out her "Emma" book and was soon lost in the world of the misconstrued romance between Emma and George Knightley in Regency England.
She kept hoping the next chapter would have one or both of them in a duel.
Someone was knocking on her door.
"Yes, come in," Fi said.
Roberto opened the door tentatively, "Senorita?"
Fi sat up, "Yes, what is it, Roberto?"
"Sorry to interrupt," Roberto apologized, "it's just...I just looked up that name you said…Harry Grant…he is definitely one of us.."
"Good," responded Fi, "And?"
"And…" continued Roberto, "according to my records, Grant has clean record as a CIA operative…"
Fi scowled, "He's one of the good guys? That's strange because earlier tonight, it occurred to me where I had seen him before -he had been one of the men tailing me during the car chase. So is there a chance he is one of the CIA bad guys?"
"Hard to say, Senorita," said Roberto, "but just be careful if you ever encounter him again!"
"Oh, I think it is he who should watch out for me, " responded Fi.
.
.
Michael's eyes are still covered.
The first thing he feels is searing pain. He arches his back due to the pain.
The word torture enters his mind.
He will survive this.
The two people in the room are interrogating him.
Question after question.
Michael must be evasive.
After some time, Michael pleads, "Please, no... more... ques-tions."
"But we have more."
"No more," Michael says.
He feels strong electrical charge searing through his body.
His body is burning away from the inside out.
He hears a rough-sounding voice saying, "I don't think he can take much more of this."
"Good," replies the other voice.
.
.
Sometime later, a bright light shines through the cloth covering his eyes and Michael is startled awake.
He tries to blink but realizes he is still blindfolded. He feels his heart racing although the rest of his body feels as though it has stopped functioning.
"Michael?" the gruff voice one seems to know his name.
Michael angles his head towards the sound.
The voice stoops down until he is to Michael's ear.
The voice is calm, "I still need the names."
Michael shakes his head no.
He has been conditioned to expect the pain now.
And it comes.
Something is electrifying his insides.
It's as if his body is floating away from him.
He loses consciousness.
.
.
Sometime later he is aware of only one person being in the room with him.
His eyes are still covered as the one voice speaks to him.
It is the gruff sounding one again.
"Michael," he says.
Michael shudders at the sound of the voice.
"You have given me the wrong names," he accuses Michael, "I have asked nicely for the names of the small woman and the Hawaiian shirt man. You said earlier their names were Carla Helfer and Tyler Brennan. We've checked. They are both dead."
Fi and Sam dead, or Carla and Brennan?
His mind is clearing, but his body feels like mush.
Best to remain quiet.
"You'll forget most of this when you are awake again," the voice says when the buzzing stopped, "That's perhaps for the best."
"I don't... under-stand..." Michael struggles to speak.
The voice speaks again, "No one will believe what you tell them, and even if they do, they will not be able to find us. You don't know where we are or what we look like."
Then he hears a door opens and some footsteps.
Someone else has entered the room.
"Did he tell us anything new?" the new voice asks.
"No," says the gruff voice, "he is still out cold."
What? Michael's mind comes to attention.
The rough-sounding voice is lying.
Why?
But Michael keeps still. He is supposed to be out cold.
"When he wakes up," said the other new voice, "tell him if he doesn't give us the names and their location, he is dead."
Then Michael hears the same footsteps retreating and the door shut.
He is alone with the rough sounding voice again, the one who just lied.
Michael listens carefully now as the gruff voice speaks, "It's best, Michael, that you forget that you were ever with us. You'll live longer."
Michael's right arm is grabbed and he feels something like a needle go into his arm.
He doesn't even try to fight it as he begins to be unresponsive. Michael's eyes rolls back and he slips back into the abysmal darkness.
Blackness.
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