4, Meetings.
“Blowing up that store would be like busting a nut in the town whore. It’ll feel good in the moment, but you’ll wish you hadn’t the next day when the rash breaks out.” General Rice hated cell phone companies, but she was trying to be reasonable.
“It’s obviously an empty threat. This is just therapy to vent to you. I do admit it makes me feel better to think about that greasy fucking salesman not having a job tomorrow. I hate liars.” Special agent Dale O’Connor was bitching about a terrible experience he’d had the day before while trying to upgrade a cell phone. “I don’t even hardly use the thing but like every other American, I have to have my hit of crack every time I look at that screen.”
The two of them were walking down a long, drab hallway in a plain government building that had “Department of Agriculture” engraved into the cement archway above the entrance. Half the building was staffed by locals who worked for the Ag department, but the other half of the building was used for the training of top secret military personnel.
“I still don’t know how the NSA and CIA have legally been allowed to spy on normal citizens to be honest. I promise you Doc, as soon as the courts say it’s unconstitutional, I’ll be the first to shoot all of those oath breaking scum bags.” General Rice took her oath to defend the constitution seriously.
“You and every other soldier with any pride,” O’Connor added. “It’s the only reason I don’t go execute an American citizen at that damn cellular store right now,” he muttered. “Due process is a whore. Hand me the thermos, would you?”
“I thought you had it?” said Rice.
“Dammit, I thought you had it. Did we leave it in the break room?” O’Connor was notorious for drinking on the job, always, and never went anywhere without some sort of container holding booze. Today was no different, but now his massive coffee thermos full of whiskey was sitting in a break room three floors above them.
“I didn’t grab it. Dammit, Doc. I hate talking to these assholes sober.” Rice may have been a general, but she’d always be a hard partying new recruit in her heart.
The two of them walked into a conference room where another agent was already seated at a large table. “Well, look what the fucking cat dragged in,” said special agent Trent Murdock with a shit eating grin to O’Connor. “Good to see you too, General.” He gave a nod but didn’t salute.
“Save your breath for the bureuacrats, Murdock,” replied Rice dryly. “I’m far too sober to be in a good mood for this meeting.”
Murdock shrugged and said, “well Doc always has booze and today he has a box of donuts, so that should make things better.”
O’Connor looked at his friend. “I thought you had it?”
“Whaddya mean? I thought you had it? I gave it to you a half an hour ago because I had to run to the shitter. Everyone knows you don’t take food into a restroom! It can get infected.”
“Oh for fucks sake, Murdock, you came into the break room and threw that box on the table without saying anything. You ran out like lightning and this is the first I’ve seen you since!”
“I made it in the nick of time or I would’ve soiled myself,” said Murdock sheepishly. “I guess I could’ve texted you from the bathroom but my new cell phone that I got still isn’t working properly.”
O’Connor felt a fury for the cell phone company that burned hotter than before but he said nothing as another few people walked in. “Hey gang, who’s ready to talk to non military bureaucrats and explain how things don’t always go as planned, eh?” said special agent Jack Miller. He was accompanied by his girlfriend and fellow sniper, special agent Laura Lorenz.
“It’s gonna be a long meeting. We left the donuts in the break room upstairs and I’m sober,” said O’Connor.
“Sadly, me too,” added General Rice. “Plug in the laptop and let’s get this over with.”
“Ah shit, general, I thought you had it?” Miller respected the hell out of his boss, so he was racking his brain. “You handed me some Cuban cigars yesterday in an aluminum case that sort of looks like a laptop. Could that be what you’re thinking of?”
“Shit,” muttered Rice. “Probably.” She shook her head in self disgust. “The laptop is in my office across town. Fuck.” She cared, but she didn’t. “Hey, did you try the fuego diablo?”
Miller was relieved that the lack of a laptop wasn’t his fault and smiled as he reminisced about that amazing cigar. “I sure as shit did. It was excellent.”
“I knew you’d appreciate that cancer contributing beauty,” said Rice.
“And he smelled like a Cuban dictator for the rest of the fucking night,” Lorenz griped.
“You didn’t complain in bed last night, so why is it a big deal now?”
“Dammit honey, do I have to tell them I made you put on a fake mustache and talk in your awful Cuban accent?” Miller looked at her sideways and chuckled in confusion. She continued, “it’s a fantasy of mine to role play bang every dictator that ever lived. We’re getting to the Asian list next.” Her sarcasm was so thick, the room could eat it with a spoon.
“That’s probably racist but it’s hard to be triggered when you shoot people for a living,” joked Murdock.
Special agent Bradley McVandalay walked stiffly into the room looking very annoyed. “Morning, gang. My god damned phone is being a bitch right now and I haven’t been able to follow the game, so be patient with me.” McVandalay was a massive Cubs fan and his phone wasn’t getting score updates. “I hate my fucking cell provider right now. If I have to do any talking to those pinheads in suits I know I’ll cuss too much. I’m gonna stay quiet since Doc has my manila envelope.”
“What manila envelope?” replied O’Connor.
McVandalay crinkled his eyebrows. “I thought you had it?”
O’Connor shrugged and said, “I saw you with one yesterday, right?”
McVandalay froze, took a deep breath and looked straight up to the ceiling. He was clenching his teeth and trying not to snap. “Doc,” he said patiently, “I gave it to you when I walked into the break room half an hour ago. Remember? I said I was pissed off at my fucking phone and I can’t deal with talking to those fucking bureaucrats right now. You need to do the talking, remember? Well, I went for a walk and calmed down. Look at me, I’m calm,” he lied.
“Shit,” said O’Connor. “Murdock came running in thirty seconds after you and threw a box of donuts on top of that envelope. I forgot all about it because I was bitching about blowing up a cell phone store or we’d be eating the fuck out those sugary bastards right now.”
General Rice was rubbing her temples. “I hate today. Let’s just get this over with, gang. This meeting is gonna start in a few. Has anyone seen Blacktide or Blitz?”
As if summoned by her words, secret agents Alexi Blacktide and Emerald Blitz walked into the conference room as Rice finished her question. “Here, general,” they said in unison.
“Good,” replied Rice. “Lex, if you can hand over the itinerary for this meeting, we can call these assholes and get underway.”
“I thought you had it?” said Blacktide.
Rice’s eyebrows went up. “Me? We chatted in the hallway an hour ago and I handed you my copy, didn’t I?”
“No ma’am, you handed me a flyer for a heavy metal concert that you and Sarge are gonna go party at, remember? Then you said you needed to discuss urgent business with Doc in the break room and you disappeared. We assumed you two were gonna do shots and I didn’t think about it after that.”
Rice remembered all of it and was a little ashamed that she’d been drinking with O’Connor. Their heated conversation about which explosives would be best to use to destroy the phone store made her laugh so much that she’d forgotten everything. “Yes, I remember,” she admitted. “Dammit, that’s my bad. Let’s just get this call started and send them the report later. Bradley, will you hand me the remote control to the lights?”
McVandalay looked at Murdock. “I thought you had it?”
Murdock spoke up and pointed to O’Connor. “I thought you had it?”
O’Connor shrugged. “I saw it earlier but hell if I can remember where I put it. I’d remember if I was drunk.”
Rice raised her voice, “God dammit!!! We are professionals! This is fucking unacceptable!!!”
At that moment a head popped into the doorway. “Hey gang,” said Sergeant Schuman. “The brass sent me a memo requesting that we move this meeting ’til Monday. Fine by me cuz I wanna bail early to get ready for tonight’s concert. I’ve been trying to text a few of you on your phones but the messages don’t seem to be going through.”
O’Connor looked at Rice. “I’m going to blow that fucking store up tonight, general. Please don’t stop me.”
In the distance, a janitor sat in the break room of a government building munching on a tasty donut while looking at gruesome photos of a war scene in the desert that he’d found in a manila envelope next to a room remote and couldn’t help but notice a faint whiff of Jameson coming from a very large coffee thermos.
