"Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to break in to the Museum of the small province of Hope Falls in the small city of Aztekistan in the Middle East. The area is under heavy turmoil caused by insurgents and mercenaries'. We need you to disrupt these operations and to make it unable to ever be used again. The museum is your target and is being used as a base of operations, with government funding and grants. In lieu of contact I have assigned several disavowed agents for your use. These mercenaries have contacts within the Government and will know any, and all agents they make contact with by reputation, if nothing else. Good luck Alex"
Alex Karin sat back in his old Dodge Charger and lit his cigarette, the rising smoke mingling with the decomposing components of the hard drive. He, unconsciously fingered the scars on his chest, even through his shirt, he could still hear the electric buzz and feel the pain of their touch. He had spent five years at the camp, captured after a mission had gone wrong. He was the teams resident 'gadget man', when their leader had led them into an ambush and left them all out to dry, Alex had promised them that he would get revenge for them. He had spent the better part of those five years promising himself that that would never happen again, as yet, he still was unable to find him. All his contacts and all his resources and he couldn't find one man.
It took him a year to plan and execute the escape and he had rescued 57 other prisoners. Most of them other IMF agents, all of them disavowed. They were bitter, jaded and had no great love for the department but, after all was said and done, were still patriots. Alex had set up his old contacts and opened negotiations to get himself and his other agents reinstated. This was their first contact since Alex had started banging down official doors. It felt right to do this but at the same time it felt almost too easy, almost as if something was missing. He reached inside his jacket for his cell and started dialling numbers. He threw the burnt out shell of the drive out of the window and into the waters of the San Diego Yacht Club.
Alex started scratching his head as he thought of ways he was going to sell this plan to his 'team' of disavowed agents who had no reason to trust any one department, organization or government ever again
"I don't like this!"
The tall, heavily muscled African American ran his hand over his scalp and continued pacing up and down. Alex looked up from the buildings blueprints.
"Calm down Warren. It's nothing that hasn't been said before. These are old roads we are travelling. They are just kicking the tires to make sure we can still do this."
Warren Standish was an American blue blood, everything he turned his hand to, came naturally. Money, women, property, investments, shares. You name it, Warren could do it, but an affectation with gambling cost him his home, his standing and his friends. For all of his natural talent, Warren had lost it all and had learned the hard way the definition of friends and risk
"Alex, what guarantees do we have that they do know all of us?"
Alex turned and looked at the lustrous redhead sitting across from him
"No guarantees, Amy, but we have to assume that when we walk in they will know us and our recent history if not anything further."
Amy Francis was the resident con artist with an eclectic skill set and brought a little piece of the criminal element into the team.
"As if anyone needs to bring that" Alex thought wryly
Amy came from an impoverished upbringing and, Alex guessed, an abusive household. Alex found her living on the streets when she was 15. Trying three card Monte on tourists in Chicago. Hers was the face that most hurt Alex when they were all caught. She had looked up to him during those formative years and although he was 15 years her senior and the fact that this was ten years further down the line, Alex thought she still held a place for him. Now she was turning 26 and could probably still outthink and talk her way out of any trouble, legal or otherwise. He would rather trust Amy than the National Guard. Looking around the room, he felt he could say the same about any of them
A clatter behind them caused them all to look round to spot the blond haired, blue eyed golden boy looking confused as he sat among an odd assortment of electronics and computer hardware. A set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he leant back in his chair and threw his arms up in the air. Thomas Malloy was of Irish American stock and a graduate of several famous and prestigious American Universities, as well as British Universities and several others that weren't as secure as they had promised in their documentation to new students. Thom was the best hacker and 'gadget man' out of all the disavowed and not purely because he had made up most of his impressive list of qualifications
"Not a lot for me to do then is there?"
Alex laughed and smiled.
"I wouldn't say that, Thom. I know exactly how you are going to fit in
Alex, himself, was a born and bred G-man from an early age. Brought up watching gangster movies and told stories about Eliot Ness, the young Alex studied Criminal Law and was eventually sequested within the local D.A office and after pulling strings and doing favours ended up as a Legal Consultant within the local FBI office. Alex didn't want that type of position he wanted a field agents job. Senior management on the say so of some unknown benefactor didn't want that for Alex, but after setting his mind on it and picking brains of anyone he talked to, he eventually made himself indispensable to the right person and ended up as support staff for one of the IMF teams, where he was betrayed and ended up in limbo for five years.
Amy looked over the museums plans while Warren walked over to get himself another drink.
"What do we know, Alex?"
"Well, Thom, this small community was set up by American missionaries over a decade ago and, we believe is being used as a central base by a man called William Sargeant, a self styled leader of the community for his...religious works, shall we say."
They all smiled.
Warren drained his glass in one gulp
"Officially what is he known for?" Warren asked
"William is probably what they had in mind when evangelical leaders were spouting fire and brimstone whilst waving assault rifles. Somewhere down the line he had a 'friend', we don't know who, who decided that William was a good investment and could do with some money. William went on to change Hope Falls from a sleepy little missionary hideout to a full blown terrorist training camp...er...centre of study. This 'friend' also supplied him with dossiers of all know agents, code names and departmental lists. There is a very good chance we are all on it"
Amy traced her finger on a route on the plan and looked up.
"So, how do we play it?"
"We tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth"
They all looked at Alex
"Are you serious?"
Warren shook his head as he started pacing up and down.
"Well...maybe miss out some parts"
To be continued...