Sleeper Cell Part 6

Agent Brown sipped a cup of piping hot coffee, black. No sugar, no cream. She knew that this morning was going to brutal when she turned on the local news and saw the now former Director’s house on fire. Apparently, both he and his wife were inside. She knew instinctively that the blaze was no accident. No one took better care of their home than an agent. Far too many secrets were concealed within in those walls for the owners to live haphazardly.

Turning off the television she nursed her coffee and thought fleeting of the children that were now orphans. She’d heard through the grapevine that the Director’s wife had also been an agent, she doubted whether he’d known his own wife had worked for a rival agency but from what she’d heard, the wife had stuck mainly to research over the past few years. Still, she wondered what had been the tipping point. Why murder the couple now? Smothering an oath, that stupid serum! Ugh. How many more are going to die for this experiment. Tears filled her eyes. Doc, oh Doc. What have you gotten us all into? Glancing at the clock she growled and rushed out of her room. She was going to be late if she kept this up.

She dumped her mug into the sink, grabbed a blazer, car keys, and dashed out the door. The second window to the left of the sink, left ajar and unnoticed.

The office was all a stir. The Director was dead. Who was going to fill his shoes? Did the research continue as it was before? There were two contenders for his job already in the wings, neither option was popular. Even the scientists and researchers who tended to avoid office politics found the Director’s death inconvenient to say the least. It meant putting a parade for the new guy. Showing progress on certain projects and hiding evidence of others. Director’s, the respective heads of various agencies, congressional leaders, all come and go. The scientists were the only ones that remained despite the political climate. Sometimes, because of it. The government needs stability, continuity.

Agent Brown walked through the halls and could all but smell the anxiousness, the fear. Many of the researches and scientists in the this particular building were all working on the serum, or rather, trying to duplicate it. Since they hadn’t been able to locate Dr. Loveitt’s research, they were pretty much relying on the information they’d gathered from the various trails and specifically, #75. Jason. He’d called himself Jason, she thought with a frown. Nodding at her secretary she entered her office and got to work. She needed to know everything she could about #75. Who was he? Why was he working with Dr. Loveitt? What made him so special to the Doctor? A sense of dread began to grow at the pit of her stomach. As she began reading through the files she wondered what was so important in Dr. Loveitt’s research that was worth killing for.

Jason awoke to the soft pitter-patter of what sounded like rain. His eyes, still blurry, could barely register the scene around him. He was laying on pastel colored couch, soft and fluffy, he knew instantly he was at some woman’ house. But whose? He tried to sit up and succeeded only in sending a blinding pain straight through the center of his skull. He groaned and fell back. He heard footsteps. The rain had stopped and he felt a cool hand pressed to his forehead.

“Jason? Jason are you awake? Just stay still. When you were at the laboratory, you were injected with something. This is one of the after affects. I’m sure you’ve experienced it before right?”

He managed to nod. It hurt but he recognized the woman’s voice. Angela? The woman from the bus stop? Slowly opening his eyes, he saw deep hazel brown eyes gazing deeply into his own, searching. Her curly hair, slicked back. Face, bare of makeup. She reminded him of someone…

Where am I? Who are you? How did you find me?”

She pushed off the couch but not before he caught a slight smirk.

I knew you’d give me the third degree once you woke up. Let me finish getting dressed. I’ll make you some tea and we’ll talk.”\

As she walked away he noticed the plush teal robe she was draped in. While not form fitting, he could tell she had a figure. He chuckled. Splitting headache, you’ve been kidnapped once, possibly twice, and all you can think about is what’s under the robe? Deciding it was foolish to try and sit up again he rolled to his side. As the cover laying over him shifted it hit him. These aren’t my clothes…I wasn’t wearing a shirt at the lab…and I had jeans, not flannel pants…did she…no…holy…she did!

At that moment Angela walked into the living room wearing a light sweatshirt and some type of flowy pants. She registered the scowl on his face. Very handsome face…ignoring the thought she busied herself with making tea and two minutes later brought out two cups of chamomile-lavender tea. She handed him a cup and he sipped it, eyeing her over the brim. It had a lemon wedge and probably two spoonfuls of sugar in it, just the way he liked his tea.

You’re probably wondering how I know what type of tea you like. Or how I know how you like your tea.” She said with a knowing smile.

It unnerved him slightly, he thought belatedly that he probably should’ve waited until she’d sipped her tea first. She’d yet to touch her cup.

The thought had crossed my mind.” He responded coyly.

She laughed. It sounded somehow vaguely familiar, the idea that he’d heard that laugh before tugged at his still groggy brain but he continued to sip his tea and waited for her to speak.

Taking her cup in both hands, she drank deeply, and placed the cup on the table. Turning to him, she said.

I know you probably have a lot of questions and I’ll do my best to clear the up for you. For now, just know that my name is Angela and I worked with Dr. Loveitt in the lab. We’re safe here for now.”

He took another sip of tea. The fact that she said “for now” and not safe period was significant. “I’m guessing then that whatever is going on isn’t even remotely over…”

Angela laughed and shook her head in disbelief. “Not even close sugar.”