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The Seductive Lion
IFTB SDB
Chapter one.
The phone rang in Darien Leakey’s expensive downtown Manhattan condo. He groaned and turned over onto his stomach. More sleep, Darien thought, mentally begging the phone to stop, but it rang on. “Ungh,” he mumbled as he turned on his side and grabbed the receiver.
“Hello?” He checked the clock on his bedside table. 2:30am. “Jesus…it’s 2:30 in the morning….”
“We’ve got a job for you Sharp.” The voice was gravelly and distorted as it always was at first. Immediately he understood; the distortion was Mother’s cover. Sharp was him. “Is this a secure line?” the man continued. Darien snapped awake and into action. He felt the adrenalin pumping through his body, he felt the strength.
“You know it is. I leave it one just for you…Mother—Mr. Bartram.” Darien grinned. “Mother” was short for “mother bird.” The men were speaking in code. Darien could feel the man on the other end tense with frustration at Darien’s tease. Mr. Bartram grunted.
“We’ve got a job for you,” he said again, his real voice coming through now. It was, surprisingly, not all that different from its distorted version-- still gravelly and rough with a slight Brooklyn accent. Darien’s face suddenly became a serious one and he listened intently. “Get to the South Street Seaport abandoned lot by the docks. There are two there so make sure you’re at the right one. The jobs gotta be quick or it’ll get messy got it…a*****e?” Mr. Bartram couldn’t help throwing in ‘a*****e.’ He could only contain himself so much. “Someone from the office will meet’cha there and brief you.”
Darien laughed. He loved this guy, especially when he lost control and cursed. “Sure. Got it.” Darien was smiling and Mr. Bartram knew it. He sighed wearily.
Aging had hit him. That’s why he was a coordinator not a field agent anymore. He thought back to the good old days when he was a golden boy who just kept moving up-- and now where was he? Sitting in a dark room making calls to assholes like this.
“Once you get briefed, move quickly. From there on it’s of the utmost importance that you get straight to China.”
“China?!” Darien repeated into the phone surprised.
“Yeah it’s an overseas job. You gotta be”-Kcht!—“ and make sure you”-Kcht--KCHHTTT.
“Hello? Hello?” Mother was breaking up. Never in the history of Darien’s secret agent life had the phone ever broken up like this. His brow furrowed. He took the phone away from his ear and stared at it, frowning. “Sir? Mr. Bart—“ Just then he thought, secure line? “Mother??” No, it was too late. They’d been intercepted somehow. He had to get to the docks, fast, before whoever else was listening in did.
Darien couldn’t help being a bit worried about the man he knew so well. They’d been working together for six years now. Darien thought back as he ran to his closet and hauled out a rugged looking black backpack. He dashed to the door and down the black wrought iron stairs and out onto the streets. He started to run.
Finally out on the street, the deep industrial smell of New York City hit him. Fatigue griped him suddenly. It held tight, and threatened never to let go—or at least that’s how it felt to a man feeling the pressure of age for the first time. Since when did things get to him like this? His body ached and he remembered his reflection last night he had had rings under his eyes from lack of sleep or it was just his imagination- his deepest fear. Was this ‘perfect man’ falling apart?
He cursed and another rush of excitement and adrenalin surged through him. He felt brand new and sped up.
Chapter two.
Nearing the docks Darien found it hard to slow himself down. Now he had to focus on more than simply running. d encouragingly to himself. His mind wandered. “Abandoned lot. Abandoned lot. s**t! Where?” What a foul mouth. How out of practice was he! He made a mental note to get in shape and in aim, so to speak. “Tch,” He tossed his head to the side in annoyance or it might have been the need to feel something he knew, feeling his perfect hair brushing his face. Finally he felt his heart begin to slow. “Never do a job without thought,” an old mentor had always told him.
He pulled the backpack off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. He unzipped it in a hurry and rummaged around inside. At last, he pulled out a standard black handgun. He grinned at it, composed now. The gun in his hand felt good- felt safe. For some odd reason it always did- like home. He cringed at the sick thought. Darien liked to believe that there were other things in life that gave him the same kind of euphoria as missions but he could just never remember them.
Mr. Bartram, the only one he’d ever confided that information with, had always teased him and used it against him—which was probably the reason he never told anyone else.
Darien zipped it up and slung the backpack onto his shoulder and darted under an overpass to the sidewalk in the middle. He surveyed the area. Two moving cars as he crossed, and the streets were lined with cars. As for people, the streets were deserted. Deserted lot? Sounds good. He slid behind a yellow V W Bug, keeping the gun low. Normally, it wouldn’t need to be out but he felt, in his gut, as if he might need it soon.
He looked for a body of water and sure enough, he saw it glittering in the near distance. Just passed the lot Mr. Bartram had spoken of. Darien took one quick look around and ran across the other street. Safe.
The lot was chain link fenced and barbed wire was only installed in select areas. “Insufficient funds?” He chuckled to himself. Or was there a reason? He doubted it.
Darien estimated 35-50 cars in the lot. A red brick building stood in the way of his vision, blocking the docks. He side stepped a bit to the left to see if he could get a better look at the dock but to no avail.
He couldn’t see any gates or breaks in the fence. “I might have to climb it…,” Darien thought, somewhere deep off in his observations, the years of training flooding back to him and aiding him along the way.
Cameras? He spotted one on the side of the building, it was pointed at a particular spot in the fence. He walked towards the bit of fencing, inspecting it thoroughly, careful to keep out of the camera’s sight.
Darien looked around for any others but spotted none. “That’s weird….” He gazed at the fence, looking a bit dazed. “Alright.” His face set with determination and he ran at the fence at top speed. He remembered it all now—or at least he hoped he did.
The tips of his black combat boots dug high into the fence and his fingers clung to the thin wire and held him securely. He climbed with speed and grace, and once he reached the top, dropped into a crouch from the fall. He landed on his toes, like a cat. Exposure was bad. He ran from car to car until he could get clear sight of the docks.
“No! Please!” What?! He heard a mans’ yell and his eyes focused on the scene. A tall, dark haired woman stood bold and deadly at the edge of the docks. Even at this distance, he couldn’t help noticing her incredibly fit and entreating figure. Surely the man’s scream hadn’t come from this beauty.
Darien found himself grinning at the woman. Then he heard it. Three gunshots-- the last yelp the man behind her would ever cry. Darien’s eyes opened wide with surprise. What was going on? A Splash and the body fell lifeless into the river. As the body fell, recognition struck Darien. He’d seen the man at center. It was all falling together now. Whoever she was…her people had intercepted the call—and he was too late.
He ran forward now, gun raised and aimed. “Hey!” he yelled, a touch of alert and danger in his voice that even he hadn’t expected. He was closer to her now and when she turned to him he was stunned. She was absolutely gorgeous. She looked like a runway model. Gone bad. “Perfect…” His mind began to wander.
Then the gun raised. Her long arm, extended towards him. He felt…giddy, excited? What was this? “A woman points a deadly object in my face and I’m…happy? What the hell!?” Confusion flooded Darien. He shook his head violently and vaguely heard a loud beating sound gradually getting louder. “Hey yo-“ He began but was cut off instantaneously by another shot, this one whizzed right passed his left ear. Then he realized what the noise was, a plain grey and black chopper hovered in the air above the woman and a ladder fell. She took a hold of a metal rung and her feet lifted off the ground as the chopper rose. A tiny fleck of white fluttered to the ground. She winked, mock saluted and the chopped sped off.
Dazed. Confused. Darien felt hot. He ran to the edge of the dock following the chopper into the distance with his eyes. Once it was out of sight his eyes fell on the slip of paper that had been dropped. It had, printed on it, a single black word and 11 numeral digits. Typed. Yarden. 1823 498 3372.
i forgot to breathe *JUMPZ INA PUDDLE O' GEEK!*
D;  I Forgot To Breathe · Wed May 28, 2008 @ 04:45am · 0 Comments |
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