Killed in Action - A Spy School Story

Chapter 9: Psychotherapy

Office of Rhonda Mancini, Psychologist, PhD

McLean, VA

March 3rd, 2018

1445R

Erica POV

"You mentioned earlier that you're scared to sleep, right?" Dr. Mancini asked after scribbling down some notes.

"... I guess," I replied, fidgeting with the fabric of my shirt.

"Would you like to elaborate?"

"No, but isn't that the point of all this?"

"You got me there."

"... so now?"

"Whenever you're ready."

I told her a false tale: one of Ben's murder at the hands of a mugger while on a class field trip. The mugger—a desperate addict—got violent and killed him when he didn't pull out his wallet fast enough. A nearby cop saw the situation and ran over, prompting the mugger to run. But the cop pulled out his pistol and shot the mugger until he didn't get back up.

I gave her truths dressed up in lies: photos of Ben's gunshot wounds, his blood all over me, his lifeless body.

But the whole truth was much, much worse.

It started at the briefing, like always. FBI Special Agent Hansen, Dad, and Grandpa briefed us on Operation Steel Tiger, with the former then deputizing us as temporary federal agents. We finalized a few more details up until around ten minutes prior to our departure.

I called out to Ben, sharing a brief interaction that Zoe quickly shoehorned her way into. They were professional and rather cheerful, not bringing up the past. I remembered Mike's passive aggression as Zoe ran her mouth, along with the rocky moments that came with Chip and Jawa—all who desperately tried to make my life a living hell, had it not been for Ben calming them down. The three of us then set a plan to get cheeseburgers after the raid was complete... "for old time's sake," in Ben's words.

We loaded up in FBI minivans and set out to Montross, VA. Ben and Zoe sounded nervous, but were in good spirits overall. Dad was uncharacteristically quiet the whole way there, looking deep in thought. I eavesdropped on Ben and Zoe's conversation, finding myself jealous... even as we were on a mission to take down an ISIL cell. I was unfocused, but saved by Dad's announcement that we'd arrived. I went off to join Hotel Team: twelve US Marshals Service SOG operators in charge of covering the northern building of the storage facility (Building 4)—the same one that was to be breached and searched by Delta Team.

After a brief planning session, we drove up to a certain distance, stashed the vehicle, and patrolled the rest of the way. But when we arrived at our set point, the team leader encountered something.

"TOC, this is Hotel. We've encountered something at our primary set point. Looks like a bomb. Requesting EOD, over," he called over the command net. After a few seconds that included what I could only assume to be a negative reply from the TOC, he nodded. "Roger, Hotel out."

We shifted positions as quickly and quietly as we could, but our alternative set point provided less of an effective blocking position. But we had already wasted time.

"Hotel is set," the team leader said on his command radio a few moments after we'd gotten set up. Seconds later, I could hear the sound of metal and wood breaking and men shouting. The shouting gave way to gunfire, muffled by the walls of the buildings. But after a brief period, some of those gunshots could be heard outside—if I had to guess, some of them were running.