Missiles & Magic

Two days after the message, Aminah hatched a plan.
“You're kidding! Sending me to Petra on some fool's errand, while mister No One here...” Thorne indicated newly arrived Racoon, “...tries to locate my father 'somehow'. And you'll do – what, exactly? - meanwhile?”
“That's need to know, mister Nobody,” Racoon's eyes glinted. “You don't.”
“I'm sick of 'alphabet soup types' pulling this shit every time. Keeping people in the dark only ever comes back to bite you.”
“Anything – anyone – can turn and bite you in the ass,” Aminah shrugged.
“You would know about that… but don't worry, Minnie. I keep my word.”

She was making a difference. The time needed for the transfer was just minutes now.
She was in the control room, seemingly shuffling papers around. She needs to hurry. How long will Psycho stay pleasant?
Speaking of the devil...
The door opened.
“You changed your hair?” Rebecca was sometimes stupid.
“The blonde didn’t really suit me. This is better.”
There was something disturbing about Psycho’s smile.
“Oh,” Rebecca said, plopping up on the desk and looked at him thoughtfully. Sometimes she was really stupid.
Risa on the other hand was not. She sat right on the USB.
Only seconds remained.

Her reading magic? It wasn’t usable here.
Opening portals? She wasn’t allowed.
Far from empath, she could “feel” others if she tried hard. Only got the basic understanding.
Doesn’t matter.
It’s not that hard to make coffee.
She brought it to the blonde. Tax for being junior in the office.
He thanked her.
“How do you like it here?” he asked, lightly touching her arm.
She lifted her eyes and for the first time actually looked into his.
They were blue, cold and dead.
She found Psycho.
She gave him a little smile.
“I feel like finally making a difference.”

Suddenly the voices outside fell silent.
She looked out and cursed in Arabic... and some eastern European language.
"Picturesque speech," he muttered.
"Silence. Follow my lead," she snapped.
She pulled stone out of her pocket, drew a worm of a word on it; handed it to him and pushed him deeper into the cave.
Invisible force lifted him off his feet, trapping him.
Guard came in a second later.
"Aminah, what is this?"
"Late night test, Basir. Sorry, Hamid, seems the amulet needs work," she deactivated the field, grabbed the stone back and held it up, unapologetically.
"Yes. Needs work."

If there was anything positive in her situation, Aminah couldn't see it.
She walked out into the cold night - somewhere with no prying ears to make a call.
Suddenly there was commotion at the perimeter.
She headed over.
Three guards were arguing over a dead sheep.
A shadow crept almost unnoticed to the mouth of one of the caves.
Aminah followed it, pulling out her P228.
"Stop. Turn. Slowly."
The man complied.
"You!" they breathed in unison in two languages.
Then Aminah noticed his gun, pointed at her.
"Your day going as well as mine?" he asked.
"Better and better."

We regret to inform you, your son was killed in the line of duty.
If you can call an unsanctioned op in neutral territory that.
He has served well and made his country proud.
He was a decent officer, but he went off his rocker, chasing ghosts.
He will forever be remembered by those who had the honor of serving with him.
Just like his father no one in the military looked for.
He will posthumously receive medal of valor.
He didn't deserve it while alive.

"They will never know the whole story. Is that what you want?" she asked.

Risa was briefed on her upcoming mission already. There were just some details to take care of. She went into Ram’s office for that.
Mountains of paperwork defeated the meaning of a paperless office. That’s normal.
“And now you need to get the form from over there...”
The stack of papers was weighted down by a small statue. Of a ram.
“You can get it yourself...”
Risa reached up.
“... but carefully!”
She pulled on the paper. The paperweight moved a bit.. and then toppled down, almost surfing on the immense amount of paper that went down with it.
“Osprey!”
“Sorry.”

She went to the Professor ostensibly to discuss her next trip to Petra.
"I am bringing Eyal in," he responded, surprisingly. "I don't want you distracted from the Synergy project - with him here, you don't have to travel there."
She cursed.
The three father figures in her life didn't have much in common, but the one trait she shared with all of them was stubbornness.
She suspected that what ultimately drove her biological dad to disown her, was cunning - something the two others had in plenty, but he lacked.
She's going to need both to get out of this pickle.

He was a great person. Both mentaly and physically.
When his parents died in the Northridge earthquake, which was, as you all know, caused by evil that is magic, he changed his life completely, trying to get revenge. Last month he was a valuable addition to the organization until yesterday, when he was run over by a train.
May he rest in pieces.
Thorne made an awful noise on his guitar. People were ignoring him and his hat begging for money.
Another day, another identity.
He will not miss his life as Darwin.
Tomorrow, he will not miss this life.

Thorne continued. Slowly, steadily. Minutes stolen here and there.
Cameras put into the control room. Not much work left...
His eyes widened. He hit a jackpot. The servers were accesible from the Agency now.
Too bad he tripped a flag in the process.
He needed five more minutes to end this part.
Thirty to be done.
The alarm will sound in fifteen.
There was no choice.
After five minutes he took the USB out and left the room. And the building.
When the alarm sounded, he was safely out. Angry, but...
With the Agency uncompromised, someone else can finish this.

Considering he barely saw anything through the slit in the veil, things were going well.
Thorne kept distance, following the taillights.
She'll lead him where he needs to go, willingly or not.
The taillights suddenly disappeared. He slowed down to creeping pace.
He got just close enough to make out the silhouette of the jeep in front of him when its headlights flashed and it sped straight at him.
He barely had time to dive headfirst into the brambles on the wayside.
Cursing, he jumped up, covered in thistle heads, tore the headscarf off and glared after the disappearing jeep.

The hideout was more crowded than it should have been, when Aminah got there couple days later.
She pulled aside the two people she needed and set a time and place for pick up with them.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement in the back of the cave.
It was a woman in a niqab, fretting.
Something was off about her.
As Aminah left, the woman slowly followed.
She waited for Aminah to start her car, mounted a motorbike (growling and cursing at the fabric of the dress getting in the way) and tailed her.

[fire cracking, cicadas chirping, quiet talk in the background]
Thorne: Where did she take you?
Woman's voice: Can't tell.
Thorne: I just need help. For my family...
[coins clink]
Woman: It was dark. No light. Only crack, high up.
Thorne: A cave then.
[fabric rustling]
Thorne: [resigned] Which direction?
[wood snaps, scratches against sand]
Woman: That's how you go.
Thorne: Thank you.
[fabric rustles, steps walk away from the fire]
Thorne: Thanks for your services.
Guide: Desert dangerous at night, I guide!
[coins clinking]
Thorne: No need. Me and darkness are old friends.
[pistol magazine snaps, small motorbike starts up]

"No," the woman said icily. "You won't tell. And you're no use to me."
She gave her companions a quick succession of commands in Arabic, ignoring Thorne.
Five people got onto the jeep and they drove off, leaving him in the dust, defeated once again.
She was right.
He wasn't ready to put lives at risk - and talking wouldn't help his cause.
The dead end got deader.
In the evening, one of the hidden people, creeping back, flashed Thorne a quick, shy smile.
A ray of hope, a kick off towards the surface.
He offered them food and started asking.

This time Aminah was voluntold to lead the recruiting party. She scanned the crowd. The soldiers with her knew very little about magic. Still, there were some people she couldn't quite pass by.
She lifted her hand to point them out, eyes cold and hard.
"You want me," the man spoke broken Arabic with an accent. No magic.
"I am not your way to heaven from this purgatory, soldier," she declined in English.
"Oh, you're definitely not an angel, I know," his eyes were as hard as hers. "Take me. Or I'll tell your companions about your other activity here."