CHAPTER 137
I LIKE THE VIEW FROM UP ABOVE
"We good?" Emily asked with a smirk, feeling quite rebellious for omitting the actual verb in the question.
"What, with me remembering all the secret codes, signs and languages you just came up with?" Richard asked, just to make sure what her question was referred to.
They had spent the entire ride from the Greek restaurant to the bar, with Emily suggesting little hints and things, for their secret spy language, for their game tomorrow. To him, she sounded like a fifteen year old nerdy boy who was into espionage comic books.
"Yeah! We can have a tactical advantage if we have codes. This way we can communicate even if other teams are around us. Or, the UnSub!" She was such an enthusiast and he had to give it to her - she was also quite good at codes.
"The who?" He raised an eyebrow.
Shit, Emily realized she had let that word slip up.
"I don't know, I heard it on TV." She shrugged, trying to excuse that word without explaining it.
"So, what are you going to wear?" She asked curiously.
"Does it matter?" He replied with a question.
"Uh, yes! Yes, it does! Oh, wow, are you serious!? You have to have a cover!"
"Like, a manteau over my clothes?" His question made her scoff.
"Are you serious!? A cover, an undercover identity! We have to think of background, fake names, everything. And yes, our clothes have to match our new identity. And you can never call me Emily on the field, understood? Tomorrow, we won't be Richard and Emily…we will be…" She trailed off, gazing ahead of them as he parked the car, trying to come up with names.
"Marlon!" He already had a name he wanted to use.
"What, like Marlon Brando?" Emily raised an eyebrow and he nodded. "Like, the most elegant man, considered as the greatest movie actor of all times, that Marlon you mean?"
"Precisely." He said calmly.
"Also, Vito Corleone? The Godfather?" Emily kept on asking.
"Oh yeah!"
Something about the way he replied, while getting out of this obnoxiously amazing car, in the darkness of the Parisian streets, made her like him even more, if that was even possible.
"Well, I was considering Alain, like Alain Delon, but he was too arrogant. Can't pull that off. I'm a nice guy." He added with a genuine smile.
"Daaamn…" She muttered to herself. Did her heart just skip a beat?
"How about you, my Mystery Woman?"
"Brigitte!" She had toyed with other possibilities, but nothing sounded as good as that.
"What, like Brigitte Bardot – the most beautiful French actress of all times? A sex symbol? A legend? That Brigitte, you mean?" He structured his question the same way she had structured hers, just to toy with her a little.
"Unless you don't think I'm up to par? I mean, besides the obvious difference in hair color…" Emily chuckle, remembering a time in her life, many years ago, when she had briefly joined the Blondes Club. It hadn't suited her much, plus, dark hair looked great in combination with her dark personality and she loved it.
"Oh, you are so much more than that…" He walked over to the sidewalk and linked hands with her, like a true gentleman, as they took a few more steps towards the bar.
"Wait!" Emily remembered the headband with the veil.
She was hoping it wouldn't have snapped in two, being stuffed in her purse, but it was fine when she took it out and placed it on her head.
"Femme Fatale." He commented as soon as he laid eyes on her, with that strapless little black dress, the fake pearls necklace and that veil in her hair.
"Oh, you have no idea…" She said mysteriously.
The more they spoke about spy-related stuff, the more she was tempted to come clean, about her past. And yet, not knowing who he was, it could potentially be dangerous. So, in her mind, the best play here was to wait until she was ready to hear his truth and then tell him about herself.
They walked in and to Emily's surprise this place looked a lot more normal and tamed than it used to, years ago. She had been there, on the job, twice, as Lauren. It was weird to be there as herself now, but surely nobody would remember her.
Walking by the other tables, she couldn't help but wonder – who was a spy there? Who were the bad guys? Was there something going on? Everyone looked normal, having drinks and chatting away, but that was only on the surface. She knew what the spy world looked like and it looked awfully much like a normal bar, with normal people, having normal conversations.
At that moment she realized she had definitely had a good run as a spy, but she did not miss those days, at all.
She loved the FBI - it was clean, she knew who the good guys were and she didn't have to worry about screwing someone over, to make the case. Those were the words she had once told someone, in regards to her past job and her present one, and she stood by those words.
"Brigitte, what would you like to drink?" He asked her when they reached the bar.
The fact that he already started calling her by her new spy name was undoubtedly doing things to her heart and, as much as she usually thought back of her spy days in a negative light, she kind of felt a bit nostalgic, too, at that very moment.
"Surprise me."
"Alright then, Dark And Stormy for both of us." He ordered and turned around to look at her. "I don't suppose you're a fan of dark rum and beer, as a mix, but I couldn't help it, that name just…come on, it is you, in a cocktail glass!"
"I've never tried it, actually. You're right, I think I might hate the taste, that's why I've never ordered it. But yeah, I've always been curious about that drink."
Their drinks came up quicker than they both expected.
"To trying new things." He raised his glass after toying with the idea of possibly having used the word 'experiencing', instead.
Yes, they were talking about 'trying' new drinks, but he wanted to 'experience' life, with her. How could he possibly let her know, without it being too soon for him to drop such a bomb?
"To trying new things, together." She clinked him, adding a small twist to his toast speech, a twist that he greatly appreciated.
Did she just confirm to him that, maybe…just maybe, she meant to say 'experiencing', instead of 'trying', too?
"Want to get a table?" He suggested, eyeing the place for a free table.
"I like the view from up above." She smirked, her eyes hungrily scanning the room.
"I've noticed…" He whispered, placing his hand behind her back and bringing her a few inches closer.
Emily had been told, way too many times, that she was a control freak, both at work and in bed. She always had to be on top, the one pulling the strings.
What his words suggested, made her blush.
"Fine then, maybe tonight I'll be the bottom…for like, the first few rounds." She said cheekily.
He didn't reply, he only sucked in a breath because this – her, all of the things she said to him; it was too much. He didn't deserve her. She was everything and more, while being nothing but herself.
"Attempt number seven, failed!" A trainer called out.
"You've gotta be kidding me!" Angie was beyond pissed, at that point.
Seven attempts at a hostage rescue and she still had no freaking idea what was going on in that damned alley. And it wasn't because of her partner either, because for once she actually got teamed up with a brilliant guy who could kick her ass on the field. Yet, neither one of them could figure it out.
"What are we doing wrong?" She asked Ron, her partner.
"I have no idea, but I'd like to figure it out." He was just as annoyed, tired, sweaty and starving.
"We don't even know how many terrorists we're dealing with. Nor what this whole thing is about! How can they just put us out on the field, with no information at all!" Angie whined.
They had been given five minutes in between their attempts, so they were now sitting on the ground, trying to figure things out.
"I know there are at least three people – two male and one slim female." Ron pointed out.
"Yeah, one tall male and one shorted guy and also the woman. But there was someone chubbier, remember our third attempt? He walked out, holding the hostage. Or one of them. God, we don't even know how many hostages are in that building." Angie rolled her eyes. Nothing made sense.
"So, at least four terrorists and one hostage." Ron summed it up so far.
"Two hostages, actually. The height and body built of the people they held was different, in the different attempts." Angie was right and Ron agreed. "Then again, this is a training and those are hired actors, so since we are idiots and it's taking us way too long, maybe some of the actors clocked out for lunch break and they simply switched up. There's no way we can count the people we're dealing with, if that's the case."
"Damn it, Hunter, you're right." Ron rubbed his temples.
He was a huge, strong guy, who came from seven years of police work. He was qualifying for a Special Agent with the Bureau and he was definitely good at most of the trainings. He slacked with some of the theory, but there wasn't a single person who was good at everything. And the people who were bad at more than a few subjects, were getting sent home with each cut, on a Sunday.
"I feel like we're looking at this the wrong way…" Angie started off.
"What if we're not supposed to do the obvious thing? This is not a lullaby, we're not kids, we're not here to count sheep. Come on. We need to think outside the box. We only heard the voices of two of the terrorists and when we asked for their demands, they didn't specify anything. They seemed focused on keeping us out of that building, by holding the hostage…oh my God…oh my God…" As Angie thought out loud, something hit her.
"Please tell me this is one of your insane nerdy tricks where you suddenly realize you're a genius and you can save the day." Ron laughed. He really liked Angie and he could tell how incredibly hard she had been working, throughout the Academy.
"No, I'm not a genius. Nerd, yes, I am. But genius, no, sadly." She replied quickly before she stood up and walked to the door.
It was a no exit alley that led to a dumpster, a few carton boxes scattered around and waiting for the recycling truck to come collect them, a tent made out of torn out clothing fabrics, with an old mattress underneath – no doubt the hideout of a homeless person. And then there was the back door to one of the buildings, the door from which the terrorists came out from, holding their hostage.
"Carton boxes. Paper. Recycling…" Angie started to enlist all the things she saw and connected them to the first thing that came to her mind.
"The paper recycling trucks collect on Tuesdays. Our Training Officer said that we have been called here on our days off – the weekend. I specifically remember him saying that, when he gave us the info on this mission. I found it weird that they needed to set this during the weekend, but…what if there was a purpose?" Angie did not notice that, but Dan was smirking, sitting on a chair, next to the trainers who were observing the mission.
"So?" Ron asked. Clearly, he hadn't been a Detective, during his years with the Police Force.
"So, it is either Saturday or Sunday. And there's just a bunch of cartons out here. Why not more? Only like, what…four, five? Five carton boxes from this entire building, for an entire week? Yeah, sure. This looks like some sort of a factory building, it's definitely not a housing complex. They must produce way more trash than just that." Angie grabbed one of the carton boxes and examined it.
"Look, there's some sort of a serial number here and they've covered it up by black marker. Why? Who does that before throwing trash away? Unless they don't want it to be traced. And look, the other boxes have this piece entirely cut out, like someone didn't want to see it. An address? A shipping number? A name?" Angie continued.
"Shit, you're right, Hunter. Plus, where is this homeless guy? They've made us take this test, telling us we are here in different times of the day. Remember how our first attempt was set in the morning and they said each time we fail, an hour goes by? So, if we started at 8 and we already had seven attempts, it must now be around five o'clock in the afternoon. Where's the homeless guy? Why hasn't he been here all day long?" Ron suggested and Angie kept on nodding.
"Yeah, yeah. He could have shed some light on this whole mess. He must have seen or heard about what is going on inside here. Unless, he is one of the hostages, but I highly doubt that. The percentage of homeless people who get held hostage or kidnapped is practically zero." Angie commented.
"Why haven't we noticed any of this earlier? It's so obvious!" Ron threw his hands in the air, feeling like a complete fool.
"Cognitive blindness! It can be a result of inadequate intellectual capacity for understanding something or it can be a result of emotional, cultural or cognitive biases. The phenomenon can also be the result of a person being so focused one thing or perspective that they fail to see another perhaps otherwise obvious thing, which is what applies to our case here." Angie smirked.
"I wouldn't be too sure that you're not a genius." Ron laughed. She always amused him with the little nerdy things she said.
"No, I'm not a genius, stop saying that! I just like psychology and we should have profiled this shithole the second we got here. We weren't using all types of attention, when it came to our crime scene details." Angie shrugged and decided to give him one more reason to think that she was a genius. "You know, selective attention, divided attention, sustained attention, and executive attention."
"Time is up! Get in position for attempt number eight." Their training officer called out from a distance.
"Ok, listen to me. This is not what it seems, at all. Whatever happens, take my lead and I need you to have my back here, partner. Yeah?" Angie said quickly before she walked to the beginning of the alley, to start the exercise all over again.
And then it was the same thing, all over again. For the eighth time they ran down the alley, heading to the back door, which was closed, as it always had been. Angie looked up, trying to find a way to climb to the first floor and enter through the window, but there was no fire escape, no ladder, nothing that she could hold onto while playing monkey. Their only option was to walk in through the door, but that had always been impossible, with the terrorist blocking it and holding the hostage.
"Wait!" Angie whispered to Ron when he was about to identify himself at the door and demand that it would be opened.
"No, we're doing this wrong. Did you notice how each time we tell them we are FBI, they come out quickly, already masked? What if we've been made, from the main street? What if they have surveillance cameras and they spotted the Bureau van and by the time we got to the door, they are ready for us?" Angie spoke quickly.
Five minutes in between attempts had not been enough for them to figure out all the pieces of the puzzle. They had to now do it, on the field, and they had to think quick on their feet.
"But we can't stay here forever, either." Ron protested.
"Exactly. We need to do the same thing we used to do, so that we get them to come out. And maybe we can try to…I don't know…maybe try to get them away from the door?" Angie hated her suggestion, but it was the only thing they could do differently, if they wanted to have a different outcome this time.
"No, this would be incredibly dumb. If we get them to move away, one of us has to stay with the hostage and one of us has to go inside. We're breaking protocol! We are going to get our asses kicked, even if we succeed with the mission. Or we're getting a suspension. Either way, we can't go in on our own and we can't handle a terrorist and a hostage on our own either. It's the two of us, together, at all times." Ron said and Angie had to agree with him.
"FBI, don't move!" Angie yelled out, pointing her gun at the door as she saw it open while they were busy strategizing outside.
"Let the hostage go and drop the gun!" Ron added, pointing his gun at the man who came out the door, already holding a hostage.
"Ron?" Angie whispered. "The hostages are always covered up. We never saw a face. We don't even know their gender."
Ron was quiet, still aiming for the terrorist who just stood there, holding a gun to his hostage's head.
"Do you want money? A car, a bus to get you and everyone else out of here?" Angie asked.
"We are willing to negotiate if you let the hostages go." Ron added.
"What do you want?" Angie asked again when a whole minute later the terrorist had not yet said a word in reply.
At that point, this was a staring competition. Guns were being pointed and nothing was being said. Ron started to see the truth in Angie's words – it really did feel like the terrorists were just stalling for time.
"Ron, something is going on inside that building and we need to get it. Now!" Angie said quietly, standing a few feet away from him.
"Easier said than done." He hissed back at her, never breaking eye contact with the terrorist.
"Follow my lead and have my back!" Angie repeated what she had said earlier.
A second later, she lowered her gun and shot the hostage in the knee.
They were using laser guns, for the training, and they all had earpieces that connected them to the command center, which were the training officers at the end of the alley. At times they would give out a command, mostly to the actors who played along. Depending on what the Agents did or said, the command center would change the rules or make something up and inform the actors.
This time, the actor who played the hostage, received an order to drop to the floor, after being shot in the knee.
This only left Angie and Ron having to deal with the terrorist.
Everything happened in not more than five seconds, but Ron had been quick enough to neutralize the terrorist as well, shooting him in the shoulder before he dropped to the ground as well.
Ron made a run to the door and opened it. Angie got in first, identifying them as FBI Agents and finally realizing what they had been dealing with.
She saw a bunch of actors, sitting in front of machines that looked like printers, while a bunch of others were counting something.
"They're printing money." She muttered the obvious before she called in for back up.
A loud sound of fireworks came out of nowhere and everyone dropped the act.
"Wait, that's it?" Angie frowned.
"Yes, Trainee Hunter, that is it." Dan said, coming from behind her, followed by the other trainers.
"But…they didn't even resist. We didn't make an arrest. It doesn't make sense. We needed more time to figure it out. That can't be it! That was so extremely underwhelming, I might actually cry." She rolled her eyes. The moment she had started to enjoy this mission, it was done.
"Your only aim here was to deal with the hostage situation. Everything else was secondary, to the mission. The actors were not instructed to bite back, once you breached. We just wanted to see how much of the puzzle you could recreate and how you put your analytical skills on the field." The main training officer informed them.
"And you were right about the cognitive blindness – we actually put all those things out there, to help you with the case. There aren't many carton boxes, because they, as you said, have serial numbers that could be tracked. So, they get destroyed inside the building. Those ones out there, in the alley, were just to make you wonder why there aren't more and why the addresses had been cut out. And the homeless man was not just a diversion. As you pointed out, he hasn't been back to his corner in hours, which was suspicious. This had to tell you that he either saw something going on and he was scared to go back, or he had been taken hostage if he had seen too much. But you, Hunter, pointed out the statistics, and it really was not probable that he'd be taken hostage, as he would be of no value to the terrorists. Also, you identified yourselves both times, properly, and you were quick to call it in and request back-up. You followed protocol and you, Ron, were quick to call her out when she suggested something that would break protocol. That is what a good partnership is based on – calling each other out and keeping each other grounded. Having had her back would have compromised the mission and your lives, potentially. It was a good call to question her suggestion."
"So…that's it?" Angie pouted again. She wanted more. This had been fun, as challenging and frustrating it might have felt during the process.
"Yes and I should mention that through the years Hostage Alley had been one of the worst experiences in the Academy. The success rate is extremely low, so congratulations to both of you! Great job, great communication between you, great thinking on your feet. I'm impressed." The trainer said.
Angie kept her quiet. It was underwhelming. She wasn't even happy about finishing the mission successfully. She loved the process of thinking, doing, acting out on her instincts. It sucked that it was over.
"So, I can go have a pizza now?" She asked lamely.
"Yes, go. You've been here long enough. You must be starving." Dan said to her with a smile.
He knew exactly what must be going on in this girl's mind. He knew her well enough to know that she liked the action more than the outcome.
"Hey, Hunter, can I offer you a pizza? It is, after all, thanks to you that we succeeded!" Ron called out after her when he saw her walking away.
"No, it was a team effort. And I'm taking the pizza to go, I need to go somewhere and be an outcast while I catch up on some reading, without distractions. Raincheck?" She said with a smile and he nodded.
With those words, she excused herself and walked off in a hurry. Yes, she had figured out the weird training exercise, but she felt like she could have and should have done so much quicker. She felt disappointed in herself, thinking of all the training she'd had so far and just how little of it she had used on the field. She had been trained to be better than this, quicker than this, sharper than this. Angela knew that in real life, out there on the field, no Agent would ever have seven shots at the same case. There was only one shot and you either make it or not. She should have been better. She couldn't believe she hadn't been better at that training. No wonder she was unable to be happy to be one of the very few to have ever successfully finished the Hostage Alley assignment at the Academy – it kind of did not count at all, with all the chances she'd been given.
Allowing herself to be dramatic for five seconds straight, Angie exhaled deeply and loudly, taking the last few steps towards the little pond that she liked so much, where she would then spend the next couple of hours, soaking every word of her manual, making sure she'd never need more than one single chance to get it right, on the field, ever again.
"Ducksdragonfly" Don't worry - Emily likes a huuuge variety of other food :)! As for Angie, poor thing is struggling to keep appearances, but she's doing her best, considering... I bet she'll snap at some point lol! Now, do you think Angie really does not care about people...or do you think it might be that she cares about some people way too much and it scares her how attached she is to them, so she pretends not to care? (If that made sense, lol! As in: she's living in denial, just to avoid being hurt if those people she loves end up hurting her). Thank you for all the support, hehe!
"sweetkid45" Yeah, Emily definitely seems to have this sort of a "friends/sisters" relationship with Angela, but maybe a bit accentuated, in the sense that Emily is so protective over Angela and would never let any harm be near the girl. Whereas Clara is like that cool big sister for Angela and they sure like to get into trouble together hehe. I really enjoy writing about the two of them. As for Richard - ouuuuuuuuuhhhhh, imagine if he turns out to be a terrorist, on some Watch List that Emily, herself, had created when she was working in the Interpol!? Now, that would be a twist! Ahaha and also - I'd love to see Emily kick his ass and pin him down to the floor, if he turns out to be a bad guy after all. And yes, Emily is going back home. She's not even thinking about moving away from Quantico/Virginia right now. She likes Richard a lot, but she has made it clear to him that this relationship can go on, but it won't push her to move to another continent. She loves her job at the FBI and her colleagues and she is happy with the life she has created for herself in America :)!
"rmpcmfan" Hello :) Yes, I took a little break in August, because nobody logs in during that month. Now…well, Clara…IF she knows stuff about Angie, she sure as Hell is not the only one. However, Clara has the balls to keep poking at it and commenting, slowly trying to break Angela's denial about something quite serious that NEEDS to be discussed. And, as annoyed as Angie is when Clara keeps blabbing, remember Clara only does so with the purest of intentions. She knows she's not 'the right person' for Angie to break down and confide in, but she is doing her absolute best to be there for this girl that she clearly cares greatly about.
Well, Angie is like a tourist in the US right now and each time she has visited, she had been just that – a tourist, temporarily transiting through a city or two, before moving back to her home continent – Europe. She feels the US sooo incredibly far from her heart and in a weird way she even likes not having anything (but birth records) to do with that country. She does NOT hate it! It's just…a painful memory for her, so she has detached completely from her own routes (and identity), from a worryingly early age.
Richard is definitely the more willing one to tell Emily how he feels. However, it does NOT mean that since Emily keeps things to herself, she is not equally as into him as he is, to her. And since she clearly has a type – hot dude, mysterious personality (hello, Ian Doyle!?), she is terrified that the past might repeat itself and that this guy might turn out to be like Doyle, after all. Although…she is super calm around him and feels protected and respected, which is another thing that bothers her: she has never felt that way before AND she is suspicious of that calmness that this man oozes. It just feels too easy to be true that she met someone she likes everything about, while really knowing very little and not being bothered by that fact. (Hope that made sense, lol!)
And girl, Greek food is superior! I wouldn't mind it if Richard took me to that restaurant…you know, if one day things with him and Emily don't work out :P
