Mask of Desire

Mission II

Despite asking his chauffeur to crank up the air conditioner to the highest, the cold air only made the minister of finance, Daffe Col, sweat. His cotton tie was suddenly too tight for him, he loosened it and fiddled with his suitcase.

He had just pulled away from a meeting in state security with the president and was on the way to meet the person who called himself “the informant” to whom he was supplying information.

From what he knew, the informant was one of the many who supplied a powerful organization that controlled everything; from communication, government secrets, and nuclear weapons to resources. An organization that supposedly never existed. All the minister had to do was to keep up his end of the bargain, and appear when designated with whichever information was requested of him. It was usually nothing of consequence no officer with high clearance didn't have access to but today's request was something he jumped hoops for. Something that could have him booted. and worse the second he was discovered. He received a message a few days ago to get this information and deliver this suitcase as ordered.

Just two years ago, the minister was only a humble politician who, one day, got an ominous phone call asking if he wanted to become a minister provided he wouldn't ask any questions.

The mystery caller instructed Daffe Col on what to do. He took a gamble and obeyed everything that was asked of him and before he knew it, rose steadily into position. The former finance minister was fired immediately in a scandal involving videotapes of him molesting children. They were released to the public right before the election and Daffe Col was recommended and elected automatically to the position.

He always knew his time in this position was numbered, maybe even his life but this evening, he felt more certain of his grim situation now more than ever. But his greed brought him this far and it was too late to back out now. What he was delivering today could cause a scandal that would break down the government but he had no choice now.

That was how the world was run; global conspiracies, wars, secrets, and distribution of resources were in the hands and control of a few, a faceless and nameless organization with puppets in power.

They held the power to decide who lived and died, and which country to keep the peace, they did as they pleased to suit their best interests, these weren't the people to toy with.

"Nous arrivés Mr. David" the chauffeur announced, slowing down at the chapel he was asked to meet, interrupting his thoughts.

"Merci, wait for me," the minister said, getting out of the limo.

He looked at the gold embossed card that was slipped under his hotel door earlier that evening. 1009, Rosslyn Chapel, Freemont.

He was at the right address–and on time too.

He walked into the chapel, it was empty and cold, he passed the rows of wooden seats and sat in front, the suitcase in between his legs.

The stained glass artwork of Jesus stared back at him from the upper windows, it was antique, probably worth something too. He offered a quick prayer, begging for forgiveness at the image.

He heard footsteps and a man in black sat beside him. Minister Daffe shuddered. For some reason, this man had no presence, were the church completely silent, he wouldn't have heard him coming at all.

"You got it?"

"Here," Dave said, handing over the suitcase.

The man in black opened it without a word.

"We had an emergency meeting called last month, I couldn't help but notice your absence."

"I was to represent the president, I couldn't pull away."

"Be careful, till next time Mr minister."

Dave waited till the sound of the footsteps faded away before he sighed and offered another prayer for forgiveness because he had just betrayed his country.

The man in black watched from the back of the church and waited till the minister walked out of the church, sobbing. His prayers for forgiveness were watched and met with an indifferent scoff.

If god existed, there wouldn't be people like him to take care of the s**t that happens in the dark, the man in black thought.

There was a moan beside him and he sighed, kicking his victim.

“Quiet before I up your dose.”

Although he was tied, gagged, and drugged, the informant still put up a hell of a fight. Even now, he was glaring at him with fire in his eyes.

The informant moaned something again, struggling against the ropes he was restrained with.

The man in black knelt and put an index to his finger, “Shhh…”

He ripped off the duct tape of his mouth, following the painful wheeze of the informant.

“You bastard. They're gonna find you, you know? The people who want this information are–”

The deep, guttural chuckle sent a shiver through the informant. “Yes, blah blah blah. The people who want it are all powerful and that. You would think the minister would confirm if they were sending the right person at least, instead he just gave the suitcase away to anyone who walked in.”

“Are you kidding me? If I were on acid I would have thought I was talking to myself. You got everything down to a pat–my mannerisms, my voice, and the way I look.”

The informant laughed and coughed, licking his bruised lips and spitting blood.

“Of course, pulling off something like this would only be..”

His eyes widened, the realization sinking in. The face he was staring into was exactly his, but not the eyes. He could see now that they were predators. Boring into him with ice and gaping darkness. Primal fear shook him to his core.

“N-no…it's impossible.”

A serrated blade appeared at his neck, the glint of the sharp weapon against his pulse sent him into terrified silence.

The next words that came out of his kidnapper was a low growl: “I would very kindly ask you to act like you don't know I was here. Understand? If you know what's good for you, you will disappear and tell no one. Be very careful not to cross me, Winston Foley.”

The informant's curses and struggles were lost to the wind as the man in black slung the suitcase over into a black bag and revved up his motorcycle.

He checked his watch: 9:58 pm. He had about 15 minutes to deliver this.

The motorcycle roared to life as he drove away, blending into a line road, hightailing to his agency meet-up point.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. He clicked the earpiece.

“Speak.”

“I'm afraid I have bad news.”

“That’s not new.”

“A new mission. We're partnering with the Black Unit. I'll forward the details of the mission to you later.

Must be serious if they had to partner up. His leather gloves crinkled as he squeezed the bike's handle, speeding up.

“Send me what I need. I'll be there to deliver the suitcase.”

“Okay, Agent Brood.”

He ended the call and continued speeding. No mission was too risky or too dangerous for him. He had a goal that must be met no matter the costs. All he had to do was survive.

He ripped off the mask disguise of the informant, tossing it right into the bushes before intersecting to the main road–his meet point was a few minutes east. The information in this suitcase would likely cause a civil war but of what business was that? He got power and information at his disposal here, and he was going to exploit it as much as they exploited him.

Agent Brood, a.k.a “the ghost” was a Former Sergeant First Class (SFC) Special Forces, currently a Senior Field operative. An expert in tactical combat, weapons handling, and high-risk infiltration. He worked in Psychological Operations and had Close Quarters Combat training from his. years in the military. In many situations, he utilized his charisma and combat skills to manipulate situations and eliminate threats.

His personality has been so buried under facade after facade, he couldn't tell his values or things he truly enjoyed anymore. He preferred a life like this. Back in the agency, he was a lone wolf, everyone refused to work with him because they couldn't keep up so he got the solo missions.

Agent Brood took another intersection from the highway to a lone road with a red post office box. His watch beeped as he slowed down his bike and stopped in a corner.

“On time. As always.”

“Hmm,” he grunted as he tossed the suitcase to Alex, his handler.

Alex was a man with a perpetually cheerful demeanor and a penchant for dry jokes. It ticked Agent Brood off and Alex knew it. But he was the only person who had seen Brood at his worst and his only acquaintance at the agency and could always see the best in people.

“You're going to be working with a hell of an agent. Well, according to the director of the Black unit.”

“You know they spite us? I don't understand what is so important that–”

“Child trade. The very worst kind.”

“I see.”

Agent Brood watched as Alex fiddled with the suitcase, feeling a bit relieved to be rid of its weight. Whatever was in that thing was heavy as an anchor. But he was irritated that Alex swung the suitcase back and forth like a child with ADHD while saying something deadly serious.

“Any chance that…?”

“To be honest, I don't know. But if you're going to pull on any thread to lead to her, I'm certain it's there. But she could be dead now. It's been years, Brood, I’d understand if you gave–”

In one swift move, Brood grabbed and yanked up Alex by his collar, murderous eyes glinting.

Seconds of silence passed only Brood's harsh breathing between them.

“Okay, okay,” Alex raised both hands in mock surrender, the suitcase falling out of his hands.

Brood loosened his hold on Alex as he picked up the suitcase, the tense moment passing.

Jeez. The man was a loaded gun whenever that girl was involved. At least he was a great agent. Almost inhuman and fitting for their agency.

“Here's what's up. Undercover infiltration. Rich A-holes running the whole shebang. You're going to love them. You and your wife will cost up to them and–”

“Another one like last time?”

“Would you just let me finish?” Alex said with a dry chuckle, coughing and rubbing his throat dramatically where Brood had grabbed him.

Brood scowled, earning a smirk from Alex.

“You're going to be a couple. Understand? I know you'd like to meet her so..”

“Send me her records. Everything.”

Brood got on his bike again, starting his engine with a roar.

“Where are you going?” Alex called over the noise.

“Isn't it obvious? I'm going to run an errand and meet with my wife.”

As he sped away into the traffic, the adrenaline that had been running through him all day began to ebb, bringing a dull headache that reminded Brood that he hadn't eaten all day.

Whoever he was working with better be damned good. He wasn't going to be playing a pointless game like this with a rookie.