79, Buzzed
“If you aint wasted, the day is.” Special agent Trent Murdock finished the last drink of whiskey from a flask that his best friend Dale O’Connor had given him.
“Quit trying to be Doc, asshole.” Special agent Death closed her eyes in the pitch dark broom closet and silently reached out to the God she didn’t believe in, “Why me?” but Murdock’s dumb voice interrupted any response that the Almighty may have given her.
“I read an article about the dangers of drinking and decided to give up reading,” Murdock joked.
“Now you’re trying to be Frank Sinatra.”
“Nope. That’s a Henry Youngman quote,” Murdock said matter of factly as he shook the flask above his mouth to get out any drops that might be lingering.
“I’ve never liked you, just for the record,” Death said dryly as the smell of whiskey filled her nostrils from breathing the recycled closet air. She was cranky and sweating from hiding in the small confined space with Murdock.
“Well a day without a buzz is a day that never was.” Murdock tried not to smile, not that she would’ve seen his expressionless face in the dark anyways, but his rehearsed poetry made him giggle on the inside knowing that he was annoying Death.
“Scratch that. I hate you,” Death replied coldly in her stereo typical “don’t fuck with me right now” tone.
“You aint really boozin’ if your liver aint oozin.” It took everything in his power to not burst out laughing. If he did, he’d compromise the mission and draw attention to their location, but fucking with Death was too fun to not keep pushing her buttons.
Murdock could hear agent Death pull out a knife from a leather sheath. “I’m warning you, I’ll kill you where you stand,” she threatened in a very calm tone. She was clearly not in the mood and he knew she meant it.
“Sharing is caring,” Murdock said kindly.
Despite being in the pitch black closet, Agent Death brought the knife to Murdock’s neck as easily as if she could see him in broad daylight. “Try me, fucker,” she said with malice in her voice. She felt something against her arm that had the cool feel of metal.
Murdock took the hint and simply said, “Kill me if you must, but promise me you’ll at least enjoy a drink with me first.” He pushed the metal against her skin a little more firmly so she figured it was some sort of rounded flask.
“I’m not drinking piss warm Irish whiskey, Trent.” She used his first name to piss him off. It didn’t work.
Trent Murdock finally grinned in the pitch black closet. “No, you won’t, Bethany,” he said, calling her by her first name to piss her off too. “No yummy whiskey for you. Nope. You’ll be drinking a blended margarita.”
“I told you not to fuck with me,” Death said, but her tone was less hateful at the idea of sipping a frozen margarita.
“I’m dumber than shit,” Murdock said but agent Death interrupted him before he could finish his sentiment.
“Yes you are, asshole.”
Picking up where he left off, he agreed, “Yes I am, but I’m not stupid enough to think you wouldn’t get thirsty.” He shoved the thermos into her open hand and she grasped it, understanding that he wasn’t handing her his flask. “Heads up, Doc made this and had it super chilled, whatever that means. It’s strong. Pace yourself accordingly.”
“You’ve been holding out on me this past four hours!?” Agent Death put her knife back in its sheath carefully in the dark and opened the lid. The smell of sweet and sour with lime hit her nostrils and instantly her taste buds started salivating. “I still want to kill you,” she said sneeringly as she took a swig. The flavor was glorious and the cold took her breath away.
Murdock shrugged and said, “I don’t blame you for wanting to end my existence, not one bit. But I don’t mean to be insufferable,” he lied. Sarcastically, he added, “I just want to bring love and peace to all of my friends.”
“Tequila usually turns into war for me, not peace.” Agent Death took a swig and the cold slush slipped down her throat. The Mexican fire water ignited the warrior in her soul. “You’ve been warned.”
“At least I won’t die from boredom. This fucking mission can suck my balls.”
The two of them had snuck into the Mexican Embassy in Washington D.C. They had received a tip from an informant that two of the emissaries working there were connected to a powerful but little known criminal warlord known as “El Padre.” Death and Murdock had been in the broom closet since early afternoon when the whole office had gone to lunch. It was now close to closing time for the day and both agents were getting impatient.
Murdock had a thought and shared it. “Why in the fuck didn’t we just have Boothausen or Owens break into this place at night to do this mission?”
“You sound like a baby, Murdock. We’re secret agents. It’s what we do.”
“Sure, but we’re not as good as they are at this kind of shit. They’re master thieves for Christs’ sake.”
“Boothausen is at a family reunion and Owens is hunting,” Death answered matter of factly.
“I didn’t know Boothausen had any family,” Murdock admitted.
“I don’t think it’s her own family reunion she’s attending.” Death slowly took another sip of frozen margarita in an effort to not spill any of it in the dark. It was cold as fuck, perfectly sour and it was recharging her enthusiasm. “I think she’s attending the British royal family reunion. No clue what she wants to steal from them but knowing her, she’ll be in and out and they’ll never know she was even there.”
“Well that sounds like a lot more fun than what we’re doing here.” Murdock often joked that he was an international man of leisure, but he hated waiting. Breaking and entering, sneaking around in the dark after hours, all of this part of the job didn’t do much for his imagination or self esteem. He wanted action.
“Quit being a baby and act like the pro you’re supposed to be, fuck face.” Death smiled in the dark closet at her insult and took another sip of the magical concoction. She realized that she was drinking it fairly quickly, and the tequila indeed was getting her ready for a war.
“Fuck face. I like it,” Murdock joked. “Just remember, I’m not your enemy.”
“You will be if you say anymore stupid puns about being drunk, fucker.”
“Fuck face. Fucker. Can you insult me without using the F word, maybe?” Murdock asked with a fake air of intellectual pompousness.
“Fuck you.”
“Fair enough.”
An hour passed and Death had consumed the entire thermos. She was horny and angry, two emotions she loved to feel. The noise in the building had gone silent and the agents figured the coast was clear to go snooping around.
Death was bossy. “I’ll take the office on the western most wing and you get the central office, third floor.”
“On it,” Murdock said without protesting. Even though he was twice her size and had quadruple her strength, he knew she could kill him with her pinky if she really wanted to. He’d stopped pushing her buttons after giving her the thermos and was glad she was in charge of this mission. He didn’t like doing the thinking so he gladly complied. “I’ll text you on your wrist watch if I find anything worth reporting,” he said with a nod, then took off.
“Roger,” Death said as she headed towards her mark.
Murdock hauled ass down the hallway and used his long legs to fly up the stairs skipping several at a time. He knew the exact office of the emissary he was supposed to be snooping on and was at the office door in no time. It was locked. He clicked a button on his wrist watch and spoke into it. “Death, my door is locked as expected. Attempting to pick the lock now.”
“Roger,” Death replied. “I’ve just broke into this office and am about to copy this asshole’s hard drive now.” She spoke out loud but meant to only mutter to herself, “Where’s Doc when I need him?” knowing that Dale O’Connor could speak and read Spanish fluently, but she hadn’t turned off her wrist com and Murdock had heard her say it.
“Doc is undoubtedly tied up with zip ties as Blacktide whips the shit out of him. He told me he likes it when she gets rough with him.”
Not realizing her wrist watch had been on, she exclaimed, “Zip ties!?” It took her a second, but she’d never thought of tying a man up for sex. Sure, she’d immobilized lovers in the past, but zip ties were brilliant. After processing the thought for a second, she asked, “How long do you think those two will last before they kill each other or tear the team apart?” The margarita was like truth serum flowing through her happy grey matter.
Murdock was struggling with picking the lock but wouldn’t tell Death of his troubles. “They’ll either be broken up by Christmas and won’t talk to each other for the rest of time or they’ll die old and happy together. There will be no in between with those two, mark my words.” He pulled up on one of his lock picking tools and it broke off in the key hole. He held back a swear word but instead calmly said, “My money is that Lex gets knocked up within a year.”
“Jesus, Murdock!” Death was buzzed, but she was a reasonable enough woman to consider the possibility. “You might be right.” She processed the thought and it blew her mind. “Alexi Blacktide might have the first Team Whiskey baby.”
“There may be babies out there already that we don’t know about, you know,” Murdock quipped.
“Good point,” Death said to her watch. She enjoyed her buzz, but she was a pro. The hard drive copy was almost done and she was taking loads of pictures on a small digital camera of everything she could find in the desk and surrounding filing cabinets that weren’t locked.
“I’ll call you back,” Murdock said as he hung up. He dialed Owens on his wrist watch and breathed a sigh of relief when the master thief answered right away.
“Hey Murdock! Whatcha up to?” Owens asked with cheery enthusiasm.
“Well I’ll get right to it. I’m in the Mexican Embassy and I’m trying to break into an office but one of my tools busted in the key hole. I’m kind of fucked,” Murdock admitted right up front.
“Man, that sucks! You’re at the Mexican Embassy, you say? Off of Broadway avenue?”
“Yeah. Me and Death are doing a job that you and Boothausen could do in your sleep. Picking locks and sneaking around after hours isn’t my thing, and now I’ve fucked up this door lock situation.”
Owens spoke with a positive tone. “I’m happy to help. Tell me about the door lock.”
Murdock could hear some sort of scuffling noise from Owens wrist watch but he ignored the sounds. “I broke a tool inside of the key hole and I don’t know what to do.”
Owens didn’t address this information, but instead asked, “What floor are you on?” as strange sounds of wind could be heard from his watch.
Murdock was confused by the question because it had nothing to do with picking a lock, but he decided to answer Owens directly. “I’m on the third floor in the east hallway.”
“Which door?” Owens asked inquisitively.
Again, Murdock wondered why Owens didn’t just tell him what to do with a broken lock pick in the key hole but he answered honestly, “Third door on the left side.” He thought about it then added, “North side of the east hallway, that is.”
“Excellent. Those are old school American door locks made by Wilson hardware back in the seventies, and I was just in that hallway a week ago, so unless they’ve changed the locks, which I highly doubt since they haven’t changed since the 70’s, I know the exact door lock you’re looking at.”
Murdock shouldn’t have been surprised that Owens knew this information right off of the top of his head, nor should he have been shocked to learn that he’d been in the same building just days earlier. He decided he’d ask, “How come you’re not doing this mission?”
“I told Rice last week that I was going off radar to do some hunting,” Owens answered plainly. “Got a nice four point white tail hanging and curing as we speak. It’ll make great jerky.” Murdock could hear more scuffling through his wrist watch and could tell Owens was doing something physical. “I’ll save you some!” Owens added enthusiastically through all the noise.
“Ah, thanks, man, but I’m kind of in a situation right now. One of my tools broke off in the door lock and I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
The scratching and scuffling sounds from Owen’s wrist watch were loud, then quiet, then it sounded like he was opening a sliding window or soemthing. “Tell me what lock pick set you have,” Owens asked.
It was only 6pm but the hallway was very dark as if it were night. Murdock noted how much daylight savings time annoyed him. The place was absolutely deserted and even the night lights that were on emitted barely enough light to read the name on the lock picking kit. “It’s the Wilson set.”
“Green case or red case?” Owens asked.
Whatever Owens was doing, the scuffling sounds had stopped and Murdock could hear him clearly. “Green case,” Murdock answered dutifully.
“Did you break the long skinny tool? Or the shorter triangle tool?”
“Long skinny one, with the orange handle.”
“Got it. Here’s what I need you to do,” Owens said with authority.
“Tell me, Owens,” Murdock said calmly.
“Pull out the triangle tool. It should have a light brown handle,” Owens instructed.
It took Murdock a moment to pry the tool free from the snap in grip that held it in the case, but he got it free. “Ok, I’ve got it. Now what.”
Owens voice suddenly was no longer coming from his watch, but rather, the voice spoke from behind him right there in the hallway. “Give me the tool and I’ll do the rest.”
Murdock wasn’t easily scared, but the sound of Owens voice only feet from him made him pert near jump out of his skin. “Ahhhhck!” he exclaimed. “Jesus, Owens! What the fuck?”
“Sorry, dude. I didn’t have time to tell you that I was in the neighborhood. Give me that tool and get out of my way, would you?”
Murdock’s heart was beating like he’d just been pounced on by jaguar in the jungle, but he tried to quickly calm himself from the crazy surprise. He handed the tool to Owens and side stepped to give him access to the doorway. In pure disbelief at what he was seeing, Murdock asked, “Dare I ask how you got in here?”
Owens bent over and stuck the lock picking tool into the key hole as he said, “The bathroom window on the fourth floor wasn’t locked. The security here is worse than our southern border.” In less than two seconds, Owens had opened the door as well as retrieved the broken piece of metal from the door lock that Murdock had broken just minutes earlier. Owens stood up straight and asked, “What’re we looking for?”
With his voice shaky from his pounding heart, Murdock pulled out a few objects from his pocket and said, “We’re copying any hard drives we can find and snapping pictures of every document that ins’t locked up.”
As innocently as if he were asking about the weather forecast, Owens asked, “Can we take photos of stuff that’s locked up too?”
Murdock knew that Owens’ brain didn’t work like other normal humans. He could pick any lock, side step every security system, break into and out of the highest security places with nothing more than some dental floss and a paper clip, so of course Owens didn’t see locks as impediments. Murdock grinned. “Absolutely.”
Fifteen minutes passed in silence as Owens snapped pics of everything in the office. Murdock was able to boot up the computer, speed copy the hard drive with the latest CIA technology thumb drive, and the two of them exited the room as agent Death called Murdock on his wrist watch. “Murdock, report!”
Murdock looked at Owens and said, “Death doesn’t know I called you, let alone that you’re here, and I’ll be honest, I don’t wanna tell her. I’ve been pushing her buttons all day, so I just want to hand her this stuff and stay in her good graces.”
“Cool, bro!” Owens said innocently. He had no ego when it came to espionage. He loved the game of it all. “I was gonna take a look at the German embassy next door anyway which is why I was walking by when you called me. Their security is pretty tight over there, so it’s more of a challenge than this place. It’s embarrassing, you know?”
Murdock didn’t know what his friend was talking about but didn’t want to reveal his ignorance. “Yeah, embarrassing,” he muttered.
Owens pointed to the top corners of the hallways, as if he were pointing out the obvious. “No cameras, no sensors, not even an old school infrared trip wire. It’s like the Mexican government doesn’t care about security here. Unreal. Well, see you later!” With that, Owens snuck out the office door and evaporated into the hallway as if he were an ocean fog burning off with the morning sun.
Death’s voice came back on Murdock’s watch. “Murdock! Report!” she grunted.
“Shit, sorry Death!” Murdock said to his wrist. “I’ve got everything I can get from in here. Let’s bounce!”
After a few seconds pause, Murdock could tell she was in disbelief, but she kept it pro. “Affirmative,” Death answered. “You’re right, we should’ve had Owens or Boothausen do this job. I’m no good at this shit,” she complained. “See you at the exit point.”
“Roger. Meet you in a couple of minutes. Murdock out.”
The two agents met the pre arranged exit door, opened it gingerly and heard no alarms. They walked out onto a well lit sidewalk into the waning evening light and strolled off as if they were leaving a day at work, headed to happy hour.
In the distance, a master thief enjoyed sneaking in and out of high security areas inside of the German embassy, mentally noting every door knob, lock and camera while slipping into and out of every room, always avoiding detection while enjoying snooping through office after office, looking at documents in a language which he couldn’t understand but he liked looking at because of all of the random capital letters they used in their wonky writing.
