The Long-Awaited Return of the SpySistah ChroniclesIt is true! She is back. Sit down and read a spell, for another chapter (number 10, I believe) is ready for your approval.
For those not aware, The SpySistah Chronicles are a series of stories all about the same characters that were borne out of Ms. Silk's Fictional Friday series. In those days, I was limited to 1,000 words and drew inspiration from three pictures provided by Silk. Silk again provided the inspiration, but I chose not to limit myself to 1,000 words. I figure, why bother? Nobody else is going to do this, so you can spend a few more minutes reading the end. Also, I'm having trouble getting the pictures to load, so you'll just have to imagine them for yourself, okay?
I do hope you enjoy it. Feel free to leave a comment. Oh - if you aren't up on the tale of SpySistah, links to the other chapters can be found in the sidebar.
Joan clung to the cliff face, her hands turning red and her arms and legs nearly buckling under the exertion. Samantha had already reached the top and was spotting her. This was Samantha’s idea of a “girls vacation” but Joan had been thinking spa retreat. You can take the girl out of the CIA, but you can’t take the CIA out of the girl, apparently. Next time, she told herself, she’d do the planning of the girls getaway, or else she might find herself running the Boston Marathon next!
She pulled herself to the top and noticed that Sam was talking into her Sat phone. If she was lucky, this call would put her out of her misery.
Sam ended the call as Joan brushed herself off. “So…?” she asked.
“We have positive confirmation on Enrique’s intel. We fly out in two hours. We will rendezvous with the guys in Amman.”
Joan was secretly grateful, but wisely didn’t let Samantha see that she was happy to escape the vacation.
“What’s the mission, boys?”
The four of them, Joan, Samantha, Mark, and John Cutter were safely ensconced in the safehouse in Amman. The boys had arrived first and had prepped the mission with headquarters by videolink.
“We are going into Iraq, but quietly.” Mark said. He leaned in closer, pointing to the map. “We will rendezvous with Spec Ops at a camp here,” he slid his finger across the border, “and they will provide us with on-site intel, weapons, and backup.”
“And we think the Vx has made it’s way to Iraq?” Samantha asked.
“That’s what John managed to find out. He tracked down some associates of our friend Enrique.” Mark nodded and John, being the ham he was, faked a bow.
They had arrived at the camp under cover of darkness, the headlights of the Jeep having been extinguished when they crossed over the border. The girls had been led to one tent and the boys another in the center of the camp.
Early the next morning, they were all rousted out of their beds for a briefing and breakfast.
“MREs for breakfast?” Joan grumbled. “So much for the glamorous side of the spy biz.”
“Buck up, camper!” Samantha grinned, loving to tease Joan as much as possible, “You are seeing the world!”
When they arrived in the tent, they were introduced to the Camp’s Commander, a Major Tom Cavanaugh. “I’m glad you made it safely and hope you got some sleep last night. Now, let’s talk about what we can do to make your mission a success.”
The four agents then spent the bulk of the morning planning a foray into the nearest village with the Major and two of his aides.
“The ladies will set the explosives. They will need disguises. Jeremy,” the Major nodded to the youngest of the group, “you see to that. The rest of us will go in, also in disguise, but there we can expect less scrutiny. Cutter will need some self-tanning lotion and hair dye. That lily white is a dead give-away. Jeremy, add that to your list.”
“What about backup?” Samantha asked.
“I’ll have a secondary Delta team on the perimeter, but it is best if we don’t need them. Our job here is difficult enough as it is. This is going to be a precision strike. Now, ladies, do either of you have any questions about the charges?”
Samantha smiled at the Major. “No sir, I believe we can handle the C-4 just fine.”
“Good. Then, while you and Jeremy and Nick tie up any loose ends and check tech, I’ll take Mark and John on a little recon. Nick, we’ll need a few camels.”
Later that same day, as the sun began to wane and they knew local families would soon be taking to the streets, the group of seven made their way into the little village. The men scattered in the crowd, drawing no notice as they blended into the bustling activity at tea shops and other markets.
Joan and Samantha chatted quietly, feigning the proper modesty of a woman of that region, and made their way to the target. They strolled slowly, waiting for Nick to complete the thermal scan of the building and join them.
He strolled over casually, looking every bit the young cocky Iraqi in his disguise. “It’s clean. You can go.”
Samantha seized the opportunity. Her wide hips swung toward the rear of the building and she meandered toward the entrance. Her usually sleek hips were wide under the burqa, hiding the cache of C-4 strapped to her hips and thighs.
She noticed the noisome smell of goat inside the building from the moment her foot entered inside. It made her want to gag. She choked down the bile and surreptitiously made her way to the back room off of the kitchen. Why anyone would store chemical weapons so close to where they prepared food would remain a mystery to her. Not the brightest of terrorists, she supposed.
She set five charges around the Vx and then clambered up the stairs to set two more on the second story. As she came back down, she thought she heard something, but investigation proved otherwise. She set the last charge in the front of the house and quickly made her way back out the rear.
As she approached Nick and Joan, she noticed that Nick had a panicked look on his face. She activated her coms and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I think there is a child playing in the rear of the house!”
“Do nothing. I’ll go!” She whispered into her coms, turning and retreating back into the area behind the house.
Samantha knew her time was running out. She had to find the child and get back out in less than two minutes. She searched the rear of the house and found nothing. She made her way back to the front rooms and again came up with nothing.
“There’s nobody here.” She communicated to Nick via her earpiece.
“Look again. There is a heat signature right behind you, 10 or 12 feet.”
She looked again. Under the table she found her quarry and threw it under her arm. “Goddam Fucking Goats!” She gritted into her com unit. She heard Joan and Nick laughing as she made her way out of the house. She heard her watch beep and then darkness fell.
Joan and Nick leaned over Samantha, slapping her face.
“Yeah! Yeah! Stop that,” Samantha bitched, “I’m awake. What time is the briefing?”
“What?” Joan asked.
“This morning’s briefing. Can we eat first? And you should take a shower. You smell like goat.”
Joan laughed. “You are the one who smells like goat, or is that guy you are cuddling your date for the night?”
Samantha was confused. Where was the tent? “What’s going on?”
“You barely escaped with your life, that’s what!”
“We just went to bed, what are you talking about?”
“Honey, you just planted the charges. The Vx has been incinerated, as planned. You, however, seem to have been hit in the head by flying debris.”
“I don’t remember anything after arriving in Iraq.”
“Well,” Joan smiled, “I’ll tell you all about it.” She and Nick helped Samantha regain her feet. “We had MREs for breakfast and met the most delicious Major. Then, you saved the day… again. Just another day in the fabulous life of the super spy.”
“How weird is it that I don’t remember any of this?”
“Pretty weird. But don’t worry, we’ll have you checked out. They can fly you to Germany for medical attention if it is serious.”
“I saved a goat?”
“Honey, that was probably somebody’s dowry!”
“Oh, shut up, Joan.”
"Hey! I'm not the one who woke up with a goat, here."