THE HIT BACK SERIES (Order From Chaos)

Chapter Ten

Chapter ten

"Perish the universe, provided I have my revenge."-savinien cyranode begereac.

{Couple months back}
She averted her gaze from the phalanx of LED computer screens, and straight at the expressionless faces that sat right across from her. It was her second time with them in this section of the building, and the level of hostility between them hadn't dropped a bit. It was something she needed, she knew damn well. For one, if they're ever going to play by her rules, she needed to sow in them a seed of fear and detachment.

And to better her chances at that, the event from last time had served the purpose. Now, she was positive they all must have come to the conclusion that she was not just an ordinary lady, but a macho-bitch, who could do just fine with a company of scums like theirs.

"For long you've been hunted and driven into the shadows for your stand in the society. The difference now is that the same thing that brought the target of top intelligence agencies like the CIA and ISI on your various backs is about to make you gods amongst men." She paused, strutting right to the back of the room, where she could see their backs. "'How' you may ask. And the answer is quite simple; by following our laid-up plans to rid this world of the filth and dirtbag we called her government."

"And how do we fit in?" That came like a puck shot from the man in all-black sweats.

"You see that avatar right there on the screen. It belongs to some guy we've been tracking for a long time now. Typically, he acts as a jobber on the 'dark web' and got shitloads of resources at his disposal. And by resources I mean; arms, drugs, artworks, mercenaries, to name a few. Thing is, he's just a link to the bigger picture-"

Before she could even finish with her explanation, another question was hurled at her from the scrawny, nerd-looking man. "By bigger picture you mean?"

"This," She moped right back to the computer monitors, diddling with its touch-screen till a mugshot shot up on the screen. "Alamal Yakeen. Ranked number ten on CIA's most wanted list and very much a trove to the bigger picture. He owns the only backdoor access to the goldmine. And had since been in contact with our unknown middleman for some mercenary hands for his jihadist movement."

"I see no sense in this still." Mop-haired came out clean, clearly unconvinced.

"It makes a lotta sense, 'cause that's where you all come in. We'll create an illusion along with new identities for you and thrust you straight into his clutch. And all you need to do is play along, to gain his trust and respect, till he leads you to our most-valued treasure."

"What treasure do you seek so badly to make you go through all these rigors?" All-black demanded once more.

"I know this will be hard to take in all at once for you, guys. But trust me there'll be no better noble cause than this thing of ours." She said with a hint of a smile, before projecting yet another image on the screen. "I present to you all; North Korea's Hwasong 15 missile. This here is our treasure."

"We get you the missile, and that's all?" It was mop-haired again. Skepticism laced his voice.

"That's very much it," She replied yet with a wan smile. "But make no mistake, as this is very much the starting point of a bigger volume in our saving the world from itself."

"How much do we have until we meet with this Yakeen guy?" It was the lean-bodied man that asked this time.

"Not quite much. And need I remind you what happens if things went south?"

The look of apprehension on their faces projected all she ever needed to her. That known, she inched closer to the door.

"You've got all the time in the world to study every detail of both men and work your cover. And very little time to come together as a team, 'cause you're really gonna need each other in the coming days."

Then she was gone.
{Present day}
The evident tap of fleet-footed individuals was all over as they marched briskly to attend to paperwork or deliver files on a desk. And of course, the clickety-clack of keyboards as personnel staffs walled up in cubicles punched in commands into their computers.

On recent account, the flurry of activities had been the order of every day, ever since the discovery of the silo at Colorado. Even worse, there've been several raised brows as to how this had slipped the watch of the agency. And its effect was the tense and brisken atmosphere here in Langley.

For Arnold, who ran point on the sting mission at the site, the fuss was another way of averting yet another 9/11 in the buildup. He was shrewd enough to know that if they'd been conned into believing the launch site was far cry Korea, then, there's nothing else they wouldn't take for a truth. And since it was a must in their line of duty to examine every lie for a truth until proven otherwise, he knew he had to play along.

Angling his way past several front desks of analysts, and the likes, and throwing nods and winks here and there, he set his mind straight on what lay ahead.

"The silo was procured by one Mr. Paul Vica soon as the decommissioning of several military installations was set in motion by the government in the nineties." Aslam was saying upon his entry into the staging area.

He barely acknowledged the slight nods from his mates, and the lopsided grin threw at him by the Hispanic-Esperanza.

"For how long has he been in possession of the property?" Audrey asked.

"Well over a decade."

"Has he any families or relations to link him with?" Wycliffe followed up with another question.

"Good news is, I found the only connection to him. His wife; Martha Vica and their little teenage son; Robert." Aslam gushed, manipulating the countertop touchscreen with slaps and taps. "Bad news is; they've been out of the Country for over a year now."

"Another dead end it seemed then," Esperanza said with an exasperated sigh.

"So, what've you, Arnold?" Wycliffe asked, shifting his attention wholly on him.

"According to some Interpol agents I had a chat with, Mr. Paul had been in and out of the country for twelve months on." He paused to catch his breath and continued. "But what caught my fancy was a flight Mr. Vica was supposed to be on three days ago, which didn't pan out as planned."

"You mean he missed a supposed flight?"

"Aye. Willingly or Unwillingly, I can't tell." He produced a flight manifest from his breast pocket and thrust it into the COO's itching hands. "His name was right there on the list of a flight meant for the Maldives."

With what could barely pass for a glance, the COO set the flight manifest on the table, a ghost of a smile creeping into his features. "That's some good news, yes?"

"Probably sir," Arnold said curtly, not wanting to put much trust on their new trail.

"Lighten up guys; this means our man is still in the country and still close at hand-"

"Or worse, Gone with the Wind." Esperanza finished for him on a rather pessimistic note.