Kong: Skull Island- Beneath the Surface

Chapter 1

"No offense but I don't like to work with people like you."

James Conrad crossed his arms and inhaled the cigarette once more before throwing it on the ground.

"You offer me money and say your cause is good. Then people get killed." He sat forward. "You want to know why? Because you tell lies." His accented voice rang through the room.

The bar was nearly empty. Their only companion was a lonely sign that flickered on and off every few seconds. The floor was dirty after a long Saturday night: the bartender sweeping quietly near the door. Across from James sat a man whose face wasn't remarkable but nonetheless unforgettable. His features were chiseled; probably from ice. His stare was cold, showing no emotion. A perfect man for his line of work. A drink sat untouched between them.

"This particular case might interest you," the man said.

"Right," James scoffed. He rubbed his chin and slapped a ten on the table, "Thanks but no thanks. Have a good evening."

He stood and pulled a jacket around his shoulders. As he walked away the man started talking in monotone.

"Two days ago a journalist-photographer went missing in North Korea. The camera had something of national security on it. The person responsible for these photos has vanished."

James stopped. His curiosity had gotten the better of him. "Were they taken?"

The man allowed himself a tiny smile. "No. They're running."

"From who?"

"The Koreans, and every other agency who wants the information. I need you to find it first."

"What's on that camera that's worth killing for?" James said, his back turned.

"I can't tell you that until you agree to work for me."

"Who would I be looking for?"

The man said the words slowly hoping for a bigger effect. "Mason Weaver."

The man could practically feel James tense like a wall at the name. Just what he was hoping for? He turned to see James in a frozen stance, his fist clench his hand still on the door. For a moment the room was silent. After a few seconds he spoke.

"When do we leave?" his tone could've split wood.

"I've assembled a team. You leave tomorrow seven a.m.," the man took out a card smiling to himself. He was pleased. He always got what he wanted. "Be to this address by then," He stood and placed the card in his jacket pocket on the way out. "Get some rest."

A cruel suggestion.

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James went home that night and went right to work. He pulled maps, books, paper and pencils out strewn around the room and desk. He poured over them for three hours drinking a full pot of coffee while music blared from his record player. He studied every road and village in the Northern Territory. He memorized names, climates, wildlife. Anything that might remotely be important. He visualized what it would look like, what to expect, what kind of treatment he would receive. Most of all he tried to put himself in her shoes. What would she do?

The sun was bleeding through the windows of his apartment when he sat down. Between his fingers he could feel the soft fabric of a familiar piece of clothing. Looking down he saw a dark red sweater. Her dark red sweater. He picked it up forgetting she'd only been there last week. His mind wandered to that night. They decided to stay in with pizza, beer and cards. Simple but perfect. When he closed his eyes he could still taste her lips. Bringing the sweater close to his face he buried his chin in it.

It still smelled like her.

. . .

A small airport outside of Boston was the location he'd been sent to. Men stood at the gates armed dressed like military. They asked for an ID before letting his Cadillac through the gates.

"Go to the main building they will be waiting there for you." One of them said.

He did as he was told parking his car in an empty lot. The whole place was deserted except for one plane sitting dead on the runway. Once inside he was greeted with the same man he'd met at the bar.

"Good morning. I trust you slept well." He was wearing a suit, his grey hair combed to one side.

"I did." He lied. "Now can we get a move on? There's work to be done." He could already feel a headache coming on.

"Yes." He gestured towards a terminal. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the others." He walked steadily in front of him. "You will all be briefed, then you will be given time to come up with a plan. That's when you leave."

He entered a small room, its walls blank except a clock; reminding him of how little time they had to find her.