My first series! Let me know what you think. šŸ˜‰

Special Agent Brown entered the steel grey room and took a seat while the electric door discreetly snapped shut. The coffee she’d ordered for her guest was starting to grow cold so she decided to drink it.

Sipping the now lukewarm cup, she turned her attention to the file in her hand. His file was one of many. As expected his marks were high in all areas but one. She ignored the warning alarms going off in her head. If there were any problems, her department knew how to handle it. Satisfied with her quick scan she resumed her coffee and continued her wait.

Justin made his way through the crowd bus terminal. He hated to travel this way but he didn’t feel like flying so here he was, in a crowd Greyhound terminal. Seeing his exit he took it. Running for the platform and into a waiting cab.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere that serves a great breakfast platter. I’m starved.”

chuckling the cab driver made a u-turn and headed for his favorite spot. Ms. Lucy’s Canteen.

 

“Special Agent Brown. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The Director took his seat and reached for the now empty cup. His raised eyebrow only earned a shrugged shoulder. “That’s what happens when you’re late.”

Brown leaned over and picked up the landline.

“Hey George, would you send another pot over? The Director’s arrived.”

“Bout time. Three minutes.”

Smirking, Brown returned the receiver and ignored the glare from her superior. He’d earned the remark. If she couldn’t be late, why could he?

“When you’re ready Agent Brown. I have five other briefings before lunch and I’d like to get to them on time.”

Ignoring his snarky attitude and a pithy comment of her own she picked up the file. After giving the signal for the dimming of the lights she began.

“Case #75 Justin Marcus . Subject is 6’2, last weight at 195 lbs. Current location is unknown.”

“What do you mean unknown? You allow them to just walk around?”

The annoyance in the voice of the Director echoed her own but she just the research analysis. Such decisions were out of her control.

Keeping her voice calm she aimed a glare at the Director.”Director, I am paid to research and deal with any problems directly relating to the use of the test subjects. Nothing more. It was made quite clear at the beginning that my moral objections would fall on quiet ears.”

Under the directness of her gaze the Director had to repress the strong desire to squirm. His mother often aimed the same look at him when he did something naughty. At sixty-five he wasn’t about to let some prissy upstart chap his hides. Not now, not ever. Especially when this project was so important.

“What are his specs?”

“All his scores are high.” Her body was still and controlled with the only hint of the lie she’d told, a flicker in her eyes.

A flicker the Director didn’t miss.

“But…?”

Repressing the urge to groan she told him. ” Marcus’ psychological readings are a bit of a concern.”

Recognizing the minimization of an issue he pressed, “What do you mean ‘are a bit of a concern’?”

Unsure of how to explain it, for the first time in her career and her adult life, she stammered. “Well…he’s..he’s feeling sir. He’s acting on impulse and emotion.”

The Director slowly leaned in toward the table. He could feel his temper rising. Ineptitude had to be the cause of this. None of these subjects were to think or feel for themselves.

“What do you mean he’s thinking and feeling? How did this happen?! Who’s responsibility was-”

“Director, please. Let me finish.” Now back in control of her faculties she continued.

“Dr. Loveitt was in charge of #75. With #75 he said he wanted to try a different spin. No one was ever allowed in on those test sessions and according to his records all the variables were the same except for one.”

Wary and suddenly very cold he asked, “What variable?”

“We’re not sure. All the tests we’ve run on #75 indicated the subject is the same as every other subject. No variations at all. That is until recently.”

“Is the psychological issue the only problem?”

“Yes. I believe we can correct it by upping his neurological brain inhibitors and another dose of the serum. This should giveĀ  you complete control of the subject for an extended period of time.”

Far from put at ease by her words the alarms bells grew louder in his head. “What do you mean should? How is any of this possible?! Where is Dr. Loveitt? Why on earth isn’t he here?!”

Barely hiding her disgust and anger she hissed, “Dr. Loveitt is dead. He was murdered in Surrey last Fall. Under direct order.” She added, the accusation hanging in the air.

The Director paled. Frustrated, he strode from the chair and began to pace. What was supposed to be a brief update was turning into a major headache-inducing problem.

Special Agent Brown watched in stunned disbelief. The Director looked utterly confused and thwarted. Could he truly not have known? No. Of course he knew. This was just a mind game to through her off.

Mid-step he stopped and abruptly turned to face her. In two steps he back at the desk his hands firmly gripping the sides of the table. Leaning in until his face was a mere inch from her own. A faint whiff of coffee and what he’d had for breakfast wafted over her face.

Through gritted teeth he whispered, “I didn’t order the hit.”

Surprised by the implications and shocked at the nearness to him, she stepped back. His whisper had been so surprisingly soft that she knew it wouldn’t be heard on the recording of this meeting.

“Only you could’ve done it. You’re the only one with that type of access, that level of clearance.”

Eyes level, in a softer voice he said, “No I’m not.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Who else-”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with it. Now. Get what you need ready. We’re bringing #75 in.”

Turning on his heel he stormed out. He wanted answers and somebody was going to give them to him. One way or another.

Agent Brown dropped into the Director’s vacant seat. Her back turned to the mirrored glass she allowed the tears to fall silently down her cheeks. Her mentor was dead. She’d believed for months her boss was the man responsible. Could she be wrong? After five minutes she picked up the landline. “George? Yeah. Get the prep room ready. #75 is coming home.”

From his vantage point high above on the 35th floor terrace he watched as the Director all but ran to his waiting car. Putting his binoculars down, he angled his head and spoke into the mic. “Director is on the move. Apparently all didn’t go as planned with Agent Brown. I think he knows something.”

There was no response on the other end. Which meant one of two things. Either his contact person was down or they were on the move. Smirking, he suddenly felt very bad for the Director. He had a feeling that the man was going to have a very bad day.

The cabby was right. The food at the canteen was great. Best pancakes he’d had in a while and the generous tip he’d left his waitress reflected his gratitude. He decided to take a walk around. Check out his new city. It’d been a while since he’d allowed himself the simple pleasure of walking through a park , or stroll beside a lake. His thoughts were disrupted when he saw her.

Slightly above average height. Maybe 5’7, 5’8. She had chestnut brown hair, tightly curled hair swept back in a high ponytail, slicked back with gel. Slightly on the curvy side, she walked with purpose. Her heeled boots clip clopping on the ground as she walked. Her gaze shifted slightly in his direction, locked on him. Her eyes lingering over him. She smiled and nodded, before continuing her pace. Judging from the direction she was headed, he figured she had a bus to catch. He stood watching her until she was out of sight. Then he made a right turn between a local coffee shop and a bakery followed behind by two men engaged in some conversation about sports.

As he cleared the buildings two more men emerged from the bakery and walked in front of him. He was beginning to feel boxed when a movement on the right caught his eye. One of the men from behind swung. Dodging the blow he kicked out, knocking down the man in front of him. Blocking a jab from another man he plowed his fist into the man’s rib cage. Barely, registering the crunching sound he heard. He rammed his knee into the man beside him and jerked his elbow back into the man behind him breaking the man’s nose.

In less than a minute the four men lay on the ground. He dropped down beside one and check the man’s pockets looking for ID. “Agent Dockens? Why on earth are you looking for me? And how the heck did I do know how to do any of this?” Baffled he rocked back on his heels. He was about to look around for security cameras when he felt a needle plunged into his neck and hood tugged over his face. Surrounding him in blackness.

Gone