Mission 14: The Final Frontier (Prolouge) Tony Pyke
- Who: Tony Pyke
Where: Denver, Colorado USA
Location: Apartment Complex Downtown
When: 10 am (Mountain Time)
A shiny charcoal grey 2008 Dodge Magnum R/T Sport Wagon rolled into a parking space in front of a five story modern apartment building. The powerful Hemi engine under the custom scooped hood rumbled and died before a dark-haired man in jeans and a leather sports jacket got out with a bag and two coffee containers.
"I do love a man who knows how to be prompt!"
"The military drills that into you early on." Pyke handed the woman a cup of the coffee. "You really shouldn't drink that right away, you know."
"You know you take that doctor thing way too far, Tony." The woman dressed in form-fitting running attire led the man into the building. "What do you think I drink after I ski down a mountain? Hot water?"
"Okay okay, Point taken!" Pyke raised a cup filled hand in surrender and then leaned in and kissed her as the elevator doors closed. "Good morning, Beautiful Vicki! How was your evening?"
"You know how it was, Tony." She draped an arm around him and kissed him again. "You were there for most of it."
"Then it must have been a really good night."
The doors opened and the couple walked down the corridor to an apartment and entered. Pyke entered the nicely furnished living room, pausing to hang up his coat before following Vicki to the bar separating the kitchen from the dining room.
"Do you have to wear that thing all the time?" Vicki asked, narrowing her eyes at the holstered semi-automatic pistol on his side. "You're not even on call with the sheriff's office this week!"
"Well one never knows." Pyke shrugged. straddling a barstool as Vicki got creamer from the fridge for his coffee. "I did turn the pager off though."
"Hmmm, That's my man!" Vicki leaned over the bar and kissed Pyke. "Maybe the world will behave so we can have some time to ourselves."
"We can hope." Pyke replied looking at the cell phone on his belt, hoping it would remain silent as well.
Where: Houston, Texas
When: 11 am
- Who: Wilma Ripley-Whetu,
Codename: The Suit
Where: Washington, D.C.
Location: Penthouse Suite B
When: 11:45 am (Eastern Time)
"Roderick Jonathan Whetu, you little scamp!" Wilma chased after her 10-month-old son. "Will you get back here!"
"Well, you talk him to walk too early," Jake said from the couch, where he was reading the newspaper. "What did you expect? Once he got walking down, running was only a second behind. And Roddy's a right genius for getting into mischief."
"Hmm, much like his father," Wilma said as she pulled her son from behind the couch by his chubby little leg. "Crawling behind there is not gonna save you from bathtime, little man!"
The landline rang. Both Wilma and Jake looked at it. "I got him, you get that," she said to her husband blowing a loose blond tress out of her eyes.
"I ain't for me. That line only rings for you, Madam Secretary," Jake said standing up, adjusting his artificial leg before striding over to Wilma. "I got 'em."
Jake took the baby, who was named for Jake's little brother, and started for the bathroom. "Time for a wash-up, ya bounder scoundrel."
Wilma smiled and made her way to the ringing phone. She made it on the fourth ring, just before voicemail.
"Hello?" Wilma sighed into the phone.
"Secretary Whetu? We need you to gather your team and come in."
Wilma ran a hand through her short blond hair. "Right. On my way. Where are they off to? Afghanistan? Belize? Back to Russia?"
The Chechnyan Revolution case was only 3 months ago. Surely there weren't still residual problems.
"Houston? As in Texas?"
"Get your people in the air, Madam Secretary."
- Who: Anjela "Angel" Ramirez, Dr. Winifred Day
Location: Citi Field
When: 11:45 am (Eastern Time)
"No batter, no batter, no batter!" Angel chanted as Zack Wheeler sent another strike across the plate.
Beside Angel in the stands, Dr. Winifred Day munched on a hot dog. "You get way too into this. It's just a game."
"Mets baseball is a religion, Baby," Angel corrected her girlfriend of a year. She pointed to the field. "Those men out there are gods!"
Angel's cell went off. Winifred took another bite of her hot dog. When Angel didn't answer it, she said, "t'sa yewrs."
"What?" Angel said still staring at the field. "No batter, no batter, no batter. Sa-wing! Sa-wing! No batter!"
"T's yeers," Winifred tried again.
"Sorry, you gotta speak up, Baby."
Winifred swallowed. "I said, it's yours. Your cell phone is going off!"
The player at the mound got a hit which sounded out in the stands like a crack of lightning more than the crack of a bat. "Ah, c'mon! Get the ball. Get it! where'd you learn to field, Byrd, Home Depot! Move your ass!"
- Who: Tad Thomas, Sara Lien Thomas
Codename: Radar, Pandora
Where: Las Vegas
Location: Sara's flat
When: 10:45 am (Mountain Time)
Tad lifted one tiny bottle and then the next. The one on the left read "Bruise" and the one on the right read "Eggplant" but they both looked the same to him - purple.
"Okay, I give up," he said turning and looking back at Sara. "All your nail polish looks the same to me."
Tad was lounging next to Sara on the bed, except his head was facing the foot of the bed and Sara was leaning against the headboard at the head of the bed, where she was hard at work on her laptop. "Sara? Can you look up from the laptop long enough to address this issue?" he asked. When she continued to ignore, he bit her big toe.
"Ow!" Sarah glared at him. "Fine. Bruise."
"Thank you," Tad said before twisting the cap off the polish bottle and applying it to her left toes.
She mock pouted at him. "You know this sort of stuff is time-sensitive and the reason they keep giving us the penthouse, right?" Well, some of it was.
Some of it was opening the windows of celebrity vacation homes during heavy rainshowers and letting nature take its course. And some of it was a six-operator attempt to crash the Hong Kong stock market just to see if they could make China feel even the smallest tremors of financial panic. But most of it was the kind of work she was actually paid to do.
They'd been pretty successful after she'd lent out her services as a security consultant and part time info broker. It was better than being Siri for a group of overgrown boys with guns, and Vegas was an amazing place to work when you had as much money as they did.
Sarah turned over and waved her toes in front of Tad's face. "Now come on. And for your information, the difference is that Bruise is slightly darker and a matte finish, and I don't really want them looking too shiny."
"No, now they just look beat up!" Tad snarked as he started on the right foot. "Bruise indeed. So what's the big deal with this new..."
One of the six cell phones rang on the night stand. He sighed. "Is it mine or one of yours?"
Either case, their special vacation time together was most likely at an end.
Who: Jason Calvin
Where: Columbus, Ohio
Location: On road
When: 11:45 am (Eastern Time)
Jason Calvin was glad to be back in the states. The Russian op was three months behind him and he was glad to be in the states with summer approaching. Nothing like driving with the top down and wind in his hair after overhauling the engine of a convertable.
His phone started ringing. He turned to the side of road and stopped, then answered.
"Hello?" he said, "Oh, hey. What's going on? What? Where? Houston, as in Houston, Texas? I'm on my way."