Blackwell Ops 20: Tarea-Garcia: Blackwell Ops, #20

By Harvey Stanbrough

Charles Claymore "Charlie" Task used to work for TJ Blackwell and Blackwell Ops.

But after a sticky time-travel assignment to Mexico in the 1940s and 1950s, he skipped the country—and the 21st century. Now he's Charlie Tarea.

Solana "Soleada" Garcia is a vivacious but unassuming young woman of Mayan ancestry.

She also was a Blackwell Ops agent, and TJ sent her to Terminate With Prejudice one Charlie Task. That was all well and good—until they met. What would a "meet-cute" between two assassins look like?

Soleada has also decided she will not go back to the 21st century. Instead, she and the newly minted Charlie Tarea will form Tarea-Garcia.

They plan to use their various special skills to take vengeance on deserving types. But who gets to define who is deserving and who is not?

Plus, can you simply walk off the job when you work for TJ Blackwell? It's complicated.

TJ has allowed other operatives to quit before, though not often. They know too much. Not to mention he might be miffed these two have skipped out on him. Will he dispatch others like them—or even decidedly not like them—to terminate them as well?

Come along and find out. Tarea-Garcia dare you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: StoneThread Publishing
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224902903

Harvey Stanbrough

Harvey Stanbrough is an award winning writer and poet who was born in New Mexico, seasoned in Texas, and baked in Arizona. Twenty-one years after graduating from high school in the metropolis of Tatum New Mexico, he matriculated again, this time from a Civilian-Life Appreciation Course (CLAC) in the US Marine Corps. He follows Heinlein’s Rules avidly and most often may be found Writing Off Into the Dark. Harvey has written and published 36 novels, 7 novellas. almost 200 short stories and the attendant collections. He's also written and published 16 nonfiction how-to books on writing. More than almost anything else, he hopes you will enjoy his stories.

Book preview

Part One: The Beginning

Prologue

Soleada

It had been a hectic four days, and I had not felt safe from the moment I stepped over the stones until I stepped over them again in the other direction.

But let me explain. I will be quick.

On Wednesday in Agua Rocosa I boarded the northbound Silva Brothers bus. That was at around noon. I rode it for a day and a half, then stepped out at the bus station, which is about an hour south of Hermosillo airport.

Late on Thursday afternoon I stepped over the stones into what you call the present, then called a cab and had the driver take me to the airport. From there I was able to catch a flight to Mazatlán.

In my apartment, I sat down at my desk, opened my laptop, and got online. I electronically transferred all of my funds from both my Swiss account and my regular account at a bank in Mazatlán into Banorte, among the oldest banks in Mexico. Then I booked a flight back to Hermosillo.

After I was through with the laptop, I deleted all of the files. Then I emptied the Trash folder, and electronically reformatted the hard drive, completely eradicating everything in all three partitions. While the computer was doing that, I went into the bedroom, pulled two large duffel bags from my closet, and packed what I wanted to keep.

All of that was late on Thursday night. I had one full day of worry remaining. My flight would depart for Mazatlán for Hermosillo shortly before 11 p.m. on Friday and land at a little after 5 a.m. on Saturday.

After I slept for perhaps two hours, on Friday morning I loaded a special flash drive into my laptop to be sure it was clean. It was. Then I fed the flash drive through the garbage disposal in my kitchen sink. Finally, I laid the VaporStream device on the floor and stomped it until it was in pieces. Then I fed them through the garbage disposal too.

I called my landlord and bought my way out of the lease on my apartment. I also told him he could keep or sell anything I left in the apartment. I spent the rest of the day and into the evening on Friday giving away what I had not put into the two large duffel bags.

Around 9 p.m. on Friday I took a cab to Mazatlán airport and barely caught my flight. I flew back to Hermosillo, then took a cab to Centro Hipico Oro, the same place in the present where Silva Brothers Bus Line was located in the past.

And early on Saturday morning, I finally stepped over the stones again and caught the bus that was about to head south to Agua Rocosa. Finally, I could catch my breath.

But I had known I would make the bus. Francisco, who owns the company and drives the bus, was in on my plan, so he would wait for me if necessary. Fortunately, he did not have to.

Oh, the stones—They form a natural triangle imbedded in the ground. If you step over the sides of the triangle in the correct sequence, it becomes a time portal.

See, I live in the 1950s now.

Chapter 1: Agua Rocosa

I stayed Saturday night at señora Mendoza’s boarding house in Torpedor. I had met her during a previous trip. She had no regular rooms available, but she allowed me to stay in her daughter’s old room. For the first time since last Wednesday I slept well.

The following morning, I showered and dressed in jeans and a pink peasant blouse, my black leather jacket and the matching black zip-up boots with the two-inch heels. At 5’2" and around one hundred pounds, I need all the help I can get. 

The trip was long, but it was not arduous. When the Silva Brothers bus pulled into Agua Rocosa on Sunday, Francisco uncharacteristically parked in front of the cantina. Usually when he is on his way south, he parks the bus two blocks farther along, across the road from the church.

But parking in front of the cantina was better anyway. My partner, Charlie Task, and I were to meet there when my bus arrived. I was anxious to see him. With my two large bags on the floor in front of my seat, I stood and grasped the support pole in anticipation.

As Francisco shut off the engine and reached for the lever to open the accordion door, he said quietly, Soleada, you must wait.

I frowned. I did not want to wait. I had already waited for a day and a half.

But I trust Francisco, so I sat down again.

He turned in his seat, hefted himself up, and went down the steps of the bus. There he put on his broad smile to greet the passengers as they departed.

I looked to my right through the spaces between the passengers as they filed along the aisle. The cantina, with Charlie waiting for me inside, was right there. As the passengers went by, the cantina appeared, disappeared, and reappeared again.

The passengers were shuffling! They were dragging their feet! I wanted to yell at them to hurry up, but I clenched my jaw to keep my mouth shut. When any of them glanced down at me and smiled, I nodded and forced a tight-lipped smile in response.

But there were only twenty-some people on the bus other than myself. The parade would be over soon, though not soon enough for me.

Roughly half of them were turistas, and most of those were from the ‘States. A few of the others lived in Agua Rocosa. They would remain when the bus left again to finish the route to Abregón, two and a half days to the south.

The rest, along with the tourists, would make their way among the young vendors who crowded around the door of the bus, visit the shops or get something to eat, then board the bus again and repeat the routine in each town.   

Even as anxious as I was to see Charlie, when the last tourist filed past, then turned and stepped off the bus, I remained seated. Francisco obviously wanted to talk with me about something.

But he did not come back aboard the bus. Instead he turned and started across the street toward the cantina. He seemed to be walking faster than his usual pace.

I frowned. Why did he ask me to wait if he did not want to speak privately with me?

Of course, he had cost me only five minutes or so, but that was five minutes I would never see again. Even at 26 years of age I value my time, and I grimace at the thought of it slipping past unnoticed.

Scowling, I stood, pulled my bags from the cramped space in front of the seat, and stomped down the steps and off the bus. I probably would not give Francisco a piece of my mind, even though I desperately wanted to. He was my friend. Arguably, he was even my current hero in his role as the person who had driven me south, away from Hermosillo and my greatly compromised previous life in the twenty-first century. 

Still, he should not have cost me that five minutes.

It is fortunate that by the time I get to the cantina he will have bought his own cerveza. I certainly would not buy him one.

I stepped up onto the boardwalk and approached the door. I set down one bag, turned the knob, then jerked the door open and blocked it open with my left foot.

And a massive noise erupted through the opening.

Of course I could not have seen anything inside the cantina until my eyes adjusted to the dim light, but  I was not looking anyway. I had bent to retrieve my other bag.

For an instant I thought I was under attack. Such are the instincts of my profession.

I dropped the other bag and quickly stepped back, allowing the door to slam shut as I reached for the imaginary pistol in my imaginary shoulder holster.

But I was wearing neither.

And just as quickly, my brain caught up and I recognized the eruption was a cheer.

I released a sigh of relief. Someone is only happy about something.

I bent and picked up one bag with my left hand, but as I reached for the doorknob again, the door opened.

In a white linen suit, Charlie Task smiled broadly down at me. He is around a foot taller than I, even when I am wearing my boots. Quietly, he said, Sorry, Soleada. They wanted to welcome you home. He paused, looked at the bag in my hand and the one on the boardwalk. Here, let me help. He took the bag I was carrying, reached past me to pick up the other one, then straightened and stepped aside, blocking the door open with his foot. He gestured with one bag and grinned. After you.

As I stepped through the door, the cheering erupted again.

To my right front, I could make out Francisco. He was grinning from ear to ear, a mug of cerveza raised in his right hand. To his left, Juan-Carlos Salazár, the bartender, was standing in the opening behind the bar. He was smiling and applauding.

I started toward Francisco, a smile on my face. I thought you wanted to talk to me.

I did, pero in here. Congratulations, Soleada. He hefted his beer again and raised his voice almost to a yell. "And welcome home!"

Behind me, Charlie Task laughed. He probably organized the whole thing.

Another cheer went up as Francisco took a drink of his beer.

My vision had adjusted, and I looked around. Nobody was seated. Along the front of the bar, several men were applauding. Across the floor, from what I could tell, all of the tables were occupied. Everyone was standing, applauding and cheering.

I glanced back at Charlie, the smile still on my face. Any excuse for a party, eh?

He laughed. Pretty much.

I assumed a serious look and said quietly, But we should not stay too long. We have much to discuss. Privately.

To my right, a voice said, That will not be a problem, señorita.

It was Juan-Carlos, still smiling.

His wife, Ofelia, stood alongside him. She too was smiling even as she dried her damp hands on a small towel. It was late in the lunch hour. Probably she had been washing the bowls and glasses she had collected from the patrons.

Juan-Carlos said, Ofelia and I approve of your new venture. We have decided to give you two the first home we built in Agua Rocosa. It is small, of course—only one bedroom—but it is sound and it has a large kitchen and living room.

Ofelia said, And indoor plumbing. Juan-Carlos installed it in our fifth year there.

As I opened my mouth to protest that ours was a business relationship, behind me, Charlie Task said, You guys didn’t have to do that.

Juan-Carlos smile spread into a grin. No, but we wanted to. That house got us off on the right foot. It will do the same for you.

Business. But we still could use the house as an office. I said, Gracias, Juan-Carlos, pero we will pay you for it.

But—

I put up one hand. There will be no argument. Let me know later what we owe you, please. I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. This one will forget.

Ofelia nodded and chuckled. This one too. I will let you know, hija.

Charlie said, Come on, Juan-Carlos. Let’s have a Negra Modelo and leave these two to plot.

Charlie stepped past me toward the bar, and Juan-Carlos went around behind it to meet him.

When I glanced at Ofelia for support, she failed to provide it. She was looking past me. She had extended her arms and was curling her fingers toward the crowd, inviting them forward.

As they came, she glanced at me. Unfortunately, I must go back to the kitchen. Welcome home, daughter. She turned away, and I turned to the surging crowd to face the first of many well-wishes.

Soon I was enveloped by them.

The party might not stop as soon as I would like.

Chapter 2: Slipping Away

Perhaps six hours after I had arrived on the bus, many of those from the original crowd had filtered out of the cantina. Several had approached me during the evening to offer their services in any way I can help with your new endeavor.

I smiled so much and so often that my cheeks were hurting. I thanked each of them as one should thank well-wishers, and I said we would keep their offer in mind.

Of course, none of them had the slightest idea what our new endeavor actually entailed. At least I think so. A few, like Juan-Carlos and possibly even Francisco, might have suspected what Charlie had been in the past, but even they would not want to know for sure. Though I was certain they at least believed they knew why I had first come to find Charlie Task. If they had not known, they would not have protected him so well.

I had just finished speaking with a man and his wife and daughter when a small, quick movement caught my attention.

I glanced. It was Charlie, waving at me. He was alone near a table in the back corner of the cantina.

I was glad. We had not spoken all evening, except for the brief moment at the door.

I nodded all but imperceptibly. When those three moved to step past me, I smiled at them, then went to see what he wanted.

As I drew nearer, I smiled. Gracias, Charlie. I have hardly seen you all night. I missed­ you. Heat rose in my cheeks. I mean I missed talking with you. About our business. I mean, I have been wanting to tell you about the trip to the north. That too was part of our business.

Good save, Soleada.

I think he missed my display of jangled nerves. He grinned and dangled a key on a loop of string.

I frowned, a little annoyed. What is that?

The key to the house. Juan-Carlos gave it to me. He also gave me directions. It’s close. Wanna go check it out? You can fill me in on your trip along the way.

Do I trust myself to be alone with him? But I only said, Tonight? But I still need to find a place to stay. I touched my hair. I need a bath too. And I need to sleep and—

He did that quick man thing and looked me up and down. Quietly, he said, You’re perfect, Soleada. Then his grin fell off his face and his eyebrows arched. I mean, you look fine. He cleared his throat. What I mean is—

I smiled. It is all right, Charlie. Y gracias.

He only nodded. Anyway, and he held up the key again, "you already have a place to stay. You can stay right there in the house. The electricity is on. And the water."

What is he suggesting? I crossed my arms over my chest. But there is only one— 

Again his eyebrows arched. "Oh! No