Operation Zodiac

By E.C. Croslin

Everett Croslin Sr. is a nati ve of Balti more att ended the citys schools
before enlisti ng in the United States Navy for six years re-enlisti ng some
years later in the United States Air Force servicing in Desert Storm and
Desert Shield. He att ended Coppin State College where he studied in
Politi cal Science later att ended Morgan State University in the fi eld
of Psychology, Creati ve Writi ng as well as Script Writi ng. Aft er nine
months of working for NASA, Croslin soon turned his att enti on to Law
Enforcement serving eighteen years as a Commissioned Offi cer trained
by both the Maryland State Police and Balti more City Police Department
while working as one of Morgan States Police Offi cers. Besides his
writi ngs he is a composer having arranged as well as performed musical
scores for novels he has writt en.
The authors love for adventure and fricti on writi ng goes back to his
early teens his intenti ons are to bring more minoriti es into focus as
leading characters as well as have his novels suit his audience dealing
mostly in spy thrillers along with science fi cti on admiring such authors
as Tom Clancy, Ian F1amming and Gene Rodenberry having a broader
realm of imaginati on in entertaining their readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479767649

E.C. Croslin

Everett Croslin Sr. is a native of Baltimore attended the city's schools before enlisting in the United States Navy for six years re-enlisting some years later in the United States Air Force servicing in Desert Storm and Desert Shield. He attended Coppin State College where he studied in Political Science later attended Morgan State University in the field of Psychology, Creative Writing as well as Script Writing. After nine months of working for NASA, Croslin soon turned his attention to Law Enforcement serving eighteen years as a Commissioned Officer trained by both the Maryland State Police and Baltimore City Police Department while working as one of Morgan State's Police Officers. Besides his writings he is a composer having arranged as well as performed musical scores for novels he has written. The author's love for adventure and friction writing goes back to his early teens his intentions are to bring more minorities into focus as leading characters as well as have his novels suit his audience dealing mostly in spy thrillers along with science fiction admiring such authors as Tom Clancy, Ian F1amming and Gene Rodenberry having a broader realm of imagination in entertaining their readers.

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Copyright © 2012 by E.C. Croslin.

ISBN:                       Softcover                       978-1-4797-6763-2

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CONTENTS

1.     A Little Off Target

2.     High Tech Peace Plan

3.     Amongst Angels

4.     Secret Agenda

5.     More Than A Horror Scope

6.     Once Again Old Friend

7.     Finding The Chariot Of Goddesses

8.     The Truth Is Out There

9.     The Slaughtered Lamb

10.   Operation Big Dipper

11.   Just Like Star Wars

12.   High Tech Dog Fight

13.   Maybe Another Time

TWELVE MAJOR COUNTRIES IN THE UNITED NATIONS HAVE APPROVED CONDUCTING A PROJECT THAT WOULD CREATING INTERNATIONAL TRUST AMONGST IT MEMBER COUNTRIES A STEALTH LIKE JET WITH A CREW CARRYING PILOTS REPRESENTING OF THE THOSE INVOLVED WHICH WOULD MONITOR EACH COUNTRY’S ACTIVITIES AND HAVING AIR FIELDS PROVIDED BY A MAJOR FIRM IS SEEN AS A WAY OF PEACEFUL TECHNOLOGY. JUST WHEN IT SEEMED AS IF PEACE IS IN THE WINGS THE PROJECT JET IS STOLEN ALONG WITH ITS CREW MEMBERS WITHOUT A TRACE WITH EACH COUNTRY BLAMING THE OTHER FOR ITS DISAPPEARANCE, IT BECOMES THE US AND GREAT BRITAIN’S TASK TO FIND THE JET AND ITS CREW BEFORE A STATE OF WAR IS DECLARED. ASSIGNED TO THE MISSION IS THE MAN KNOWN AS THE JAGUAR, JOHN RICARDO FERNARDEZ BETTER KNOWN IN HIS AGENCY AS JAMES BARN TO TAKE ON THE MISSION. WITH DISASTROUS EVENTS BUILDING ALONG WITH MOUNTING DISTRUST AMONGST THE UNITED NATIONS MEMBERS, JOHN MUST DO ALL HIS CAN TO SMOOTH THINGS OVER AND FIND THE JET.

CHAPTER ONE

A LITTLE OFF TARGET

SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE OF FRANCE, IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT, a figure slowly moves toward a sleepy village, dressed in navy blue attire and skull cap. The person is John Fernardez, known better as James Barn. In his hand he carries a black bag, as he darts from one building to another, staying in the darkness with every move he makes, then pausing to scan his surroundings. He turns in the direction in which he came from then moves to the center of the village before stopping near the corner of a large building standing by itself. Again he surveyed the area around him, then reached into the bag and removed a small pair of field glasses.

Most of the village is quiet, except for the sudden laughter of a group of men leaving a nearby pub. He moves to the side of the building, to several large windows, that are at ground level. Through the window he sees men walking amongst large crates, which were marked explosive, John turns back in the direction of the woods, pulling from his bag a small flashlight with red lens he flicks it in the direction of the woods. He starts to move closer to the window, when he hears someone approaching, a man armed with a rifle was patrolling around the structure. Fernardez rolls back into the darkness, squeezing his body into corner just large enough to conceal his presents, then waits. His wait was not long as the man passes. John quickly grabs him from behind. John’s arm wrapped around the unsuspecting man’s throat, then choked him until he weakens.

He found his approach to the situation unsuccessful. The rifle falls to the ground and the man’s hands moved upward grabbing Fernardez’s hands. He bends forward and John finds himself being flung over the man’s back with tremendous force. He follows his counter attack with a swift kick to Fernardez’s side, before he attempts to retrieve the rifle lying only a few feet from the two. John lands on his back looking upward, just in time to see the barrel of the rifle pointed at him, if it were not for the fact the gun had jammed, it would have been the end Fernardez’s efforts. His hand quickly reaches up, grabbing the barrel with the man fumbling with the chamber to free the lodged round. Without a minute to spare, the agent moves the rifle skyward and the two men struggle for possession of the weapon as they, push and shove each other against the walls of the structure. He knew the man wouldn’t let go, placing his knee firmly in the man’s chest, John falls back as they both keep their hands on the frame of the rifle, with the huffy man sailing over his head.

The man was too stunned to move but softly moaned. Fernardez and his assailant were lying on their backs for a few moments before John quickly flings his body over his attacker’s chest. The rifle was now free of the man’s hands. Fernardez uses the butt of it to pound him in the face, until his attacker lies motionlessly on the ground. With the fight over, the agent stands slowly to walk over to the corner of the building, then slowly slides down with his back against the wall to a sitting position with a sigh.

It doesn’t get better than this… but I wish it did. Fernardez said, glancing over to the man’s body. Satisfied with his results of the outcome he stood to his feet, then faced the woods waving his hands over his head.

Moments later he is joined by several more agents from NSA, none of them members of Ottermen’s COVERT AGENT TACTICAL TEAM, but regular members of the agency. Leading the twelve was a man name Taylor, who is the first to meet with John, standing with his back against the wall.

Is this where Wesmore is being held? Taylor peered upward to one of the windows.

John. That’s the info that was sent to the agency, according to the man who worked with him, he was captured and bought to this warehouse. He turns looking on the streets. This seems to be the only one in town.

Okay James, just one more question… what about the agent who was with him, where is he?

The guy’s name is Carson, Arron Carson. As far as we know, he’s in hiding and gathering more information on the Clardaire Assignment. That son of a bitch tried to kill me twice, if Carson comes up with his whereabouts, it’ll be my turn to return the favor.

Taylor sizes up the structure, looking for ways of gain entry. So, how many men are we talking about here?

"From where I can tell, glancing side briefly, there’s about a little more than a dozen armed men… not telling how many may be in the other sections of this place.

Well, we have twelve men. We better make this a good one. Taylor adds turning to his men who were crouching down behind him. There are several ways inside. Removing the blueprints of the building.

We got this from one of the men who once worked here, with the help of the French authorities of course. This use to be a clothing place, before the city gave it to the new owner, who is still wondering just what to use it for. Taylor’s finger runs along the sections on the blueprints.

Like I said, there are several ways inside this joint, three skylights on the roof top, a back door, a loading dock area and of course the front door… which we can eliminate.

John. Let’s see. We have twelve men. He looks the building over, then peeps inside to notice men walking casually amongst huge wooden storage boxes and large machinery. I’ll need at least two men with me. You can divide the others as you see fit. If this blueprint is correct, Wesmore could be held in the basement section, that’s where I want to work my way… Georgio maybe there as well.

James. Taylor places his hand on Fernardez’s arm. This is going to be risky so take it slowly. I know how much you want to kill this guy and save Wesmore staying alive is still a priority. He looks on the building again, then turns once more to the Latin agent. Just in case he’s… well you know. I don’t want to lose you and him to.

I got you, now take the men where you want them, I’m going through the rear. Now go look on the other side.

Taylor and his men climb the nearest rain spout, toward the skylights on top of the building. When they succeed, he looks over the edge of the roof and signals John and his men. The Latin agent was standing to the rear door, of the structure. With everyone is place, Fernardez takes one finally look to the streets, making sure there weren’t any passerby’s or patrolling guards, before giving the order to move.

Fernardez. This is it. Turning to the man standing behind him. Taylor and three others stand posed with ropes beside them, looking down through the skylight windows on the few men they saw wondering around the building. He returns to the edge of the roof and signal how many he sees. Fernardez give a gentle knock, then waits with Taylor holding up two fingers to let John knew of how many men were coming.

The door slowly opens. John stands in front of it, with his gun concealed behind and the four men off to the side. What is it you want? One man remarks.

Sorry I took so long, but Georgio told me to deliver this. Fernardez smiling as he looks the men in the face. It’s just a little something.

The man waves him in. He and his partner turn when the four agents rush their way inside, with guns drawn. Fernardez to removes his weapon from its holster, with both men slowly raising their hands. Where is the man you captured, take us to him without any funny shit and you willn’t get hurt.

John and his agents follow the two until they reach the main section of the warehouse, things seem normal, except for the fact the workers concealed guns underneath their work clothes, something Fernardez and his agents notice from the bulging in their clothes. For several moment’s things were going well. It was just as the two men walk almost to the center of the room, that things change, one yells out to warn the others. Taylor, still looking down from the skylight, noticed the suddenly rush of workers heading in the direction of some of the crates.

Something just went wrong. He whispers to himself before turning to the men standing ready it his side. Okay men. This is it. We go in blazing.

He points to one of his agents to alert the others standing next to the, windows below. He and four other shatter the thick skylight glass and repel downward firing on some of the workers glancing up with guns firing back. With agents crashing through windows and bashing down doors, John and his men work their way to the basement area, with bullets flying pass them, hitting wooden crates and splitting off pieces of wooden. Their advances were not easy. Fernardez lost two of the four men with him. The flurries of bullets continue as he and the remaining agents rush along the sides of the warehouse walls, then behind some of the large crates. He fires off several shots, then reloads as he crouches down.

Fernardez. I’m gonna need more cover. Glancing on the door leading to the basement. See what you can do.

You’ll need more than our help, Mr. Barn.

I just need enough time to make it to the door.

Taylor and his men were still busy giving cover to the others, when he notices Fernardez working his way to the somewhat shabby looking wooden door. With men screaming and falling around him agent Taylor rushes to the side of the two agents. What the hell is he doing?

Sir I told him to wait for more help, but he insisted on doing this alone. The agent briefly peers around the crate then lets loose three shots before turning to, Taylor again. He wanted us to give him more cover, but he has only two more clips left.

Dammit, James. What the hell are you thinking? Shaking his head, then taking aim on one of the workers who manages to creep press Fernardez’s sight. Just as John reaches a piece of equipment he hears the shot then turns to see the man fall several feet behind him. Giving the okay sign he continues. No problem. Taylor remarked softly.

With Clardaire’s men popping up and down from their concealment, firing on the other agents, Fernardez worked his way to the door, dodging between crates and equipment with bullets sparking of dangerously close.

There was a large gap between the door and the equipment, John still crouching down, takes a quick glance, then starts to sprint off, only to be stopped by a hail of bullets, they spark off like a Chinese Fourth of July party. SHIT! Falling back, then curling up in a ball.

Taylor’s men noticed Fernardez’s attempts and try to give some type of support, but there were still quite a few more gun men left. Taylor had lost four of his agents in the raid, to lose more would cut their chances of success down greatly. Turning quickly on the men, John fires several more shots, none of which hit their intended targets, but it did give Fernardez time to rush to the door. As one of the worker’s head in its direction, then makes his way through, he leaves it slightly cracked, just what Fernardez wanted. He follows with workers firing on him. Several bodies fall above him landing on the wooden crates, shattering the parts of the sides. Taylor manages to cut down most of the gun men, forcing them to another section of the warehouse, giving John a better chance of making his move. He signals him, then yells out. Barn you got it… now move.

John then bridges the gap sliding his body along the floor until he reaches cover with his hand firmly on the knob, he gives it a twist. It seemed as through he had successfully made it when two men on the other side fire on him with a bullet misses his hand. Large holes appear along the sides and the center of the wooden door, with wood chips flying too close for comfort. He finds himself being bombarded with gunfire. Giving the knob another twist, John slides quickly through, then trembles down the flight of stairs.

He reaches the landing, still dazed from the fall, he looks up just in time to see three men, two standing next to a man blindfolded in a chair and the other who had just made his way down, preparing to reach for his gun, something Fernardez give him no time to do. His first shot strikes the man’s knee cap, the second more successful, hitting him in the lower body. John rolls again, this time in the direction of the two standing next to the blindfolded man, again he fires, hitting the first in the thigh while the other slowly raises his hands in the air.

Now, that we have established that much. John slowly stood waving his gun and motioning the two men away from the seated hostage. We can let out guest here come with me.

In the background he could hear the sound of gunfire slowly coming to an end, then footsteps making their way down the flight of stairs. He turns to see Taylor and three others pointing their guns at the men John had a bay. Are you all right, James?

Yeah, not as young as I thought, but yeah I’m fine. Looking on the man, whose back faced him, John tucks the gun in his shoulder holster, then slowly walks over. He removes the blindfold and then stands back. Oh fuck.

What’s the problem, is that Wesmore or not.

John. No. I don’t know who this guy is. He looks Italian or Greek.

The man was more than glad of his rescue, speaking rapidly, too rapid for either Fernardez or Taylor to understand. Just then agent Taylor walks over, slowing the man down to understand him, while John stands next to him. He continues to question him. Every once and a while, the man would via off the subject, with Taylor straightening it out again. Where is agent Clardaire captured?

Taylor waits for a few moments, before the man replies in his accent. Some seconds later he turns to Fernardez, with a look of sadness.

I hate to tell you this James… according to this guy Wesmore is dead. The reason why he’s here is because he let him escape capture, so he was being punished for his mistake.

Well, if agent Wesmore escaped then he’s not dead, he’s somewhere with Carson. John, looking on the man still seated in front of them.

Negative Barn, he was recaptured and taken to some other warehouse, this man said that’s where most of them go, when they’re about to be executed.

The man spoke again, this time he smiles and bows his head, with Taylor and John looking on. John. What in the hell did he say this time?

Taylor pats the man on the shoulder, then points to the staircase. He just wanted to thank us for rescuing him, sorry James.

Fernardez watches as the man breezes pass his captures and the three agents guarding them and his voice lowered to a whisper. Yeah, you’re fuck’in welcome. Briefly waving his hand.

So what do you want to do with the rest of them?

Let the authorities have them, before I change my mind and shoot them all. Fernardez answers. Taylor motions his men to remove the two men from the room, and join the others. Seconds later he to heads for the stairs, he was midway when he turns to see John looking on the chair the man had be in, his head slowly raised minutes later.

You coming Barn?

Yeah, yeah I’m coming… give me a minute. Tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. It seems like yesterday the two were in Rome chasing women and parting like there would be no tomorrow, for Wesmore there would be no tomorrow, and for his family it wouldn’t matter now. He, John and another agent name Arron Carson, were working on capturing a man name, Georgio Clardaire wanted for the assassination of one of several leading members of a powerful third world country joining the efforts for peace against the few dictators remaining in his country. Anyone hoping to help in the achievement of his goal or come close to it, would be killed.

John Fernardez slowly turns to the staircase, then joins Taylor and the others who secured their prisoners before making a call to the local authorities. It wasn’t long before they arrive, showing up in large numbers, but Taylor and John, along with the other agents had slipped quietly into the night. The following day the local papers give credit to the French police for their capture of a group of smugglers, just what they were smuggling was not revealed… if anything.

Taylor silently motions his men to a waiting truck, then turns back to see Fernardez slowly working his way forward. He waits until he had reaches his position, then placed his hand on Fernardez’s shoulder as they walk to join the others. James, just what was it you and Westmore were working on?

At first it was just a matter of keeping Clardaire in sight, knowing where he was, it became more than that.

Like what?

Somehow Wesmore get wind of a project being made, a man call Zeus was working on something that would help the assassinated Representative not only gain power, but bring him into grace with the UN. Not what it was exactly is unknown, and not that he’s dead, I might never find that out. Taking in a deep breath.

Taylor looks about the woods. I have one more question, what lead to agent Wesmore being a target? Surely Clardaire didn’t know about his finding out what ever this project is.

Carson was scheduled to meet the Georgio and he was our lead to his next move. I don’t know if he found out about Carson working for the CIA or not, the only way to find that out to, is to find Arron Carson himself… where ever the hell he’s hiding.

Taylor. Price isn’t going to like this one bit.

Man, fuck Price. He thinks his agency’s shit doesn’t stink, but I got new for him. This time someone is going to know he fucked up, besides Frank.

WASHINGTON DC, WEEKS LATER, James and his Chief sat amongst several members of the military, as well as heads of other Intelligence agencies, including the CIA, NSA and the department of Foreign Affairs. As usual, John dressed to impress. His light gray single breasted suit and dark pink shirt, high lighted his tan complexion. Admire Cross and General Blackman were on hand to listen to the seemingly failed mission. It was always Richard Price, Chief of Field Operation for the CIA, to prove Otterman as an incompetent Chief of his own agency. He sits waiting for Ryan Bodac, of the department of Foreign Affairs, to open the conference.

Gentlemen, this is a disturbing matter that finds its way into this room. Bodac, laying his briefcase on the table, slowly removing some of its contents. With the death of a favored third world leader, whom we have promised protection, his country is looking on us as if we had forgotten him.

I assure you, that is not the case, Agent Bodac. Blackman leaning on the table, with his hands clasp in front of him. First of all we knew of not plot by this man Clardaire to kill him, if anything we would have through someone in his own country would want him killed.

Bodac. That gentlemen, was the case. Someone we believe hired this Clardaire to do their dirty work, which I must say he did well. He turned to Fernardez.

Agent Barn. I think you and agent Wesmore were assigned to this mission, to keep tracks on him, correct?

Yes, and we do… but that was after he had assassinated Robinoski.

I have worked with you on several occasions, Barn. This is not like you to let something like this happen.

James is one of my best agents, Ryan. What is this leading to? Otterman replied, defending his agent. Bodac removed a file on some of Fernardez’s pass assignments, then laid them on the table.

Simple this. Barn was working on the Anderson assignment and two agents were kill on that one. Now, agent Wesmore. In both cases he had close ties with these men, maybe too close, which leads me to believe there was some person revenge in mind.

John. Sir, it’s true that Clardaire tried unsuccessfully to kill me, but there was no personal venditor in my actions.

That’s not what I had, according to agent Taylor, who accompanied you on this last mission. Ryan turned away briefly. In fact his opinion. He believes you wanted this man Clardaire so bad it almost cost you your life.

Price turns to Otterman, there was a slight grin on his face, Fernardez was known for his roguish and reckless actions, this would be his finally downfall… at least he had hoped it would be.

Bodac. What about the Anderson mission? Anderson was one of your most hated subjects since he nearly cost you, your life as well.

Those two agents were young and head strong. Frank says loudly. You can’t blame Barn for their death they acted without proper orders.

Barn was the lead agent on that. Ryan reached for his case, then sliding it aside.

Price, turning to Frank and Barn. You two have had the last laugh for several years, with your wild actions and screen role heroics.

If I am correct. Your agency is at the top of this food chain also, if I am not mistaken. You authorized this mission.

But you man bungled it at the cost of two agents getting killed. Otterman’s glance was noticed by all those in the room. They could see both he and Price were going at it in words.

Gentlemen. There need not be this show of childish actions. I have here some more assignments Barn was assigned to. I must say it doesn’t look good on James’s part. Lifting several papers, then holding them close to his face.

OPERATION DOUBLE EAGLE, seven months before this one, three agents killed in the line of duty, a mission that proved successful, but unexplained casualities. Prier to that, was in Turkey and the loss of two of Price’s men. You want to explain this James?

Yes, it’s simple… that assignment somewhere along the line there was a communications problem between the CIA and Interpol, that resulted of the men’s death. Interpol lost two men as well.

Ryan. And the one after that?

I don’t know what happened there. Again, several of Chief Price’s men worked with me on it.

Well, according to most of the reports, you seem to be the one with the bad track record. Now some of these missions required General Blackman and Admiral Cross’s assistance. They seem to think your actions were rather reckless as well.

I might have done some things in the pass, but those were not some of them. The only thing I can think of, is that someone in the agency… either Chief Price’s or Interpol, leaked out information.

Whom would that be, agent Barn? Ryan lays the papers on the table.

I can’t tell you that.

You can’t tell me or you will not tell me? John sits quickly, then leans back in his chair, as Otterman takes over.

I’m sure if he knew that he would say, it’s not unlikely that someone for what ever reasons, would leak information willingly or unwillingly, without their respective agencies knowing.

Price. I think what we need here is a course of act.

What would that be Richard? Otterman leaning his way.

I’ll be fair about this. He pauses, then turns to Fernardez. Why not have your man sit at a desk for a while… you know, until this is resolved. Now, that’s as fair as it gets.

That’s as bout as fair as a choice of hanging or being shot. Otterman replies loudly.

I think we all know how some missions work out, Barn might have done some crazy things in the past, but his track record of success out weighs those actions. What about the man who was working with him and Wesmore, you’ve never found out where he is.

No, but when we do he might help to solve this little matter. Price turned to Otterman, seated two members down from him. The thing is to handle what we have at hand, and that is what to do with agent Barn here. Now I still think what I have just proposed, is reasonable and fitting Frank. He’ll be still working, yet out of trouble till this is over.

Otterman glances to Fernardez sitting with a disagreeing look. Frank’s hand rose slight then wobbles in the air, a sign he would find some other way of handling it. Ryan turns to the others some who show signs of agreeing by slightly closing their eyes nodding others like, General Blackman and Admiral Cross still having a great deal of confidence in John, slowly raise their hands

Ryan. Then it’s agreed, Agent Barn you are to be assigned to desk duty until we can figure this mess out. It comes to this. Someone leaking out information as you say, that issue will be dealt with and if not. He looked again on the briefcase containing the reports. We will have no other choice but to relieve you of further duties in the field. I’m sure you understand, security purposes. Gentlemen, this meeting is over… thank you all for coming.

Moments later with everyone leaving, Price, Otterman and Fernardez stand in the center of the room, with Frank Otterman glancing on Richard with a discussed look.

Well, Frank. I told you and Barn some day his actions would cost someone their life, now that time has come.

Richard you’re a clever fuck, but there’s still a matter of finding Carson, who is still out there somewhere. Something tells me someone in your agency is behind this mess, and until that person is found you have the last laugh.

I guess you right. He turns leaving both John and his Chief standing there.

This is not over James. I guess you know that. Otterman turned to face him. The only way to free this blot from your record is to find Agent Carson then discover what it was, Agent Wesmore had on Clardaire.

Sir the only way to do that is to do it through you other agency.

No, James, that would be too risky… it just might draw attention to it and risk the others. For now we just go along with Richard’s little shit ass scheme… but trust me. I shall be working on a way of getting you off the desk.

Thanks Chief. Otterman gives a gently slap on the Fernardez’s arm. He was still looking toward the hall, with Richard Price talking with some of the members who were at the meeting.

You know that guy really has it out for us. I don’t know how to take him sometimes.

Otterman. That’s not for you to do you leave that to me. Turning in the same direction. Richard and I have been at each other’s throats for years, and in all those years he’s managed to mess up no matter what. Well, come on. I have to get back to the office and you to work. I have no doubts my superiors will want some answers to."

On the way to the parking lot, Otterman stood for a moment in front of his car, with keys in hand he turned back. Tell me this much if you know it… beside this project Wesmore heard about, I understand he took some pictures. Who was it he photographed?

John. Clardaire and Carson, at least that’s what he told me. Carson was supposed have set Clardaire up with a meeting between him and me… which he did, somehow it didn’t go as I had planned it.

You mean the time he tried to kill you?

That’s right. John answers. I was posing as a gun runner and Georgio were to meet me in an abandon building just outside the city. One scheduled for demolition. Somehow someone must have tipped him off.

What do you mean? Otterman leaned against his car.

That day both Wesmore and I waited for him to show, when we heard the wrecking ball knocking away some of the structure. I didn’t know until recently, that Georgio was the one behind the wrecking ball, and that was the second time he had tried to kill me. The first was from a roof top, as I left a small restaurant, he missed me, but hit a bystander.

Frank turned again to face his car then slowly slipped inside. He turned and looked upward. Like I said, this it’s over, and I should have you in the field before you know it. You must promise me this. John waits for the catch.

If and when you get out of this one, you stop your flamboyant actions or the next time. Otterman hesitated briefly. You may not be so lucky. John watched Otterman drive off, before he to slides behind the seat of his car, a Dodge Avenger silver in color.

John seats himself behind his office desk of it had been a more than two weeks he was not going to let what happened go without some investigating of his own it would require no one other than, Agent Tim Ward his partner code name Lynx. Within those weeks’ members of the agency seem to look on him as some kind of bad egg… something he wanted stopped. With his paper work in his hand Fernardez makes his way along the cubicles where other agents sitting performing their tasks he passes Agent Ron Torrez another agency member of Latin descent who also worked in communications and data information retrieval when, Chief Otterman noticed him.

Otterman. Barn. Lowering his head as he peers over his ready glasses. You have a minute? I need a word with you.

Yes, sir.

See me in my office. Otterman says his Cajun ascent noticeably emerging from is lips. He turns again to see his best agent preparing to speak with one of his female members and for a moment, Otterman stands waiting to see if Fernardez would discontinue his flirtatious actions. James. Perhaps you did not hear me clearly. I expect you in my office, ASAP.

Moments later the two men stand inside Frank Otterman’s office space with the door still slightly open enough to see his secretary, Miss Shannell Hall attempting to slyly listen in. Otterman slowly closes it behind him then leans his ear against it before speaking. James. I have some information that… let’s say a little birdie leaked out to me. Pointing his finger to one of the leather chairs next to his desk.

John seated himself, as his Chief walks over then slowly did the same. The Anderson and Georgio Clardaire mission have something in common.

John. Those were two different missions, sir. How could they be connected?

Anderson and Georgio, who was hired by no one other than you know who.

Price? Fernardez readjusts his body slightly in the chair making himself more comfortable.

You got it. Clardaire was hired on the Anderson case some years ago it seems something made him interested in what the man was doing. His intentions of taking out our man Anderson changed for some reason.

If Clardaire was working for the CIA, why would Price want him terminated or is that a silly question?

No, not silly at all. Otterman replies. Then again, you know how it works. Cover your ass around here I have a sneaking suspect Richard hired the assassin to do his dirty work only to have us finish it later. Richard Price must have been working on something he didn’t want this agency to know about killing Agent Anderson then Georgio would cover any connections to himself.

Frank turns to his favorite window glancing out then continues. I made inquiring using that same little birdie that is how I found out about that attempts on Agent Anderson’s life.

Who is this informant, sir? If I may ask.

I don’t have to tell you that I think you know, Deputy Benton. It seems Agent Carver can’t be found, not even with all of Richard’s so-called top agents scowling the countryside.

What do you mean can’t be found… is this another CIA cover-up by Price, to hide his mistake?

Calm down Barn. Otterman suddenly stood to his feet. This is not any of Price’s doings this time.

So where is he?

They don’t know, as of yet. Word is he was he was supposed to have reported in, they said he called from somewhere in Europe, near France. According to Benton his flight came in some days ago, with him on it, but when they called his home his girlfriend or who ever she was, said he hadn’t been there in days.

John leaned back in his chair. Sir I have another question… just what was it the CIA wanted Clardaire to do exactly?

Now that’s a good question, one that I can’t answer, nor could Benton. Now I have one for you. You and Wesmore took pictures of Agent Carver and Clardaire, what was that about?

John leaned forward with his hands clasped together. After taking out Roberski, Agent Anderson and I were told to just keep track of Clardaire but not kill him. Agent Carson was the link between our men and Price’s. I guess Agent Wesmore suspected something.

Like what? Otterman asks.

"I don’t know offhand it is just a gut feeling I guess. He took photos Carver and Clardaire. I don’t know where they are now.

Otterman slowly makes his way to the side of the desk then stands with one hand on the corner. As I said, the CIA does not know where Agent Carson is now or if he was able to make his flight, for fear of Clardaire following him. Benson did mention he believes his department sent Agent Carver to do what you were told not to, that was to kill Clardaire. We need more Intel as to what that was not done or if in fact both men are working together. As an inoperable agent of this agency you’re assigned to the desk, but. Frank pauses lowering his head slightly. He had given indications to Fernardez he was finish speaking when then pretends to clear his throat that is when the agent knew his employer had something on his mind. Frank glances on his agent as he set patiently in his chair it wasn’t long before Franklin Otterman got up to works his way to one of the file cabinets in his lavish office. Slowly pulling one of the draws open Otterman removes a file then turns back. They want you assigned to a desk, technically. What I am about to do, against my better judgment is still somewhat a desk detail.

John, briefly turned glancing to the door. His voice lowered to a mere whisper. What’s on you mind, sir?

Otterman. I need to know why Agent Wesmore took those pictures along with the fact you and he had, Agent Carson keep track of Clardaire.

How many pictures do you have?

There were six taken by Westmore some with Carver meeting with Georgio some with just, Clardaire himself. James hums briefly. What is it James?

Sir. If I remember correctly he may have taken more photos than that, I would say three more of his own since his second camera was missing a roll of film. Which means there are photos missing he never got a chance to tell me about.

That could be part of the puzzle. Otterman turns to his desk. Look, as for this desk shit, find out what you can about the assignment. It’s still going on even if you are not on it.

I know this is crazy to ask this, but how?

Otterman. There are ways. Smiling on Fernardez.

Like I mentioned Westmore stated something about a project something secretly being conducted. He thought Georgio Clardaire may have stumbled on it as well.

Yes. What about it? I don’t think it had anything to do with my assignment to assassinate Roberski, it was just some theory he had.

That maybe so. However, the UN is somewhat concern with his death since Roberski’s attempts to destroy several air fields connected to NATO. Another group is also concerned for some reason. Aerospace Engineers members of a company known as AeroTach are upset why we do not know fully. Otterman settles himself in his chair then folds his hands together. While you’re on desk detail hang around, Agent Torrez. See if you can find out more about this Aero Tech agency and what they are working on to have them so concerned. Until this shit with our two missing agents is with.

John emerges from the office those outside looking on with ideas he had been chastised by his department Chief, something that was not unusual. For the most part his visits to Otterman’s office seldom ended pleasantly especially when the word ASAP was used. Shannell, typing away at her computer, looks upward then stares for a moment before he raises his shoulder as if to say he didn’t know why things ended so well.

Several weeks pass, Fernardez works as if he liked what he was doing, Ward his partner, worked with him on any and all possible leads to finding what he was looking for. It was still the same old thing, dictatorship was always the topic of importance, and the money that got them to where they where. One of the assignments John ran across was the surveillance of a Senator in Florida. He was suspected of dealings with the Cuban government leaking information for covering up the illegal transportation of Cuban aliens. He searches for two names nor were Clardaires or Carver’s… those names were the key to getting him off the desk. The assignment he and Wesmore had taken never comes across the desk of agent Ron Torrez, it was odd, since Clardaire was still a much wanted man, it seemed as if both Georgio Clardaire and agent Arron Carver were simply forgotten or vanished in the paper work.

Later that same day, John moves about the communications and data control room, a room buzzing with computers, teletypes, decryption systems and monitoring systems, the greenish glow of the huge map-like plastic screens, with graphy-like lines seemed to be the only light that eliminated the surroundings. He heard the sound of one of the data machines giving out newly collected information. He turned then glanced on it as one of the other agent made his way toward it.

John. What is that about. Leaning over the agent’s shoulder.

Some information that has been coming in, through Interpol. The agent tears the paper neatly from the machine. Is there something you’re looking for, Mr. Barn?

Sort of. Still leaning over Agent Ron Torrez’s shoulder. So what is it about?

Looks like some terrorist group working its way through Italy, France and other parts of Europe. Of course I can’t say for sure but there have been threats here as well.

John. The same group?

Torrez looks on the papers with a frown before walking to his station. I told you. I can’t say for sure. Mostly demonstrations for now you know how they get later. Sometimes our bomber friends like to mingle with so-called peaceful demonstrators.

As the Ron seats himself setting the papers on the desk, Fernardez’s hand slowly moves to the corners of them as he scanned the pages. May, I?

Sure, just don’t take them yet. I need to review them more before turning them over to the Chief.

John continued standing with the papers in hand. Moments later another machine starts to kick out more collected data from other field agents. You mind getting that one, Mr. Barn? John hands Torrez the papers he was previously given.

Agent Tim Ward walks in with a cup of coffee firmly in hand looking well rested from his tour of duty in France if anyone knew anything about what was going on in the Data Collections Department it was him. He stops to look on the room then slowly strolls through the aisle of agents seated at their desk in the direction where John was standing. Fernardez was holding the new data he retrieved from the machine he hadn’t notice Tim entering the room his eyes were still fixed on the papers. A group name ABBA was becoming a large group of demonstrators in Washington and New York not to mention in some parts of Europe the mostly protected against any use of military weaponry or transports to that effect. Just as Fernardez was about to hand the papers to Agent Torrez another agent passes by, Agent Janice Paige. John almost bumps into her as he turns back.

I don’t understand this. Stopping the tall but well-figured blonde.

What is it you don’t understand, Mr. Barn? She glances on the information, while still holding more in her hands. The group’s letters mean Anti Big Brother Activist. They have connections in Europe and also the US.

Why are we keeping track of them or trying to, if they’re only demonstrators. Besides, what are they demonstrating for now? Paige takes a deep breath.

Let’s say it this way and I don’t know all the info, right now. Something is going on with the countries in the UN this group somehow knows something we don’t. Right now it’s hush-hush we want to keep an eye on them to find out what the problem is.

John. You think they’re terrorists?

Paige shrugging her shoulders. Don’t know like I said. There is that possibility. She strolled off leaving Fernardez looking on the papers again.

Hey, Bro. Tim’s voice catches John’s ears his eyes slowly rise upward. What’s the problem?

Not a problem for now… just something odd about these data sheets. John remarks. Out of all the things this agency has to do and they come up with something like this. Watching some group of demonstrators exercising their rights.

Both men walk over to one of the nearby desk John hands Ward the read-out then set his coffee cup down. Tim slowly seated himself with his eyes focused on the papers in his hand Fernardez followed suite Ward’s eyes skim along the papers as he speaks. I hear you’ve been grounded… is that why you’re here?

Yeah, stupid shit. Can’t say I blame them though all the flamboyant stuff we have been doing in the field was bound to catch up with me sooner of later. So what’s with those papers?

It maybe nothing to it but for the last couple of weeks this group has been forming in large numbers, here and Europe. The question is what are you looking for and why are you interested?

Something that will get me off this shit ass desk duty something that has Agents Clardaire and Carver involved. Agent Westmore took several other pictures, pictures I have yet to see involving, Georgio Clardaire. I need to know why no one has shown them to me or where they are.

Oh, yeah. Sorry to hear about Westmore, he was a good man. Tim looks up speaking softly in his baritone voice. From the way some of the other agents here have been saying, you’re the cause of his death.

To hell with them. Tim’s hands rise upward. You know me better than that, Ward. All the assignments we’ve been on I would never delivery place someone in harms way.

James. You can’t deny you and I have reputations for going just a little bit beyond our expected professional talents while on assignment. As you just said, it finally caught up with you leading to being stationary behind a desk. You got to change your ways, Bro.

I’ll work on it. Now, explain this group ABBA.

Ward reaches for his lurk warm coffee then sips it. Well. There’s not much I can tell you they have been active in several protests dealing with International military planning. There is a company who is handling some type of approved project through the United Nations and the President.

What does this company do? John, leaning forward on the table.

Handle aircraft of all types it is a private concern not yet as big as Lockheed Martin or Northern and Grumman but I understand they did do so-called favors for other countries as well as ours. Sorry this doesn’t sound like something your boy Georgio Clardaire would be interested in.

Yeah, you’re right. I would like to know what those pictures were about and why Westmore took them. I would like to know where the other pictures Agent Westmore took are and who’s on them besides, Clardaire and Carver?

Bro. I wish I could help you on that but I just got back. I need to get back into the swing of things myself. Tim stands then reaches for the cup while looking on Fernardez. Hey, man. Good luck and don’t sweat the bullshit, this desk detail willn’t last forever.

Several weeks pass Otterman shuffles through files and old photos of pass assignments of other agents in NSA to soon notice a small unmarked brown envelope obviously hand delivered, sitting partially concealed amongst other papers on his desk.

Otterman. Miss Hall. Leaning over his speaker phone with his finger on the button. Did someone just deliver a package to my office?

No, sir. There’s been no one here since Agent Benton came.

Franklin pauses as he opens the sealed envelope then removes several photos, pictures Westmore had taken of Agent Georgio Clardaire and Agent Arron Carver making some kind of transaction.

Sir, are you still there?

Yes, Miss Hall what is it?

I just remembered. Agent Summers did come to your office sometime yesterday with something in his hand, an envelope of some kind.

It is nice of you to remember. Thank you that’s all. Slowly hanging the phone on its receiver while staring on the photos.

The same afternoon Price and Otterman meet with two of the President’s Advisors along with General Blackman, Admiral Cross and Foreign Affair’s Agent Ryan Bodac. Ryan once opens the conversion holding the envelope handed to him by Chief Otterman.

Chief Price. I have something that just came to my attention. It shows one of your agents with one of your former assassins, Georgio Clardaire. I would like you to explain these pictures and the papers then came with them..

They’re photos of Agent Carver.

I am aware of that much, sir. The question is what does these pictures mean? The young Foreign Affairs Agent replies. Clardaire, from my understanding was a former agent of yours now freelancing for your department.

I am sure Chief Otterman can explain them better than I. He had his agents tracking Clardaire.

Ryan. In fact it was Frank who handed them to me along with the papers that came with them. They are documented assignments your man Agent Carson was assigned to along with, Agent Barn.

Otterman noticed the fiery stare Price was giving him before turning again to the young Agent. We know Agent Westmore and Barn had Agent Carver contact Clardaire it clearly shows him following those orders.

Otterman said someone called him away from his office some days ago the pictures were not there when he returned somehow they appeared in his office. Someone handed them to one of his agents, someone unknown to him.

Price. What is this leading to?

I’ll tell you in a moment. Let me ask you this… have you any news on Carver’s whereabouts?

Why, no. We’re still searching for him. He was due back in the states’ weeks ago. Obviously he felt he was being tailed and is hiding still in Europe. Richard loosens his tie then looks again on Otterman.

I got one better, Richard. Otterman leans forward looking around Lander and Adams the President’s two Security Advisors. How about this idea? Carson was the one leaking information of Clardaire’s would-be assassination since both men were part of your department?

That’s crazy Frank and you know it. You’re trying to pull something over to get Agent Barn off of his desk duties as well as free his ass of his irresponsible actions.

Okay, look at it this way. Westmore took six photos of Carson and Clardaire then handed them to Agent Barn then took more of his own before his death. Obviously he thought Carson and Clardaire may have been up to something more interesting.

Price. So who had these other photos?

That is where you come in. Otterman