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Post by The Fixer on Apr 19, 2016 11:32:37 GMT -5
In her head, the strains of the William Tell Overture start. The taxicab weaves in and out of traffic like a galloping wild horse. Just as the strains of the music near ending, the cab pulls to a screeching halt in front of the British Embassy. Thankful for her life, she looks at Mac to make sure he is still breathing. Somehow they have arrived at the Embassy with 15 minutes to spare before the meeting with the General, and no idea how that happened. When Mac told the driver they were running behind, he could not have known this driver would produce a winged chariot, the likes of which Pegasus would be proud.
Settling up with the driver, the two catch their breath and chuckle. Deciding it best not to think about how they were able to complete an hour drive in less than half that time, they both walk into the Embassy to announce their arrival to a pinch-nosed, sharply dressed secretary. Seemingly put out by their presence, she looks down her nose at them both. Used to the look, Clue smirks a little at the woman. The woman rises, disappearing quickly behind the door, presumably to announce their arrival to the General. She returns unsuccessfully hiding a look of complete satisfaction before her face returns to its stone state. In a very British way, she informs the pair that the General will see them shortly, and suggests strongly they arrange themselves in the waiting area. Returning to her work without a second glance to either.
Clue and Mac avail themselves of the waiting area. Clue understanding that Mac will be suffering right along with her, she whispers quietly, that the waiting game has begun. Mac nodding, and giving her that knowing, “it’s all your fault and you know it” look, unfolds a newspaper from the table to settle in.
An hour later, like a silent bell has rung somewhere in the building, the secretary rises, and announces, quite properly that “The General will see you now.” Turning her back on the visitors, to ensure they are scrambling a little to catch up to her very quick clipped march, through the door, down the hall to a stately looking oak door. The secretary raps smartly at the door, 3 times, then swings it inward, silently gesturing the pair through the door. She closes it smartly behind them, barely missing catching Clue’s ankle with the swing.
Mac, being a military man himself, snaps to attention and salutes the General. Clue, standing arrow straight beside Mac, waits for the General to acknowledge Mac. Mac, having been told to “at ease”, and offered a seat, takes it. Clue, having yet to be addressed by the General, remains standing. The General sits, exchanging pleasantries with Mac on the weather and the scenic drive into the City. He addresses Clue with only a glance, letting her stand there, ensuring the lesson is ground all the way in. His authority is to be met with respect and grace at all times, or punishment will be bestowed. Clue, knowing the game, hasn’t moved a muscle but for the twitching of her right eye. An annoying tell indicating that she is working hard to chew on her words and not reveal the frustrations bubbling away under the surface.
Mac, thoroughly enjoying the fact that she is still standing there, and hasn’t said a single thing in nearly 15 minutes, looks over at her, enjoying the crow she’s choking on. Silently impressed that she’s both let it go on this long, and hasn’t moved a muscle, other than that twitch she’s developed in her right eye. Mac tilts his head towards her, in a silent message to the General. The General, in response, rises, causing Mac to rise and stand at attention again. Being dismissed, Mac marches his smug self past Clue, and out the door. The General, finally, acknowledges Clue.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?” Seating himself, but ensuring not to offer her a chair, he puts his feet on the desk, and leans back, enjoying himself and waiting to hear what comes out of her mouth.
Taking a breath and forcing the words out, taking great pains not to choke on them, “General, it has been brought to my attention that my behaviour the other day was disrespectful to you, your team, and your authority. The implication that you are hiding something or your team is from you was uncalled for.” The General nods to her. Then without warning laughs heartily. He drops his feet from the desk, sits forward in the chair as the laughter doubles him all the way over. Gathering himself, he looks her up and down, standing there arrow straight, no salute, no military uniform, working hard to not choke out the words or let fly with that he is sure would be the best dress-down he’s heard in a while.
“How does the crow taste?” He all but cackles. Before she can answer, and enjoying how the question made not only her eye twitch but the muscles at the corner of her mouth as well, he says “Sit. That was probably the best almost apology I’ve had in a while, and far better delivered than any recruit I’ve had. You also managed to deliver it all without stating you were sorry for it either. Admirable.”
Clue, sitting quickly before the General changes his mind, listens to him, searching his face for any further platitudes.
To save them both, the General pours a little glass of water from the set on his desk, offering it to her. Taking it and sipping, both knowing it is to wash the taste of the words out, and any yet to come.
“General, by now you must know that my getting to Baghdad is important, otherwise, you and I would not now be sitting in this office together. You handed me an envelope. It appears you also have something else for me.”
“Young lady, after our last conversation, I was ready to send in a request to have you relieved from this case. Instead, I thought harder about what you said, and dug into the reports a little deeper. Taking leave of the work going on when I learned of the passing of Captain Lawrence, and after receiving his instructions and items, to bring you news myself, at his request. Against my better judgment, perhaps, or because your team speaks so highly of you, I gave you what I knew of the plan Captain Lawrence executed. Your damn smart mind played on the guilt I already have about not being able to provide the aid he came to me requesting. An old dog like me, does not like to have his short-comings so readily thrown upon him.”
Nodding her head in understanding, Clue replies “General Allenby, Captain Lawrence mentioned you should have in your possession something that we are both hoping can help me on this case. Outside of that, the other reason I am here is to ask for your help in getting into Baghdad to the site of the incursion.”
The General, upon hearing the request, and still unsure of the woman before him, gives her a hard look. Opening the top draw of his desk, he pulls out a small brown package. Setting it on his desk, his stone-face now regarding the woman intently.
“This was sent to me from the field. My people retrieved it from the site. We have verified that it is a server download. There is highly sensitive information on here, and your clearance does not allow for it. I will have the transcriptions compiled for you.”
Hoping it would not come to this, Clue stands, and walks to the General’s desk, pulling a small, yet weighty, object from her pocket. Placing it on the desk in front of the General, she says, “General, my clearance has been handled. As far up as is needed on this. That little item right there, should be enough for you.”
Looking down, the General grows a little pale. Sitting on the desk before him, an object only a select few people could ever produce. Clearly having underestimated the woman looking down at him, he picks up the coin, turning it over in his hand, feeling the weight of it, both physical and psychological. Whispered to be in existence, though never quite believing the legends or stories, the General looks at Clue. Clearly marked on the coin – Liber Ordinis Arenae et Fumee. Puzzling through whether this is a fake or not, or even if the Order exists, the General pulls out his own coin and lays it down on the desk. Checking that they match, he smirks a bit.
“Grand, we have established that you are indeed part of the mission.”
“General, I was hoping you would not need further persuasion.” Standing again, she pulls out another coin. Walking around the General’s desk to retrieve her first coin, and the package, she sets the last coin down on the desk.
This time the General looks down, the smirk quickly replaced by a rising temper. The General picks up this last coin, spinning it between his fingers. Flipping it in the air and catching it again, he puts his first coin away and sets this one carefully back on the desk.
Looking at this woman now leaning on the corner of his desk, he stands, clearly stating he is still outranking her, regardless of this new development. Walking past her to a large picture on the wall, he swings it open revealing a wall safe behind.
Flicking the dial quickly through the combination, he opens the safe and pulls out a larger package. Setting it down on the sideboard, he takes a deep breath. While the General has his back to her, Clue picks up the challenge coin and pockets it, knowing she may need it again. A very rare coin, given to her before the case started, with instructions to use it only in situations that required the appropriate trump card, she unconsciously runs her thumb over the words Curator’s Choice.
The General turns, regarding her with an air of sorrow now that he has learned that there is only one way to get this woman off this case and out of his life. He picks up the package, walking back over to her, handing it over.
“Captain Lawrence gave me something before that mission. I can see now why he trusted you so much. Having read it, and complied with the instructions he left me, this is for you. You will understand once you have had a chance to go through it. The smaller package that you are now holding contains the actual download drive. My people have already scrubbed it, at my command, and the transcripts are waiting with the secretary that showed you in. The larger package here contains my copy of the unscrubbed material. He trusted you. The Curator trusts you. So I will trust you too. Do what you need with the information here. Please know that you now have access to items that could very easily bring down both our governments. As well, in this larger package you will find something to help you get to Baghdad. I cannot be involved in that process, as I have already given an order to prevent you from getting there.”
Arms now burdened with the items the General has given her, Clue stands before the General. Sensing a little sorrow in him at the loss of one of his men, she breaks all protocol and reaches out to squeeze his arm.
“Thank you General. I will pick up the transcripts from the secretary on the way out as well. Redactions or not, it will be handy to have. Is there anything else, General?”
Looking at this woman, this frustrating, formidable woman, the General blows out a breath and rubs the back of his neck. “I expect I will hear from you when or if there is anything else I can help you with. That is all I have. Dismissed.” Unable to help himself at the dismissal, he laughs a little. “Good luck, Clue.”
“Thank you General,” she says striding to the door. Pulling it open, she does not find Mac waiting. Striding back down the hall, to the first door, she steels herself before having to face the Iron Maiden at the desk. Opening the door, she walks through, and finds Mac enjoying the newspaper in the waiting area, teacup set on the table, chewing on some sort of biscuit, laughing. Raising an eyebrow, Clue regards the Iron Maiden secretary as well. She is trying to discreetly giggle through her nose at something. Upon noticing Clue she quickly arranges her face back into the dagger-throwing visage of total comportment.
“Madam, I believe you have a package for me. General Allenby indicated I should sign for it here?”
Nodding, the woman retrieves it from a bottom drawn in her desk, handing her the sign-off page as well.
Mac, stifling a laugh at the scene, allows the packages to be turned over to him and escorts her from the building.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 21, 2016 8:16:02 GMT -5
“Are we all square with the General?”, Mac asks as they exit the Embassy. “Square is a relative term, Mac. They are where they are, for now”, replies Clue.
Eyeing the black sedan motorcade parked before them, she turns to Mac with a raised eyebrow. The middle sedan shows diplomatic plates, and appropriate flags on the hood. Standing beside the back door, a driver with shoulders as broad as an ox, in his black suit, awaiting the pair. His ear piece concealed down the back of his neck and under the jacket, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, with a jaw that Clue is sure is able to break walnuts, whole, without any trouble. A presence to begin with, his height and stature dwarf the car he is driving. Gawking slightly and swallowing quickly, moving towards the Tank, still trying to figure out how he even fits in the drivers seat, Clue confirms that this is indeed their ride, by simply asking, “Ian?”
At Mac’s nod, the Tank opens the door for them. Climbing into the surprisingly roomy car, the door is closed behind them. Knowing that at least the first part of the favour is now transporting her to a waiting room at the Canadian Embassy, they wait while the Tank folds himself into the drivers seat. Suppressing the smile as the car protests the weight now burdening it, the motorcade sets off to its first destination.
Making their way into the Canadian Embassy, Mac gets them settled into an office he requested, offloading the packages onto a table for Clue. Before she has a chance to look through what was gathered from the General, there is knock at the door. Mac crosses to answer it, thanks the person on the other side and turns back to Clue, “We have a meeting.”
Mac takes a moment to lock the items away in the desk before they make their way to their meeting. The messenger, waiting for them outside the door, escorts them through the maze of halls to an ornately decorated room used to entertain visiting Ambassadors during their meetings. The door is opened for them, and Mac allows Clue to lead the way into the room. Seated on the couch, spread out and grinning like a Cheshire cat, Ambassador Ian Xenos.
“Eros!” He exclaims, rising, and hurrying the distance to her, embracing her affectionately and kissing both cheeks. A flush reaches her cheeks, as the display embarrasses her a little, as it is designed to do. Leaving her for a moment, Ian greets Mac with a warm handshake and pat on the shoulder. Gesturing them both to sit, he grabs Clue’s hand and pulls her to the couch beside him, cutting the space between them to nothing.
“What has caused you to call me after so many years, Eros?” Ian says to Clue.
There was a time, long ago that the term warmed her heart and made her blush. Now she works hard to not squirm at its use, or to put a more comfortable distance between them. Remembering he is doing her an enormous favour, she looks to Mac to lay out the plan for him. Ian, being Ian, listens to Mac while he turns those Hazel eyes on her, silently undressing her and smiling. Clue involuntarily shudders, though Ian finds it amusing and wrongly assumes it is from a burning lust left for him. Chiseled from the Greek Gods, with a good dash of Cherub, he is a gorgeous man. Long ago, for a very heady month, Clue was enamored with him. The trouble with a man like Ian is that he knows he is gorgeous, a walking God, and is a horrible womanizer. 30 days was all it took for Clue to realize his looks were the only thing going for him, his eyes wandered so often that a revolving door would be more appropriate, he spoke only of himself, and had no interest in anything other than how good she made him look. Now, his advances, the obviousness of his gaze, and the lack of personal space serve only to remind her to take a shower after the meeting.
Mac, finally finishing the plan, stops talking waiting to see if Ian has even heard anything.
Addressing Clue, Ian says, “Eros, this is important to you, yes?”
“Yes Ian, very important to me.”
“This help you find and stop Vévoda, yes?”
“Yes Ian. That is the hope.”
“You love this man very much. More than me.”
“Yes Ian”, looking at Mac, Clue takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands, “I loved him very much.”
“Then we do this plan.” Reaching out to caress her cheek and lift her chin so he can see the sapphires twinkling with tears, his heart breaks a little. He has never seen that look from her and knows it was never meant for him.
“I will do this for you, Eros. You leave this to me. It will take several days to ensure this is set.” Ian rises to shake hands with Mac. Turning, he sweeps Clue into his arms, crushing her in a hug. Keeping her close, he draws her back enough to look into her eyes. Brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. Searching her face for any hint of the affection he once saw for himself, he kisses both cheeks and releases her, knowing the charm that so often works on women, never really worked on her. As she walks out of the room, he sits, watching. A heartstring tugging in him as he realizes he will have to let her go, all the way now. If he is lucky, and can help out on this in the way she is hoping, he will be content enough to call her friend and hope that she will do the same.
Ian picks up the phone to begin arrangements.
Heading back to the office set for them to use, Mac grins to himself. It is not often you can look at someone and actually see their skin crawl. Knowing Ian, only by reputation, and the little that Clue spoke of him, he can understand now why Clue had him set this up for her. Just being in the room with him and watching him literally pour the sexual lust over her, has made him covet some time in a shower as well.
Closing the door to the office they have, he turns in time to see Clue shudder and physically try to shake it off. Roaring with laughter, Mac unlocks the draw of the desk for her. Excusing himself, siting the sudden need for a change of clothing Clue is left alone, trying to scrub herself clean with a hand and wondering what could possibly be contained in the items she received from the General.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 21, 2016 9:51:09 GMT -5
Clue sits with the information from the General. Opening the largest package first, she finds the unscrubbed transcript from the server download, as promised, a few other pieces for her to look through and a second envelop. Wondering what that is, she opens it up and pulls out the documents. Looking closely she reads the words “Last Will and Testament”.
Her heart skips a beat. She continues reading, stunned by what is on the pages. Fat tears fall on the pages as she keeps reading. Wiping at them, touched by the bequeaths, smiling and crying, her heart full and breaking at the same time, she realizes there is a stop they have to add to the journey before getting to Baghdad. Not wanting to delay, as Ian and Mac have already put things in motion, she folds everything back up and drops it back into the draw, locking it with the key Mac left in the keyhole.
Hurrying out of the room, in search of Ian, hoping to catch him before his business at the Canadian Embassy has concluded for the day. This time, it was to be her that asks, and she does not care. Seeing his entourage turning down the next corridor she calls out to him.
The entourage turns en masse at the informal address, and are immediately called off by Ian. Breaking through the men, Ian glows, hoping she has finally come to her senses and will beg him to whisk her away to his island. He gathers her close, but she struggles back out of his embrace.
“Ian, we need a lay over built in. There is a place I have to go back to. It will add a day, two at most to our journey. Can you adjust things a little? Please?” Clue quickly explains where they must go and why. Ian, hearing the details, hardens from God to Gladiator.
“Consider it done”, he says.
Unconcerned with the public display she hugs him tightly, thanking him profusely. He may be a lot of things, to her, his most adoring trait is his loyalty to those he chooses to give it to. Having the first favour come from her handler instead of Clue, had told him enough about where he stood with her to know she was could never ask it directly. Having her come to him now, showing the vulnerability so fiercely protected, was enough for him to understand the man in Captain Lawrence. A man Ian would long admire for having traits he himself was envious of, and the love of the one woman he could never have back. It also told him the bond was far deeper than he could comprehend. Forever his regret, he will do what he could to make sure the mission succeeded for her and for a man he would never know. Leaving her looking on after him, he rejoins the entourage and heads out to the waiting motorcade.
After watching the motorcade drive away, Clue returns to the office to find Mac waiting. His questioning gaze has her crossing to the desk, unlocking and pulling out the Will to hand over.
Quickly reading through, Mac looks up at her, understanding now where she had come from.
“A small change in the plan I am guessing?”
Nodding her head, she sits in one of the chairs facing the desk and Mac. Weary from the day already, Clue rubs her forehead a sure sign the thinking and stress are getting to her.
“They have prepared a guest suite for you. Go and get settled. Take this will you, as I know you will be looking through it long into the night. I have a few other things to take care of while I am here. We will meet for lunch day after next. Take an escort with you if you decide to leave the Embassy and wander, like always. And appease me when you think about doing it alone and take the damn escort. I do not need to have that entourage of Ian’s, Ian himself, or anyone else from our side lining up to lynch me because you went out alone and got yourself in trouble.”
Making the grumbling noises she so often does when forced to play by the rules, Clue agrees.
As she collects the items from the General, Mac asks “Any other old boyfriends I need to know about? I am pretty sure I will not be able to keep it together if I find out there is a Italian Stallion coming up next, waiting to devour you with his eyes too. That was the best, watching you work that hard to not squirm out of your skin.” Laughing heartily at the look she gives him, he cannot help but comment “That God of yours was nearly enough for me to question switch hitting.”
“He has never been mine, though he deludes himself into thinking that still. It was a brief fling more moons than I care to count, and I am not going to share how that all came about. Now, if you will excuse me, there are things to be learned.”
Smiling, and gathering the items, she leaves the office and finds a woman waiting to escort her to her suite.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 22, 2016 10:11:37 GMT -5
Sitting in the car, with Mac and Ian, Clue takes a moment to check the emotions bubbling, flashes of that day playing through her head. Stepping out to stand, once again, in the meadow of Clouds Hill, she leaves the men escorting her to walk to the only structure left on site. Badly damaged this little shed was the only thing left of what was once a gorgeous cottage home. Mac had already had a team on site to clear and clean. Walking into the shed, Clues peels up the floorboards to find the safe. Using the combination left by Will, she retrieves the items left in there, intent on protecting those and his memory. Not trusting the remaining structure to keep these hidden from the world, and curious travelers, she is having them stored while she finishes the mission, silently vowing to retrieve them and return to this place.
Leaving the shed she walks back up the hill, sunglasses in place. As she gets halfway up, the sun flashes, the way it did that day so long ago, hallowing his face. For a brief moment she can see him. Thankful for the protection the sunglasses offer, she rejoins her escorts.
Having concluded this portion of the trip, they all make their way back to London to regroup, review the next phases of the plan, and ensure the smaller details are in order. Having to be secretive, and use alternate channels to mask this phase as best they could, they are all eager to get into full swing, having spent nearly a week setting things in place before making it to Clouds Hill.
Knowing what is to come, she parks the emotions welling and stirred at having returned to the place that both melts her heart and steels it. The last time she can remember Will clearly was there, and yet it is the start of all the pain that followed. Filled in that there may have been another agent at the site on the night the cottage exploded, and remembering that woman’s name (vile in her mouth to say), Clue knows that what came after was meant to ensure her safety and draw Vevoda to Will. It still does not sit well with her that because of all of that Will is gone.
While they drive back to London, Clue turns to Ian “Ian, thank you for this. I still cannot think that it is mine…” stopping to allow the wave to wash over. Ian pats her hand. “You are welcome. He was a lucky man.”
Ian, having learned so much, in such a small amount of time, smiles to himself. A plan of his own is about to begin. Only Mac is aware, having learned the details whilst the two watched Clue return to the scene of the explosion. Both men agreeing to keep it bottled until absolutely necessary, not wanting to disturb the complex woman from her own stalwart plan, respecting how meticulously laid out it is, and all of the moving parts being juggled.
The trio arrive in London, and set to work on the parts they are handling. Each having the same thought, “Let the Games begin.”
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 22, 2016 14:24:09 GMT -5
The plane touches down in Baghdad. Taxiing to its hangar, the passengers on board disembark and are greeted by the Ambassador of Greece, stationed in Baghdad, and select diplomats of Iraq. Taking time to exchange pleasantries, the party moves off to the waiting motorcades, ready to whisk them to the Greek Embassy to conduct their very important business.
Having ensured their diplomatic party is properly sent off, the flight crew does a final check of the plane, ensuring it is prepared for their flight back. They are taxied to their hotel to await the return of their diplomat to home soil.
Exhausted from flight hopping for the last three days, Clue quickly enters her hotel room, rapidly changing from the flight crew uniform, and removing the wig, to dress in yet another disguise. Leaving the uniform properly folded and the suitcase that was given in the room, Clue slips out of the room, and down the back staircase to the car waiting below, a black sedan, driven by yet another mammoth man. Clue silently wonders where they are manufacturing them all.
Slipping through the night, on a predetermined route to stay away from the tumultuous areas and get to the Greek Embassy as quickly as possible, the driver pulls up at a side entrance where two more men in black receive her, ushering her quickly down the corridors to an anti-room to wait.
Spending the last few days brushing up on customs, Clue knows that she will be escorted by at least two men. Altering her appearance to blend better with the local people, Clue almost doesn’t recognize herself as she passes a mirror in the anti-room.
Several minutes later, the doors open and three men enter, one obviously Iraqi, and two Greek. Ian quickly makes the introductions, passing Clue a suitcase. As planned, the actual flight attendant is now sneaking into the hotel room Clue had checked into to resume her rightful place on the crew.
A brief discussion among the three men occurs. Clue, largely remains silent, as is her place as a woman in this country. Despite the fact that they are technically on Greek soil, inside the Embassy, the relations between Iraq and Greece as such that they respect each other’s cultures and customs. Having worked out with Ian the arrangements on this end, the Iraqi escort will be a guest of the Greek Embassy while aiding them in mutual interests at the site of the former Védoda Armament.
The briefing concluded the party retires to the arranged suites. Finally able to give in to the exhaustion of the past few days, Clue does not waste time once in her suit. The next part of the plan is going to be tricky and will require her maintaining her composure and wits in a country that largely feels that she is sub-human. Banking that Ian can handle her cover for the next part, she drops into sleep to gain every second she can.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 26, 2016 9:17:13 GMT -5
A sound awakens her. Heart racing a little, she reaches under her pillow for the gun that is always resting there. Letting her eyes adjust to the dark, and working to maintain steady breathing, Clue listens. The sound comes again, along with a scraping noise as the door to the bedroom is pushed open.
Not wanting to remain vulnerable any longer, Clue slips out of bed and creeps silently along the far wall, so she is on the wall the door would open onto. Stopping her movement when she hears the person swear, and finally making out the figure in the room – a tall man, broad shoulders, and smelling like hair grease and olive oil.
She hears her name whispered in a familiar voice, she closes the distance to the light switch, ensuring she is behind the intruder. He approaches the bed, whispering her name again and swearing in Greek.
Adrenaline still running, she mentally makes a note to prop a chair under the door in the next room she stays in.
“Eros, come. I know you are here.” At the utterance of the pet name only Ian uses, she flicks the lights on, gun still trained on him.
He flinches, blinking rapidly at the new light in the room. Turning around to face Clue, her gun trained on him. He is unarmed, so immediately throws his hands up.
Having not moved a muscle from where she is, and having the good sense to close her eyes just before flicking the lights on she isn’t completely blind in the newly lit room, she stares at him, eyes like ice.
“Ian, what the hell are you doing?”
“We have to go. There is a complication with our plan. We must leave now.”
“What Ian? What happened?” lowering her weapon and grabbing one of the gorgeous silk robes to cover her.
To show her that he is serious, he quickly grabs the door to the wardrobe and starts firing pants, a shirt, and some of the Arab coverings he left in there, at her. Catching her pants in one hand, still holding the gun, she furrows her brow at him and finally sets the gun down, allowing the rest of what was thrown at her to heap on the floor of the room.
Ian, noting she still hasn’t budged and is not appearing to understand the gravity of the situation, scoops the remaining few pieces from the wardrobe, dumping them on the bed and then pulling a small duffel bag out. Hastily, he starts stuffing things into the bag.
Getting it now, Clue hurries over to him, clucking her tongue at his hast, knowing half of what got in the bag will be on her person in a matter seconds. Pulling out what she needs, and not caring that he is in the room, she quickly turns her back to him and dresses while he lays out what has happened.
Turns out the help from the Iraqi diplomats was a political ruse to gain knowledge on the other legitimate business dealings the Greek and Iraqi groups had been working on. Side benefit was having someone in house with them that was supposed to be helping. His guard unit had alerted Ian that the man had been caught in an office riffling through documents but had escaped out a window before he could be detained and questioned. Given that it was the same man who was assigned to escort her to the site in the morning, the plan had to change and quickly.
Understanding now, Clue, fully dressed, and collecting her firearm, turns to him again. The contrast to her normal appearance is striking in the disguise they had worked out. Ian simply marvels at the wonders of female tricks. Though, he isn’t sure how they will hold up in the immense heat of the area. No matter. Killing the light in the room, together they head down the closest staircase to one of Ian’s many rooms. Grabbing what they need, the pair, plus two of Ian’s men, head out to a waiting car to head out to the site.
Wishing for different circumstances, and more time, Clue silently sends a pray up asking Will, Allah, Moses, God, and any Greek Deity she can think of, to watch over them with this new development. Fully understanding the hostility in the area being heightened as of late, down one local who could have helped liaise with her on site, and without the added bonus of daylight, spending a great deal of time looking over the site of the fallen Vévoda Facility is a luxury that is quickly disappearing.
She knew it was risky, but she has to see for herself.
Arriving, thankfully without issue, the party exits the vehicle and fan out. The heat in the area, still sweltering, Clue works to not wipe at her face for fear of smudging what is there and giving her away.
Having memorized the original map of the facility, and the point they would be dropped to begin their own walk through, Clue is still disoriented at the scene. Or, more accurately, the rubble she is now standing in. Faint as it may be, there is still, weeks later, a smell that lingers in the place. Acrid, riding above the dust, and even just barely there, it is a smell that reminds Clue of her days in a lab. Even after the most vigorous of scrubbing, the air never seemed to clear completely. A smell few others would notice. In a place like this, the tribes, and regular visitors would liken it to normal. For Clue, it is anything but, and tells her that her hope for Will not suffering is fleeting at best.
Ian taps her on the shoulder to point into the darkness a little ways ahead, with his penlight. A risk they are taking to give away their position to anyone watching the site, they walk together to the place where it has been determined that Will died.
In the time between the explosion, and now, Clue can only look on, as there really isn’t anything left. A few pieces of broken concrete, and various other pieces of rubble lay about. She had been warned that looting would have occurred once the fires died out and the military had left again.
Crouching down to scoop a handful of the dust from that spot, she lets it trickle through her fingers, a breeze blowing it away. Taking the penlight from Ian, she uses it to scan the ground. Her heart looking for something her head knows is not there. Despite the risk, Clue sits on the ground to look out, from that spot, imagining what Will may have seen last. Putting her hands into the dirt to help boost herself off the ground she feels something strange. Pulling it up with her, and using the light to show what it was, she doesn’t have time to look as she hears the first crack of gunfire. Ducking and rolling away as the bullet kicks sand up to her left, Ian’s men begin firing back in the direction of the shot.
Their luck has run out. Turning the light out and moving in behind the group of men firing and pushing towards the car, Clue pulls out her own weapon. Hearing several cracks coming from their right, Clue sends some back in that direction. Hurrying now, the groups makes the car, but not before losing on of the Greeks to a head-shot, and Ian taking two in the side.
Chaos erupts as the group reaches the car and drag Ian in. Speeding down the streets, trying to make the Embassy, Clue holding a bunched cloth to Ian’s side, trying to stem the blood gushing...yammering at him to stay awake and with them.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 26, 2016 10:44:53 GMT -5
Arriving after what felt like the world’s longest drive, Ian’s men whisk him inside, but there will be little they can do for him. The gaping holes in Ian had been hard to compress enough to stop the bleeding, and the amount that had poured out over her hands while she tried was terrifying. Knowing in her heart she had already lost him, but trying to stay anyway, she is hauled back by the driver of the car. Shouting at her in Greek and trying to contain her, Clue breaks free realizing quickly she is about to overstay her welcome as more men come running at her. Having been warned by Ian that should anything happen to him, she would no longer be protected at the Embassy, she takes off running for her room, to grab the few items she left there, and the pieces Ian had prepared for her. More shouting, and mass chaos as the men are torn between their fallen comrade and the woman that caused it. With little choice – stay and take her chances with the Greeks after probably killing an Ambassador, or flee, hoping to reach the British before Vévoda or some locals find a woman disgracing the country out without an escort – Clue sneaks out the window and down the trellis anchored to the wall.
Thankful for first light, and remembering to grab the Abaya and scarf on the way out, she clears the Embassy, while hastily slipping on the Abaya. If nothing else, it will cover her western clothing and allow her to attempt to blend a little, though purely being a woman will cause all manner of issue regardless.
Against the clock, knowing the original plan was changed because there is someone that knows what she looks like and was briefed in his portion of what would be happening, the second portion of the plan had gone awry and now Ian was all but dead. Vévoda must still be in the area, the Greeks are out for her blood, and the volatility in the area and her being a woman, not to mention the potential for the Iraqi to come looking for her, for any manner of reasons, Clue is on her own.
With absolutely no safe places left, the only thing she can do is hope like hell she gets to British HQ before anyone sees her.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 26, 2016 20:53:35 GMT -5
Hearing the Call to Prayer marking Sunrise Prayer, Clue is momentarily frozen. The streets will be flooded with people heading to Mosque. She is without mahram and though dressed appropriately, is an outsider, having every indication that the heat has begun melting the disguise itself. Hoping to blend with some of the people choosing to make the trek to Mosque on foot, Clue quickly realizes that is going to be difficult, as they are all walking in the opposite direction. And she still has to get across the Tigris, into the Green Zone, through the checkpoints to HQ. For someone that has not actually entered the country, used the cover provided by a diplomat from a foreign land, and has now all but killed said diplomat, she is having serious doubts in her abilities to get through the next part without issue.
Having turned up a side street, away from the throngs of people walking in the opposite direction, she notices a group of women, walking behind some men, in a direction of travel that will at least get her closer to her destination than the Mosque. Walking close enough behind the women to not overly alert them to her, yet to anyone looking on, seem like she is part of the group, she slows down to their pace and tries her best to blend.
Just in time as the group passes armed men, police or army, she cannot tell and is not waiting to find out. Staying with this group as long as possible, Clue reaches a main street with the group and realizes there is yet another Mosque up ahead. Staling so she can slip with the woman to the appropriate door, and then out of sight, hiding as the streets clear for prayer. Silently praying herself, that she will have just a tiny bit of luck, she walks briskly down the street away from this Mosque. Hoping to utilize the prayer time to get herself to someplace closer to the Green Zone, she finds a route along a street close to the river, and tries to stay out of sight.
Ducking around a corner and hurrying to tuck in behind the corner of a building, Clue holds her breath, having spotted more armed men at the last second. Getting caught here could prove to be deadly for her. The heat is getting to her, the layers of clothing she is wearing are doing nothing to help the situation, and although very early in the morning still, the higher the sun gets the harder it will be on her. Heat is a brief thing where she is from. So the temperature at 3am here, was already warmer than anything she has experienced back home. The clothing is handling only one thing right now, though she is desperately trying to decide how much of her layers she could remove from under the Abaya and not disgrace herself. Thankful for the protection from the sun, her alabaster skin would already be lobster red and blistering, even at this time of the morning. The disguise and the wig she has are only adding to the heat she is feeling.
The shade in this particular section of the street will be fleeting in less than an hour, so the most important thing, even though she needs to get to the Green Zone, is to try to find some place to hide during the day. Clue turns down a street away from the river, still mostly shaded, keeping her eyes open for any place that can offer what she is looking for.
Turning the corner at the end of the street, she finally sees something that can help. An older hotel appears, as if by magic. All but running the distance to the door of the hotel, she makes it just in time to see a few more armed men passing the door. Taking a few moments to compose herself, she approaches the desk. Before getting there, the heat and all the clothing get to her. Feeling her vision blur, and her body overheating, she braces herself on the counter, trying to fight the faint threatening to happen.
“Crap”, is all she can think, shaking her head. The man behind the counter, used to tourists having an issue with the heat, offers a glass of water to her.
Uttering the only word she knows in Arabic, “Shokran”, she takes the offered water and drinks quickly. Waiting a moment to see if it helps, the blur still at the edges of her vision. Through broken English, Clue finally manages to convince the man behind the counter that she does indeed need a room for the next 3 days, and pays him quickly, taking the key and slowly making her way to the room. Having no baggage to carry, a bellman arrives with two large bottles of water from the hotel. Taking the water offered and thanking him, she locks the door quickly behind her. Surveying the beautiful room, she wastes no time relieving herself of the layers baking her body.
Heading to the bathroom to take a cool shower, she lingers a little too long, and the water pressure lets up. Shutting everything off, she grabs a bottle of water, drinking deeply. Wrapped in a towel, she grabs a chair from the room to shove against the door, a small thing but a mental comfort. Dumping her clothing and the items strapped to various body parts in a heap, she sprawls on the bed, letting the towel fall away and the tiny breeze on the air float over her. Body exhausted from the heat, closing her eyes she rests.
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Post by The Fixer on Apr 27, 2016 13:03:48 GMT -5
Jolted out of sleep by the next Call to Prayer.
“Ugh!” She pushes up on her elbows, and looks around, disoriented. The towel still under her, her hair, having dried the way it was is now a heated mess of ringlets, frizz, and straight pieces, completely disheveled and unruly. Rolling over, she squints at the sun, now full strength and shining brightly. She can hear murmuring from the people on the streets below, and traffic with the occasional rumbling of a truck or two.
“Time to get a plan together” she thinks as she lays out everything she had on her person when she got to the room early that morning. Leaving them, she steps into a quick shower, more to try to tame her hair than anything. Finger combing her mane, she crosses to the heap she left on the floor earlier, she lays out everything she has with her. Thankful for the combat pants Ian had thrown at her, stashing away items had been easy.
Working to relieve the pockets of everything, she places each of those items on the bed along with everything else. Far too much clothing, and much of it stained from Ian’s blood, she takes those pieces to rinse out in the bathroom. Watching the water run red, she looks at herself in the mirror before turning away to mourn him. Remembering why she rarely lets anyone past her guard, the mission had already cost her a dear friend and the only man she could ever say she truly, completely loved. Vowing to stay detached from anyone else, for fear they would become the next casualty of this already colossal mess of a case, she lays out the items to dry on the windowsill of the bedroom. Full baking sun at near its peak would make quick work of the water.
Sitting on the bed to review everything, she spies something that looks odd. Remembering she had found something at the plant, she picks it up to examine. Glinting in the sunlight, dangling from her fingers, some of the cord and a piece of identification tag. Thinking about what it must have taken for the tag itself to break this way, she tries to read what is on there. Maybe it's the day she has had, or the mind frame she is in, but she cannot make out much of anything. Laying it down again, the only thing she knows is that she will be hanging on to it for the time being.
Reviewing the remainder of the items with her, she realizes that alone, in a place she has never been, the plan is going to remain unformulated. Tossing the Abaya and scarf on, Clue makes her way to the window to watch the street below, sipping the second bottle of water.
Stuck in her head, a couple of hours later, like coming out of daze, she shakes it off, realizing she has been staring at the same spot for some time. As she goes to turn from the window, a military vehicle goes rumbling by. Not out of the ordinary on this particular portion of the street, what catches her attention is the patch on the arm of the passenger… Watching it turn right up the main street, Clue knows this vehicle is headed into the Green Zone.
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Post by The Fixer on May 1, 2016 11:00:41 GMT -5
Sitting in the window, thinking through her options, Clue needs to decide how best to handle her next moves. Canadian passport, Greek passport with altered identity, and the gift from General Allenby, all flick through her mind. With the Greeks now looking for her, the Vevoda agents in the shadows, Clue is suddenly hit with an image from the night of the cabin explosion. SZ in a tattoo.
Before she can finish her train of thought, there is a knock at the door. Startled and concerned, she crosses to the bed for her weapon before calling out to find out who it was. The knock comes again and with it a female voice in tentative Arabic. Heart beating rapidly, she crosses to the door, careful not to stand directly behind it. She opens the door a crack to see a woman standing with what appears to be a tray of food. The smells alone cause the involuntary rumble of hunger in her stomach and her salivary glands to engage. Confused at the display, the woman hands her the tray and departs with a quiet smile. Closing the door behind, she walks the tray to a little table before setting it down.
Nobody, she thinks, knows where she is. And she has yet to contact Mac for an update on the current situation. Lifting the lid on the domed food, the full effect of the plate hits all senses at once. Bombarding them so fully she groans.
Unable to help herself she picks up a kebab to eat. Seeing a note on the side of the plate, she opens it to read, walking back to the window to rest while she does. In mid bite, she stops cold and ducks out of the window. The note flutters to the ground. It reads, simply, "Enjoy your last meal".
Dropping the kebab, grabbing her clothing and hurriedly changing, ensuring that all of her items are back on her person, Clue has no more time. Spitting the piece of kebab out, she cracks the door of her room open, this time seeing several men filling the hall. Closing the door and knowing something is off, she sneaks back to the window, careful to stay against the wall to review the scene outside. Voices carry to her, some speaking in Greek, others in Arabic. And she can see at least two not well concealed weapons.
Looking up the road a little, she can see a convoy of military vehicles coming down the road. Apparently so can the men on the ground, as they hastily converge on the entrance or begin to make their way to the cafe tables beside it.
No choice, and no options Clue climbs out the window of her room, using a tiny ledge and the tips of her boots and fingers to scale across to the next window.
Taking a quick look inside she finds the room blessedly empty. Resting in this window a moment Clue checks out the features of the wall. Thankfully only on the second floor, if need be dropping to the ground is an option, painful but an option. Taking a look at the convoys position and praying a guardian angel is working with her, she uses the same tiny ledge to scale across to the next window, putting some distance between her and the hotel entrance. This time, the window of this room reveals a family with small children playing.
The surprised screams from the children are enough to alert some of the men on the ground to the noises and they look up in the general direction. Clue tries to keep moving around the corner of the building but the ledge gives out under her foot. With nothing to grab that's solid, she falls to the ground, landing hard on her feet and toppling backwards. Body jolted, praying it wasn't enough to snap any bones and barely escaping smacking her head on the ground, Clue is up. She can hear the men shouting and the crack of a gun firing. Her best option is starting to drive past. Hoping her mind isn't playing tricks on her in the bright sun, the first vehicle rumbles past. Clue is now running, on what feels to be a sprained ankle, for the back of the second truck. Losing her head scarf in the process, she grabs hold of support on the back of the MAN Supply Vehicle and climbs under the tarp. Knowing the driver of the third vehicle saw her do this, she is positive the comms are squawking away, and knows it is confirmed when she hears the weapon cock and the shouts start and the convoy slow.
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Post by The Fixer on May 1, 2016 18:47:44 GMT -5
Hands on her head, flat on her stomach she is face down, in the back of the vehicle, listening to the shots whiz through the air from those outside the convoy that started shooting at her, and the shouts from the soldier inside the vehicle, directed at her. Praying she guessed right at the convoy passing, the shots from outside cease and the convoy stops. More shouting.
The soldier inside the vehicle has at least discerned that she does not speak Arabic and has switched to English. Following his demands, she complies. Searching her pockets, he finds the passports, and her weapon, and speaks into comms again. The convoy starts moving forward. Keeping the contents of her pockets, and her weapon, securing her in the back of the vehicle.
The trip is bumpy, and takes some time. Stopping frequently for unknown reasons, the convoy finally arrives at its destination. Her capture nudges her out of the vehicle and into a building. Thankfully everyone is speaking English, so she is starting to at least think she managed to get to a place that could help her.
She is placed in a room she knows is used for interrogation and left. Two-way mirror, table, chair, and camera keep her company. And now, the wait.
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Post by The Fixer on May 3, 2016 22:31:19 GMT -5
Guessing at the time that has passed, she sits silently, head resting on her arms on the table, staring into the two-way mirror. Hours easily, and nothing. This is not boding well for her.
Short of pacing, which is only going to wear her out, Clue elected to rest instead. The chair starting to become a literal pain in the behind. With the items the soldier took off her, she can only assume "they" are waiting her out. Stall tactics she is familiar with, though without the materialization of any person since entering the room, she is starting to get nervous about what is coming.
Closing her eyes, trying to meditate, the door opening abruptly startles her.
Jumping a little, she sits up to look at the new person in the room.
"So they sent the "mean cop" first", she thinks.
Getting in her face, breathing hot breathe thick with spice and coffee, so close she can count the weathered squint lines at the side of his eyes, he begins barking questions at her and banging the table. His questions come fast and furious enough that she finally accepts that answering is not the point. Quietly waiting for him to finish, she has said nothing. Answers running through her head. She has learned that the man in front of her has a British, hoping silently that means safety.
She sits back in her chair to get as far away from the man as possible without actually moving the chair. Having finished with the barking portion of the interrogation, or whatever is going on, the man slams his fist on the table. Clue jumps, not from the move, but the dent the man left behind. Finally having a moment to actually attempt answering any of the questions he has barked at her, she simply says, "Contact General Allenby."
The badgering continues. He paces the room behind her, continuing the questioning. He gets right in her face, no air between them, spitting slightly. He pulls her and the chair back from the table, continuing the line he is on. Intimidation clearly his goal. She keeps repeating in a quiet voice to contact General Allenby.
The man finally leaves the room. Closing the door with a room rattling shake...even in a room that should not shake.
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Post by The Fixer on May 10, 2016 15:26:30 GMT -5
Putting her head down on folded arms, she waits. Stealing bits of sleep, exhausted from the days, in a place that could be considered numb from the current state of the mission. Ian, if he's alive, it is because of a minor miracle. Lawrence, if he's alive, another miracle, and where is his body? Clue herself, sitting in an interrogation room hoping to be in a friendly zone, having effectively smuggled herself into a volatile country.
The case has taken a turn. A downright horrid turn.
Catching herself snoring a little she shakes off the sleep and stands. Shaking things out, she knows she is only looking guilty of things to those people she imagines are behind the two-way mirror in the room. Blowing out a breath, at a loss of what to do, she tries the door. Locked.
Walking to the other side of the room, she leans on the wall, hands behind her back, head resting on the wall.
The door bursts open, two men walk through the door grumbling to each other. Mac, and General Allenby, mid-argument. Saying nothing to her, they both send withering looks in her direction. Closing the door behind them, the two men proceed to continue to argue with each other. Mac points at the chair, silently telling her to sit, which she does. Continuing their argument, Clue is finally catching on to what is happening. General Allenby, still talking to Mac, gets in her face, pointing and gesturing grandly.
Mac, for his part continues the "argument" slamming the chair and gesturing wildly as well. Watching the scene, working hard to check herself, Clue now has the outward appearance of trying not to cry. In reality, she is tearing up and working not to laugh at the same time. The effect to anyone watching, and listening to the yelling from the men, would think they had finally found a point to break her.
Openly discussing the punishment for her "crimes", Mac moves to the corner of the room on the same wall as the two-way mirror, nodding to the General. The General walks to the door, and a pair of MP's enter. Hoping the pending "arrest" is just for show, for whomever is behind the glass, Clue does not fuss, allowing the men to do their job.
Knowing now that she definitely picked the right convoy to climb into, she is feeling slightly more relieved. Walking with the MP escorts, Mac and the General, she is lead down the corridors. The General leaves the group, entering a room as the rest keep going. Turning down a couple more corridors, the MP escorts open a door, allowing her to enter, and taking the cuffs off. Mac follows her into the room, insisting he needs a moment with "the prisoner".
Putting his finger to his lips to show her to be quiet, Mac tucks a note under the front of her shirt for later. Quietly whispering he was sorry to learn of Ian's death, Clue nods her head once. Turning he leaves her in the room. The hollow sound of the door rings in the room after he is gone.
Pulling the note out, Clue quickly reads it. Understanding now the international show she was just part of, and the royal mess she has made in Baghdad, she is thankful for being locked away from all searching parties for now.
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Post by The Fixer on May 11, 2016 0:21:19 GMT -5
Being left in the cell for 5 days has made her cagey, ragged, and beyond stressed. Having walked miles in 10 step paths, with nothing but her mind, which by this point she is not entirely sure is still intact, the door to her cell finally opens.
An MP team enters. Instructions given, she allows the cursory search of her person, working hard not to flinch. Tossing her little cell, whether for show or not, everything appears that she is about to be moved somewhere. Stoic in their search, and light on details, cuffs on, she is escorted out of the room.
Considering her luck finally changing, the room she is taken to appears to be a processing room. Her cuffs removed, and her personal effects returned, Mac is waiting for her. Not wanting to remain any longer, Mac hurries her to a waiting car that takes her to a safe house within the Green Zone. Sneaking in a back door, Clue is greeted by several soldier-types. She can only assume this is both the team Mac was working with on other portions of the mission, and her extraction team.
With a few brief exchanges regarding the location of fresh clothing and a tooth brush, Clue heads straight for a shower, praying water pressure in the dwelling is decent. Scrubbing her sand caked alabaster skin nearly raw, trying to scrub away the past week-ish of life, and washing some of the dye from her hair, she steps out of the tiny shower just as the water turns to a dribble.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she takes to scrubbing her teeth, tongue and gums. Spitting a little blood, thanks to the length and pressure of the scrubbing, she finishes up. Looking into the mirror, she sees the dark circles under her eyes, from many days of poor sleep. Where once smile lines appeared, furrow lines are taking over. She feels like she has aged years. Her eyes have dulled. A sort of depressing sorrow has set in. Her light feels dull, lonely, and she has an overwhelming urge to crawl into the corner of the room, hugging her knees tightly to her chest and trying to melt into the walls. It has been nearly a month since being told Will's body was M.I.A and presumed dead. It has been just over a week since Ian had died.
Quietly making her way to the little room set up for her, she dresses quickly - desert khaki Battle Dress cargo pants, matching shirt, combat boots. A tap at the door and quick reply to enter, produces Mac.
Mac relays the current developments on tracking Vevoda, the agents that his team was able to neutralize, a couple of other facilities they were able to take out with the information Will had extracted and passed on. They would be spending another week in Baghdad before being able to leave to handle the next phase of the search. Her portion of the mission was to stay put, lay low, and try not to cause any further issues. Mac is officially out of favours, and the General will only be too happy to see the back end of her and for them both to put some distance between what he is working on and the rest of the mission.
Returning her weapon and adding a Marakov, as well as informing her of the watch rotations that she will be rotating into, he mentions there is an AR-15 for her downstairs. Handing her one last piece of equipment, a set of binoculars, he leaves Clue in the room, alone with her thoughts.
Walking to the window she leans on the wall, looking out of a corner and finds she has a clear view down what appears to be a main road. As she is tracking the patrons down the road, she glimpses something that makes her breath catch and her heart skip a beat. Blinking and shaking her head, she looks again. This time seeing nothing, she calms herself down, thinking she has definitely lost her mind.
Leaving the room she makes her way downstairs to where the men are gathered. The smell of decent food draws her in, deciding to fill a plate, she sits, eating more than she should have.
Finally full, satiated, thirst quenched and stomach no longer groaning in protest, she climbs the stairs to the little room, deciding it best to grab some sleep. Her eyes are already playing tricks on her, she thinks. A full stomach and some good sleep should help her get closer to squared away again.
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Post by The Fixer on May 12, 2016 10:21:32 GMT -5
Waking three hours later from a mostly tossing/turning sort of sleep, Clue heads quickly to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Eyes still plagued with fatigue and stress, clicking the brain back in is taking a little longer than usual. The case...mission...is taking its toll mentally. She feels stuck. Mentally blocked. Physically unable to get any traction going with 7 days of waiting still to get through. A prisoner of a different sort, though under Mac's protection now.
Heading back to the little room with the window, Clue grabs her binoculars again to scan through the street, and over the horizon.
Farther down the road, she scans the patrons of the Souq. Stopping to take a closer look at a group of men clustered around some outdoor tables. There did not appear to be anything special about the group, until one stood, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Lawrence flashed before her eyes. Pulling back and shaking her head, muttering to herself that she is definitely losing it in the heat. She looks again but the man and his companions have moved off down the street and around a corner out of sight for her now.
Putting the binoculars down, Clue leaves the room, heading downstairs to join the rest of the team and find Mac.
Taking a seat at the little table down there, she has yet to speak to anyone. The look on her face, furrowed brow, slight frowning pout, and the air of being able to see the gears turning in her head, Mac knows she is deep in thought over something and leaves her for the time being. He and his men are working through how best to suss out the two Vevoda agents they suspect are still in the area.
He had to change the back end of the plan and knew that getting into Baghdad to get her back out would pose some other complications. Still a bad way to learn a decision made with the heart and emotion was now being paid for with friends lives and what could have been her own life, Mac knows Clue is stewing on it.
Finishing up with his men, he taps Clue on the shoulder to motion to her to join him in another room.
Nodding, and following Mac into the room, she looks at him. He returns the look searching her face for some idea of what is going on in her head.
"Mac, I think I'm losing it", she says. "I'm up there scanning the people on the street, trying to find out if I can see the two agents we are thinking are still here. It happened yesterday, a group of men were walking. I'm looking at them and I keep thinking I see Will. Just glimpses. Nothing concrete that I can tell. It happened again today, but not from a face or anything, just his build. The way he stood, favouring one side, just a little. I'm exhausted. Or the heat is getting to me. Or maybe I have finally lost it. I do not know. How can a body just disappear from a site like that? How does that happen? The unanswered questions are distracting me from the case, the mission, the end game. I asked you to help me get here, Ian gave his life for it now. All because I needed to see it for myself. The looting from the local tribes groups took away any ability to answer the questions, but I had to see. You already have the piece that somehow was preserved by the desert, or maybe planted. I cannot tell. I have to get out of here though. I have to get back to solid ground for a bit to think. I definitely think I am losing it."
Looking at her. Reading her face, her eyes, Mac knows now is the best time to let her into something else that has been going on.
"Clue, take a look at this" Mac says, pulling a photo from a pocket. Taking it, she looks at the photo. She looks back at Mac. She looks at it again. She looks back at Mac, searching this time, for something deep within his face.
"Where is......what.......this is..........is this?" is all she can get out. Nodding, Mac confirms the stammering half questions.
"How?" is all Clue can say.
"I cannot give you many details yet." Mac says to her.
Mac hands her a second photograph. What Clue sees in this second photograph causes her features to harden, her jaw to tighten, and a deep seeded rage to begin to boil. Taking a closer look, the face looking back at her has familiar features.
"Mac, when was this taken?"
"Three days ago. Do you recognize the person?"
"Yes Mac. She is the woman that delivered the tray from the hotel I went to after fleeing the Greek Embassy."
"We believe, through credible sources, this is also the Agent that you mentioned from the explosion. And it appears she has found you here. Or perhaps got lucky waiting in the area long enough to see if you would come. We are still fuzzy on some details. Might be Steede had tracked Lawrence here, and she came in to help or came in after. In any case, she got close enough to you to hand you the tray that you suspected was laced with drugs or poisons. You appear to have not been wrong."
Clue, pacing now, mind working. Stopping, turning to Mac, and looking at him with a mix of concern and determination, "I walked us all right into a trap, laid out from Steede from the day of the explosion at Clouds Hill. My bleeding heart, and deep love, and being a woman, meant she only had to bide her time and I would come. Ian is dead because of that. And I was locked away for almost a week and you are just telling me about all this now?!" Vocal cues indicate to Mac that the fire in her has been reignited. Temper beginning to flare, and knowing he is in direct blasting radius, his own annoyance with everything bubbles up.
"Clue, stop. Just stop. Not my fault. It was the only way I could make sure she did not have another chance to get close to you and to mop up the mess here. There is more I need to tell you about the chatter we are picking up, but that won't happen now. Get out of your head. Get over yourself. And get your mind right on this. It is time to move past the loss and the pity and self-loathing. Get your head out of your ass, girl, and get in the game! The sacrifice fly has already happened, and it appears we left a runner out of scoring position. Lets get moving!"
Leaving her in the room, Mac, storms out, or at least, makes a show of storming out. Smiling to himself for the inspired little speech, he heads out the back of the safe house, and into the adjacent one. The one he has not told Clue about, where the rest of his team are going through surveillance of the area in search of common faces from the work Clue had done while in rehab. Her ability to see through disguise, and recognize faces from the photographs provided had helped them take out some key players already and track the two they are looking for to this area. Good thing too since this part of the plan, that should have taken a mere days before meeting up again in Bulgaria, had gone awry and yet Anna is now in play.
Mac's right hand man, looks up from the pictures spread out on the table, "So?".
"Positive confirmation on the photo," Mac replies. "Continue with what you are working on here. Leave this one alone for the time being. I want to see if Clue can get all the way back in the game. Also, be on the lookout for a possible friendly out there. She thinks she is seeing things. I am not convinced it is in her head."
Heading back upstairs to the little room, to take up a position on the other side of the window, Clue sits with the binoculars again. This time, searching for the woman who has nearly killed her twice.
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