Chapter six:

Sidney's eyes popped open. She rolled over and grabbed her buzzing phone. Sitting up in bed, blinking,she read the screen. There was a address. A time. And the time came from her supervisor, Dydeck. Are you shitting me? She checked the time. 4:30 am. She groaned and fell back into her goose- down pillows. What does he want now? she mumbled. Ugh. Why does he get up so early? Why does he feel so compelled to bother me? So early! Her toes touched the cold hardwood floor, and she crept into the bathroom and started the shower. The small bath steamed up quick, and into the hot water she went and soaked it up. Five minutes later she was out, dying off, and on the go. She tore the plastic off her dry- cleaned clothes. Second's later, she had everything on but her shoes and headed for the kitchen.

The studio apartments west of Reston, Virginia didn't offer much. It's eight hundred square feet was furnished from secondhand shops and goodwill stores. A mid- size bed, a sofa, recliner and a kictichenett with two stools under the bar. She turned on the television and followed the blurbs on the news. It was Monday. Forty- Five degrees and a rain storm was coming.

Great.

She grabbed the blender out of the sink and loaded it with ice, protein mix, two eggs, fresh veggies and ice and blended it all up. Eyes intent on the news, she poured the mixture into a traveling mug and rinsed the mixture out before abandoning it in the sink. She snatched her bag from the kitchen bar, clicked the television off, and headed for the front door. She opened it and stopped. Something didn't feel right. Her fingers fell to her waist.

Ah!

She shuffled back to the bed and grabbed her weapon from under the pillow. A glock 22. 40 S. W. Inside her closet, she took her shoulder holster and strapped it on.

She paused staring into the small closet. Another pistol and shoulder holster ready to go. What Ted had said hung in her thoughts. Use extraordinary caution. It was a strange phrase. The way he'd said even more so. At 4:42 a:m, she was inside an FBI issued Crown Victoria and rolling down the road. Fifteen minutes into the ride, the rain started in heavy splatters on the windshield. She turned on the wipers, which left streaks of rain, and the defroster wasn't working well either. She wiped the condensation with her hand and sighed. The rising sun was a blur in her eyes. She slipped on her sunglasses.

It's going to be a long week.

While she drove down the road, Sidney's thoughts were heavy. Typically, she headed into the office at 8:am. She pushed paperwork for a few hours then go to meetings and briefings. That was seventy percent of the job, maybe eighty. The rest of the time she was in the field. When Dydeck called her out in the field, it could mean anything.

Homicide. Drug bursts. Stake outs. Talking to clients and informants. Anything dealing with problems or potential problems at the federal level. From time to time they wiere a clean up crew of sorts, when the local brass of Washington got their hands too dirty. It was a part of the job she didn't care for. Two hours later and south of D. C, she exited the highway and entered a residential neighborhood along the Potomac.

Homicide?

Dydeck loved to surprise her. He was good about that. He had a way working them into a little bit of everything, which she liked. Most of the agents were assigned to a particular unit, but Sidney floated along the rim, where the full range of her talents could be put to use. She was classified as special field ops. Not to mention her paperwork. Without it, they'd eliminate most of what they did. She hated it. Her brakes squeaked to a halt as she parked in the driveway of a contemporary one- level home in a lower middle- class neighborhood. A for sale sign was in the yard, and there were signs also in the other two yards at the end of the cul- de-sac.

Two other cars were there, Black SUVs.

Why don't I have one of those?

Through the rain, she could make out one man on the porch in a dark trench coat, standing by the door. She didn't know him.

Aw, great.

No local law enforcement. That ruled out homicide, but she'd been to plenty of these scenes before. The estranged family members or children of Washington's finest often wound up in dark places: overdoses, suicides, domestic squabbles. The FBI often covered it up before the news out- lets caught wind of it. She grabbed her gear, popped open the door, and dashed through the sloppy wet grass and onto the covered porch. Agent Shaw? The stocky man said, said. He had a warmth smile about him. She showed her ID. He glanced at it. Lousy morning, isn't it.

You bet.

I'm Tommy, he said, extending his hand. Nice to meet you.

She took it. You too.

He opened the door. They're all waiting for you. Inside, the house was dimly lit by a lone floor lamp in the living room. Tuere, three men in dark suits waited. Sitting on the large raised hearth was a fourth man in an orange jumpsuit, shackled with his head down. Welcome Sidney, said a man standing off in the corner and putting away his phone. He was in his forties, well knit, with his head shaven. His eyes slid over at Smoke and back to her.

Well, what do you think ?

I have to admit, I'm surprised, Jack. And I'm not even including the location. I was under the impression this would be handled down town. Aren't we outside of protocol?

Yes and no. All the paperwork is covered on my end. On the prison end. At the assistant director's end. But hey, it's the list. We have to keep it low. He scratched his head. And I have to admit, I didn't even know there was a list until a month ago. Huh. Gum?

No, thanks. She folded her hands over her chest. So, where do we stand?

I'm not really familiar with running things without explicit directives.

I know that. He nodded to one of the other agents. The man handed another file over. The directives are in here. Everything we have on the mark was well, including his last known location. He approached and brushed his shoulder against hers. Tapped the file. Never seen anything like this in twenty years, plucking a low life out of the prisons to do our job. He sneered at Smoke. You have two weeks, pal, and then it's back in the hole. He winked at Sidney. If he gives you any crap, just call and we'll cut this silly mission short. He walked over to Smoke and kicked the man with his boot.

Mind yourself.

The door opened, and another man in a trench coat entered, holding a newspaper over his head with one hand and a briefcase in the other. The man was slender and stoop shouldered, and he wore glasses that looked heavy for his nose. His frosty eyes met hers.

Agent Shaw, what a displeasure

.

Agree, Agent Tweel. I couldn't be less happier to see you.

Agent Cyrus Tweel didn't look like much, but he was proven. Sidney had graduated from the academy with him. Agent Tweel dropped to a knee and popped his briefcase open. Let's get on with this, shall we? I have more important things to do than waste time on experiments.

Smoke's head tilted up. His gaze fell on Cyrus.

Jack, Sidney said, What's going on here?

Tracking, Jack said, we can't lose sight of him. Not for a second. Surely you know that.

Cyrus held up a two- inch needled syringe filled with clear liquid. He flicked it with his fingers.

Smoke rose to his feet. No one is going to Snake Plissken me!

You'll do what you agreed to do, Jack said. He nodded to the other agents, who seized Smoke by the arms. Now be still. Jack pulled out a stun gun. Or it'll be my pleasure to use this on you.

No! Smoke said, struggling against the agent's. No!