Not on my Watch

Chapter 22

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes. William Shakespeare, from Macbeth.

                                                  February 10, 2014

                                                   Washington, D.C.

           John Croxmeller sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, thinking.  He was trying to decide what the Order's next move should be.  His spies, the ones he could still locate, had been bringing him disturbing and conflicting news.  How the hell had Vin Frost made it out of South America alive, if indeed he had?  He was supposed to be dead, which was only logical, because the hit man he'd sent after him was the best in the world.  He always got his targets. Jaylon, though, who was also the best in her field, had been so certain she'd seen and spoken to Frost just weeks ago, at the end of December.  Now he couldn't seem to reach Jaylon anywhere to get up-to-date news.  When had he last heard from her, anyway?  He was sure it had been at least three or four weeks.  The leader of the black ops army he was sending to confront the rebel army said he'd been informed the info from Jaylon was incorrect.   What the hell?  She was so good at what she did.   John had to think this through carefully.  Maybe Ned could help him out. He sat forward and reached for his phone.  He dialed the number and held the receiver to his ear, listening.  After a moment, Ned picked up the phone.  "Yes?" he inquired.

            "It's me," John said.

            "What's up?" Ned asked.

            "I'm not quite sure what's up, to be honest.   Damn it all!  Half of my informants and hit men are missing, and the ones that still contact me tell me the intel we have is wrong.  I've got conflicting info on whether or not Vin Frost is alive, I haven't heard from Jaylon in weeks, and to complicate matters further, the guy we sent to dispatch Frost is also missing.  What the hell happened to our hit man, what the hell happened to Jaylon, and what the hell is going on with Frost?  Is there a chance he's still alive?  And if so, why?  That hit man is the best in the business. We all know that.  That's why we hired him.

           On top of all the disappearing spies and conflicting intel, some unknown saboteur is destroying all of our central banks, and the Big Guy wants to know what's going on.  I don't know what to tell him, but I do know that if I don't give him some good news soon, he'll have my head for sure."

           "Beats me.  I don't know what's going on.  I haven't heard anything...hold on, I have another call coming in."   A pause.

            While he was on hold, John finally realized his assistant was there, cleaning the office.  His assistant was a weasly little man, almost unnoticeable.  He couldn't even remember his name. He was always so quiet and unobtrusive, it was almost scary.   He motioned him over.

           "Did you remember to shred those papers I gave you yesterday?"

           "Of course, Sir.  I always remember to complete my assigned tasks by the end of the day.   By the way, I couldn't help overhearing you on the phone.   Did you try your hit man's other number?"

             "Yes.  It's been disconnected.   I thought we were paying him well, but apparently when he finished the last job, he decided he doesn't want to work for us any more."