After
New York
By
Phoenix
Disclaimers: Violence,
Sex, Language. Same sex intimacy and sexuality. Age recommendation for this
reading is 18 and up. Under age people....keep walking. Do not pass go. Do not
collect $200. Find something age appropriate for your entertainment. All
characters and situations are original works by Phoenix. copyright 2008. All
rights reserved.
Chapter
1
I hate New York in winter. When it snows the flakes are
dirty before they even land. I’m sure if I could hold one long enough
before it melted it would look like a piece of ash from a volcano. Maybe
that’s a better analogy, snow erupts in New York. I would almost
laugh at that bit of sarcastic humor but my feet are frozen even with the
SUV’s heater on high. I don’t do well with cold feet. Not to
mention I might be just a tad cranky. I’ve been sitting out here at a
side entrance to this hospital for over two hours waiting on my new assignment.
Not that I even have a clue as to what this one’s about, what with a midnight
call with orders to pack a bag, hop a plane, and get my ass to New York.
But I do know it’s a VIP since they sent the company jet.
At least I didn’t have to fly in a cargo plane like that one
time in Virginia when I had to protect that mob stooge. And I thought
getting assigned to the Witness Evaluation & Relocation Division would be
exciting and glamorous. It was almost a year before I found out the rest
of the organization had nicknamed us “W E i R D”. God, I hope this one
doesn’t smoke. I am so tired of smokers, and guys who think I’m
supposed to cook and clean. I am an agent not a friggin maid! And
the next one that pinches my butt is gonna pull back a bloody stump. I
have already warned Hammond that I’m not taking any more crap from these
people. I am only there to protect them from the bad guys.
Although after eight years of this, I have learned that when it
comes to witness protection, “bad guy” is a relative term. Sometimes
after a few days with one of my “witnesses” I am ready for a Lysol hose
down. But hey, I’m a “special” special agent, right? I get the
hard cases. The ones with a serious price on their head, the ones that try
to escape, the ones that used to be housewives. Yeah, you would think the
housewives would be easy, but oh no, they are the worst. They cry, they
don’t understand why they can’t tell just a few people, they forget to lie,
they want to go home, and of course they act like I just killed Santa Claus.
I almost prefer the criminals, at least I don’t feel like I’m the bad guy.
It’s been three hours now and I’m still counting. I’m
gonna radio for some coffee and a bathroom break. “Agent Lands” my
radio nearly gives me a heart attack, “she’s coming out”. Great, I
guess it’s another housewife, my luck never changes. I get out of the
SUV and open the back door and suddenly I’ve got agents forming a body line
all the way to the door. I’ve only seen this one other time and it’s a
surprise since I haven’t been briefed. The door opens and I look up to
see who my assignment is this time, and realize my luck has finally changed.
From bad to the seventh level of hell. For walking toward
me is none other than ADA Alexandra Cabot. Now I don’t really know her
personally, but I know of her. I was on a task team that had to
work with her about two years back and though I only met her for a minute, part
of the team had to work closely with her for over two weeks. I have never
in my life heard so many derogatory terms used to describe a person of the
female gender. Especially not one as beautiful as Alex Cabot. The
nicest one I can remember is Ice Queen, and they only called her that when she
was being nice. She tried to have two agents fired and requested the
Senior Agent in Charge be replaced on the second day.
So my assignment is the Ice Queen of New York and it’s snowing
again. God, I hate, I mean love, my job. She has a sling on one
shoulder and I remember hearing that she had been shot. Of course I also
heard that she was dead, but I’m used to seeing ghosts. I remember
watching the movie The Sixth Sense when the little boy says “I see dead
people” and I could barely stop myself from standing up in the middle of the
theater and yelling “I do too!!” Ok, so not many people would find
that funny, but then again, they don’t have my job. As the Ice Queen
starts to step up to get into the SUV I wrap my body around her and follow her
onto the step as one person and nudge her down into the back seat. She
slides into the seat but then turns and glares at me as if I have just stuck my
hand up her blouse. Here I am risking my life to protect her and she takes
the body contact as an insult.
So
it’s me, ADA Cabot, and Robert in the back seat with James in the front as the
driver. For the hundredth time
James is not amused as for the hundredth time I announce “Home James!”.
Well it’s better than “all clear”, and you think some one would
appreciate that I am trying to be sociable since I got dinged in my last review
on communication skills. I talk when I think I need to say something or give an order.
I call it concise, to the point, or maybe even efficient.
My superiors and some of my assignments have called it un-communicative,
sullen, and curt. My team
understands me and we have never lost a witness.
I’m not sure what the problem is.
So
remembering my manners, I turn to her and say, “ADA Cabot, I am Senior Special
Agent in Charge Jesse Lands”. Slowly
a pair of eyes turn toward me, a color I would normally describe as that hot
blue you see in a flame. But these
are devoid of, well, of anything and suddenly I remember the ice cold blue I
once saw when an iceberg calved in two. “I’m
no longer an ADA” was all she said before turning back toward the front.
So now I know first hand the burning cold of the Ice Queen.
Our
route out of the city will take about two hours even though we started only
twenty minutes away from our intended interstate. It will take that long to lay false trails and hopefully
confuse any tails. My core team
consists of five agents plus myself, an extended team of an additional six, and
I have just found out, twelve more borrowed for this assignment. For VIP’s my operandi is always the same.
One VIP, twenty-three agents, six identical SUV’s down to the license
plate, four activated safe houses, one dispatcher, and a shit load of firepower.
Each member of my core team will eventually end up at the selected safe
house with me while the six extended agents will patrol in two of the other
SUV’s. The borrowed twelve will
be split between the three dummy safe houses for seventy-two hours.
Each SUV is equipped with dual gas tanks, bullet proof glass, two
untraceable satellite phones, seven days food and water for five, miscellaneous
survival equipment, and plenty of extra firearms and ammunition.
Each
agent on my team carries a minimum of two firearms, a cell phone, a homing
device, two knives, and extra ammo on their person at all times.
We hardly ever have to use any of these items except the phones.
My first instructor was killed because he only carried one pistol and
none of the other supplies. My
third witness and I survived our kidnapping and attempted murder because I am
anal-retentive and over prepared. I’d
rather be called names than be dead.
When we
had been on the road to the actual safe house for about an hour, I finally
chanced a look at my guest. She
sits staring straight ahead with no expression save for a tightness around the
mouth and eyes. No matter how much
in control she would like to appear, I know she has to be in shock and a moment
later I realize, in pain. Calculating
backwards I guess she had only been shot about eighteen hours ago and had been
riding in a SUV the last three. I
had to admire her self control and stamina.
Being a trained EMT, I knew she needed meds, food and rest. We wouldn’t get to the safe house for another 6 hours so
bed was out, but the other two I needed to do something about.
So where can one get meds, food, and other sundry items?
We turned into the next Wal-Mart. I
send Robert into the store as we drive around the parking lot, one of my rules
is to keep the target moving. While
the scripts were getting filled he picked up my list of some snacks, cola’s,
juice, bandages, a set of sweats, a blanket and four large pillows.
Back on
the move I braced myself for the upcoming argument. “ADA.., I mean Ms. Cabot?
I’m going to have to change your bandages.” Since her medical file had been loaded with her I had a
treatment schedule to keep. “We
will have to remove your shirt.” I
expected a blowup, so I was surprised when all I got was a slight nod.
Since Robert had moved to the front, there was plenty of room to work.
As I helped her off with the sling she merely sucked in her breath and
closed her eyes. I knew it had to
hurt like hell but gave her what privacy I could by keeping quiet. She opened her eyes and looked straight into mine.
Without speaking I began to undo the buttons of her shirt and let it pool
around her waist. I could just
slide down her bra strap so I didn’t have to move her around too much.
I
carefully went to work on her shoulder first, the wound had bled a little but
the stitches were fine. I cleaned
it as gently as I could in a moving vehicle and put a clean bandage on.
Then I checked the wound on the side of her rib cage where a second
bullet had entered very close to her heart.
I didn’t realize until then just how close she had come to really
dying. At least this wound was
clear and I just had to re-bandage it. Still without speaking I pulled her shirt back up and
buttoned it, then helped her get the sling back on.
Through
all of this the only sounds she made were a few deep breaths that signaled the
most painful movements. I reached
into the back and pulled out the pillows and put two between her and the door
and another on her lap to rest her arm on.
I lay the blanket over her legs. I
then handed her a juice and her meds. I
was cleaning up when I felt her looking at me.
When I looked up she tilted her head slightly and very quietly said
“Alex”. I nodded and she closed
her eyes and leaned back on the pillows.
With ADA
Cabot, I mean Alex, asleep I grab my assignment folder and start to read.
I need to make a rotation schedule for my teams for the safe house and
the two roving SUV’s. All our safe houses always have four bedrooms and at least
two bathrooms. One Bedroom for the
witness, two for agent rotation, and one for electronics. For a team of twelve I always work eight on and four off,
everyone is expected to rest and everyone is expected to be in top form.
There are always four awake at the house and two agents in each vehicle.
No one works alone. If you
are assigned to the outside patrol team, you check in every fifteen minutes with
your partner with a code word that changes every shift and is designated by me.
The two rovers check with each other every fifteen minutes and with the
house every thirty minutes.
I have
the toughest schedules, the most rules, and the most stringent security measures
in the agency. My unit is
officially designated Delta-7, unofficially we were nicknamed the Borg Cube.
Guess I know what that makes me. I
even overheard the Director over the phone once telling someone to “assign the
Cube”. Well that’s okay with
us, we have the best record in the agency.
And I know I have the best team, regardless of the fact that last X-mas I
found a Hallmark Star Trek Borg Cube ornament hanging from my SUV’s rearview
mirror. I still haven’t figured
out how they bypassed my alarm.
“Thirty minutes out” James announces. I look over at my
sleeping assignment. She truly is one of the most beautiful women I have
ever seen. Unfortunately her demeanor doesn’t match. I shake my
head slightly at such a waste. Of course having finished reading her file
on the way, I knew of another reason that might effect her personality, she is
filthy rich. Or should I say, was rich. She no longer has access to
any of her money since she has been classified as deceased. I bet that
hasn’t even registered with her yet. Oh well, time to get to work and
quit putting off waking her up. “Ms Cabot…Alex, wake up we’re almost
there” I say softly. Even with waking her as gently as I can, she jerks
upright with wide frightened eyes and I immediately lay a hand on her arm to
calm her before she rips her stitches. “It’s ok Alex, you’re
safe.” She turns to me and her previously cold eyes hold nothing but
pure terror. “You’re safe” I tell her again, “it’s okay,
you’re safe Alex, you’re safe”. Finally her eyes clear and she
slowly nods leaning back into the seat.
I start gathering my papers and files together. After I
have everything together in my briefcase I pull out my Glock, release the
magazine, clear the breach, reload the round, slap the magazine back in, re-cock
it, and return it to my holster. It is a ritual I always do just prior to
moving a witness into or out of any location. I feel her watching me, and
wonder if guns disturb her. It doesn’t really matter much, she will just
have to get used to them. Not only might a gun save her life, but every
person on my team will get any protection I can afford them. I have never
lost a witness, and I have never lost a member of my unit. This will not
be the first time for either.