SAMEEN SHAW POV
The sounds of cups clicking, of forks & spoons on the plates, of people having hush tense conversations, the TV talking heads broadcast doom & gloom and of people walking about echoes around the medium size diner as Sameen sits impatiently for their delicious sandwich. Not having much to do while she waits, there was nothing urgent to reply to on her phone, so she does what most people do in the diner and watches the TV from her seat.
"… How are you so certain that this is the bottom, Jim? Unemployment is the worst since the 70s, housing foreclosure has been going up nonstop for the past 10 quarters and it doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon. And now the Q3 GDP number is out, it's four consecutive quarters of GDP contraction. It's only a matter of time before the Fed wakes up and declares this a depression."
"Hey, don't jump the gun, Barry. We're in a recession, yes! But We. Are. Not. In. A. Depression! There's no reason to fear monger Barry."
"I'm not fear mongering, Jim. I just don't lie to myself into thinking that everything is going to be okay, but if you have some crystal ball that says otherwise. Please enlighten me."
"Yeah, yeah… okay, Barry. I don't have a crystal ball, but I do have micro data points that show an upward trend towards recovery…"
A plate cuts into her view, causing her to lose attention to what the talking heads were talking about and glance at the waitress before looking back at the TV.
"Here's your sandwich, pastrami, extra spicy & yellow mustard, with extra pepperoncini that would make anyone run for the toilet and no mayo and fries on the side. Just how you always like." The middle-aged woman said with a southern accent.
The smell of the sandwich pulled her head away from the TV and towards the heavenly food before her. If she weren't thought better, she would have drooled and shove the sandwich straight into her mouth the instant she smelled it.
"Thanks, Janice." Sameen spoke, plastering a smile on her face as she had been taught to do.
"You think what that man says is true?" Janice said as she refills Sameen's cup of coffee.
Sameen gave a halfhearted shrug as she glanced back at the TV and said with a shrug. "Not really my specialty, but… Jim has been wrong more times than he's been right."
"Those damn folks on the TV just talk and talk all the while the country is going to hell in a handbasket. Anyway, if you need anything, just give me a holler, and have a delightful breakfast." Janice said before turning around to walk back to the kitchen.
"Yeah, you too…" Sameen mummers as she turns her full attention to the beautiful art-form that is the sandwich in front of her.
All ready and eager, she licked her lips and went in for that tasty sandwich, getting it oh-so-close to her mouth for a mouthwatering bite. But just as she was about to savor that glorious moment…
"Shaw." A familiar gruff voice from behind her caused her a bit of a surprise.
'I swear to god…' Sameen thought to herself with her eyes looking up into the sky.
"Hersh." Sameen said in annoyance to the tall man who walks around the table to sit down opposite of her.
"You should pay more attention to your surroundings, could save your life," Hersh said as he adjusts his seating position.
She gave Hersh a look that says he's saying the most obvious shit in the world, but rather than indulge his dumb advice, Sameen took a big bite from the sandwich and deliberately chew slowly as she savor the delicious taste.
That incited a small reaction from that stone cut face of his as he said. "How could you possibly eat that garbage?"
"What? It's fucking yummy." Sameen, her mouth filled with food, said in an exaggeratedly offended tone.
He continues to give her a look that she can't even decipher, but whatever it was, it's funny, causing her to smirk.
"I'll take your word for it." Hersh said in his emotionless tone he always has as he stares directly into Sameen's eyes.
Jesus, the man shows fewer emotions or reactions than her and she has a diagnosed personality disorder. He really needs to pull that baseball bat out of his ass.
"So, what do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" Sameen said as she takes a small bite from her sandwich.
"Uh-huh, research just gave us a new number, so let's go." Hersh said while giving a head tilt towards the exit.
She gave him a deadpan before answering. "Oh, I'm not going to go anywhere until I finish my breakfast and if this is so urgent, you would've just called me earlier rather than coming all the way down here. So just sit down and enjoy some breakfast." To emphasize her point, she took another bite of her sandwich and chewed on it even slower than before.
The man looks completely annoyed with this situation. Well, she thinks he's annoyed, can't really say with his face.
"Hey there. You ready to order?" Janice came back with a pot of hot coffee in hand.
"Just coffee, please. Thank you." Hersh replied with a small, polite smile.
That's a sight she doesn't see often. Maybe she should force him to interact with others that don't involve guns or threatening others.
"Here you go. If there's anything you want, just give me a call." Said Janice after she pours the coffee.
Hersh brought up the cup of coffee to wet his lips before putting it back down on the table, making Sameen look at him in dumb amazement.
"You seriously think someone in this diner was planning to drug you with scopolamine or something worse?" Shaw said with her mouthful in disbelief and sandwich.
"An operative should always do that, Shaw. You do well to remember that." Hersh deadpans as he looks into the coffee like it's telling him the meaning of life.
"Dude… your way too paranoid and you know I come here often, being the creep that you are." Sameen said with a shake of her head.
"It's not paranoia if the threats are real." Hersh said as he looked back at her and ignored her jab.
"Yeah, everything is a threat in this diner in our nation's capital. You should check into a funny farm for a bit. It could help you." She said with a smirk as she picks up the other piece of her sandwich from the plate.
Her mentor didn't respond to her, but gave her the stink eyes while he takes a sip of his coffee, making her smirk harder.
"Sooo, you got any info on our new number? I bet you did some digging before coming here." Sameen asked as she took a few pieces of fries and shoving it into her mouth.
"Thomas Davis, age 36, lives in Dover with his wife and kids. Was honorably discharged from the army six years ago as an officer after a few tours in Afghanistan and now works as a corporate secretary in a small firm which he's a partner in that provides corporate services." After he rolled it all out, he brought his hand forward, and she knew what he was aiming for.
With quick agility in balancing a sandwich in one hand, she used the other to smack Hersh's incoming hand and said with a glare. "Oi, don't you dare."
Undeterred by what happened, he used his right hand to quickly swipe a few fries off her plate while her other hand was busy with his other hand and put the fries into his mouth.
"Gasp… You asshole." She said as she grabbed her plate to huddle it closer to her like a chipmunk hording their nuts while she give the smug-looking asshole a death glare.
The stare off lasted a few minutes while she scarf down her fries, not wanting the asshole to take more of her fries.
"Okay, so… our next terrorist sounds like the most milquetoast white guy ever and he's from fucking Delaware, of all places?" Sameen said, ending their little stare off.
"That's a little racist Shaw. Not every threat to national security we're going to get will have brown skin or speak Arab. This time it's going to be an upper middle class white man." Hersh gave her a pointed look.
"How is it racist? I'm Persian and every number I've went on with you has been the stereotype terrorist schtick." Shaw retorted and took another bite of her last piece of sandwich.
"You have only been on 5 missions, Shaw, and the threat to national security does not care about race or creed." Hersh ended it by taking a drink from his cup.
She couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. Of course, she knows that, but the list of people wanting to kill Americans in mass isn't that large. Taking the last bite of her sandwich, she tries to savor the flavor that she's not going to get until she gets back to town.
"So, I guess you'll be researching while I drive us to boring Delaware." Sameen said with a smirk as she wipes her hands clean off the crumbs.
Hersh just gave her a dead eye stare and tossed her the keys. She caught the key midair with a triumphant grin. The man most likely doesn't want to waste any more time. Inspecting the keys to look what car they will use…
"Have fun driving the van." Her mentor gave her a slight, ghostly grin as his stony face remained expressionless.
Knowing full well what he meant by the van. The shitty van.
"Oh, you dick."
In a warm house a block away from their number, sat a disgruntled Sameen looking at camera views on the monitor and sitting beside her was her stoneface mentor; not looking bothered or bored with their predicament. In the monitor shows their number playing with his kids before they go to school like a normal everyday happy American family.
"I don't get it. The dude is the poster child for an all-American war veteran hero." Moaned Sameen as she leaned back in her seat.
"I'm sure something will turn up, Shaw. This family looks too perfect. It might be his cover." Hersh retorted in his usual monotone voice.
Letting out a groan, she said. "Really? You know not all families are fucked up like yours, right? Explains why you act the way you are."
Hersh shot her an indescribable look, but she's been getting better at deciphering his looks and this says 'huh?'. Looks like she missed the mark on that one. Well, there goes that theory. A pastime she's been doing the past week was trying to find a reason as to why Hersh is Hersh and so far, all of her theories have fallen flat. Maybe his parents dropped him when he was a baby, and his face has been stuck that way ever since.
"For real though. We've both gone through the man's entire life with a fine-tooth comb and found nothing. You yourself went through all of his public & private records as well as his bank records and found nothing. No unusual fund transfer in any of his accounts and we know where all his money comes from since it's exactly as he declared in his tax form. And I've talked to everyone he's associated with and nada. The man is a fucking saint. No conflict with anyone, no motivation to go against anyone and everyone just had nothing but good things to say about him. Christ, the man volunteers at his local church." She ended her rant by putting her legs up on the table and leaned back with two chair legs off the floor.
Hersh just sat quietly, looking at the monitor for a few minutes before answering. "All the more reason to be suspicious. No one has a perfect life."
She rolled her eyes at that. The man thinks everyone should have screwed up lives. Not knowing what else to say, she looked at the monitor like it was the most important show in the world.
"God, this is boring. Don't tell me you aren't bored with this shit, either." Grumbled Sameen after an hour of looking at the man doing his daily morning routine for what it seems to be forever now.
"Not every number we will get involves us mowing down terrorists, Shaw. He might be a spy for all we know." Said Hersh while giving her a side glance.
"Then he's the most boring spy that has ever lived; here comes Mr. Davis, the scourge of Delaware, stealing documents about corporate governance from America's smallest companies." Sameen said sarcastically. "Even if he is a spy -which I doubt- why aren't the feds doing it? Counter espionage is their job."
"We are the feds, Shaw." Hersh deadpanned and not moving his gaze from the monitor.
She scoffed and said. "Don't be facetious to me. You know which feds I'm talking about, Hersh."
"You know that only the activity gets the numbers." Replied Hersh, unmoving ever since she started complaining.
How are his joints not stiff from not moving for so long? For the betterment of mankind, Hersh needs to submit himself to medical testing because he just build different. She shook her head as she picked up her large cup of Slurpee and drank it to cool herself down.
"What if Research is wrong?" asked Shaw after drinking half of her Slurpee.
That incited a reaction from the man in a form of head tilt and he said. "Research is never wrong."
"Oh yeah? Then what the fuck have we been doing the past three weeks, Hersh?" Shaw retorted.
"Patience, Shaw, and the reason I know Research isn't wrong is because I've never been given a wrong number. There's a reason why we're given this number and all we just need to do is to figure out the reason." Hersh said, turning his head to her.
"If you trust the intel so much, why don't we just go in there and kill him?" Sameen asked him while directly looking him in the eye.
Hersh gave her an odd look she has never seen before and answers "Because we don't have solid evidence, that's he's guilty, and it's against ISA policy when pursuing Research's numbers. Also, that's unamerican."
She let out a hearty laugh before saying. "Ah, how could I forget that our founding fathers wrote in the constitution 223 years ago that Hersh and the ISA can kill anyone if we found 'evidence'."
A small frown appeared on his stone-cut face and he said. "Are you feeling guilty for what we've done, Shaw?"
Only if she could feel what normal people could feel, then she might have… but does that mean she feels bad about what she has done? No, they were all bad guys. But does she have doubts about their role as judge, jury, and executioner? Maybe.
A snort came out from her before saying. "You know I don't do guilt… Don't you think going around killing people without trial is a bit fucked? Kinda goes against everything that was taught in school about civics." She gave Hersh a confused look before continuing. "You do remember going to school, don't you, Hersh? Or did you just pop into existence the moment ISA was formed?"
Her mentor gave her a look in the only way she could describe as a glare and said. "Sometimes we must take extreme measures to defend the homeland and each time we take out a number, we silently protect countless lives, hidden from the awareness of the world. Remember Shaw, never again."
That's true… not that she has ever seen the direct results of her actions. She knows she saves lives by killing people. Kinda fucked if she thinks about it; she learned to be a doctor to save lives but got kicked out for having bad bedside manners and now she's saving lives by taking it. Good thing mum doesn't know about her current job. She might get a heart attack.
She felt herself harden by that. "Yeah, never again." Sameen said as they both turned back to monitor the camera feeds for number's house.
They spent the next few hours in silent vigil, observing their number like a hawk to see if there's any slip up in his act. Not long after lunch, they were rewarded for their effort, with their number being weird after he entered his bedroom.
Shaw leaned in closer towards the monitor to get a better look and said. "Davis is tense."
"You sure?" Hersh said as he brought his chair closer. "He is a bit stiff."
Nodding in affirmation, she presses a button on the console to activate the bedroom microphone, then picks up the headphone for the both of them and wore them after giving Hersh his one.
"Do you hear that faint sound of something buzzing?" Sameen said as she pressed another button to change the camera to a better view.
"Mhmm." Hersh then turns up the volume of the microphones.
They both watch the man walk towards one of his sliding cabinets and open the top drawer to take out a cell phone that's not supposed to be there.
"Where the hell did that come from? We both checked that drawer last time we were in there, didn't we?" Said Sameen as she quickly check the other monitor to see if there's any intercepted messages.
"It was empty… Did you get anything?" Hersh said, with his eyes still glued to the monitor.
Sameen looks through all the messages from all the devices that the software intercepted from that house, but… "There's nothing. The tower isn't picking up any signal from that phone; it's like that phone doesn't exist. Like it just fucking popped up out of thin air."
She looked back at the camera feed to see the number, put back the mysterious phone, and moved out of the room post haste.
The speed at which Hersh stood up caused his chair to fall backwards onto the floor as he said. "I'm going to follow him. You know what to do."
With a nod, she rushed into one of the rooms - close to their stations in the living room - to grab a messenger bag that contains an air-gapped laptop and walked out the door that Hersh has conveniently left open after he flew out of the house to get into the van. After closing the door behind her, she sashays along the sidewalk in the fall weather towards their number's residence.
Looking at her wristwatch, the kids should be back in 30 minutes and the wife shouldn't be back until 5pm. That's more than enough time for her to do her magic. While on the street that she has familiarized herself in the past three weeks, she notes everything in her surroundings to see if there's anything off and thinks about how the hell the cellphone got into that cabinet.
The number looked like he was caught off guard by the cell phone. Is he really a spy? Like some kind of sleeper agent that lay in waiting until he gets activated. If so, that means someone must have snuck into that house and placed that phone in that cabinet. But how? Neither she nor Hersh saw anything on the camera, and they monitor it 24/7, both rotating in and out whenever one is tired. She needs to review the camera footage in the past 48 hours to see if they missed anything.
As she reached the target's house, she took another look around to see anything was out of place. After satisfying her curiosity, she opens the door with the key Hersh made after the first few days, when they figured out that this won't be a straightforward op.
Entering the house, she saw the picture-perfect family house with everything in order. If there's one thing she learned about this man's personality is that he's a neat freak. Walking down the familiar path towards the number's bedroom, she pass by the multitude of happy family pictures. She wonders if whatever the man was doing was worth destroying the lives of the people that love him.
Coming into the bedroom, she went straight to the cabinet of interest, retrieving her laptop from her bag and placing it on the cabinet. With a pull on the top drawer, she picks up the mysterious phone of interest and examines it.
It's a brand-new iPhone 3Gs. She's seen some people back in DC walking around with the thing, but who uses a new phone as a burner?
Let's hope the nerds back in HQ updated the software on the computer to be able to interface with this phone because she really doesn't want to take it and spook the number before they can take him down. After turning on the laptop, she plugs in the phone, using one of the cables from the bundle of cables in the bag, and runs the software.
The phone screen lights up as the computer does its magic by showing the progress with a slow-moving bar. A few minutes pass the phone screen unlocks, showing the home screen.
Nice.
She then presses a few more options in the software to rip every data from the phone. While she waits for the computer to copy the data, she looks through the phone and finds it puzzling. No messages, no call log, no pictures, no notes, no email, nothing. It's like the phone is brand new and no one has ever used it.
What the fuck did the guy read that made him scramble out from his house if there's nothing in here? He couldn't have deleted anything; he basically dropped the phone back into the drawer and ran out.
She might be newish in this whole covert operations thing, but there's always a trail for them to sniff at, but now there's nothing. The only hope for them to figure out what is plot that's going on is the data the computer just finished ripping and to see what Hersh finds out.
Snapping close the laptop, she quickly unplugs the phone and puts it back in its rightful location. Walking out of the house and towards their hideout, a school bus passes by her.
Coming back into the hideout, she went straight to the monitors and saw the kids were back in the house. Pulling the laptop out and setting it on the table, she straight away goes through the ripped data of the mysterious phone.
The sun was setting by the time she saw the number coming back into his house from the corner of her eyes as she continued going through the data relentlessly. With the number back home, Hersh should be here soon and right on cue, the door of their hideout was opened, then slammed shut.
"I see that the number is still alive, so what happened?" Sameen asked as she swivel her seat to face the stone-faced man that looks frustrated, an emotion that she has never seen on him before.
Interesting.
"I'm not sure myself." He gruff it out as he walked towards the dining table to pick up one of the water bottle and drink it.
"What?" was the only thing she could say at that moment.
"He was going on one of his usual routines when halfway though I lost him for a few minutes before finding him again, then he continued on with his routine before coming back home." Hersh said coarsely after he finished the small water bottle.
It took her a couple of seconds to process what he just said before saying confusingly. "But you never lost anyone's trail before."
He uttered a grunt while he walked to their table to take a seat before saying anything. "Shit happens and apparently, he is better trained than we both expected. So, what do you have at your end?"
Sameen let out a long-suffering groan. "Fucking nothing. I've been pulling my hair out for hours, going through the data again and again like some psycho trying to find gold from nothing. The phone is clean, there's nothing on it and there's was nothing that was deleted from it. Like whatever that was on the phone that the number saw never existed." Sameen said. "And I've triple checked the camera footage from the last 48 hours. No one other than the family came into the house, or anyone opened that drawer. Almost like the phone materializes out of thin air. It's fucking weird."
They both sat in quiet contemplation as they looked at the camera feed of the number interacting with his family like everything was normal.
"My gut says there's something fishy is going on here. Everything is just too clean." Sameen commented as she stood up to stretch and grab the other bottled water from the dining table.
"This feels familiar…" Hersh grunts out while his eyes stay locked on the monitors.
Pushing herself off the dining table, she went back to the stoic man and asked. "Something like this has happened before?"
He nods before looking back at her and said. "It's before you join ISA. Last summer, research gave us a number, and we took out a three-man terrorist cell trying to blow up the Lehman Brothers building. The investigation was similar to this: perfect innocent lives, no motive, a lot of dead ends, missing data, a goose chase trying to figure out what was their plan. But in that op, we were able to find a small trail that led us to what they were conspiring to do and caught them in the nick of time on the day they went to plant the bomb. This all feels similar to that number, but the method of doing things is completely different this time."
She frowns in contemplation of the new information. Anarchist? Or was it some weird anti-capitalist nut jobs? Why would they plan to bomb a failing bank? Not like the bank needed any more help from killing itself. What's the connection between that and Mr. Perfect Spy?
"Did you capture any of the numbers from that op?" Sameen asked.
Hersh shook his head and said. "One died in the scene, one died from his wounds not long after being hospitalized and the last one we capture but he died in custody due to choking on his food according to the coroner."
She looked at the unmoving man in disbelief.
Dude, that's just fucking weird.
"What do we do now? Do we just go in there and kill him? It might blow shit back on our face since we have no idea what the man is planning. He might be a lone wolf, and the phone is a contact to get his weapon, or he might be a small cog in a bigger plan. The other way is we can continue to observe him to see how the plans unfold." Sameen said. "So, what do we do next? … Or do we call Control?"
The stoic man gave her a glace and grunted, then standing up to pull out his cellphone to make the call.
"Ma'am, this number has become a situation similar to the one from last year."
Sameen tries her hardest to eavesdrop on the conversation, but alas, she fails to hear anything from her sitting position.
"Yes Ma'am, the Lehman Brothers case. Yes, we don't know what this number's plan is. What would you recommend we do?"
She tries to decipher the small micro reactions on his face, but to no avail.
"Will do, Ma'am." Hersh ended the call and turned to face her.
"So? Don't leave me hanging here." Sameen said, leaning back into her seat.
"We continue our observation of the number, and we nab him when he does something suspicious. Controls want to speak to him after this." Hersh said as she sat back into his seat.
Capture? That's a first. The big boss must really want to meet the number.
"No killing gotcha, but we're playing close to the fire on this." Sameen said skeptically. "Do you really think this is somehow connected to your previous number?"
He shook his head and said. "We'll know when we capture him."
"Hmm…" Sameen let out an enormous yawn and rubbing her eyes from the strain of nonstop looking at her laptop for hours on end.
"You look like shit, Shaw. Go take a rest. I'll keep first watch." Hersh said after giving her a side glance.
She gave a glare at the stoic man and said, "Asshole." Before standing up and making her way to her bedroom to take a few hours of shut eyes.
More than a week has passed since the appearance of the mysterious phone and the number went back into his normal routine. Both of them paid closer attention to everything he does but they come up with nothing. They still have no idea what his plan is or why did they get his number until now.
Sitting alone in the living room with the morning sun coming through the uncovered windows, facing the wall of monitors that show multiple camera feeds of inside the house. Sameen spots an interesting development happening inside the number's house.
"What do we have here?" Sameen said to herself as she leaned in closer to the monitors and pressed on the console to look at the number from different angles.
"\Hey honey, I need to go meet Robert in DC for a bit.\"
Who the fuck is Robert?
In another monitor Sameen brought up the list of contacts the number has and a picture of a man in shades with its profile saying that Robert is a friend from Philly. They met after his service in the army and looking at what the 'friend' does, says business consultant.
… That's the vaguest job description in history. Is he the contact?
"\Really? It's Saturday. Can't you ask to meet him on Monday?\"
The man leaned into his wife and give a kiss. "\Sorry honey, he says it's urgent.\"
Alarm bells were ringing in her head as she listened to the conversation.
Is this it? Today is the day?
"\Sigh… Will you be back for dinner?\"
'If shit is going down, you won't be seeing him for a long time, lady.'
"\Of course, I'll never miss a meal you cook. I'll see you later.\"
The man walks away from his wife towards the kid's room.
"Oi asshole! Get up, now!" She screamed from the top of her lungs and dashed to the clock closet to grab her stuff.
A few seconds later, a disheveled looking Hersh came out of his room. "What's going on?"
"Shit's going to happen." Sameen said after taking out her and the asshole's bag from the closet, then she points towards the monitor.
A frown formed on his face as he looked at the monitor. "Let's go."
"I'm driving." Sameen said as they both exits their hideout and toss both bags onto Hersh after they enter the van.
"Where's the GPS tracker monitor?" Asked Hersh as she turns on the van.
"My bag left pocket." She drove out from their hideout towards the number's street.
Hersh took out the device and connected it to the van for power. Glancing at the lighted up screen, she sees where their number is going.
"Fill me in." Hersh muttered. Putting the device on top of the van's center console, he took out a laptop from his bag and powers it on.
"The number is going to DC to meet up with a 'friend' named Robert. Not sure if he is actually going to meet that guy or is going somewhere else. It was abrupt too. He looked at the time and instantly went to his wife to tell her about it." Sameen replied almost robotically as she drives out of the neighborhood.
"So, what did you find?" Sameen asked a few minutes after Hersh types into his laptop.
"Not much, is a partner in a management consultancy firm based out of Philly that frequently collaborates with the number's firm. No family, parents are dead, makes a lot of money, no criminal record—not even a single parking ticket—, and graduate at the top of his class from Penn." Hersh said while his eyes still glued to his laptop.
A flash of annoyance went through her as she said. "Why does that description sound exactly like our number, excluding the military part?"
"Because it sounds exactly like our number, but we will be jumping the gun to say that he's involved in all of this. Like you said, our number might just be using his name as a cover for his wife." Hersh said while he continues to type into his laptop.
Her grip on the wheel tightens as she says. "This doesn't feel right. We're going in blind, and my gut tells me we're missing something the big picture. Also, what the fuck does a consultant even do?"
"A management consultant provides recommendations on ways to improve an organization's efficiency." Hersh said without skipping a beat like he knew it by heart, all the while he still focused on his laptop.
What…
Sameen turned her focus to her mentor with a dumbfounded expression while driving by the edge of her vision. "We're you a fucking consultant before joining ISA?"
"Focus on the road, Shaw." He pointed to the front, causing Sameen to turn her sights back on to the road and seeing a car in front of them getting closer to them, causing her to press on the brake to avoid a collision.
If he was a consultant before this, then what the hell happened that made him the way he is? Really odd choice of job because his social skills is crap.
Without another word, they both focus on their respective tasks, and she paid extra focus on not being made by their number.
"Looks like our guy isn't going to DC." Sameen said as they drove past the junction to get on I95 and continue on DE Route 7.
Hersh grumbled in agreement. "We got another team on Robert, and he never left his house in Philly. They also did a quick check on him and found nothing."
She nods and said. "Better keep eyes on that guy. If he's as clean as our guy, he isn't as clean as we think."
Her companion took out his phone to text, leaving her to wonder what was going on as she drive by neighborhood after neighborhood and into Pennsylvania.
"Where the hell are you going?" Sameen said to no one in particular as they took the turn onto PA Route 30 going west.
"Either Lancaster or Harrisburg." Hersh said after looking at the map on the laptop.
"My money is in Harrisburg. Maybe he's going to kill the governor? Or blow something up." Sameen said as she opens a can of coffee to drink.
"Agreed."
Continuing down route 30, they didn't go on any exit for Lancaster. Ruling out that city and getting on route 283. Which means they definitely going to Harrisburg. Yet they took an exit 25 miles away from Harrisburg.
Okay… this is odd. What is he doing going to the middle of nowhere? There's nothing of significance out here. The bug in her head telling her they're missing the puzzle just screamed louder.
Hersh and Sameen gave each other a side glance, saying that they were both thinking the same thing.
Keeping their distance from their number and using the GPS if they lose sight of the number's car. They made their way towards a small industrial lot filled with warehouses and a large parking lot surrounded by concrete planter boxes and the entrance of which is guarded. Their number entered the parking lot with no hassle.
"You think he got that parking pass from when you lost him a week back?" Giving Hersh a smirk.
"Mhmm." His face barely reacts and didn't take the bait.
They continue driving on the road parallel to the parking lot, following their number and stopping by the side of the road as their target parks beside a lone nondescript SUV.
Is this another dead drop or is he going to change cars?
Opening the glove compartment, she took out the binoculars to get a clearer view of what their number was doing, and beside her, Hersh did the same with binoculars from his bag.
Looking through the binoculars, she can see the man still sitting in his car as if he's contemplating what to do next for the next few minutes, then he got out of the car and unlocks the SUV, which he conveniently had. He must have gotten them with the parking pass.
Walking around the car, the man went to the trunk of the SUV and opens it. What she sees inside is a big, long green box with metal latches which looks kind of familiar to her but couldn't 100% make out what it is with the man blocking the view.
The number proceeds to unlatch the latches, hitting home of how familiar that box is. The thing looks like it's a military case and she's trying to rake her brain to see if she remembers what it is with how familiar it looks. The man moved to the left and opens the case, revealing a long dark green tube. She had an uncomfortable feeling, looking at the tube, then it hit her with what was in the crate.
Tossing her binoculars aside, she turns to snatch the laptop from Hersh to check where they were on the map and see their location is directly on the path towards the airport. Hersh was looking at her in surprised at how on edge Sameen was as her face morphed after coming to the realization what the target was.
"What is it?" Hersh asked with a deep frown.
"Oh, fuck." She said tensely as she tossed the laptop back at Hersh and swung open the door so hard that it closed by itself after she leaped out of the van.
Her eyes were dead set on the number in the distance, as her heart raced as she sprinted with all her might. It felt like she was looking through a tunnel as she jumped across the planter box. She has no clue how far she ran for, but she's getting closer to the man who was still oblivious to what is coming at him.
At the appropriate distance, she came to a dead stop and took out her sidearm to aim at the number. Feeling her heart hammering and her breathing still shaky, she took two deep breaths to calm everything down. She then took the shot, aiming at the man's knees, causing the man to shout and collapse onto the ground.
Not taking another second, she burst into a sprint again to close the distance and reaching the downed man before he could take out his own pistol.
"Stay down and don't move, asshole." Sameen said calmly as she turns the man to face the ground and kneeled on him, causing the man to groan in pain.
She cuffs the man before patting him down and tossing his pistol away. "You're under arrest and going to rot in a hole for a very long time, asshole." Sameen said as she continues to pat him down to see if there's any relevant information on him. The man on the other hand, seemed to be calm despite the continues groaning and did not even protest but kept his mouth shut the entire time.
A slightly out of breath Hersh came to a stop right at the edge of her vision and looked into the back of the SUV. Then he realized what was the target. "Oh, dear."
Satisfied with the state of their number, she stood up to get a closer look at the trunk and said. "How the hell does anyone get a hold of a fucking Stinger missile?" She examines the markings on the case and on the missile itself. It looks old and weathered, but isn't so much different from the ones she used, just older.
Hersh glanced at the number and said. "Something our terrorist here can elaborate more when we get back to HQ." Then he tosses an IFAK bag at her -like he just knows she would shoot the guy- before continuing. "Make sure he doesn't die before we get there." He then took out his phone to make a call.
Her medical training took over and did everything with sharpened muscle memory. Unzipping the bag, she took out a tourniquet and put it on top of the thigh of the damaged knee, causing the man to scream in pain as she tightens it. "Shouldn't be a dirtbag terrorist now, should you?" Sameen said sarcastically, as cuts the trouser and she pours iodine into the gunshot wound, then packs it with gauze. She finishes patching the dirtbag with an Israeli bandage and wipes her bloody hands on the guy's shirt.
As she finished applying first aid, she looked up to see Hersh finishing his call, probably calling for backup. Just as she was about to say something, a loud sound of a passenger aircraft flew near them and then passed over them, causing her to stand up to look at the plane she had just saved from a fiery doom.
A nice warm feeling appeared in her as she observed the plane peacefully making its descent towards Harrisburg airport, unbeknownst to the fate they had just avoided.
Hersh put a hand on her shoulder and said. "Good work." Causing her to smile with satisfaction.
Just as she was about to turn away, her heart came to a freezing stop as she spotted a trail of white cloud ascending from the ground towards the sky off to the distance, then another cloud trail coming from another location. Her eyes widened in shock and her throat felt tighten at the realization of what was happening.
There were other numbers…
… Numbers that research didn't get.
The seconds it took for the missiles to make their way to the airplane felt like an eternity, then in a snap both missiles hit the plane's engines, causing a large fireball to engulf the wings. Without the power of the engine or the controls of the wings, the plane quickly drops out from the sky. She couldn't see where it went after it 'flew' over the horizon, but she knew the plane was doomed.
She slowly turns to look at her mentor, who had a look on his face that she could only describe as horror before his eyes harden and brings up his phone to make another call. "Find out everything you can from this asshole. I'm going to have a chat with the guard at that post." He then walks away.
Turning her head back down to the guy on the ground, who looked off into the distance where the plane crashed. She felt a surge of anger coursing through her as kicked the guy on the side of his stomach, making him groan in pain before kneeling down on him.
"I could make this so much more painful for you, asshole, if you don't tell me everything I want to know." Sameen growled into the man's ear.
The man let out a pained, hollow chuckle and said. "I'm not afraid of you, girl."
Tightening her hand into a fist, she punched as hard as she could into the man's gunshot wound, making him scream in pain. "I could do this all day, buddy." Sameen said with a harsh tone. "How many of your dirtbags are there? Who planned this? Who supplied that MANPAD to you? Why did you do it? Who are you working for?"
The man was panting from the pain, but he kept his mouth shut. So, she went on with beating his gunshot wound and then asking him the same question again. To which he gave the same response of silence, making her repeat the process and again and again and again.
A few minutes passed as she continued repeating the cycle of beating and questions and silence. To the point where her fist was bloody with the blood of the terrorist, undoing all the first aid she applied.
At some point after she lost count of how many times she punched the man's wound, the guy let out hysterical pained laughter and gritted out. "I'm not going to talk because I'm more afraid of them than I you."
Them? Okay, that means it is a group. That meant he knew who planned this rather than him being an unwitting and unknowing collaborator.
She gave another punch at the mangled wound and said. "Oh yeah? You're more afraid of some shitty terrorist cell than the US government? Then you have no idea what we're capable of, asshole. Tell me who is your handler."
The man let out a suffering groan and said. "No… You're the one that has no idea what they're capable of…"
Another strike on the bloody bandage. "You will go to the deepest, darkest hole and never see your family again if you don't cooperate."
"They're going to be just fine and well taken care of." The number said without a single ounce of remorse at what he had done to the people that love him, and it only made her angrier.
Just as her fist was about to contact the fucked-up wound, Hersh's voice came from behind her. "That's enough, Shaw." But she didn't stop and hit him for the last time.
She quickly stood up and rounded at Hersh. "Got info on why that plane was targeted and are there teams going to find those other fuckers?"
He shook his head and said, "Was a normal Delta Air flight from Atlanta and we'll get more info when we get the manifest. The police scrambling to search for the others. I assume he did not say anything?"
"Other than that, it's a group of people, no."
Hersh looks at the man shaking from pain with a scowl of disgust on his face. Taking a deep breath, she tries to unwind herself, but still felt incredibly pissed off.
"You got anything from that guard?" Sameen said as she flexes her fingers and looked down at her bloody knuckles. Her hand is going to be sore later. There should be an instant cold pack in the van.
"The guard said that the van has been there since yesterday, before his shift started. As for the CCTV, there was an anomaly. Footage from midnight to four AM was blacked out. I got guys going to pay the night guard a visit and to come here to pick up the DVR and scour through the area." Hersh said with a sigh of frustration.
"What do we do with this asshole? The feds and everyone are going to get involved now that there's a big terrorist attack." Sameen asked as she kicked the downed man in the stomach again.
Hersh gave her a look before looking at the terrorist and said. "He doesn't exist anymore. The feds can go look for the two shooters while we offload him to the guys back at HQ. They'll know how to make him squeal."
A smile appears on her face despite the shit situation they are in, because she knows exactly who Hersh is referring to.
Bending down, she grabs the guy by the sides and brings him upright with some help from Hersh.
It took them a moment to stabilize the wobbling man, so he doesn't fall when there was a loud snap and a red mist exploded into their world. With eyes wide, she looked to her side to see there was a large hole where one of the number's eyes was located. She saw Hersh doing the same thing and came to the same conclusion.
"Sniper!" She yelled as she let go of the dead man and hit the deck.
Adrenaline was pumping through her as she instinctively took out her pistol and scan the direction where she thinks the shot came from.
After a minute in the prone position and failing to find where the shot came from and no follow up shots, she glanced at Hersh, seeing him practically boiling as he muttered. "Fuck."
In a stark office room illuminated by whiny white lights, two individuals found themselves seated across from one another. Sameen sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair which she thinks is intentionally meant to be shitty and sitting on the other side of the table was the desk jockey Wilson.
"Am I done here?" Sameen asked in her usual emotionless tone after she finished verbally repeating everything she wrote in the written report. She wasn't even sure why they even call her in to give a verbal report of that disastrous fuck up mission. Must be some archaic federal procedure for when shit hits the fan.
"I'll see you again after your eval." Wilson said with his usual smarmy look that just annoys her to a point that she wants to punch him.
As she stands up, she grabs her service pistol from Wilson's desk and walks towards the door to get out from that torture room. Exiting the room, she enters the office space of what looks like a standard federal office space except of course, that the sole purpose of this office is to stop terrorist plots before it could happen, which she happens to have just failed a few days ago.
At the corner of her eye towards one end of the office space, she spots Hersh sitting in the worker's lounge area, reading some documents. Did they drag him in to give a verbal report as well? Also, is he waiting for her? Because that's awfully weird of him to do. But this is a good opportunity to talk to Hersh about the failed mission, since they split off after getting back to DC a couple of days ago.
"Tell me you know how that guy got that fucking Stinger. Did a base lost track of a few or did someone misplaced a crate that was supposed to be decommissioned, or did a few crates of those MANPADS accidentally got bump out of a moving truck?" Sameen asked as she reached where Hersh was sitting and leaned on one of the sofas.
Hersh continued to read the documents for a few seconds, not even bothering to acknowledge her presence, making her a bit annoyed before putting down the paper he was reading. Looking up at her, he shook his head and said. "The Stinger we recovered was from a batch of Stingers the CIA gave to the Mujahideen in the 80s. Our specific Stinger was given to the Afghans in 1988."
Huh? That was so out of left field from every idea she came up since that day.
"What the fuck?" She mumbled to herself.
"How the fuck did a 30-year-old Stinger from Afghanistan came back here?" She asked Hersh as she push herself off to come around the sofa and plump herself down on said sofa.
"Isn't that the billion-dollar question?" Hersh replied as he continues to look at her as if he's trying to figure something out.
"There must be a connection between this and your Lehman number. Both kept their plans hidden from everyone until the last moment, unlike last time, this time, they kept the trail colder… The amount of resources, planning, and connections needed to bring back that kind of weapon under everyone's noses is fucking huge. That means this 'organization' is well organized and well-funded and knows how to work so covertly that Research had no clue about the other two missing shooters. This isn't just some shitty terrorist cell we always encountered." Sameen speculated out loud as she rubbed her eyebrow while trying to piece the broken strands together to see the bigger picture.
She sees Hersh nodded in agreement but didn't comment on it, so she asked. "What about Davis's family, did we take them in? And any other suspicious contacts?"
"A team was dispatched to take them in never got to them because the family died in an explosion. Preliminary report says that a tragic gas leak causes the explosion, and the coroner identified the three bodies that were in the house as the Davis by matching their dental records." Hersh said almost monotonal but there was a hint of anger in his voice. "Other than Robert, the other suspicious contact is a man named Colin. Both men died on the same day before our agents could reach them. Robert had a fatal traffic accident and Colin died from a severe anaphylaxis reaction from drinking almond milk."
She took a second to process the last bit.
Was she stuck in some kind of surreal comedy show? Their only leads are all dead and one of them is from a fucking nut allergy.
That's some fucking weird conspiracy going on here and by the tone Hersh is talking, he thinks the same.
"So? The bogeyman cleaned house and all of our leads were gone. What about the devices from that asshole and the other two? Did we get anything?" She asked sarcastically before continuing. "Wait, let me guess. All of it is suspiciously clean and the nerds couldn't find anything, no matter how hard they tried?" She ended with a sardonic laugh and Hersh didn't even bother responding because that was exactly that happened.
They both sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes before Sameen broke the silence. "There must be some way for us to find a lead again. Maybe we can go back and check on your number from last year. Or maybe we sneak into J. Edgar Hoover and look through what they have found since that day."
Hersh stared at her for a few seconds and said. "I'm with you on there's something bigger that's pulling the strings for these two plots from behind the curtains, but it is out of our hands right now and it isn't our job to investigate a plot that already happened."
That sparked something in her. "We're letting it go? Whoever was behind this fucking killed a sitting US governor and a hundred twenty-eight other innocent lives, including kids using our own Stingers." Sameen seethed. "What if something like this happens again? But this time, Research never gets their intel at all. We need to find out who did this because this is a national fucking security threat?" She felt days of anger finally boiled over the top. She really wants to punch or shoot something.
She wasn't even sure why she's so angry or why she remembers exactly how many died on that plane. It's not like she could feel sympathies or anything for those that die. Was it failure that angered her? Or was there something she just doesn't understand?
"We don't." Hersh said with a hardened tone. "Control wants us to get back to doing numbers as soon as possible after we're okayed to do so, and it's not ISA's job to investigate this. Every intel and law enforcement agency has their eyes on this."
This leaves her in a very unsatisfied position and she hates it.
Just as she was about to reply, Hersh cut her off. "Our job is to investigate and prevent shit like this from happening. Not investigate a crime that already happens."
What about finding out who did this to prevent it from happening again? That's still their job description.
"A fat lot of good that did." Sameen snapped back before letting out a high sigh of frustration as she slid further down the sofa. "This doesn't feel right, Hersh." She muttered. "It felt like we were bumbling through the dark to the tune of the fuckers who planned this."
By some miracle brought down from heaven, the ever-present stone cut face of her mentor softened slightly and said sourly. "You'll learn that shit outside of your control will happen and you can't prevent every terrorist threat that our country faces. But that doesn't mean we should stop when shit hits our face and not try to prevent the next one."
She tightens her lightly bandaged fist into a ball in frustration, not satisfied with the current situation.
Hersh grabbed all of his documents and stood up.
"You should take a few days off for yourself and try not to think about what happened, Shaw. Find something to do to relax and decompress. We can get back to the numbers when you're good." Hersh said almost softly… well, as soft as that man could do, and walked towards the exit.
She looked at the retreating figure of her mentor as he walked away. What he said filled her thoughts, but…
'There's no rule that prevents me from figuring out this 'organization' in my free time."