Artificial Intelligence

Artificial Intelligence ::Chapter 1:: Part o1

Chapter One

~5 Months Later~

Jeremy Lockwood was the head of the International Protection Scheme (IPS) and subsequently, my boss. At nineteen I was one of their youngest employees, but also one of their best, and that was being modest. The IPS usually involved the safe deliverance of top secret weapons and such. Basically, we did the dirty work while others took credit for it - CIA, FBI, DGSE, you name it. Not that we minded. Secrecy was or greatest ally and, weapon.

 Being called into Lockwood's office was not a regular occurrence. There were two occasions that called for a meeting with the big man himself-either I was getting fired (which was basically capital punishment in a fancy name) or I had a new mission to attend to. I think the latter. Jeremy was not a fool.

  Dressed in my business suit comprising of a black jacket, trousers and a light blue button down shirt, I sat cross legged, waiting for Jeremy to arrive. The news had only gotten to my earlier that morning during my seven a.m. daily run around Central Park. Not only was it a good run, but the view was lovely. Plus, it was always a break from the monotonous gym, which was nothing but a large hall filled with sophisticated machinery. I preferred my run.

Agent KW157 had patched through to my wireless handset. I did not actually need glasses but it was awfully handy being able to both speak and look at headquarters through the specialised lenses at the same time.

“Agent TT23 Lockwood wants you in his office at 8 sharp. Looks like you've got another mission”.

“Roger that”, I replied cutting off my run by half an hour. I didn't get my daily ice cream either.

One thing about Lockwood; punctuality was zilch when it came to his own employees. When it came to matters such as emergency conferences and code reds he was the first to respond but with something like this, you might as well make yourself comfortable.

Having nothing to attend to, I sat still for the next seven minutes before Lockwood arrived. At 8:07 and fourteen seconds, Lockwood entered his office, styrofoam cup in hand. Steam billowed up from it, casting a mystical aura around his face, and further highlighting his red nose.

“Sorry there, I just nipped out for a coffee”, he explained in his English accent. Traditionally, Lockwood was from Manchester, in the midlands. He had been recruited by MI6 and had quickly progressed through the ranks. Many thought that he had been killed in a fatal incident in Korea, but those of us in the IPS knew better.

  He sat down behind his chrome and glass table, turning on his iMac and took a sip of his coffee. Black, no sugar.

“So Kiera, we have a new mission for you. Following the success you had with the transportation of the Queen of Sweden's children from that terrorist attack, we have devised a similar plan of action for you.”

My forehead continued to crease as he spoke. “But Sir, with all due respect, I thought we were under agreement that the safekeeping of her majesty's children was only a once off. That's not my area of specialisation. That would be Agent HF824.”

“Yes Kiera, I am fully aware of that agreement, but there has been a ... special request of sorts.”

My ears perked at his words. “What kind of request?” I asked, intrigued. The IPS had a guarantee that all of its agents were equally trained but there were always those who surpassed others. It was the same as in any other situation.

“This request was given by the Governor of Georgia, who is, as you know, running for president in the next election in 2012. Rumour has it that his son, Jason is on the hit list of many organisations. We want you to go out and protect him. The governor has already received multiple death threats and he's under the impression that a regular old body guard just won't cut it. He's much more protected by someone who doesn't look like a bodyguard and can blend into any scene. Richard's son, Jason turned twenty one last month.”

The pieces had fallen together in my head long before he had finished his speech. As a general rule, you didn't interrupt Lockwood. No matter how easy going these people seemed on the outside, they required the final word. They needed the feeling of empowerment.

So in the end, they needed twenty year old me to protect twenty one Jason Mason. Obviously I wasn't playing the role of long lost sister or cousin. I'd have to play girlfriend, and since I was the only one in the IPS who both looked and was younger than him, I fit the criteria perfectly.

I scrunched my eyes as I contemplated this. A silence lapsed while Lockwood finished his coffee.

“You know they've made extra thick styrofoam cups like that in Cuba”, I told him. “They slip marijuana leaves in between them and shipped them off to California, no questions asked.”

“You don't say”, Lockwood replied, trying to suppress a smile.

I sighed lightly. “The thing is Sir I could do anything with that styrofoam cup there. Transport it anywhere in the world; hide secrets belonging to the Russian

Mafia forces in it. I could even hide your marijuana in it if you wanted, but I can't do the same with people. They say things they don’t mean out of turn... They complain when their personal interests aren’t catered for... They're hassle”, I stressed. “I can't handle them. I just don't understand them.” That was why we had agents like HF824.

  Lockwood tapped his pen against the table nine times before replying. “I do see where you are coming from Kiera, really I do...but we need you especially for this mission. I can organise some meetings with agent HF824 for you to understand more about people in general ­­, their reactions and why they do what they do. We’d all love to know that, wouldn’t we?”

His eyes bore into mine as he spoke.

Ouch.

Clearly, the ball had been thrown way out of my court, far from reach. Game, set and match to Lockwood.

“Understood”, I muttered, clenching my jaw. I looked down at his small trash can as he spoke. One of the rules to being a spy: never merely throw away your trash-incinerate it. So that was why, at the end of the day, the area around the basement smelled intoxicating.

“Very well then”, I sighed, knowing that protesting would just be a waste of our time.

Lockwood nodded. “Now that that’s settled, we can discuss your duties. You are not to leave Jason’s side when he leaves the parameter of his home, which we have been told, he spends most of his time doing.  You are to present yourself as an ordinary twenty year old, so that means no fights, no snide remarks to him, giving out to him in public, that sort of thing. Only during times of absolute necessity may you resort to violence. An ordinary twenty year old would not be able to kill another person with half a shoelace. Obey him as any other acquaintance of Jason Mason would do.”

  I sucked in a huge gulp of air. “So basically I have to let him walk all over me, and the only time I have any say is when it comes to his safety”, I concluded. This was not, under any circumstances, going to be easy. Unless he was willing to obey my every order, no questions asked. Yeah, possible son of the next president listening to a girl younger than him? Not going to happen.

“Kiera, you have to understand. You’re cover is vitally important. You must follow procedure as in any other mission. The only difference is, is that this is personal”, Lockwood explained.

He was putting the icing in the cake. This meeting was almost done. There were no choices.

“Alright”, I huffed. “So when do I go out?”

“Next week”, he replied. “So you have eight days to prepare”, he handed me a file from his folder.

Biting my lip, I opened the paper folder to be faced with a Mason family photograph. Jason’s face was circled and enlargened below. He was dressed in a simple black suit, cream shirt and maroon tie. His brown hair was combed to perfection and a forced smile was plastered across his airbrushed face.

 A smile tugged at my lips.

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 ©Munni101