Wrong Place (The Wrong Series) Read online

  “Yeah, I guess you should have,” Sam said sarcastically.

  “Oh well, be safe. I’ll call you after your plane lands and you’re settled in your new location. By then I should be able to fill you in on the details of how we plan to get you into the solar plant.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Bye,” Sam said. She hung up the phone and immediately reached over to reset the alarm. Two more hours couldn’t hurt, could it?

  * * * * *

  At the CIA base in Washington D.C., Jason had just hung up the phone when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

  “How’s it going, Jason?”

  As he turned, he faced Burt Jones. Burt was a short, heavyset man, whose body had apparently given up on producing hair, and although God did not bless him with an appearance that would stop the ladies in their tracks, except maybe out of sheer fright, he had been given a brilliant mind and a charismatic gift of speech that was rivaled by no other.

  “I thought I would give you a copy of our infiltration plan for the facility in Mississippi since you’ll be the one briefing our agent tomorrow,” Burt said.

  “Well, thanks, Burt!” Jason said with a large grin.

  “I told you not to call me that,” he snapped.

  Burt scowled. He had never liked the name Burt, and he thought that his parents must have watched one too many cartoons growing up. In fact, it always seemed to him that Burt would make a better name for a puppet, possibly in a children’s show.

  “I thought we went over this. I prefer to be called Jones,” Burt said.

  “I know, I know, but it’s just so much fun to see your face anytime I simply say your name, Burt.”

  “Just read the damn file!”

  As Jason was glancing through the file, he had to control the urge to laugh at what he was reading.

  “Is this what they pay the eggheads upstairs to do?” Jason asked as he finished reading.

  “It is ridiculous, isn’t it?” Burt said.

  “Well, a little. I mean, they expect our girl to pose as a pest control person? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound sexist, but how many female pest control people are there, and how many of them look like her? I think my four year old nephew could come up with a better plan than this. Do you have any ideas, Burt, because quite frankly, I’m not comfortable sending any agent of mine into a situation where all they have is a plan like this.”

  “Well, I have been thinking about it, and sometimes the simplest plans are the best ones. I googled the company, or at least the company they’re posing as, and they’re hiring a new office worker,” Burt said.

  “Wait a minute. Why would a phony company be hiring anyone?”

  “I don’t know, for appearances probably. They wouldn’t want the locals realizing that there’s a company with no employees just sitting around taking up space. It draws suspicion. We could set up an interview for her, give her a killer resume, and don’t we have a guy on the inside? What was his name?”

  “Driver,” Jason answered.

  “Mr. Driver. That’s right. Well, we could have Sam go to the interview, and as she goes into Mr. Fields’ office, maybe Driver could ask him to step out for a falsified emergency. When he leaves, Sam could get as much information as possible. She could download all the files from his computer, as well as take as many paper files as she can fit into her bag, while taking pictures of anything of interest in the office,” Burt said.

  “How do we even know that there’s anything incriminating on that computer?”

  “We don’t, but Mr. Driver seems to be very confident that this facility is one of information and not actual production and that Mr. Fields has access to privileged information straight from the top.”

  “I like your plan. It sounds fairly simple, but overall, I think that it’ll be efficient. So how do we get this changed, and how exactly were you able to come up with a plan that quickly?”

  “You storm in upstairs raising ten kinds of hell about how you won’t send any agent of yours into a situation with such a shoddy plan, and then I swoop in with a better plan, and everyone is happy. As for how I came up with such a good plan, it’s because I used to work in the field before I decided to slow down. I have more ops under my belt than you can count,” Burt said.

  The truth was that Burt had never worked in the field. He had always been behind a desk, and Jason knew that. You see, the thing about Burt is that he’s somewhat of a compulsive liar. He’s very smart, but he definitely likes to embellish stories a bit. If he instructs an agent or plans an op, then somehow, years later, it becomes the op that he carried out when he tells the story. The two shared a laugh, and then Jason headed upstairs to ruffle the feathers of some of the CIA’s best planners.

  * * * * *

  Sam was lying on the ground and heard the sound of sirens. Her eyes were throbbing, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the feeling was familiar. It was like an extreme scratching feeling that left her view very obscured. All she could make out were simple silhouettes. People were standing, looking on, but not daring to help. She felt something run into her eyes. It felt kind of like water, but it was thicker. The more she thought about it, the more she knew exactly what it was. Blood. Panicked, she began to think of what could have possibly led to this situation. She had gone back to sleep after Jason called, and then what happened? She didn’t understand at all, and that’s when she heard it. “We’ve got a little girl.” Little girl? Who are they talking about? Was someone else involved in whatever situation I’ve gotten myself into? Suddenly, there was a loud beeping noise, but Sam couldn’t quite figure out what it was or where it was coming from. Whatever it was, the sound was certainly irritating. As she lay there, thoughts racing, she tried to take in all the information around her, but slowly began to lose consciousness.

  * * * * *

  Sam awoke to the sound of a very loud alarm going off. Even if the alarm was irritating, she was glad to be awake. She felt as if she must have had a bad dream, but couldn’t quite remember what it was about. After collecting herself, she began slapping her hand at the obnoxious alarm, missing it a half dozen times in her dazed and half-awake state, before finally hitting her mark. God, I like my sleep way too much. Maybe I went into the wrong line of work, she thought. In truth, she hadn’t actually chosen this kind of life. No, there was never really a choice in the matter for her. She then stood, stretched, and very sleepily wiped her eyes. As was her routine, she made the bed, not that she really had to. She wasn’t likely to come here again, and she could easily leave it to whoever had to stay here next, but she was, after all, a creature of habit, and maybe, just maybe, it had angered her to find the bed unmade and the place a mess upon arriving. She didn’t intend to leave it the same way. Her obsession with things being in order probably had to do with her strict and orderly childhood, but she didn’t question it. For her, it was now simply instinct. After she finished making the bed and picked up the lamp that had crashed to the floor earlier that morning, she began to go through the rest of her morning routine. She started with sit-ups, as she always had. One hundred sit-ups, and then fifty push-ups; that was her usual morning exercise routine. She normally would take a morning run as well, but there was simply not enough time to do so if she were going to make it to the airport and be able to get anything to eat before leaving. Besides, she had no idea where she would run. It’s not as if there was a track anywhere close to her location. After finishing her exercise regimen, she decided it was time for a shower. Sam took showers that would make most people feel like their skin was about to burst into flames. There was just something that was so relaxing about the heat and steam to her. Sure, it took a second for her body to adjust to the extreme heat, but once it did, it always felt like heaven.

  After finishing with her shower and getting ready, she began to pack things up. All she would be packing would be simple things like clothes and toiletries. As she finished putting everything into her bags, she remembered something that she had almost forgo
tten. She made a quick dash toward the small nightstand next to the bed where she had previously tried to assassinate a lamp and grabbed her locket. The locket was small and gold, and it was very dear to her. Perhaps at this point in her life, it was the only thing that she didn’t feel as if she could live without. “There you are. I can’t leave this place without you,” she said out loud to the locket, as if it were an actual person. She then slipped the locket around her neck, went over and picked up her bags, and exited the house.

  Upon arriving at the airport, Sam paid the cabbie. Forty-two dollars was the price. I’m glad that expense isn’t going to come out of my check, she thought. It wasn’t that forty-two dollars was a lot of money to her. It was just that the man only drove for about five minutes. In fact, without the bags, she easily could have jogged the distance they had actually traveled. After collecting her bags from the trunk of the car, she headed into the airport. She would have to pick up her tickets at the desk, go through security, and then hope to find a decent place to eat. If there was one thing that she had learned, it was that airport food and dog food were not all that dissimilar. Not that she had ever eaten dog food, but the smell was pretty much the same.

  As time passed, she slowly completed all of the trivial tasks associated with boarding an airplane in the post 911 era and made her way onto the plane. She had worried that she would be in a cramped seat or next to a screaming child, but upon finding her seat, she was pleasantly surprised. You’ve got a first class window seat, and there’s no sign that anyone is even going to be sitting next to you. You might just have lucked out, kid, she thought. She sat down and leaned her head back. She gently closed her eyes and began doing what she had grown to love most in this world. She drifted off.

  Chapter 3

  Sam was startled by the sudden thump of the airplane wheels setting down on the runway. As she gathered her wits from her short sleep, she recounted where she was and why. She waited for what felt like an eternity until the plane docked and the passengers were told that they could exit the plane. She began to gather her bags from the upper compartment when suddenly a realization came to mind. I have no idea where the Royal Hotel is or even where I’m supposed to meet this person who has the equipment I need, she thought. As she exited the plane, clarification on this issue came in the form of a short older man who was holding a sign that said Fisher. She approached him casually. After all, it’s not like Fisher was an uncommon name. For all she knew, this man could be waiting for anyone.

  “Ms. Fisher?” the older gentlemen asked.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Sam answered.

  “Right this way. I’ve been instructed to assist you in any way possible, but for now, I’m just going to drive you to your hotel and show you the car you’ll be driving. My name’s Zane, by the way.”

  “I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you, Zane.”

  With all the small pleasantries exchanged that were necessary, for the moment, they both made their way to Zane’s car.

  Upon arriving, Sam couldn’t help but admire the car in front of her and wonder if life as a contact wouldn’t be a bit more fulfilling. After all, she had never received or even been able to drive anything this beautiful. It was a candy apple red Corvette, and it looked brand new. Nice car. The agency must pay the boys in Memphis a pretty penny, she thought as she got into the vehicle. After seeing the strange and admiring look that the car brought upon the face of his new friend, Zane knew he would need to explain on the way.

  “It’s not really mine,” Zane said while cranking the car and backing out.

  “Well technically it is, but how can I put this? I lucked out when I got put here in this situation. I’ve lived in several different locations throughout the states, and oftentimes I’ve posed as a pretty irrelevant person throughout different communities while waiting to be of assistance to different people like you. I’ve driven in some pretty ragged vehicles and lived in some even worse houses, but a couple of years ago, I was luckily moved here, and for once, I got to pose as a very important corporate businessman. So naturally, and thankfully, I get to drive a car and live in a house that reflects my story.”

  “I wish I could luck out like you, Zane.”

  “Well, I won’t lie to you. It is as glamorous as it looks,” Zane said with a grin. “There’s one thing that I don’t get, though. When did they start putting people your age in the field? I mean, no offense, but you just don’t seem quite as seasoned as the other agents I’ve assisted in the past.”

  “I’m twenty-four, sir. I am plenty old enough, and I assure you that I’m more than capable of getting any job done that is asked of me.”

  “I’m sorry if I have offended you, miss. Once again, I truly meant no offense.”

  Sam couldn’t help but be a little offended by the notion that she may be too young or too inexperienced to do the job of a so-called “seasoned” agent, but she couldn’t argue with the fact that she was much younger than any of the other agents she had heard about. Her superiors were older, most of the people she had trained with at the CIA camp were older, and without her special circumstance, she probably wouldn’t have been anywhere near as accomplished as she currently was. In fact, the majority of agents had experience in Iraq and Afghanistan, or at least some type of deep military background where they had proven their extraordinary abilities. She, on the other hand, was simply assumed to be extraordinary. She had broken records in every possible area back at her old training facility. She held records that showed her accelerated agility, speed, endurance, marksmanship, and most importantly, her intelligence, but were those things anything more than simple numbers to her? No, in her own mind she hadn’t accomplished anything just yet. After all, this was her first real assignment. Screw this up and everything you’ve done is for nothing, she kept telling herself throughout the week that led up to now.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound upset. I just want you to know that you aren’t working with an amateur,” Sam said in the most sincere way she possibly could.

  Zane quickly accepted her apology and offered another apology of his own, but in spite of their attempts to rectify their misunderstanding, the majority of the rest of the car ride was oddly silent.

  Upon arriving at the hotel, the first thing that she noticed was the large red lettering at the top of the building. The place looked nice enough to her, and she hadn’t noticed any weird duck things, although she was sure that the people in this town must have an obsession with some awkward fashion style that she wasn’t familiar with. On the way to the hotel, she had clearly seen at least three men in large white and sparkled suits, with extremely long sideburns, and slicked back black hair walking around on the street.

  “Your car is parked in there,” Zane said motioning to the large parking garage next to the hotel.

  Sam’s mind immediately began to race with wild thoughts of what she may be driving. The hotel seems to be nice enough from the outside, and look at the car they gave this old geezer. Surely I’ll have something that’s at least comparable, she thought. They rode up to the second floor of the large concrete parking garage, then to the third floor, and finally to the fourth floor where Zane pulled into a parking space. He then reached into his front jacket pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and handed them to Sam.

  “So where is it?” she asked while trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

  “It’s right next to you.”

  Sam immediately looked to her left.

  “That’s it?” she asked in a disappointed voice.

  Zane couldn’t help but laugh out loud at her disappointed expression. What did she expect, he wondered. There, right in front of Sam’s face, sat the ugliest dark green minivan that she had ever seen. While driving this vehicle, she would appear to be a soccer mom, and a poor one at that.

  “Hey! Stop laughing, Mr. Illustrious Businessman.”

  “Well, I guess we can’t all live the good life, but I suppose I could give a poor fellow agent a ride to the
front door of her hotel,” Zane said while chuckling.

  “Yeah, yeah, just start driving,” Sam said while showing a hint of a smile.

  As they reached the front of the hotel and Sam got out to retrieve her bags, Zane pulled out a medium sized black bag from the car.

  “Here are some supplies for someone of exceptional skill. Oh, and I almost forgot. You’ll need the key to your room,” Zane said while handing the key over to her.

  She was grateful for the bag, but now she had three bags, and only two hands. She draped the long strap from her largest bag over her shoulder and took the other two in her hands. Zane, of course, immediately offered to help her carry her bags inside. She politely declined. She didn’t like feeling like a weak girl who needed someone’s help. In fact, she never asked for help at all. It was hard enough for her to come off as capable or as a threat to anyone when she probably only weighed one-hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. The underestimation that she often received, because of her size and her gender, would turn out to be her greatest strength. After all, no one would ever think that this small, frail looking girl could be a well-trained killer.

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it,” Sam said.

  “Okay, but if you need anything else, my number is on a card in the bag I just gave you. Don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

  “I won’t, and thanks for the ride, Zane.”

  “Anytime.”

  Sam then began to make her way inside.

  Hopefully my room won’t be as disappointing as the car, Sam thought to herself as she got on the elevator.

  * * * * *

  Back in Washington, Burt’s plan had gone off without a hitch, and Jason couldn’t be happier. He quickly began typing out their plan in order to send it via email to Sam. Sure, he could have simply explained it to her over the phone, but he knew that many operatives found it helpful to be able to visually look at and study a plan instead of simply hearing how everything was supposed to happen. After he finished typing out everything, he hit the send button. With that task completed, Jason finally decided it was time to go home. He had been there since the previous night, and quite frankly, he was running on fumes. If anything comes up they’ll just call, Jason thought. He grabbed his coat and keys and headed for his car.