specialangeleunicebloom-blog - Tumblr blog

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

PART 1: Coming In

Chapter 1: If she’s not on her way, she’s already here…

It had been almost a sacrilegious act, to clip the wings of Guardian Agent Eunice, but there she was, marooned indefinitely in the Monastery of Saint Escazu, Costa Rica, with no end in sight. At the end of her tether, she called a meeting with Smecker.

“Jesus Christ Paul! I’m virtually healed up for lack of some man action!” she complained.

“Ohh-www…” Smecker gave her his usual dismissive response. Not that Eunice thought men were much to shout about. In her opinion there was too much of a roll on, roll off attitude, women should be found, fucked, then forgotten. Eunice often wondered if she should have let Greenbeans fuck her, he was such a lovely guy after all. She could have let him as an act of friendship rather than anything deeper, so sad the argument was now academic after his untimely death. But to think of the actual physicality was a bit of a turn off, she imagined his little wriggling bottom between her thighs as he panted and strained to summon up enough energy to ejaculate. Naturally she would fake orgasm out of common courtesy before doing her vulnerable little girl act whereby she would curl up asleep on his chest to make him feel all manly and protective. Well, no point in dwelling on that, he was gone, bless him. Interestingly, Eunice did not consider herself bisexual given the women she had fucked over the years, there was something about using and abusing her innate power of seduction, the chase and the capture, this was almost as good as the sex. And why not? If the target girl had a nice mouth, good tits and an inviting moist pussy, go for it! No-one could say no to Eunice, and that’s a fact! Eunice fondly remembered Erika during that initial visit to Gorgeous George at the health spa in order to put him in his place. She liked the look of Erika when she secretively took over from her massaging of Gorgeous’ back, and then signalled for her to get out. After she had humiliated Gorgeous, Eunice left him and sought out Erika. The massage therapist was found in the main salon at one of the nail bars, attending to a client. Eunice marched straight over, grabbed Erika’s wrist and pulled her away into the central isle area.

“Erika?” The client held up her unfinished manicure.

“What are you doing?” Erika protested to the law enforcement agent, “I’m with a client…”

For the second time that day Eunice commanded absolute silence from the masseur by firmly pressing a finger across her own lips, and giving Erika the stare. Eunice looked over her shoulder and noticed a door at the side of the salon. She pulled Erika with her to the door and opened it. The room appeared to be a linen room for bathrobes and towels, it would do. Erika was pulled inside, pushed up against one of the towel racks, and the door kicked closed. Erika felt her heart thumping violently in her chest. This thing that had come from elsewhere, what was it? The FBI badge, the gun, the power suit, those shoes, the southern bad-ass attitude….. And she was a beautiful woman, impeccably turned out, as a beautician, Erika could tell this was one classy lady, no expense spared.

“Look Erika,” Eunice held the woman’s shoulders against the rack and was full on in her face, “let’s not beat around our bushes, how shall I put it succinctly?…. Let’s fuck!” Eunice read the shocked expression in front of her. “Okay Erika, I don’t mean here, but later.” Eunice refined her intent, “In the meantime, let me give you a taster…”

Eunice reached up behind Erika’s head and unclipped her hair letting it fall on her shoulders, then keeping control of the head Eunice pressed her lips to those of Erika, massaging them at first then forcing them apart with her tongue. The door opened making Eunice break away and turn her head.

“Erika! Are you okay?” A woman stood in the doorway, aghast at the plight of her friend.

“Fuck off!” The assailant bluntly commanded, in such a way the woman felt compelled to retreat and close the door. Eunice pulled open Erika’s tunic revealing the t-shirt underneath. She cupped Erika’s left breast with one hand running her thumb over the nipple. Eunice’s other hand now began to slip inside the waistband of Erika’s trousers.

“First we let our fingers take a little walk…..” Eunice began her advanced seduction techniques. Erika pushed her head back against the towels and grimaced, trying not to respond, trying to resist that rising within, but it was coming and couldn’t be stopped. “…..a little walk down through the lady garden, down and down,” Eunice playfully continued, “we find and pop the hood, and… ahh, there it is, your little bullet!”

Eunice with deep satisfaction felt the nipple under her thumb rise up and go hard, so nice to know one could turn on one’s magic at a whim and have it work, reliable as the sunrise. Eunice could feel Erika’s heart pounding away sending vibrations through the breast she was caressing, then the accosted turned her head away, face contorted in ecstasy, and then gave out a violent exhale.

“Oh you naughty little girl,” Eunice scolded in patronizing sing-song, “now look what you’ve gone and done, you’ve gone and wet your little knickers, mommy’s gonna have to go and change your diaper now….” Eunice, feeling there was little more to be had out of the situation as contrived, took her hands away, releasing the subject out of vassalage.

“What’s your address?” Eunice asked. No answer. “What’s your fucking address, bitch!” Eunice demanded. Erika reluctantly conveyed the information.

“Not much of a neighbourhood, Erika, but I’m no snob.” Eunice appraised the prospect, “I’ll be around at eight, you can give me a bath, I’ll want a massage, then I’ll probably sit on your face.” Eunice paused to let the evening’s itinerary sink in and register, “but now I want these sorted,” she held up her hands, “after where they’ve been, washed, moisturised and the nails done - right now!”

George thought the super aggressive FBI agent had long gone when he stepped out into the main salon. Shit! She was still here, at the nail bar being serviced by Erika, his favourite masseur. He tried to beat a hasty retreat, too late, his scourge had seen him;

“Gorgeous! Is that you Gorgeous?” she called out from the nail bar, “Oh how kind of you to put something on and cover up that useless little piece of skin on the end of your penis, that is, your body!”

“You! Being served here!” The thought of having this woman as a regular patron caused George to pull violently at his hair with both hands.

“Hope you don’t mind, Gorgeous, but all this….” she looked down at her hands being serviced, “will all be on the house of course….”

“Eunice,…………Eunice!” she was snapped out of her daydreaming reminiscence by Smecker, “Well don’t great little minds think alike? It’s funny you should mention wanting to leave but between us and The Vatican, there may be a way back for you.”

“A way back?” Eunice was enticed, “Back where?”

“Back to your old job, FBI in Boston.”

“You’re shitting me!”

“No, it’s all being arranged behind the scenes,” Smecker began to elaborate, “by The Vatican and the powers that be stateside. You’re not just gonna turn up like Christ on a donkey at the gates of Jerusalem and everyone bows down at your feet though, stateside are going to want something in return.”

“What can I give them, a most wanted rogue agent?”

“Salvation.”

“Fucking salvation? I may as well be Christ! What are you talking about?”

“Pin back your ears my smart little girl, something big is going down on the international stage, something much bigger than us, but it’s a perfect vehicle for our friends in the Vatican to get you back on operations in Boston and help their ally Uncle Sam.”

“What do you mean ‘their ally Uncle Sam’? I’d like to think myself as an American, a patriot, just as you are, rogue or not.” Paul ignored the last remark not willing to be put off course;

“Let me give you some background to the situation. The regime in Tehran, our would be best buddies in the middle east have for years planned some sort of nuclear attack on our homeland….”

“Fuck! Now you’re talking!” Eunice couldn’t believe the abrupt direction the conversation had just taken.

“Believe it or not,” Paul continued, “The Vatican has it’s own secret service, or spooks if you like, and it has had a clandestine cell operating in Tehran for many years. This is what they have managed to uncover so far. The original plan was laid down five to ten years ago. The payload was to be delivered in one container holding eight ‘dirty’ bombs, not full thermo nuclear devices but enough to cause severe contamination of a U.S. city and the surrounding area. Once the container had arrived at the target location, the eight dirty bombs would be distributed around the city and either set off simultaneously together completely contaminating the entire city district, or set off piecemeal causing prolonged damage and dislocation of the city. As time passed Tehran managed to secretly purify and manufacture enough weapons grade material for a full thermo nuclear bomb attack, nevertheless, due to the original design and manufacturing constraints of trying to keep this all top secret, the eight cell bomb configuration design was retained even though the idea now was to keep them all together for one combined ignition, vaporizing the centre of the city and destroying much of the surrounding outskirts for maximum effect. And in what city did they wish to perpetrate this outrage? Where else but Washington DC or again New York. However, there is so much ‘heat’ in place from our own security services defending these prime targets, Tehran quickly gave up the idea of attacking these two cities. So where else?” Paul gave Eunice a questioning stare.

“Shit, you don’t mean…..” Eunice realised all too quickly.

“You betcha!”

“But we’ve already suffered a terrorist attack! Those two home grown lunatics who bombed the marathon….”

“Boston is being targeted because as I’ve already mentioned, there is less ‘heat’. Also it is east coast and near to the seat of power in the U.S. Fuck it, Eunice, I can’t get inside their twisted minds, Boston it is.”

“But The Saints, Romeo, Duffy and Dolly!”

“Not a word to them about this!” Smecker was immovable, “Utmost top secret, friends and family, no matter how much you love them, are not under any circumstances to be told. All that will happen if it leaks out is mass panic and public hysteria. The attack may not even happen but it must not be spoken of, only a few people at the very top at The Vatican and stateside know of this.”

“So when is it supposed to happen?”

“For maximum political effect, the bomb is planned to be detonated next September the 11th at precisely the hour and minute the first airplane struck the North Tower in Manhattan.”

“9-11? Fuck! That’s only six months away!”

“That‘s right, blink and we’ll be right there. This is why The Vatican wants you back home operational as soon as possible. The intention is to put all we know about the bomb plot into your head and then send you back stateside as an unofficial ambassador on behalf of the Holy See. The price for your return without being prosecuted and wiping the slate clean is the supply of top secret information. It goes without saying the CIA shall be very keen to meet and debrief you and forget all about you going rogue. But that is only stage one. From then on you will be given your old job back at Boston FBI. On the face of it you’ll be working on the usual run of the mill investigations, but your secret brief is to keep a close ear to the ground for anything looking like terrorist activity within the city, there must be an Iranian terrorist cell, if not on its way, then already there. Your CIA handlers will be in the background assisting you at every stage. It’s a big responsibility, but everyone knows how smart you are, the CIA have already agreed you’re the best person for that part of their wider operation to counter this specific threat.”

“To think after everything they really want my help, this is some heavy shit, Paul!”

“I’d like to give you a few more technical details about the plot. The bomb delivery to Boston is planned to come in via Malaysia, west coast of Canada, then east to the Great Lakes, then across those into the country and on to the city. Keep an eye out for anything unusual, or anything at all that you have suspicions about coming through those routes. Technical details about the bomb are still sketchy but our operatives in Tehran have managed to obtain a few tantalising bits of data. The bomb once delivered will have to be armed and timed to detonation. There is a separate arming electronic key which must be inserted into the bomb and a secret nine numeric code keyed in to make the bomb live. There is also another abort or disarming electronic key to interrupt the countdown and render the bomb harmless, so it can’t be re-armed. This also works by keying in a different secret nine numeric code to instigate the abort. So why would the Iranians want to abort the detonation? Well, it could be for any reason, political, diplomatic, economic etc. Naturally they want the arming procedure to be easy and straight forward, and the disarming procedure to be more complex, they would not want the U.S. security forces making kids play of neutralising their carefully concocted device. How the abort or disarming process will be made more complex than the arming process we do not know yet, but our people in Tehran are working on this as top priority. What we do have is some cryptic clues. Something may have been lost in translation from the Persian but here it is as far as we can make out: The overall plot we believe is called ‘Operation Billion’. We can’t imagine why this this name was chosen, you would think it would’ve been ‘Operation Retribution’ or ‘Operation Holy Jihad’ or some such like. But this name has been chosen possibly because they will probably massively sell millions of shares on Wall Street just before detonation and then make a billion on the ensuing collapse of share prices just like they did on 9-11. Now the nine digit arming code: Depressingly, we have been able to obtain absolutely nothing about what this could be. The Iranians have evidently taken huge steps to hide or not make any communications involving this. All we have on this is the overall operational check-digit which I shall come to in due course. On the other hand, we have obtained some coded data on what the nine digit disarming code could be. Again, subject to the translation from Persian, we have: Quarter Pi, the denominators, double 239”.

“What the fuck? Say that again!” Eunice needed to hear the mess of words again.

“Quarter Pi, the denominators, double 239. Your response is not unusual, what does it mean? It can mean anything. There is however an overall operational phrase and check-digit which links the arming code and the disarming code together. The phrase is ‘Make a billion and take away’. That’ll be the billion they make on the crash of the stock market, no doubt! And the check-digit linking the two numbers: ‘0.00318318318… and 19%’. So we have some sort of repeating series plus 19%, though 19% of what? 0.00318318318… plus 19% of itself gives a meaningless jumble of numbers. But who’s to say that jumble of numbers isn’t the check-digit? And even if it is, how does it interact with the arming code and the disarming code?”

“So it is a riddle.” Eunice concluded.

“No! Absolutely not!” Smecker became very agitated, “It’s not a riddle, we’re sure of that. We think these phrases and numbers are more like some sort of mnemonic to be used in conjunction with a code book to compute the precise codes without interpretation or error. But what procedures and computations should spring from these words and numbers we can only speculate. The peculiar thing about 0.00318318318… inverted or one over 0.00318318318 is that it gives 314.15. Ignoring the decimal point that’s the first five digits of Pi which has already been incorporated into another secret message. Clearly some terrorist mathematician in Tehran who dreamt all this up is head fucking with us good and proper. It all seems to be wrapped up in Pi. The best mathematical brains at The Vatican have looked at it but it all seems so vague, the information so far can be interpreted to mean anything. In all likelihood it is all complete bullshit to lead us astray and throw us off the scent!”

“Perhaps I should look into it?” Eunice suggested deep in thought, “What you need is someone fresh who’s not a math boffin and can think outside the box.”

“Don’t even try,” Smecker brought Eunice back on course, “just do your job and convey the information to your CIA handlers when you get stateside. You can’t succeed where the best mathematical brains in the world have failed.”

“I can turn my mind to anything, that is the nature of my genius. Remember, it is because I am so fucking smart that I make smart people think that they are retarded!”

“Oh Eunice!” Smecker looked most unimpressed, “such arrogance will end up getting you shot! Tone it down when you get stateside. You’ll be a rogue agent coming back in from self imposed exile. If we want you to be an ambassador for us then please try and act the part, that is, be diplomatic! Don’t push your luck. If you don’t measure up to their expectations in the task they want you to perform, they can always bury you with what they already have on you. The Vatican’s influence only reaches so far in the corridors of power back home, and don’t you forget it!”

“My God! I’m actually going home!” The news impressed itself all at once on Eunice.

“That’s right, sweetpea, it has all been arranged bar the finer details.”

“When will I go?”

“Within a week. Thursday has been pencilled in on the calendar, but I’ll leave you with your thoughts for now. You’ve had a lot to take in. I’ll see you again over the next few days to provide additional information for your return.”

With that the meeting terminated after Eunice related her gratitude to Smecker with a huge hug. She was both amazed and ecstatic that her life in limbo was coming to an end and she was about to embark on a new adventure involving national security where the stakes both operational and personal could not be higher. It involved her beloved adopted home of Boston, where The Saints and all her other friends were waiting for her.

True to his word Smecker was on hand in the following days to brief Eunice not only on the finer details of the terrorist plot but also on her planned return. On a need to know basis the people aware of the rogue agent’s return would be kept to a minimum, that is, very few. Curiously, the American contacts want Eunice to come back into the Boston office of the FBI where she is to report directly to none other than Special Agent John Kuntsler who now heads up the anti organised crime unit. Only the office Director and Kuntsler have been informed she is ‘coming in’. Kuntsler will then know what to do, no doubt contact the relevant people at the Pentagon who are very impatient to debrief this particular person of interest any new data about the bomb plot gained by The Vatican. Eunice is to carry nothing but a fake passport which will get her through customs at Boston Logan International Airport. At the Arrivals desk there will be an envelope for collection containing $100 to cover the taxi fare to the office but more importantly, a FBI security pass which will give access to the building. On collection of this envelope the fake passport should be destroyed or otherwise disposed of. None of the information about the bomb plot should be written down, it must all be carried in Eunice’s head.

“Cunty? Why him of all the fucked up people!” Eunice wanted to know, “We really dislike one another!” Smecker explained that the American handlers insisted Kuntsler should be the first point of contact as he knew Eunice and they had worked together in the past.

“Okay, whatever!” Eunice shrugged it off, it was only a minor detail.

On the day Eunice was about to leave, Smecker arrived carrying some very prestigious looking boxes.

“That isn’t what I think it is!” Eunice couldn’t contain her excitement at seeing the Givenchy logo on the boxes.

“First open the card, here.” Smecker pushed the envelope into her hand. On opening it, Eunice read:

‘To my beautiful child Eunice, may the grace of Jesus Christ be with you always, Godspeed.’

Cardinal Carrovaldi

Rome

“Oh, Cardinal Carrovaldi sent me a leaving present!” Eunice stared down at the words.

“Well he wasn’t going to let you go without a little something, Eunice, that’s for sure. Hand tailored clothing from the Rome Bureau of Givenchy, no expense spared. He asked me what you would like so naturally I always had one eye on operational matters, that’s why on your return I thought you needed to dress to impress!”

“Oh thank you Paul!” Eunice threw her arms around him.

“Don’t thank me, thank the Cardinal, without him we’d probably both be dead!” Smecker wrestled himself free, “That old rascal, I always wondered why he had a file on all your vital statistics, it certainly came in handy then!”

With eager hands, Eunice opened the boxes. There was an ultra smart fitted two piece navy-blue suit of jacket and pencil skirt, a beautiful lightweight pure silk silver blouse, white silk underwear and black silk stockings. Eunice opened the box containing the shimmering black shoes. Again these were beautifully hand made, though disappointingly, they only had two inch heels.

“The Vatican have got some standards of decency to uphold.” Smecker remarked on seeing Eunice’s frown.

“So have I, Smecker, so have I!” Eunice would refer to her own benchmarks in relation to such matters. Inside the shoebox there was also a gold plated hairclip.

“Put your hair up when you go, Eunice.” Smecker advised, “The Vatican’s newest ambassador needs to be professional par excellence, remember.”

“Put your hair up when you go, Eunice.” Smecker advised

“No-one tells me how to be professional!” she reproachfully answered, “I was going to pin my hair up anyway, so don’t fucking lecture me. But I like that hairclip, I’ll use it.” Eunice had opened all the boxes but now looked about as if something was missing. “No Givenchy bag?” She looked to Smecker;

“Nope.”

“Not even a clutch?” She appealed in hope.

“Nothing but those clothes, the passport and the information in your pretty little head.” Smecker reiterated the conditions.

“I can take my jewellery?”

“Yes, okay.” Smecker authorised, “There’s no harm in that.”

Eunice showered, got dressed in the beautiful clothes and applied her makeup, delectably understated. She then put on her jewellery, the only remaining possessions she had from home, her mother’s diamond ring, earrings and pendant necklace. Once there had been a brooch to make up the full set of jewellery but this had long disappeared before Eunice’s mother had passed them to her. Finally, Eunice dressed her hair, holding it up into place with the hairclip provided. Eunice looked at herself in the full length mirror in her room. With her beautiful new outfit, Eunice felt she could take on the world, her opulence and strength knew no bounds. Eunice said her final goodbyes to the Mother Superior and the rest of the nuns, all of which had been very good friends to her, especially Sisters Bridget and Colette who she had been fucking on a regular basis unbeknown to the Mother Superior. Eunice thought that just because she had been living in a nunnery, it didn’t necessarily follow that she had to live like one. The Mother Superior had actually said “Bless you, my child.” at their final goodbye; if only she had known….

The Vatican had provided a limousine for the journey to the airport and Smecker accompanied Eunice to see her off on the flight.

“Thank God I’m coming home!” she voiced her approval as she hugged Smecker one last time before going airside.

“Go girl, Ambassador!” he squeezed her tightly, “It’s all up to you now.”

Going through passport check Eunice looked at the document provided. Emma Forrest McAllister, Public Accountant. Eunice would be a number crunching bean counter for the next few hours, just until she got back to U.S. soil, to Boston, her adopted second home!

Eunice took a sip of her iced mineral water and eased herself back into the wide comfy chair in business class on the airplane. She was relatively comfortable now, head up in the clouds but there was a rising knot in her stomach;

“Lord, pass this cup from me.” She thought. There was so much at stake. The Vatican were relying on her as their girl, and so was Smecker, the thought of letting him down weighed on her more than anything else. And on top of everything this threat to national security, she would be expected to do her duty and perform but apart from a very general outline, she had no idea what precisely those duties entailed. Then there was Cunty too. Was it really necessary to involve him? She couldn’t continue fretting over everything, she needed to get to Kuntsler’s office and he would bring her in from the cold. Perhaps it was better that way meeting up with someone she knew as she had this unsettling thought in the back of her mind the question of how far she had been forgiven, if at all in the corridors of power back home. Too late to back out now, touchdown in forty-five minutes.

________________________________________________________

Eunice stood outside the great edifice of the Boston FBI office building and felt dwarfed and intimidated by it. She couldn’t understand these feelings as the office was like a home to her after all the years she had spent working there. If she was indeed coming home then surely this was the most appropriate place to start? But she had been in exile for so long, could she get it back?

“Well, this is it, head down, just do it!” Eunice took a deep breath and steadied herself as she entered the main entrance of the building. Fortunately, the security guard on duty was someone Eunice did not remember so presumably the attribute was similarly returned. He waved her straight through after scanning her FBI pass.

“If anyone recognises you, just keep walking and tough it out.” Eunice reassured herself. She walked across the foyer just as Agent Harry Ginsburg was passing through. He stopped in his tracks as she kept her focus on the elevator ahead and walked straight past him.

“Agent Bloom?” He questioned in disbelief.

“I need to get to Cunty’s office, quick,” she urged herself, “before some fucking asshole puts a bullet in me!”

The elevator doors opened, no-one else in it, thank God. Sixth floor selected. She prayed Cunty had not moved office in the time since she’d last trod the floors there. If he had she might find herself having to deal with the dangers of asking for directions. Once she was safely in Cunty’s office she could relax, he knew the score.

Sixth floor, the Anti-Organised Crime Unit, with Cunty as the new Head of Department. Eunice purposefully strode out across the open plan office towards Cunty’s office on the far side, she couldn’t see in because its venetian blinds were drawn, but he was definitely there, as he never left the door open when he was out. Some of the faces in the open plan office were new and threw her admiring glances in recognition of her captivating image, but most of the faces were known. She ignored the gasps and stunned looks of these as she marched past. “Bloomy? Is that you!” and similar comments came to her ears but she had to reach that office on the far side as priority, explanations to her former and now to be re-established colleagues would have to wait.

Eunice walked through the door and in the centre of the room in deep conversation was John Kuntsler and…, what the fuck?…..Gorgeous George!

The two broke off conversation and turned to see who had just come in. Both their faces looked at her in a strange blank uncomprehending way.

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: Hey Joe, pick up thy cross and walk

“Well John, I’ve…… I’ve arrived.” was all Eunice could nervously muster in such an awkward impasse, offering out her open palms in an equally feeble effort at normality.

Both faces all at once now changed to open mouthed extreme incredulity and disbelief. George’s was also mixed with tinges of fear, though not fear for himself, and ‘Are you completely fucking insane showing your face in here??!!’

Eunice felt the blood drain from her face. Kuntsler didn’t know, somehow he hadn’t got the message. This was going to cause Eunice quite some difficulty. Now John reacted;

“Get down!!” He whipped his pistol out of its holster and pointed it two handed at Eunice’s head, “Get the fuck down on the floor now!!”

“John, I’m not armed…” Eunice raised her empty hands as a weak offer.

“Get the fuck down now!!” John repeated as he strode across the floor right up to Eunice, the gun still pointed at her head.

“There’s no need for this John, didn’t you get the message? You need to…”

“I’ll blow your fucking head off, so help me!” He appeared to have accepted she wasn’t armed, he could see it himself.

“You need to make some calls John….”

“Shut the fuck up, you crazy bitch! Get up against the fucking wall!” The instructions had changed but that was no surprise, he appeared to be in shock. Eunice backed herself up against the office wall but did not turn around. After the initial impact John appeared to have regained his senses somewhat though he still had his gun firmly directed at her head. Gorgeous had remained rooted to the centre of the office watching the unfolding scene with the same open mouthed disbelief ever since Eunice entered.

“George, shut the door, lock it and remove the key.” John ordered. George brought up sharp by the sudden address managed to carry out the instruction. “In the second drawer of my desk, there are some handcuffs, get them.” George received new instructions.

“What the fuck, John?” Eunice needed to stop him in this unnecessary course of action as she saw it. She felt the urge to say ‘Don’t be a silly cunt’ but she bit her tongue in time, it would’ve been justifiable for anyone else, but given John’s nickname, somehow it seemed inappropriate, “There’s no need for that…”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you rogue bitch!!” He wasn’t prepared to truck any dissent. John took the handcuffs from George and re-holstered his gun.

“You put your gun away John, you know I’m not going anywhere, handcuffs? C’mon…”

“Turn the fuck around! Now!”

So John didn’t know. What a fucking mess. How was he supposed to react when she turned up in his office just like that? It was surprising he hadn’t collapsed with a heart attack. The situation was the situation and Eunice had to make the best of it she could. Let John handcuff her and take her into custody as he saw it. Then when he calmed down and got over it she could get him to make those calls to either FBI-HQ or the Pentagon and get everything sorted. Resisting John in the state he was in wouldn’t do anyone any favours, least of all her. She needed this, to come back in from the cold, if it was to be a bumpy ride then so be it, this situation would pass, it was only a means to an end. If Christ could let Himself be taken in the Garden of Gethsemane then Eunice could show humility and let similar be done to her, all for the greater good. And Gorgeous? Well, that was the least of her priorities to try and figure that one out.

Eunice had made her decision, she turned and faced the wall. John, stealthily as a cat approached Eunice from behind and gently and carefully as he could took her left wrist and enclosed the first cuff around it, squeezing it closed just enough to make it secure. No sudden actions, he knew what Bloom was capable of. It was obvious she was letting him do this but until the handcuffs were completely on there was a chance she might change her mind, become provoked and kick off, so carefully does it. Now taking her right wrist he gently squeezed the second cuff closed around it, again, only sufficient enough to be effective. Eunice heard John let out a deep sigh upon his achievement, even briefly resting his forehead on her shoulder from behind for a few seconds. “Thank God.” She heard him mumble, the vast stress of the moment appeared to have exhausted him mentally.

From John’s point of view, with Bloom’s hands secured behind her back he would have time to think about what to do with this totally freakish and unexpected turn of events. This most wanted rogue Agent, in effect public enemy number one, the same rogue Agent who had been an accessory to the murder of The Roman, and then been instrumental in breaking The Saints and their Mexican sidekick out of The Hoag, had turned up in his office, an unbelievable gift. John couldn’t believe his luck. How or why, he wouldn’t worry about that now, all that mattered was that he had got her and yes, he was going to make her pay for what she had done, pay dearly.

Eunice stared at the wall in front of her. Okay, so she let Cunty handcuff her, satisfied now, you asshole? Let’s start talking like adults and get things sorted out, make those calls and then you can take these fucking things off me! The thoughts raced through her mind. Eunice now felt John’s large spade like hands rest on top of her shoulders. She swivelled her eyes to the right, what was he up to? Why didn’t he speak? He seemed to be taking his time, but with the shock of her turning up in such a way perhaps it was best she let him have as much time as he needed.

John began to reflect on all that had happened since Bloom had gone rogue and absconded into hiding. Initially things had been wonderful, this hateful woman who out-thought and out-performed him in every aspect of Bureau work had gone and pressed the self-destruct button. She no longer stood in his way for promotion. His new brief, the so-called Boondock Saints case he had wrested away from Bloom had virtually solved itself with their apprehension after taking out The Roman. He had been duly promoted as Head of the Anti-Organised Crime Unit, what more could he wish for? But the reality of the situation was that he couldn’t cope with the new responsibilities and the increased workload. Bloom on the other hand had been brilliant, her output efficiency and case solving ability was sorely missed within the department, and John was expected to fill the gap. Expectation unfortunately for John did not match reality. Too many late nights trying to play catch-up, doing nothing but drink and seeking solace with women picked up from anywhere, usually bars, it was no surprise his marriage disintegrated and he lost custody of his kids. The alimony, the debt, the lines of coke to try and keep himself going. Even the self-help material he listened to in his car on the way to work conspired against him;

‘Repeat the following positive affirmations about yourself over and over: I am respected and loved, I am popular and have lots of friends, People like and want to engage with me, I have a wonderful job, There is so much that is good in my life…’

They became nothing but mantras of self loathing and hatred. In many ways they were everything Bloom was and he wasn’t. And then there was The Saints, the fucking Saints who Bloom had broken out of jail. They were killing mobsters with complete abandon at will year in, year out, and there was seemingly absolutely nothing he could do to stop this and take them down. His life had turned to shit, he was coming apart at the seams, he could no longer function. And now Bloom was back. Yeah, Bloom was always better than he was at FBI Training Academy, always top of the class. The humiliation he took every time they faced each other during hand-to-hand combat training, biting the mat while begging her not to break his arm, leg or neck! The Instructors and other trainee agents laughing at his inability to compete with the small woman. She was so popular and always the centre of attention, her sharp wit and sense of fucking humour. In class when John said something she would then chip in with something better, her keen intelligence made him such a non-runner, he couldn’t compete with her at any level! Even wielding that neat little Para LDA, she could always beat his marksmanship scores, he had no answer to her. And those fucking ear plugs worn during crime scene investigation, what was that all about, how did they work? Then there was that bastard Smecker forever hanging around the academy taking an unhealthy interest in the high-flyers. He selected Bloom as his protégé alright but he had ignored John. Why should he do that? In many ways John was a better Agent than Bloom, he did everything by the book, he was honest and his adherence to procedure was second to none. Bloom on the other hand was a dangerous maverick, unpredictable and a loose cannon on deck. Smecker may be no more, but who did he single out for exalted favour?, a criminal rogue! Well, fuck you, Smecker, you didn’t see that coming, did you! But then on graduation, to his utter outrage and despair, John discovered he was assigned with Bloom to go to the Boston Bureau, she having been unofficially instructed to take him under her wing. No humiliation had been spared him at the hands of this fucking girl, his whole career spent in the shadow of this bitch, he hated her with such a passion. Everything came back to her, every disaster that had befallen him throughout his time in Boston, her going rogue meant the spotlight that had always been on her now shone unrelentingly on him, exposing all his inadequacies for all to see. The backlog of unsolved cases was building, there was increasing unease amongst the other Agents in the department about the ineffectual leadership, things were coming to a head, soon the whole thing would either explode or implode. Bloom would have to pay, oh god she would fucking pay now. Bloom.

John felt his heart start to race at the thought of the payback that was now going to be dealt, oh, was he going to enjoy this, the deliverance of this prize into his very hands to do with what he pleased, God loved him after all!

Eunice felt John’s hands leave her shoulders and slide down each outside arm till they came to rest on the handcuffs over her wrists.

“John?….”

Crunch!!

“Aaaaaaggghh!!” Eunice screamed as both handcuffs were squeezed with great force crushing the delicate skin and bone within them. She then felt a great pull and swing on her wrists as she was thrust into the centre of the room with such velocity she fell down on her side, shoes flying off her feet.

“John! What are you doing!” Eunice tried to reason with the deranged man who now bore down on her, grabbing the lapels of her jacket.

“Jesus Christ! John, no!” George saw how out of control the man was. Eunice shrank from the face coming for her. It was full of such blind maniacal hatred, a psychopath that couldn’t be reasoned with.

“Why! Why! Why! Why!!” John kept screaming into her face and shaking her violently. Dragged across the floor and yanked to her feet, her back painfully forced into the edge of the desk, now hauled onto the desk, screamed at, spittle in her eyes and mouth, shaken, shoulders repeatedly rammed down, dragged off the desk onto the floor, and shoved up against the wall.

“You bitch! You fucking crazy bitch! I’m taking you down, you’ll never rise again, you fucking walk back in here, you dirty dog….” the unstoppable bile poured out of Kuntsler. George felt the tears well up in his eyes, this was an appalling scene, he was crying for Eunice, he was crying for himself, he was inadequate, unable to save her.

“No, no, no, John, no…” he pathetically kept up to no effect. Eunice’s hairclip began to fall out as her hair under the constant aggression unravelled. Kuntsler grabbed the clip and ripped it away taking some strands of hair with it. Her hair thus released became another tool he could use against her, grabbing it and forcing her head back so he could scream the torrents of abuse into her face from only an inch away.

“My neck….., please…” she pleaded. But then it was the handcuffs thing again. This was about the third time he had done that, grabbing the restraints and twisting her arms up her back straining all the ligaments in the limbs and shoulders. She should have cried out but had her pride. There was a way out for her if she wanted it. Either kick him in the balls or stamp on his instep, crushing it, both methods would put him down. Then kick him unconscious in the head, bend down and retrieve the keys to the handcuffs. Gorgeous was there but he wouldn’t do anything. But Eunice knew she couldn’t act to extricate herself, she had made up her mind to come back and she needed to, there was no alternative. If Christ could accept being scourged then so would she, Christ help her! Weather the storm and wait for it to blow itself out.

But it didn’t blow out. Kuntsler kept going. His boundless rage and hatred appeared to give him literally demonic strength. The violent shaking, dragging, shoving, handcuff twisting, rib crushing, screaming abuse went on, she was being worn down. George in the background by now was weeping copiously. This brilliant and intelligent woman was being systematically disassembled before his eyes. True, when they had first met she assaulted and humiliated him at the health spa, but he felt no pleasure at what was she was suffering now;

“John, please stop, stop this shit, I’m begging you…” George’s pathetic appeals had no affect. Eunice’s clothes began to disintegrate, the seams breaking apart with all the pulling, the delicate silk of her blouse unable to offer any resistance, its strip of material containing the buttons at the front tearing away. The wrist yanking once more, handcuffs twisted and turned;

“Aaagh!! Aaagh!” now she cried out, “John! John! You’re hurting me, please no more, I’m hurting, I’m hurting, I’m hurting!, for Christ’s sake, oh please stop…” She was on her knees. Kuntsler dragged Eunice to her feet and pushed her up against the wall holding her there. What was wrong with him? Eunice didn’t understand. It was all so disproportionate. She had done wrong so some anger was to be expected, but this, and at that protracted level, if it continued much longer…..

“John! John, what’s the matter, love?” She wanted to reach out and take his arm, but of course, she couldn’t. Her utterance however, did appear to cut through the blind insanity and reach him. With his left hand he clasped her throat and put pressure on the windpipe, holding her head fast against the wall.

“What did you call me, you patronizing fucker?” his malevolence so close up was overpowering, “That’s the last time you talk down to me. Love? I’ll give you love.” With that he took up his pistol, but menacingly by the barrel, butt raised.

“For Christ’s fucking sake John, not that! Don’t do it! Think what you’re doing! Oh god no!” George screamed in the background. John scrutinised the exhausted face of the woman. And there it was back like a bad penny, that mole of hers just under the corner of her left eye on top of the cheek bone. God, he hated her and the thought of it shattering into a thousand pieces under the metal - better than sex!

“What the fuck’s this, John?” Eunice managed to force out through the choking action and looked up at the gun poised and ready.

“This,” John looked at the weapon and then back to Eunice, “Is taking down an extremely dangerous felon who is resisting arrest.”

Eunice had to do something, if that came down on her she could lose an eye. By now totally exhausted, she was no longer in a fit state to fight back as previously envisaged, so what then? She gave John the look. George recognised the look right away, the ‘What the fuck did you just say to me?’ look, “I’ll kill you.”

The look as already delivered for the benefit of Gorgeous; “I’ll kill you.”

In this instance one needed to listen, understand exactly what was said and then act accordingly. Failure to do so would mean dire consequences to the recipient. George knew. The look was so intense it made Kuntsler release his grip on Eunice’s throat. She gave him the terms;

“John, no man has ever struck me, but the first man that makes the choice to do so, I will kill that man.”

George sensed hesitancy in the gun being wielded. Had she gotten through to him? The biggest problem was Kuntsler himself. He was generally stupid, but could he be that stupid and ignore the woman? George was terrified that yes, there was a possibility that Kuntsler could be that stupid. He wanted to look away but couldn’t, what was it going to be? Gratefully, after a few moments, George saw the gun being re-holstered. Unfortunately, the lesser abuse, if this is what it could be termed, recommenced. Kuntsler grabbed a fistful of Eunice’s hair and wrenched her down onto her knees. George needed to act, and fast, Kuntsler would end up killing Eunice if he wasn’t stopped. George unlocked the door and ran out as Eunice was dragged to the floor for more mistreatment.

Presently, George burst back into the office as Kuntsler’s desk phone began ringing. Not a moment to waste, John had Eunice pinned up against the hard metal filing cabinets in the opposite corner.

“John! John! Pick up the phone,” George called over, “someone needs to speak to you!” John, distracted from his nefarious business, let Eunice collapse to the floor as he walked across to pick up the handset.

“Kuntsler, yes?” he curtly announced himself, “Bloom? How do you know…. What? You’re fucking with me! DC? You mean right now? She’s a dangerous felon, you must’ve got your shit wrong, you should lock her up and throw away the fucking key!” Then he went silent. George could hear a voice speaking at length through the earpiece but not loud enough to decipher. Kuntsler’s pumped up countenance appeared to abate gradually over the course of the conversation as he listened intently. “Yes, yes, right away, what a fucking screw up!…….I’m good with that, okay, I’ll bring her.” John at last said and then put the phone down.

“George!, you stay, don’t let her out of your sight and keep her in here.” John gave new orders, “I need to arrange something.”

After Kuntsler had left the room George rushed over to the fallen Eunice to render what help he could.

“George, don’t move me,” Eunice groaned, “just let me lie here, if I can just lie here, lie here and rest my troubled soul.” The option of resisting had long expired for Eunice. Kuntslers unrelenting campaign of attrition had broken her physically and mentally, the price of her arrogance and that of The Vatican. Smecker.

“Jesus Christ, Eunice, let me do something, what do you need?”

“Take the handcuffs off?” George looked away. That was something he wouldn’t dare do after Special Agent Kuntsler had put them in place.

“I can’t do that Eunice, I don’t have the key.” he simpered.

“George, what are you doing here?”

“It’s my new role, I’m an informant working for John, he’s my handler. But don’t think about that now.” Then it occurred to George how their respective fortunes had changed; “Who would’ve fucking thought, Bloomy, here I am working for the FBI and you’re the criminal now!” As soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth he regretted the insensitivity of them. Eunice merely ignored the idiotic comment, resting the side of her head onto the floors hard surface;

“What’s the matter with him, George? Such barbarous insane behaviour?”

“Oh fucking hell, Eunice, don’t ask. His life has completely turned to shit since you went away, divorce, drink, drugs, you name it, talk about a mid-life crisis, more like nineteenth nervous fucking breakdown!”

Kuntsler was back. He went to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a lightweight silk scarf. Brushing Gorgeous aside he pulled Eunice up into a sitting position against the filing cabinets;

“Hold the bitch’s head for me!” George did as he was told holding Eunice’s head straight with his hand under her chin. Kuntsler then folded the scarf over her eyes and began to knot it tightly at the back of her head.

“Fuck that shit, John, not her eyes, please don’t!” Gorgeous pleaded.

“You know your fucking place, you!” Kuntsler snarled back, “If it wasn’t for me, you’d be chumming the waters with Jimmy fucking Hoffa!” Beaten into silence Gorgeous gave up, “And besides, she’d better get used to it,” Kuntsler felt justified, “it’s common practice, handcuffing and blindfolding in Guantanamo Bay!”

“Get the fuck outa here! She’s not going there?”

“Nothing confirmed, but you can bet your ass that’s where she’ll end up.” John stood up to take a good look at his work; “This cat is in the bag, her claws have been well and truly drawn!” He announced boastfully.

“John…., Oh John,” he heard a thin small voice trembling below, “can you hate me that much…?”

“John, I can’t fucking watch this any more,” George walked over to the other side of the office, he had to get away from the terrible scene, the taking down of the great Eunice Bloom, “by binding and blinding her like that, you’ve as good as castrated the woman!”

“Time we were on our way Bloomy!” John ignored any attempts to reason with him, grasped the back of Eunice’s jacket collar and began dragging her across the floor. “You can fuck off now, Gorgeous.” came the parting direct and efficient order.

John passed through the doorway dragging Eunice after him and immediately into the chaos of agents and other staff gathered outside the door. Word had travelled fast within the building. Incredible as it seemed, the rogue Agent Eunice Bloom had walked into the building brazen as brass and turned herself in to Kuntsler. There then appeared to have been some sort of violent confrontation within his office. They all congregated outside Kuntsler’s office in anticipation. He had come out briefly to arrange a limousine but then gone back in, shouting for them to disperse as he did so. They had ignored this order because by now they were too far captivated. What they didn’t expect was what now actually came out of the office. There was a loud collective gasp at the horrendous state their beloved Bloomy had been reduced to. Rogue or not, those who remembered her could find no justification for such ill treatment of a latterly dear friend and work colleague.

“You mad bastard!”

“I’ll deal with you later, Zimmerman!” John warned his protagonist, “And what the fuck are you all looking at anyway?” Only receiving accusing stares in reply, John decided to tell them how it was; “This,” he pulled hard on the jacket collar so that Eunice’s head came to rest near his feet, “is what happens to cowards and traitors who besmirch this great and noble institution of ours.” A coward and a traitor? All of the audience agreed Eunice had done wrong, but using these two words was going too far, “and now she’s going to get what she deserves, and I’m proud, yes proud that I have done my duty today in bringing criminal scum like this down.”

Janice Farrar, Eunice’s former PA, now tried to intervene; “Eunice! What has he done to you?” she shouted coming forwards and trying to reach down to her stricken friend, then at Kuntsler; “You son offa bitch!” But he pushed her away;

“Get back you prick, or I’ll have you arrested for interfering with an Agent in the line of duty.” Janice’s friends pulled her back and held on to her to stop anything happening she would later regret.

“Do something, you imbeciles!” she began to weep without restraint feeling every bit of her former boss’s pain, “Stop him!”

“I can’t be stopped! And nobody is going to stop me! I’m on official business from HQ in DC,” he warned them, “now get out of my way and get the fuck back to work, the lot of you, this bitch’s ass is mine!” The multitude parted before him like sheep as he dragged the captive through. They furtively glanced at one another looking for a leader in revolt but no-one was willing to act, so much for the great silent majority.

When the elevator door opened, Kuntsler shoved Eunice down into the corner. He felt elated, vindicated. This was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He pressed the basement button. When the doors opened he dragged Eunice out of the elevator onto the basement car-park concourse. The chauffeured limousine was already there waiting, engine on, exhaust spitting fuel. Kuntsler opened the back door and threw his cargo in. He followed and finding Eunice had landed on the seat, pushed her off onto the floor;

“You don’t share a seat with me, you dirty pig!” He pressed the sole of his shoe against her shoulder, “Yeah, like I told you before - You are suspended!”

“John, please take the blindfold off, my eyes are hurting, it’s too tight.” she pleaded.

“You won’t need eyes where you’re going,” he retorted back, “shut your fucking hole and don’t speak to me again. I’ve got to get to DC, I’ve got some serious thinking to do!”

The car seemed to move and exit over a huge bump sending an agonising jolt through Eunice’s battered frame in the darkness. She tried to get some sleep but her body clock was all out of alignment for that and her physical pain too much. John was on the phone occasionally but Eunice was too distressed to care about what was being arranged. After many seemingly endless hours of this torment the car eventually arrived at its destination and came to a standstill. More painful dragging over floors and into and out of elevators. Now it seemed to stop. Kuntsler pulled Eunice to her feet and held her upright, he needed to, she would have collapsed otherwise, exhausted and dehydrated, on the margin of fainting. Eunice became aware of others present, laughing a lot……

“Fuck! What did you do to the bitch, ha-ha-ha!”

“She resisted arrest when I asked her to come quietly,” she heard John answer, “so I had to use reasonable force.”

“Ha-ha-ha! We understand, Cunty! You never did like the bitch, did you? Ha-ha-ha!”

“So what do I do with her now?”

“Nothing! You’ve brought her here just like we asked, and now us guys at HQ will be taking over.”

“Fuck off, no way! She’s mine! Don’t I get any credit for the apprehension and arrest?”

“Your job’s done, Cunty, you can’t keep her all trussed up like that, if there’s a trial you don’t want her turning up in a fucking wheelchair, do you? Besides, the CIA boys will be coming over for her soon, come on, where’s the key?”

“Trust you HQ guys to prison fuck me over again!” she heard John angrily concede, “Here, eat it!” something metallic rebounded on the floor before she was thrown up against someone else, strong and solid who held onto her. The handcuffs were removed and so was the blindfold, instantly torturing her eyes in the harsh fluorescent lighting. Blinking, she took in her surroundings, two FBI agents were in front of her but John was nowhere to be seen. The man she was up against began to inspect the remnants of her jacket, and skirt pockets for intelligence;

“Nothing apart from these.” he handed the FBI entry pass and $40 to the other man who then questioned the prisoner;

“Can you walk?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so…”

“Well, you’ll have to try, come with us.” came the unsympathetic response. The two agents grasped Eunice under her arms to stop her falling and shepherded her down to the detention unit. Heavy steel doors were unlocked and locked again as the threesome passed through. Onwards she shuffled with her bruised and battered feet. She hadn’t imagined this just a few hours ago arriving fresh off the airplane at Boston Logan International Airport, nervous but quietly confident in her beautiful new suit of clothes. The recognition of how far the situation had turned against her was acute indeed.

Now that the handcuffs and blindfold were off, and she had escaped Kuntsler’s clutches, Eunice remotely hoped things might improve. Eunice knew where she was going, she was to be passed into the hands of the Bureau Internal Police. She knew all about these bastards, they were invariably made up of people who had failed to make the grade as agents. They loved nothing better than to get one back over on a fallen Agent. D Wing in the basement, holding unit for special detainees. This is where the two escorting agents abandoned the prisoner and she came up against the Detention Section Sergeant, Trisha Badger.

About three stones overweight, too much sitting in the patrol car or in front of the computer and chomping on the donuts. Mid-forties, her grey roots showing in the parting of the self dyed brown hair. ‘Call yourself a self-respecting woman?’ Eunice thought the other beneath her. Eunice was now in the ‘care’ of this woman who’s uniform was so tight about her bulk it made Eunice uncomfortable just looking at it.

“Special Agent - Yew-niss - Bloom.” The sergeant looked at the prisoner information on her clipper board, “Special Agent - Yew-niss - Bloom….” she repeated in a nasty enquiring tone. Eunice stood exhausted in the centre of the corridor alongside the cells while the sergeant circled her reading the information. “Tch - Tch,” Trisha made her cutting disapproval known, “the apprehension and arrest of a rogue agent! Well, I don’t think I’ve had one of those before!”

“Can I have some water? Can I sit down, please….”

“I ain’t gonna give you a fuckin’ thing. If you think I’m gonna help you then fuckin’ think again, you traitor bitch!” The sergeant continued to circle like a vulture, “My-my! What the fuck happened to you?” Trisha eyed the ravaged figure of Eunice and tugged at a lock of tangled ruined hair, “It says here ‘resisting arrest’ but I can imagine when we get a turncoat then somebody just has to have some fun, don’t they?, Yew-niss!”

Eunice looked down at her bare scratched feet. The soles of her stockings had long ripped away as had the knees. One sleeve of her jacket had almost come off at the shoulder, the waist band and zip of her pencil skirt had broken, the front of her silk blouse had disintegrated, and hair all twisted and matted. She was a mess. Trisha pulled open Eunice’s jacket to look a the label inside the breast; Givenchy - Rome. Trisha couldn’t afford hand tailored clothes like that on her salary. What criminal funding did this bitch have access to?

Eunice in the meantime was engrossed with her own thoughts. The Vatican had provided Eunice with those clothes, where the fuck were her handlers now?, she thought sourly, where was Smecker? Sold down the fucking river just like Joan of fuckin’ Arc! They got bored with her and decided to get rid of her. They had tricked her into coming back in and now she was to be eliminated! Eunice felt the urge just to collapse onto the floor but forced her exhausted frame to remain upright, not in front of this cow!

“I bet you were pristine when you put all this on,” Trisha taunted the prisoner, “now look atchya, not so high and mighty now, are ya?, Dana fuckin’ Scully!” Gloatingly, the sergeant took great pleasure viewing the physical injuries present. The scuffed feet and knees, broken nails and red raw bruising to the wrists caused by the restraints, scratches and damage to the woman’s collar bones and décolletage, and the bruises in the shape of finger marks on her throat revealing she had been throttled.

“You know, Yew - niss, I’ve actually heard of you, yeah, you’re the bitch who once said you are so fucking smart that you make smart people think that they are retarded? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you’ve got to be the dumbest bitch north of the Mississippi. Came back and expected us to welcome you with open arms? Accessory to the murder of The Roman, and then breaking The Saints out of the Hoag?” Trisha loved performing her little act of put-on disbelief, “Looks like you’re going to end up in the Hoag or somewhere similar yourself now, a fair trade for The Saints I’d settle for!”

Eunice did not respond to the provocation. Christ in front of Pontius Pilate, she tried to concentrate on that thought and only that thought.

“Get your clothes off!” The order was barked arresting Eunice’s attention, she looked at the sergeant quizzically. “Get your fucking clothes off now! Didn’t you hear me? Oh fuck, come on!” The sergeant began to pull at the lapels of Eunice’s jacket tugging it down her arms.

“Stop! No!” Eunice cried, her shoulders were in agony.

“Move yourself, strip!” Trisha finished removing the jacket and let it fall to the floor. She then tore off the remnants of the blouse and let those fall too, “Bra off!” Eunice noticed both shoulder straps of her bra had broken during Kuntsler’s attack but she still had to undo the clasp at the back. She tried to reach this with her poor sprained arms but wincing with pain she couldn’t manage it.

“Here, I’ll do it, fucking bitch!” Trisha pulled apart the clasp and made Eunice drop the undergarment, “And the rest, everything!” Trisha’s instructions were not negotiable. Eunice, painfully slowly managed to completely undress the lower half of her body. Even now she tried to retain some dignity by holding a hand over her crotch and an arm across her breasts.

“Get your hands down by your sides!” The sergeant gleefully slapped away the shielding limbs. No humiliation was to be spared Eunice as she noticed Trisha disdainfully looking at her nakedness. ‘Jealous, aren’t you, bitch?’ Eunice comforted herself with the thought, ‘Battered and bruised as I am, I’m still beautiful, unlike some I could mention.’

“Jewellery off!” came the next instruction.

“No!” Eunice was much alarmed at the intention, “The pendant, ring and earrings are my mother’s!”

“What fucking pendant?”

Eunice put a hand to her collar bones, the pendant had gone! The chain must have broken during the violent take down.

“Come on, it’s regulation!” the sergeant grabbed Eunice’s wrist and twisted it.

“Aaagghh!” Eunice nearly went down on her knees with the pain but just managed to stay on her feet. The ring was then wrenched off her finger and the earrings roughly extracted from her earlobes. ‘They have divided my possessions amongst themselves.’ Eunice sadly recollected the words of Christ in her head. Nevertheless, could Christ inspire her? ��I came into the world with nothing and so I can stand here with nothing.’

Eunice felt a glimmer of solace as this thought came to the fore in her mind. Trisha pocketed the jewellery and now stood triumphantly in front of the degraded image she had created.

“Special Agent Yew-niss Bloooom,” the ridicule recommenced, “Not so special now are ya? In a perfect world, during your little stay here, it would be nice if you and me could get along, get real friendly like, however….” Trisha pushed her face right up almost touching Eunice’s cheek, “I don’t think so. The problem is I don’t like you Bloom, you rogue fucker. You always made yourself out to be so much better than everyone else, so much more beautiful and intelligent? Well, I’ve got news for you, all I see is a two bit little tramp from a one horse southern town who came up to the east coast on the make.” Eunice strained to keep silent. The provocation of ‘bad-ass’ Eunice being out-bad-assed by this shit-head of a custody sergeant was proving hard to resist. “Let’s face it, Special Agent Bloom, how many did you have to let fuck you to get where you are?” Trisha intensified her goading, “I mean, all those hard working nights with your legs around some senior agent’s back, always with an eye on the big promotion? You’re so beautiful and intelligent? Don’t make me laugh!”

Eunice had just about had enough. How dare she insinuate that because Eunice was a beautiful woman then it must follow that she is also a whore? Eunice got where she was by sheer hard work and exceptional ability. True, she did sometimes use her femininity to operational ends, walking arm in arm with the Boston Police Commissioner, sweet talking him around, coquettishly sitting on some senior agents desk while he looked up at her dreaming ‘if only she could be mine’ in anticipation of a serious squeezing off of the dome session later on, but only to a point. Ultimately, ‘fucking’ was an exclusively recreational activity Eunice took indulgence of. Eunice now looked defiantly back into the sneering face of the sergeant. If Christ wouldn’t stick up for Himself then more holy fool Him. Diplomacy over, Eunice had a better idea;

“Think what you like, sergeant,” Eunice rose to the bait, “you ask me if I am beautiful and intelligent? Well, when Pontius Pilate asked Jesus of Nazareth if He was the Son of God, what the fuck was He supposed to answer? ‘Well, actually, I’m not, I made it up.’? He actually replied ‘I Am’. So again, you ask me if I am beautiful and intelligent?” Eunice pushed her own face into that of the sergeant, “I………..FUCKIN’……….AAAAHHHHMMM!! You see Sergeant Badger, I ain’t gonna hide it under a fuckin’ bushel!”

“Lady, have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror recently?” The sergeant laughed at the prisoner’s delusional denial of the circumstances she found herself in. Nevertheless, Trisha found the force of Eunice’s unexpected confident counter attack unnerving and provocative;

“Fuck you, you criminal bitch!” she backed away towards her office, “Your putrid body nauseates me so you can get dressed now, hope you like your new suit!” She returned and threw some sort of garment at Eunice who managed to catch it. Unfolding it she recognised the orange and turquoise harlequin coloured quarters of the prison boiler-suit.

“Put that on, Miss Givenchy fuckin’ Rome, see how that suits you. Anyway you should know, only Audrey fuckin’ Hepburn can carry off hand tailored Givenchy, you’re outa your fucking league!”

Eunice opened the front of the boiler-suit and began to pull it on carefully over her bruised legs and up her aching torso.

“Look, please can I have some water, I’m dying of thirst.” Eunice tried one more time.

“Use the tap in the cell! Hurry up and get in there, I’m sick of the sight of you already!” The custody sergeant now bored with her new charge, suddenly wished to be back at her desk surfing the internet. With a shove Eunice was inside the cell and the bars slammed and locked behind her.

“Sweet home fuckin’ Alabama! Five by nine, get used to it!” With that the sergeant was gone.

______________________________________________________

Six cells in the section, all of them empty but Eunice’s. She tried to drink some water from the washbasin tap, odious foul tasting stuff from the basement of the Bureau. But she couldn’t keep even that down, throwing it up violently into the toilet.

“Sleep, sleep! You must rest!” Eunice ordered herself though she doubted very much she would get any given the stress put on her during that day. She took off the boiler suit and crawled painfully and achingly slowly onto the stiff small bed and in under the coarse blanket. She need not have worried about getting to sleep as her mind demanded it and shut down immediately as did her bruised and mistreated body. Eunice’s reserves of energy were so depleted there wasn’t even enough left in the tank to run her subconscious, no dreams were had that night, just total black oblivion.

The price for this complete absence of soul for several hours was paid in the morning. Eunice was woken by Sergeant Badger roughly shaking her shoulder;

“Come on, up! You’ve got visitors!” The low ceiling, the cell bars, the small toilet and washbasin, where the hell was she? Then she remembered. Now the pain struck home demanding recognition. The stresses and strains inflicted the previous day had both swollen and tightened. Eunice felt as if her muscles were about to snap they were so stiff and inflexible;

“Uughh! I can’t move! Leave me alone! Let me lie here!”

“Move your fuckin’ ass!” then giving up as easily as she had started, the sergeant spoke over her shoulder, “Here, you kick her out, you’ve come for her!”

Eunice peered out over the edge of the blanket and saw the outline of two tall men, very dark in the dimness of the cell.

“She will need to be cleaned up, Agent Peel.” one spoke to the other.

“I agree, Agent Quinn, we had better get her up and there’s no time like the present.” Eunice’s eyes gradually became accustomed to the light, such as it was. She saw two caricatures of archetypal ‘Men in Black’, but there was nothing comical about them. They were hard, unfriendly, humourless automatons.

“You in the bed, get up now.” ordered the one on the left.

“No! I’ve nothing on under here, go back out first!” Eunice pulled the blanket tight up under her chin.

“Move!” the left one grabbed hold of the blanket and tried to pull it off.

“Aaaghh! …No!” Eunice shrieked trying with all her reduced strength to keep the blanket in place. The custody sergeant had seen her naked, but she was a woman, these strange men would not be allowed to do the same. Who were they? She didn’t know them, she would do everything to preserve this last vestige of her dignity.

“Agent Quinn!” the one on the right stopped his colleague, “Don’t you know J-Be doesn’t do nude, that is a line she will not cross.”

“I see, Agent Peel.” the left one stared hard as he intently scrutinised the woman clutching the end of the blanket to herself.

“She has self-respect Agent Quinn. Then does it follow we should give the lady credit for that and show her some respect ourselves?”

“I think it does, Agent Peel.” Then addressing the small face cowering in the bed below; “Put on your prison overall and we’ll see you in the corridor.”

Once she was sure they had gone, Eunice excruciatingly painfully turned herself out of the bed, fell onto the hard concrete floor and screamed in agony. She managed to crawl to the boiler suit she had discarded in the corner of the cell the previous night and gingerly pulled it on. This was all she had, nothing had been provided for her poor little feet. She limped out into the corridor where the sergeant and the other two were waiting for her. Agent Quinn appeared to be higher in rank than Agent Peel. He was also holding a brown paper package.

“Get her washed.” he ordered the sergeant.

“Fuck off! I’m not washing her! You wash the dirty bitch!” Trisha flatly refused to have anything to do with the instruction.

“You are to assist us in any way and in all ways you can, sergeant. You are to arrange a wash for the prisoner and then get her to put these on.” he thrust the package at Trisha making her take it. “You have your orders.”

“Fucking thankless task.” the sergeant muttered as she grabbed Eunice’s arm and propelled her down the corridor.

“Who are those men?” Eunice had just enough mental focus to ask.

“Those are gentlemen of the CIA. Naturally I’m disappointed now I shan’t be enjoying the pleasure of your company, I had such nice plans for your stay here, but it would appear that they are intent on taking you across to the Pentagon with a view to renditioning you onto Guantanamo Bay. How pleasant for you, rotting away there for the rest of your life!”

“The Pentagon? Don’t you mean Langley?”

“I don’t give a fuck where you’re going next, just as long as you end up somewhere god-awfully bad, shut up and get moving!”

The news further sapped Eunice’s fragile will to struggle on. The realisation of the dire situation she was in was starting to have an effect on her spirit. Eunice was pushed into a white tiled room that looked like an open shower and told to strip. Painfully, so much pain, would it ever go away?, she took off the boiler suit and approached the shower heads. As she reached them she was blasted off her feet into the tiled corner by a jet of water so powerful it was like a tsunami. Eunice cowered in the corner with her head buried in her arms trying to make herself as small as possible under the blast of the ice cold water. Through her fingers, Eunice could see Trisha chuckling as she wielded the fire hose to maximum destructive effect. Was it possible that water could be that cold?, and that forceful? The cold and the pain, both were one and the same, Eunice was going under, she felt she was dying. Somehow the water stopped striking her. She was now dragged away from the corner and towards the bench where she had left the boiler suit.

“All nice and refreshed now!” Trisha laughed down at Eunice’s stooped head, “Dry yourself and put whatever’s in here on!” she threw a prison towel and the paper bag onto the bench. Zombie like, Eunice managed to draw the rough towel over herself several times and get partially dry. But her hair was such a tangled mess she quickly gave up on it. Pulling open the paper bag she took out the contents and placed them on the bench. The CIA agents had provided Eunice with cheap set of clothes, not exactly Givenchy, but anything was better than the boiler suit. There was a paper thin two piece black suit of jacket and trousers, a cheap white cotton blouse, and a pair of flat black shoes. No underclothes.

“Hurry up and get those on, I ain’t got all fucking day!” Trisha urged the prisoner. Thus attired, Eunice trudged back to the Agents waiting in the corridor, encouraged by a sporadic shove in the back from Trisha.

Agent Quinn inspected the condition of the forlorn prisoner as she approached;

“She has not been washed correctly. It would appear that the subject has been fire hosed.” He judgementally spoke to the sergeant. He could see Eunice’s hair was still dirty and straggly in appearance.

“So what? She’s washed good enough. I gave her a right good soaking.” Trisha spoke up for herself, “Anyway, fuck the bitch, have you read the charge sheet? She betrayed the Bureau, it’s no more than she deserves, dirty traitor!”

“She will have to be washed properly,” Agent Peel ordered, “we can’t take her like this. We’re running low on time. We will have to wash her ourselves.”

“No! I’ve had enough!” Eunice half threw herself forward and stumbled against Agent Peel’s shoulder, but having reached it she lost her balance and saw the floor rushing up to meet her. Agent Peel grabbed and saved Eunice, pulling her back upright and holding her steady, his unyielding arm around her.

“No, no, no, please no more!” Eunice blurted into the man’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just leave me alone!”

“She has had enough, Agent Peel,” Quinn advised his colleague, “We will take her as she is. But we must do something about that haystack of hair.”

“Here, I know, hold her.” Peel offered Eunice’s shoulders to the other man. The woman thus transferred, Peel found an elastic band in his pocket and by scraping and pulling the mess of hair into a rough ponytail, he secured it at the back of her head stretching and looping the band several times around it. “That will have to do,” Peel expressed satisfaction with the procedure, “she looks like us now.”

“Yeah, the CIAs newest W.I.B.,” Quinn caustically remarked, “let’s go.”

“That terminates my input to this shit!” Trisha quickly retreated in the direction of her office, “Go on, get out, I’m fucking done with you!”

“Sorry we didn’t have enough time for breakfast, Bloom,” Quinn ignored the disappearing sergeant, “you’ll just have to keep the Weetos on hold for now.” he continued in his caustic tone. Eunice hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s breakfast, but the thought of being force fed by these two gentlemen under time pressure was enough to make her retch. “Come, follow.” Quinn beckoned to Eunice.

The two men strode off down the hall but the weakened and hurting woman could not keep up. They stopped and turned to look at Eunice struggling, barely in tow.

“I think you had better carry her, Joe.” Quinn recommended to his subordinate.

“Oo-hh!” Eunice groaned with the shock of being pulled up off her feet and into strong arms. She let her head roll onto his shoulder. She didn’t even have to walk now or think for that matter, she could rest her troubled soul. She fell asleep.

_________________________________________________

She awoke. She was being lifted by Agent Peel out of a van with blacked out windows into a harshly lit underground car-park.

'Just let me go back to sleep…’ Eunice tried to drift back off but couldn’t . More harsh lighting in elevators, corridors. Agent Quinn was leading the way. Why couldn’t all men be like Agent Peel? Eunice held her arm tighter around the back of his neck.

Now they were in a big place, the ceiling and surrounding concourses way over their heads. They traversed the enormous floor of the Pentagon main foyer.

“My God,” Eunice felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, “I’m here.” More corridors, more elevators, endless…. ‘Well, it is the biggest building in the world!’ Eunice’s little voice in her head gave her the facts.

A door, final destination. Agent Peel laid her down on the bed.

“You’ll stay here.” Agent Peel gave the terms to Eunice.

“Yeah, welcome to the Pentagon.” Agent Quinn let a twinge of insolence enter his voice.

“Don’t leave yet, Agent Peel,” Eunice appealed, “I’m injured and badly broken up, I need medical assistance.”

“We’ll send someone.” It was Quinn who answered. Peel momentarily stared down at Eunice. What was he thinking? But then both men abruptly turned and left, locking the door from the outside. It was not unlock-able from the inside. So, she was a prisoner again.

Eunice looked about the room. It resembled a three or four star hotel room, a bedroom with an en-suite attached. She noticed an emergency assistance red button should she need it by the headboard of the bed. There was a small fridge to one side and when Eunice looked within she found four bottles of mineral water. She grabbed one and being so badly dehydrated, consumed it all in one go. As the refreshing fluid coursed its way into her, she already began to feel some semblance of strength returning. There was no TV, radio, telephone or windows though. There wasn’t even any CCTV camera in the room which Eunice thought was odd, didn’t they want to keep her under surveillance? There wouldn’t be any complaints to the management on that score at least! She tried the light switches, she could turn out the lights! Not such a harsh prison after all? But nonetheless, still a prison. They had locked her in and she couldn’t leave, but it wasn’t the time to think about that now. All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep and more sleep. But that would have to wait just for one last task, she needed to shower and get herself properly clean after all that had happened, it couldn’t be put off. Eunice undressed as quickly as she could, still handicapped by horribly painful joints and muscles, she left the clothes on the floor and pulled out the elastic band securing her hair. She entered the en-suite and groped her way into the shower cubicle, wrenching the faucet on. There was soap and shampoo!

“Aaaaahh……Ohhhhhh!!” Wonderful hot cleansing water, soap, fragrances lifting her higher, shampooing her hair, she could live again! Her body was coming back to life. But she soon gave up washing altogether and just sank low down in the shower tray, her back in the corner, letting the shower head do all the work of bathing her in heaven sent reinvigorating heat.

“I’ll just sit here and never get up.” Eunice let the sensations take her completely, “I’m done with life, I’ll never lift a finger to do a fuckin’ thing ever again, you can finish me off now, you bastards…” her mind started to drift away. Unfortunately, the bed awaited her so she would at least have to rouse herself for getting into that. After some time, Eunice with great reluctance reached up and turned off the water. She pulled herself up out of the cubicle and took hold of the bathrobe hanging up within reach.

“Aahh!, lovely soft towelling, soothe my poor wounded skin.” Eunice whispered to herself. She picked up the hairdryer and hairbrush by the basin and began to groom her hair back into shape. Fortunately, not much damage had been done and the wash seemed to have untangled most of it, the dryer and brush making good the rest. She took off the bathrobe and let her hair fall onto her bare shoulders, it was dry, silky and beautifully soft. Eunice returned to the room, pulled back the covers of the big comfortable bed. As she did so she caught sight of herself in the wardrobe full length mirror. Sickened and taken aback by all the yellow black bruising and scratches covering her from head to toe, she should have broken down and cried over what the last day or so had done to her, but there was no energy left for that.

“Oh John, what did you do?” She implored in vain, and then with final resignation decided; “Forget it, to hell with it all!” Eunice knocked off all the light switches and rolled into the bed in the pitch blackness. She pulled the fresh soft covers over herself and sank her poor head into the voluminous pillows. Eunice curled up into a foetal position and returned herself to her mother’s womb. Within this snug black cocoon she would disappear into a void and become absolutely nothing. Sanctuary at last.

_____________________________________________

Eunice was being roused, her shoulder shaken. She opened her eyes in the bright room lights, squinting up at the arouser. A young woman probably not long out of academy stood over her, black suited and smartly presented, her shoulder length dark brown hair well groomed in a precision cut.

“Good morning Special Agent Bloom. I am Agent Rachel Harbinger, would you like to have some breakfast soon?” Eunice paused for thought, then she remembered where she was. Another morning, another alien predicament.

“Er, I think I’d like to shower first, perhaps in an hour?” How strange, room service provided by a CIA agent?

“Okay, whenever you’re ready. What would you like?” Eunice suddenly felt ravenously hungry, not having eaten anything for nearly two days. She thought about it:

“I’d like two slices of rye-bread with natural honey, fresh grapefruit juice, and, um…” Eunice allowed herself a weak smile, “a bowl of Weetos! Skimmed milk please.”

“Fine, coming right up in an hour.” Rachel confirmed the order with a little shrug and made to leave.

“Wait a minute!” Eunice stopped her, “Have you heard anything about a doctor seeing me? Did Agents Quinn and Peel mention anything to you about it?”

“No, but I’ll look into it.” Eunice watched Agent Harbinger leave. She seemed friendly enough but there was something not quite right about her. Behind the veneer of upbeat friendliness there was an underlying almost imperceptible hint of fakery and insincerity. So the young woman had burning ambition, that was good, in this respect she reminded Eunice of herself fresh out of training academy all those years ago, but ambition without scruples, that was one luxury Eunice forbade herself on principle. Agent Harbinger passed through the door and did not lock it behind her, merely pulling it after her so it was left ajar.

‘Strange,’ Eunice thought, ‘I am a prisoner and yet not a prisoner.’ So there she was in the bowels of the Pentagon, a ‘guest’ of that wing of the Central Intelligence Agency operating out of there. Being an FBI agent, her knowledge of the CIA was limited but it was obvious things here would be done, how should she put it, differently. In recent history there had been quite some tension between the two Agencies, her own Bureau wishing to distance itself from the water-boarding and other so called enhanced interrogation techniques of the other that had come to light during the present Administration. This torture and brutal disregard for human decency was totally unacceptable, the ends did not justify the means, Eunice would not support or have anything to do with something so alien to the culture of the Bureau. She decided to get up.

“Ooooohh - ooohhh!” All the pain and stiffness in her body once more made itself rudely present. Eunice sure did not want to leave that big comfortable bed. She limped as best she could over to the door, opened it wider and peered out.

“Shit!” It was on a long corridor with people walking up and down it. Anyone could’ve come in and seen her naked. What about escape? Run back to Smecker and the protection of The Vatican, they could hide her again in some monastery, surely? But no, Eunice decided against it, running was no longer an option, she was done with that, and what about the mission given to her by Smecker and The Vatican, wasn’t that the most important of all? Eunice also wanted to know what the CIA had planned for her, it was both exciting and frightening all at once. She was at a point in time, it was a new day, she thanked God for sending it to her. Eunice pushed the door shut and heard the outer catch engage. She had locked herself in this time.

As best she could manage, Eunice had another shower, and was much quicker about it second time around. She put on the bathrobe and went back to the main room intending to get properly dressed. She eyed the crumpled set of clothes on the floor she had previously worn but then decided to investigate the various cupboards in the room. In one she found a few items of casual wear, t-shirts, slacks, light sweaters and similar. In one of the drawers was two pairs of plimsolls and a pair of sandals. In another drawer, basic items of underwear. These weren’t great, Eunice mused, but she preferred them to the cheap set of clothes left on the floor. Nevertheless, Eunice picked them up off the floor and hung them in the wardrobe. She reminded herself to be grateful for all that had been provided, the simple cotton blouse had been gentle on her damaged skin for lack of anything else at the time, and with the en-suite well stocked with plenty of toiletries, what more could a girl ask for? A few minutes after Eunice had dressed there was a knock at the door.

“Come!” Eunice called out. Rachel let herself in carrying a tray with Eunice’s breakfast. Having placed it on the bed the agent again made to withdraw.

“Agent Harbinger, how long will I have to stay in this room? I mean, there’s not exactly much to do?”

“Enjoy your breakfast Special Agent Bloom. We want you to spend the next few days here, so rest, relax and take things easy. I can see you’ve been in a very bad way recently so I’ve arranged for a doctor to come and see you. She’ll be along shortly.” With that, Rachel left Eunice alone, and again, did not lock the door. Eunice certainly enjoyed her breakfast, Weetos never tasted so good! Presently there was a knock at the partially open door;

“Doctor Christine Peach, Personnel Welfare.” she introduced herself stepping into the room.

“Thank God you’re here!” Eunice welcomed and appraised her new physician from her seat on the bed. Mid-thirties, tall woman, about six foot in total, but very slender and gangly with it. Her long black hair tied up in a pony-tail, soft brown eyes were deep set into a kind and caring sort of face. She had come prepared, the medical bag hung from her shoulder in readiness.

“Special Agent Bloom, I hear you are in need of some assistance?”, then looking down at Eunice’s badly bruised wrists remarked; “Yes, I see.”

The doctor proceeded to give Eunice a thorough checking over. She checked her blood pressure, reflexes and shone a pen light into her eyes. Christine took out her stethoscope and listened to Eunice’s heart, pressing the end of the device under the left collar bone and ribs under the arm.

“I think you may have a slight heart murmur there Miss Bloom, I may have you into my surgery in the next day or two for some additional tests.” Eunice complained about her painfully aching joints so the doctor examined those too, assessing them for any ligament tears or dislocations. No joint damage apart from the bruising was found. There were some nasty looking bruises on Eunice’s ribs so Christine gently stroked her hands over them checking for fractures. Particular attention was given to Eunice’s badly bruised neck. The doctor carefully checked no major trauma had occurred to the delicate cartilages and other structures in the front of the patient’s throat. True, it was obvious Eunice was badly bruised and scratched, but apart from bandaging her wrists where the worst of the damage had occurred and some of the deeper scratches, there was little else the doctor could do other than advise rest and let the body heal itself.

“Are you experiencing any internal pain?” The doctor placed her hand on Eunice’s midriff.

“No.” It was a gentle question from one woman to another. Eunice liked the doctor, she didn’t want her to leave. Christine had been the first person since the whole nightmare had begun to show any substantive sort of compassion and kindness towards her. The doctor’s hands were soft and gentle. But with the initial assessment and treatment completed, Christine still left Eunice alone in the room.

Doctor Christine came back for a visit every day for the next few days to check on how Eunice was gradually healing. On day three the bandages were taken off her wrists. However, Eunice was very concerned that the black and yellowing bruises thereto although no longer painful, did not appear to be shrinking but if anything were getting larger. Dark streaks of black had grown out of the bruises and migrated up the insides of her forearms;

‘Shit! I’ve got gangrene!’ Eunice worried herself sick. She raised the insidious progression of this symptom with Christine the next visit.

“It’s not gangrene!” Christine laughed at Eunice’s petrified expression, “Let me explain to you exactly what has happened. Hold out your forearms and I’ll show you.” Eunice complied.

“Without apportioning blame,” Christine began brushing her palms over the insides of Eunice’s outstretched forearms, “I’ve no axe to grind about who’s fault it was, but when the handcuffs got twisted they must have either broke a small vein or some capillaries in each wrist but with no external breaking of the skin. The blood had nowhere to go but leak into and between the internal structures within your arms. You see how the black streaks perfectly outline the tendons on the inside of your arms? The blood unable to circulate in a dead end then stagnated, died and went black and that is what you see now through the skin. What will happen now is that your body will start it’s clean up procedures. Trust me, the black will turn to brown, get lighter and lighter and then will totally fade away and disappear. Eunice, there is nothing to worry about, it’s actually quite a common occurrence when handcuffs are used.”

“So I’ve been a fucking idiot, shitting myself and getting into such a state for nothing?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Christine laughed again, “but that basically sums it up!” Christine once more checked Eunice’s reflexes and shone the penlight into her eyes. Eunice didn’t mind Christine shining a light into her eyes. Eunice’s eyes were windows into her soul;

‘Shine a light into my soul, Doctor Christine,’ Eunice prayed inside her head, ‘shine a light into my troubled soul and heal it.’ Eunice’s soul was still deeply troubled. She was so alone and afraid, still traumatised at the unexpected shock of her betrayal in the hands of powers she trusted. Weren’t they going to start interviewing or debriefing her? What was going on? She knew nothing. Christine finished her examination and thus satisfied put her penlight away. The visit was about to wind up.

“Oh Christine!” Eunice threw her arms around the doctor and pressed her face into the neck area, “Heal me! Heal me! Heal me! For fuck’s sake, heal me!” She kept pleading over and over. The doctor duly correlated and put her arms around the small distraught woman.

“Your body was traumatised,” the doctor diagnosed, “but it appears the greater trauma has occurred to your mind. I will speak to the people in charge of you and let them know you need more time.” Eunice clung on, not wanting the doctor to leave, so Christine stayed on for another two hours speaking to Eunice, reassuring her and not leaving until she had recovered her emotional balance.

Some time after the doctor had left, Eunice reflected on how everything had come to this. She used to be the baddest ass agent in the Bureau, respected and capable of whipping any case. Now look at her, a wreck. The doctor had advised counselling but Eunice was not convinced about it’s merits. Eunice did not know it, but this was the end of the beginning of her journey back into the fold. An engineer turned up one morning and changed the lock on her door so that she could open and lock it from the inside, a definite shift in emphasis.

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: Bloomy is good for you!

A time was set for Eunice to attend an initial debriefing meeting with her handlers. What to wear for this very important meeting? Her choices were very limited with regards formal wear. She only had the flimsy set of clothes provided by agents Quinn and Peel so she would have to wear those. The bruises on her neck hadn’t quite faded so she buttoned up the collar of the white blouse right to the top affecting a satisfactory concealment of her shame. Eunice pinned her hair up and took a good look at herself in the wardrobe mirror, the ‘Super-Sexy FBI agent’ image had been suitably toned down to something more prudent and understated. The black suit was good, she was the W.I.B. again, but there was that nasty little thought in the back of her mind that she was now appropriately dressed to attend her own funeral. What would this meeting bring?

She left the sanctuary of her room and made her way along the endless corridors to the appointed place, attracting many admiring glances from those she passed on the way, surely that was a good omen, getting back to normality: ‘Quintessentially Professional’ Eunice congratulated herself.

Although Eunice was nervous about what the meeting would bring she need not have been, it was over in ten minutes. It was merely a formality to confirm the outline of what The Vatican had uncovered and full debriefing would occur in two days time as the threat to national security, although severe, was not imminent. The panel of five handlers, three men and two women exuded power and authority. They came across as senior experienced figures nearing retirement and the nice cosy pension to go with it. The Chairman in the centre was particularly striking, an august statesman and safe pair of hands. At the beginning of the meeting he sought to put the ex-rogue at ease with a light-hearted review of her details;

“Eunice M. Bloom? What does the ‘M’ stand for? Mercedes?”

“Actually, I heard it stands for Marcie!” quipped the man to the Chairman’s right before Eunice could answer, causing much laughter between the panel members.

They then went on to acknowledge her status as an unofficial diplomat of The Vatican and that she was very much now their girl; ‘One of Ours’.

During the meeting Eunice sensed an aura of patronizing satisfaction emanating from the five behind the huge desk as she sat isolated on the small uncomfortable chair out in front.

“You’re a silly little girl who doesn’t really know how far out of her depth she is or what she’s gotten herself into, but we like you.” Said the man on the far left with a condescending smile, “got roughed up by your colleagues over at the Bureau, did you? Oh well, nice little welcoming party for the incoming rogue!”

He then went on to explain how the whole thing had been a colossal fuck-up. There had been a change in plan at the last minute, she was to come into the Pentagon direct and not go through Kuntsler at the Boston Bureau. The message via the CIA, FBI, Vatican and the monastery had taken far too long and by the time it reached the monastery she had already left for Boston. On the ‘need to know basis’ as used at that initial stage of her return, Kuntsler had been excluded from the loop. Eunice was told no action would be taken against Special Agent Kuntsler for what he had done to her, nevertheless, she was not interested and did not seek the information, she didn’t want John to be punished. Whereas she could never condone his behaviour, it was understandable given he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and the shock of her seemingly incomprehensible manifestation in his office that day. And in any case, if in some alternate reality he had been the rogue agent turning up in her office like that, how would she have reacted? As old Eunice who took no prisoners?, probably as badly if not worse. Ultimately, Eunice was blissfully unaware how lucky she was, as the margins concerning her return were very fine indeed.

The Establishment was split into three broad camps on what to do with Eunice. The ‘straight by the book and uphold the letter of the law’ wing wanted her prosecuted and imprisoned for years after what she had done. The law was the law at the end of the day. The corrupt wing and supporters of would be untouchables such as The Roman, either wanted what the letter of the law wing wanted, prosecute and put her away for years, otherwise murder the bitch. If a woman is causing you a problem, no more woman, no more problem, cold Stalinist logic.

Then there was the pragmatic centre. Eunice had wronged, but how wrong was the wrong? All she had done was help take out The Roman which was one in the eye for the corrupt wing of the Establishment. If such untouchables could manipulate the law and hide behind it then why shouldn’t unorthodox methods be used to facilitate retribution? Springing The Boondock Saints from The Hoag was another matter though, a jail break from a maximum security prison struck right at the heart of the law, especially the application of punishment against convicted felons. But again, who were The Saints taking out? Organised criminal gangs who were difficult to prosecute within the constraints of the law.

Nonetheless, if Eunice’s crimes were stacked up against her, what was going for her? Of utmost priority regardless of what criminality Eunice was guilty of, was to neutralise the terrorist threat to the nation in the form of a nuclear attack on Boston. Okay, so Eunice was a bit of a pawn and operating out of her league, they could liaise with The Vatican direct if need be, but she was basically a good woman with a very keen and useful detective mind, brilliant at her job and they needed people like that on side if the nation was to be protected. With all these arguments combined, the centre managed to win over the letter of the law wing. The corrupt wing bided it’s time, let the woman help neutralise the terrorist threat, after all, any such threat is also a threat against their nice little lucrative operation within Boston. Let her get on with it, she could always be ‘dealt with’ later.

The powers that be were now pulling Eunice to start work on investigating the Iranian terrorist threat. She was given an office which soon filled up with files of evidence and other documentation. Initially, they would not let her leave the confines of the Pentagon, although she was no longer a prisoner, she was strongly advised to stay onsite. But soon this was relaxed, she could go out into DC during daylight hours with a small allowance to buy her own choice of clothes and toiletries. Under no circumstances was she to leave the downtown DC area, nevertheless she put out feelers to The Saints and Smecker to try and arrange a clandestine sojourn to Boston so they could assess and strategise where the team should go from there. The message came back from Smecker via The Vatican loud and clear. Never ever break your curfew. Do nothing to jeopardize your rehabilitation. Do exactly as you are told.

“Okay!” Eunice resigned herself to the routine at the Pentagon. She was fully healed and getting on with her assignment. She felt her vital essence and old self was returning along with her infectious enthusiasm to delve and solve. She laughed and bantered with the CIA boys and of course they all fell in love with her, it was a given. She was a beautiful person and felt like a million dollars, it was just her allowance, it wouldn’t quite stretch to those gorgeous Prada six inch heels! ‘Fuck it that you can’t have everything!’

Christine was still visiting Eunice. Sometimes Eunice was called into the doctor’s surgery for a more detailed examination but eventually it got to the stage that the patient, having made a complete physical and psychological recovery, would be discharged.

A final visit was arranged in Eunice’s room. They talked for a while about nothing in particular, there was no longer any ongoing medical issue, it was plain Eunice was back, the real thing! Long live Bloomy! The ultimate bad-ass special agent who could take on anything and achieve anything. The world was her oyster once more, there for the taking, she could have it all.

Christine got up to leave. Eunice was to contact her should she need to but the doctor was confident no further treatment would be necessary. Eunice jumped up and took the doctor’s arm;

“There’s no need to go just yet,” Eunice laid on her charm, the old black magic, “stay a while.” Eunice noticed the doctor’s all pervading kind and caring demeanour suddenly turn cool;

“I’ve other people to see.” the doctor pulled her arm away. Eunice put her hands on her hips and jutted her chin forward;

“How does a gal around here get some fun?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” came the standoffish reply.

“Christine, I was never a woman to mince her words, procrastinate and all that kind of carry on, you know, I’m a straight to the point sort of gal. How can I put it plainly without er….beating around one’s bush.” Eunice felt a wicked little smile creep across her face, “I know how you feel about me, c’mon, let’s fuck!” Eunice reached out and started to slide her fingers into the waistband of Christine’s pants.

“Stop that!” came the curt response from over Eunice’s head.

“Women!” Eunice gave Christine a reproachful look, “They always have to say no to start off with before saying yes!” Eunice looked up into Christine’s eyes working them with her failsafe chemistry, “Why can’t women just say yes right away? Why can’t a woman, be like a man!” Eunice felt great, the old emotions were rising within her, the thrill and all conquering pleasure of the seduction! She closed her eyes and pushed the flat of her hand further down into the waistband….

SMACK-CK!!

Eunice reeled back not so much in pain to the side of her face but more in shock and total disbelief. Her right hand now grappled with thin air over her midriff searching for her holstered gun that was not there;

“What the fuck did you just do to me??!!”

Lethal rage now boiled within Eunice and hijacked her emotions. She had never been struck by anyone, the only exception being FBI hand to hand combat training and that didn’t count. She had told Kuntsler not two months before the first man that struck her would die, and now she had been struck by a woman. God certainly moved in mysterious ways! To be struck for the first time combined with the first rejection of a sexual advance, it was more than Eunice could take, it just didn’t happen, either way!

“What happened to your fucking Hippocratic oath? You’re supposed to be a fucking doctor!” Eunice’s eyes were as hard and as cold as steel. The best advice one should take in this situation is to run if you can.

“You exceeded your parameters as a patient, so I exceeded mine as a physician, and so you have it, la!” came the learned opinion.

“I ought to kill you where you fuckin’ stand!” the rage within was incandescent, you really ought to run, now!

“Oh I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Christine shrugged, “with all your martial arts training, that would come natural to you, wouldn’t it? You know all the human body’s weaknesses, don’t you? And in a way, in my profession so do I. So I guess we’re birds of a feather in one respect, but does that make us sisters or similar in any other way? Totally not!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, you glorified hole in the wall dispensing cunt! Talking down to me with such fucking bullshit as if you know more than I do, you’re nothing!” Christine looked back disdainfully, it had been her job to make Eunice better, but better in what way? “Do you know who the fuck I am?” The tirade went on, “I’m a most important person to the government and national security of this great country. I have links with very powerful people overseas,” she then appeared to pause to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, Oh yeah, that too: “I’m even ordained by powers higher than those!” she pointed to the ceiling over her head.

“Yes, I’ve read your profile.” Christine appeared unimpressed, “Your IQ level technically puts you at the level of a genius. Despite this, I have yet to see any evidence of it, on the contrary, all I see is an incredibly stupid girl; resisting arrest against the entire U.S. Establishment? There can only be one winner in that unequal struggle, look what it did to you! So what else do I know about you? You’re a onetime rogue FBI special agent who nevertheless is deemed so important to national security, you’ve been given some sort of amnesty. I know nothing about your mission or your handlers in the top echelons of power, it’s none of my business, though I wish you every success with that for everyone’s sake. My brief is all to do with your medical welfare though you’re not doing yourself any favours getting all stressed out like this. You know Eunice, it’s a terrible shame when you act this way because usually you have such a lovely magnetic personality and a beautiful warm friendly smile, it’s like sunshine coming into the room, it really is. Please, for the good of us both, stop this nonsense and behave yourself, back off, go and lie down!”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, you bitch! How dare you deny the way you really feel about me. You were all over me with your hands, you love me, you must do!”

“That is my job, I must care for you, I’m in one of the caring professions, but it doesn’t mean I’m in love with you, and I certainly can’t be tempted, you do nothing for me sexually. Your job on the other hand is all about raw analysis and channelled aggression. You’ve got to be a real bad-ass in your profession to achieve anything. It’s all take and give nothing, destroy the bad guys before they destroy you, I guess it has to be like that, there’s no other way. But the effects of working in such a male dominated bear-pit of an environment must desensitise you, your incessant foul language with the use of low German four letter words peppered throughout it, and your trivialisation of sex as some sort of game of chase, another male idea no doubt, I find it insufferable.”

“So you mean to say that that in your surgery you can have your dirty fucking insidious little fingers all over me getting yourself off, and I’m not allowed to do the same to you? What sort of double standards prick are you?”

“If you think I have sexually taken advantage of you or assaulted you in any such way,” Christine took the allegation very seriously, “then by all means, and actually I insist you make a complaint to my superiors. Do you want to instigate formal complaint procedures?”

“Forget it!” Eunice knew the doctor’s examinations of her had been of the utmost professional standard, “Why’s it such a big deal anyway? Loosen up, don’t you want to have a bit of fun?” Eunice still hoped perhaps she could bring the other woman round. She was in denial that her charms could ever fail.

“Well for one, I’m married.”

“What?” Eunice laughed, “But sex with another woman doesn’t count!”

“Yes it does! Any form of sex outside my marriage is an attack on my family, including my children.”

“I bet your husband would beg to differ.” Eunice said slyly. The doctor had wound Eunice up so tightly, perhaps it was time to get her own back.

“Oh I know all about male sexuality. If I were a man I probably would have ripped my pants off the second you came on to me, but don’t you see it, the importance of family, belonging, something deeper than the base gratification of animal instinct. I know it’s a cliché, but where’s the love? Where’s the love in your life Eunice? Don’t you want a family?”

“I’ve already got a family! I have my family at home down south!” Eunice tried to evade the real question put.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Christine persisted.

“Well since you insist, I say you can fuck all that. I dedicate myself one hundred percent to my mission and to my associates within that very important work. They’re all the family I shall ever need.”

“Then I feel so sorry for you, Eunice, to have such intense drive in your life, but drive with no rudder, no grounding in anything. Hasn’t there ever been a man in your life? Someone long term you could’ve settled down with?” Eunice laughed out loud at this preposterous idea;

“You clearly don’t know men like I know ’em, doctor! You must live in some dream world I haven’t yet had pleasure to visit! I ain’t got time for ‘settlin’ down’, my mission or my ministry if you like, subjugates all else. In any case, I’m in thrall to higher powers, my soul is bought and retained. I will do my duty, and no part of my being will be diverted to any other calling. I’d sooner die than live like you all ‘Little house on the fuckin’ prairie’. Fuck that!”

“Well then all I can do is wish you well in the life you have chosen for yourself.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ choose it, it chose me! Enough of this, Sigmund fucking Freud!” Eunice was suddenly angry once more. To be condemned by Sergeant Badger and now by Doctor Christine, she was being attacked from both ends of the intellectual spectrum. “So you don’t want to fuck me?” Eunice grabbed hold of the doctor’s white coat, “Perhaps I ought to fuck your husband? How long do you think he would resist me?”

“I will not get on my knees and sing ‘Jolene’ to the likes of you.” The recoil and disgust in the doctor’s eyes matched the contempt within the statement.

“Well then perhaps I should just stick with you, I don’t even need your fucking consent, I could make you.” Eunice had dug herself a hole, found herself buried in it and now crucially needed to save face. Up until then nobody had been able to resist her, but now it had happened she found herself wallowing in shock and coming out with some of the most depraved utterances that were totally alien to her. Why was she threatening the good doctor through her husband? It was pure evil. Sometimes she didn’t even understand herself, but still the filth spewed out, almost as if she was possessed by the devil discarnate; “You fucking healed up bitch, what’s the matter with you! I won’t offer myself again!”

Pity now flooded into the doctor’s eyes, Oh no! Not pity! Eunice disengaged and threw herself onto the bed. What was she doing? Why was she suggesting such unkind and inhumane things that she didn’t mean or was capable of?

“The constant bravado and brinkmanship of your environment….” Christine diagnosed, “You can’t lose, can you? It’s almost said in the hope to convince yourself that you’re infallible, but it isn’t you, that’s not your heart, your soul. Don’t ever say things like that again, it’s bad for you and you’ll regret it.” Eunice got up from the bed and went back to the doctor;

“Look at me, I’m mired in shit, what do you want me to do?” There was a long pause.

“Goodbye, Eunice.” the doctor offered her hand. Eunice eyed the hand suspiciously. That was the hand, the only hand that had struck her. Special Agent Bloom would not take such a hand, it will be rejected outright.

The hand remained on offer for the next few seconds. It now reached the moment when it would be withdrawn, gone forever. You can’t get it back. Eunice snatched it and held onto it tight. Then as an afterthought, Eunice bent low and kissed it;

“Thank you for saving me.”

___________________________________________________

After her shameful incident with Doctor Peach, Eunice knew it was high time to change her attitude towards people. Just because she was beautiful and very intelligent didn’t give her the right to undervalue others and treat them as playthings, sexual or otherwise. It was no longer her. She was in her mid-thirties, she had spent her youth. Something to be mourned? Possibly, but the passing of such selfishness? No.

The briefings regarding the terrorist nuclear bomb threat continued, mostly with the three CIA agents assigned to Eunice’s participation on the case, namely Agents Harbinger, Quinn and Peel, Eunice’s new friends so to speak. Working with Eunice’s revelations given to her by The Vatican, the CIA redirected it’s investigations into the new lines of enquiry. Fortunately it turned out that the Israeli Intelligence Service, Mossad, had managed to capture one of the Iranian scientists working on the bomb as he passed through Beirut on his way back to Tehran from an overseas assignment. They had to be careful how they treated their newly acquired guest, the tried and tested method of torturing the information out of him would be of little use as Tehran would immediately know something was up due to the unexplained disappearance of one of their top scientists involved in the plot. Instead, the CIA and Mossad decided to bribe him with substantial amounts of hard currency and give him and his family a new life after evacuation under different identities once the threat had been neutralised. They were confident the scientist would accept the offer as the alternative was death either in one of the cellars of the Mossad central interrogation unit or the equivalent in Tehran as used by the Iranian Secret Service. He would tell everything he knew and on his return to Tehran keep feeding Mossad and the CIA details of any new developments he became privy to. The conduit for their communications would be The Vatican’s undercover network within Tehran, an unexpected and completely covert operation. Had there ever been such a trio of bedfellows, the CIA, Mossad and The Vatican all working towards the protection and preservation of an American city? With Eunice Bloom on the team, did they have their proverbial ace in the pack, or was she just superfluous?

Technical details of the device to be used gradually fed through the tenuous lines of communication. Eunice was no mathematician but she considered the subject like any other she turned her hand to, there was no reason why she shouldn’t become brilliant at it. The numbers provided to her by The Vatican were of course meaningless, but that didn’t stop her seeking out expert opinion on them.

The chief mathematician of the CIA working on the case was Professor Aftab Ali so Eunice decided to contact him and arrange a visit. He welcomed her into his office and bade her to sit down in front of his paper strewn desk.

“Aftab Ali?” Eunice said his name in the form of a question as she wondered which side of the religious naan-bread he’d got buttered.

“Oh, right, Special Agent Bloom,” he grinned, “you’re wondering with a name like that if I have any conflicts of loyalty? Yes, I am a Muslim and proud with it at that, may the peace and blessings of the Prophet be upon you Miss Bloom.”

“Why, thank you.” Eunice could live with that.

“I’m a first generation American, my parents came to this country as refugees from Bangladesh. I owe everything I have firstly to Allah and a very big second to this country, I love it, I love being an American! I will do all in my power to protect it, I guess that makes me a patriot.”

“Sounds to me like someone has really bought into living the dream!”

“However, as a Muslim, and putting patriotism aside, to commit mass murder in the name of Allah, this is the work of the devil.”

“In my informed opinion, people who commit such things should be hung up by the bodily appendages exclusive to their gender!” Aftab looked back at Eunice not fully understanding. “Think about it, Aftab,” Eunice sought to explain, “it works for both sexes, trust me!”

“I’m sure, Miss Bloom, I’m sure…” Aftab continued to wear a puzzled expression.

“What I’m trying to say in not so many words, Aftab, is that you and I have a meeting of minds.” Eunice appreciated his sincerity, “But as a Muslim, what do you think about America’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan?”

“I don’t wish to sound unpatriotic, but I think the consensus is, and this is my opinion as a Muslim, that things out there could’ve been done better. I work for the CIA on top secret assignments and even I don’t know what went on, they say the first casualty of war is always the truth.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Professor,” Eunice had her own conclusion on the recent conflicts, “everything you’ve said confirms to me that the first casualty of war is the plan.” The near fiasco when The Saints hit the Yakavetta gang and some of their other operations was very much uppermost in her mind, “Don’t instigate a war unless you’ve got some idea what the final outcome will be. We encircled the Iranians, and now we find ourselves in this situation, the prospects of a terrorist nuclear attack on our homeland.”

“The situation is not of mine or your making, Agent Bloom, but we must do all in our power to stop it.” Aftab was solemn and quietly spoken.

“Agreed, so let’s stop it then,” Eunice got down to business, “about these numbers, I’m no mathematician, but can you give me any general information about them and why they should be special?”

“Okay, first up, the intercept relating to the nine digit abort code,” Aftab jumped straight in, “the phrase ‘Quarter Pi, the denominators, double 239’ , this clearly alludes to Machin’s formula circa 1706 where you compute Pi by combining series of inverse tangents:

Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/239

The strange thing is that these inverse tangent formulas have fallen out of use for computing Pi nowadays, much better and efficient algorithms are now used which utilise cutting edge modern mathematics. Trust the Iranians to use obsolescent techniques!”

“Oh yeah, right Aftab!” Eunice gave him a look, “Can I have that in English please!” Aftab laughed at the professional lady’s dry censure;

“Don’t worry Eunice, I’ve typed up a resume of all the general information about the intercepted messages and I’ll give it to you at the end of the meeting. Getting back to the message though, it mentions the denominators of the formula. This must refer to the denominators of inverse tangents: arctan 1/5 and arctan 1/239. The denominators are 5 and 239 or together 5239. That’s four digits, but we are certain the abort code is nine digits in length, so where can we get the other five from? It mentions double 239, okay, 5 & 239 & 239 = 5239239 which is seven digits, still two short. The best my math boffin friends here could come up with is that double translates to squared: 239 X 239 = 57121, then add this to the original four denominators so you get: 523957121 to make up the nine.”

“How confident are you that this is the abort code?” Eunice wanted nothing less than certainty in the determination of the abort code for obvious reasons. If called upon, it would be essential one got it right.

“Oh, let me think on that one,” Aftab put on a whimsical tone, “I’d give it odds of 1,000,000,000 to 1 on being correct.” Eunice mulled over the odds in her head;

“Forgive me, but I interpret that as the sequence you have just given me has about as much chance of being the abort code as any other nine digit code, am I correct?”

“Oh I couldn’t possibly elaborate!” Aftab was clearly enjoying showing up the ludicrous way the result had been achieved, “but if ever you get the chance to defuse the bomb, that is the number to be used as advised by those up on high in this place. But ultimately, the problem we face is that the intercept can be interpreted to mean anything, we’re basically groping our way in the dark.”

“Does 523957121 have any correlation to the check-digit intercept?” Eunice still wished to assess the validity of the number regardless of any doubts about it.

“Ah yes, ‘0.00318318318… Plus 19%’.” Aftab quoted it for Eunice’s benefit, “the magic check-digit that ties the arming code and the abort code together. We’ve bunged 0.00318318318, 19% and 523957121 through our super-computers for days on end and they’ve come up with absolutely zilch to correlate the two intercepts. But how can we have any chance of doing so without any intercept from the Iranians concerning the nine digit arming code?”

“But this repeating series 0.00318318318…” Eunice persisted, “Surely in the math community it is known and relates to something important?”

“No, sorry again, complete blank on that one, never heard of or mentioned. The only interesting thing about it is that the inverse of it gives you the first five digits of Pi, but I believe you already know that?”

“Yes, The Vatican told me about that…..” Eunice appeared to have run out of questions, “Hey! There are at least two whole numbers mentioned, 19 and 239. Is there anything you can tell me about those?”

“Ah-ha! Now you’re talking!” Aftab leaned right back in his chair, smiling broadly, “Prime numbers.”

“I’ve heard something about those, remind me about them.” Eunice vaguely remembered them from training.

“Prime numbers and Pi. The two are inextricably bound up together. You want me to talk to you about them? I wouldn’t know where to start! You could fill the entire Pentagon, basement to rooftop with books on the subject and still have books left over! Pi, now there’s a number, it’s sequence is transcendental so it goes on forever. So what can you make out of that? Not only does it include the arming code and the abort code, it must contain every possible number you could imagine, and contain it an infinite number of times. And then we move onto prime numbers, do you really want to know about prime numbers Miss Bloom? Well then let me ask you this question: What did God bring forth on the first day of creation?”

“Now that’s what I call putting me back into Sunday School! If I can remember my Bible classes correctly I think it was light? Yeah, it was light, wasn’t it?”

“Wrong! He didn’t create light,” Aftab leant forward in his chair like a zealot, “The absolute first thing He did was to create Prime Numbers.” Eunice stared vacantly back at the Professor not able to decipher the meaning of his exhortations. Not getting a response, Aftab continued; “You see Miss Bloom, prime numbers are the fundamentals to everything. I won’t go into it now, but do some research into the properties of them on the internet when you get chance. I promise it shall be most rewarding for you indeed!”

“Erm, I’m sure…” Eunice sounded non-too enthusiastic at the suggestion.

“Miss Bloom, you’ve said that you’re no mathematician, but I don’t see that as a problem, we’ve already got a myriad of the best mathematicians science can provide working on the problem. We probably need other people on board with a different set of skills. How are you with abstract thought?”

“Abstract what? Again, can I have that in English?”

“Abstract thought, thinking outside the box to use the colloquial term.”

“Oh that, I should think in me you’ve got yourself a right regular little Jacqueline-in-the box, sorry to disappoint!” Eunice belied her true nature and abilities.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Agent Bloom. I sense something about you, I’m not sure what it is. Can I test you with a problem?”

“Hit me.” Eunice decided to chance it.

“In a tennis Singles championship, there are 123 entrants, how many matches must be played?”

“Oh um, 123? Er, divide by two, that’ll be first round 61 plus a bye…” Eunice began to grind through computing all the necessary rounds and intrinsic matches thereto.

“Stop that! Stop trying to compute the answer by division!” Aftab brought Eunice up sharp, “I want an answer in five seconds! 5.….., 4.…..” Eunice racked her brain;

“It’s, oh what is it? It’s……..”

“…3, ……2,”

“It’s 122!”

“There’s another championship, this time with 526 entrants, how many matches need to be organised?”

“525!” Eunice knew straight away.

“Another tournament, 108,445 entrants, how many matches?”

“Whatever you say, the answer will be ‘N’ minus 1.” Eunice couldn’t be bothered by this stage to even say the actual answer.

“Ah - yes! My dear lady, would you like to explain it to me so that I can hear once more the beauty of the logic?”

“In the case of 123 entrants there can only be one champion and thus the other 122 must ultimately be eliminated by losing a match. But each entrant bar the champion can only lose once in any tournament therefore there must be 122 matches played. Like I said, ‘N’ minus 1 is the required number of matches given ‘N’ is the number of entrants.” Aftab looked back at his student in a state of awe and elevated excitement;

“I think that one day, Special Agent Bloom, we will have to kneel down in front of Allah and thank Him for sending you to us!”

“I’m sure it’s all so much great fun isn’t it, ‘what colour is the bear’ and all that?” Eunice evaluated her latent skills in context of the enormity of the actual threat, “But these parlour games won’t save us from nuclear Armageddon. Leaving the arming and abort codes to one side, have you anything more you can tell me about the actual configuration of the bomb?”

These parlour games won’t save us from nuclear Armageddon

“On that front,” Aftab picked up some papers from his desk and passed them to Eunice, “our information is quite good. Our turncoat scientist in Tehran has fed a lot of high quality and reliable data about the bomb to The Vatican sleeper cell in the city. This has come through to us and I’ll just quickly go through the information with you as outlined on those sheets of paper:”

Salient points:

- Enough weapons grade material has been refined to create a thermo-nuclear bomb, therefore the dirty bomb idea has been dropped in favour of this. However, certain aspects of the original eight piece design have been retained due to the constraints to meet the 9/11 deadline, even though the plan is to detonate all eight pieces together in one central Boston location.

- Designed to be straight forward to arm, providing you have the arming code and key, harder and complex to disarm/abort the mission even if you have all the necessary equipment and abort code. Nigh on impossible to disarm without following the correct abort procedure. Inner workings encased in a titanium shell which itself is awash with anti-tamper sensors which will explode the bomb if they detect anything untoward. Complex and in-depth firewalls to stop any electronic attack through the key gate input receptors. Any other cyber attack will cause the bomb to explode.

We have drafted a very basic diagram of the component parts of the bomb and related apparatus as a visual aid for CIA and FBI agents working on the investigation. Naturally we have no idea what the actual bomb will look like but we are confident the basics as outlined are correct.

1) Bomb in 3 parts

I Main Control/Arming Console

II Abort/Disarming Console

III Warhead compartment

- containing 8 bombs which look and weigh exactly the same,

all designed to detonate simultaneously in one explosion:

1 Ignition Bomb 7 non-ignition bombs

The Ignition bomb arms all 8 bombs, and in the abort procedure, it disarms all 8 bombs via the base plate or seat linking them all.

2) Arming equipment:

1 Arming Key

3) Abort/Disarming equipment

3 Ignition Bomb Locator Keys

1 Abort/Disarming Key

Arming Procedure:

Very straight forward. Place the Arming Key into the provided receptor in the Arming Console and enter the secret 9 numeric Arming Code using the number pad within the Key. The screen will indicate acceptance of the key and prompt you to type in the time to detonation, we expect the terrorists to arm the bomb up to one hour before 8:46 a.m. on 9/11, that is the exact anniversary time the first airplane hit the North Tower in Manhattan in 2001. The arming indicator should flash red. That’s it, the Ignition Bomb, whichever it is of the 8, is now fully armed and will explode all 8 bombs when the timer counts down to zero.

Abort/Disarming Procedure:

Designed to be difficult to complete for the uninitiated. The crux of the task is to locate the Ignition Bomb out of the outwardly identical 8. Place the Disarming Key into the Ignition bomb’s individual receptor, and key in the secret 9 numeric Abort Code. With that the Ignition Bomb will disarm thus disarming all 8 bombs permanently. The indicator on the Arming Console should change colour to Green in confirmation the disarming procedure has been successful. You locate the Ignition Bomb by use of the 3 Locator Keys.: 1st Key eliminates 4 non-ignition bomb locations 2nd Key eliminates 2 non-ignition bomb locations 3rd Key eliminates 1 or last non-ignition bomb location, thus revealing to you by process of elimination which bomb is the Ignition Bomb you need to place the Disarming Key into. Each bomb has an on/off switch for the purpose of selecting it for Location Key testing, and an ‘X’ or ‘Y’ equal group selector switch. The Disarming Console will indicate ‘X’ if the Ignition Bomb is in equal group ‘X’, and ‘Y’ if it is in that equal group. If neither ‘X’ or ‘Y’ show then you have done something wrong with your group selections and failed to include the bomb in the overall test group. Perhaps the best way to explain it is to run through the following example:

Disarming Procedure Example:

By following the logical systematic process: 8 bombs eliminate down to 4, then eliminate down to 2, then eliminate down to 1, you have located it. Once you have located which of the 8 is the Ignition Bomb by logical and systematic use of the three Locator Keys, disarm it by placing the Abort/Disarming Key into the Ignition Bomb receptor and enter the secret 9 numeric Abort Code using the number pad within the Key. The arming indicator should flash green confirming you have successfully disarmed the device.

Further points of note:

- All five Keys, whether Arming, Abort or Locator, can only be used once after which their internal circuitry self-destructs thus rendering them useless. It is particularly essential to locate the Ignition Bomb correctly, because using the Abort Key on any of the others will trigger the whole device to explode.

- Keying in the wrong 9 numeric code on the Abort key will also cause the whole device to explode.

- Trying to test unequal ‘X’ and ‘Y’ samples will also trigger a detonation, such as testing three ‘X’ and five ‘Y’.

- Naturally, the terrorist operatives are not told which bomb is the Ignition bomb. This is because in the case of capture, it is feared the information would likely be forced out of them under extreme interrogation techniques.

- If the terrorist cell is located by the US security forces after the bomb is armed and they have not had word from Tehran to abort the attack, then they must try and destroy or dispose of the Abort Key and three Locator Keys to stop these being captured and used.

To summarise, once armed there would appear to be no way out of the apocalyptic consequences other than to disarm the bomb in the way it has been designed to be disarmed. Follow the systematic logical steps and do it right - no foul ups!

Eunice left the Professor’s office with his paperwork folded under her arm. ‘No foul-ups!’ The final words in the literature deeply impressed themselves upon her. She would read and re-read the information and keep in touch with Aftab for instant update of any new data coming through. She would also study those damnable ‘inverse tangent series’ for computing Pi and understand to an expert degree how they worked. It was her job, her duty to know the device inside out as far as humanly possible should she ever have the misfortune to be put to the ultimate test.

_______________________________________________________

After some time at the Pentagon, Eunice was informed that she was to return to the Boston office of the FBI. She had done all she could in DC, attend briefings, investigate the Iranian international threat, monitor cyber traffic, but nothing tangible of the actual execution of the plot had been uncovered so far. They had no reason to keep her so as preordained, she should have her ear to the ground in Boston with regards the bomb plot while continuing with usual FBI work. For both aspects of her role she would work under Special Agent Kuntsler as his number two in the Anti Organised Crime Unit, all operational decisions would ultimately be his and she would respect that. But it wasn’t all so bad, she would retain her own Special Agent status together with the mandatory salary and benefits package. Those six inch heeled Prada shoes beckoned Eunice after all!

So far as the investigating the bomb threat was concerned, the following top secret teams were put in place at the FBI Boston office:

Six FBI Agents:

Special Agent John Kuntsler - FBI in command

Special Agent Eunice Bloom - FBI second in command

Agent Harry Ginsburg

Agent Irene Conte

Agent Renata Wolters

Agent Carl Zimmerman

Three CIA Agents:

Agent Rachel Harbinger - CIA in command and overall command

Agent Andrew Quinn - CIA second in command

Agent Joe Peel

With regards the selection of the six FBI agents, the intention was to give them as little incentive as possible to leak details of the potential attack on 9/11 to family and advise them to be out of town on that day. Eunice and the four field agents were not native Bostonians and being relatively young, none of these had started families of their own. That left Kuntsler who had married locally and did have children in Boston. Nevertheless, it was felt this ‘by the numbers’ and rather unimaginative team leader in name only, could be trusted not to breach the security protocols, despite the risk to his nearest and dearest. The CIA team, Harbinger, Quinn and Peel, were based in DC and had no links with Massachusetts. Ultimate command of the two teams rested with CIA Agent Harbinger. There were also numerous other CIA teams and top secret anti-terrorist operations within Boston, but based elsewhere in the city.

There would be no triumphal or departmental party to celebrate Eunice’s return, it was to be low profile as far as could be managed especially in the light of the furore caused in the office on her previous return. Probing questions from other agents and staff were to be fobbed off with generalisations. Only the six FBI agents on the select team and the Director of the FBI Boston office would be privy to the terrorist bomb investigation. Under no circumstances was it to be discussed or disclosed to anyone else. If it leaked out it would no doubt cause widespread panic and hysteria and that was to be avoided at all costs.

Eunice was sad to be leaving the Pentagon. She hadn’t been ecstatically happy there, but it had been a safe place to take time, recuperate, and ease herself back into professional work. Take it easy with everyone and not be so confrontational which was her usual modus operandi, in this last respect she had chosen to forget about her final surgery with Doctor Peach! To lose herself in the endless corridors and be anonymous amongst all the suits, go back to her room, shut the door and the rest of the world outside, home. Get up the next morning and if she had a clear schedule, go out into DC and relax. Eunice’s life had been in limbo at the monastery and on the face of it her time at the Pentagon was similar in context. Nevertheless, she hated the former and loved the latter for the freedom it eventually gave her. The monastery was supposed to provide sanctuary but in reality all it had been was a prison. The Pentagon had been a good place to stay, but everything must pass and it was time to move on, life had to progress if it was to mean anything.

Initially, John was greatly disappointed about the rehabilitation and return to the office of his arch enemy. It seemed he was being punished for his over use of force and aggression that extraordinary day. However, immediately on her return the oppressive atmosphere within the department appeared to lift. Everyone else who remembered Eunice seemed so happy to have her back, and those she was new to were lifted by her manifest enthusiasm and energy. So much so that no-one wished to raise the matter of John’s prior brutal treatment of Eunice. Within the office there remained that dark memory against Kuntsler, especially the extremely ugly rumour about pistol whipping that had circulated in the aftermath. Everyone knew about it, but it was left in the wilderness outside the collective office consciousness, it would not be allowed to spoil the new feel good atmosphere. John was the head of department as he had been ever since Eunice’s ‘rogue’ departure, but on her return, officially as departmental No 2, everyone treated her as the No 1. Her analytical processes were sharper and brought quicker results, and she was a much better leader of people, they tended to congregate in Eunice’s office and not very much in John’s. Did he mind? Initially, yes, but after a short time, not too much. Eunice had taken a lot of the pressure away from him and the case load had reduced dramatically with the higher clear up rate brought about chiefly through her input. As head of department John was getting most of the credit. Despite what had happened, Eunice respected him as her boss and always accepted his final decisions, not so hard to do since they tended to agree with her recommendations. She did not appear to bear a grudge against John though during the first few weeks of her return there did seem to be quite a stand-off between them as they felt each other out. Her professionalism was second to none in their interactions. Of course John was deeply ashamed of what he had done, her sudden unexpected arrival had made him unhinged in his parlous state of affairs, but that was no excuse and he knew it. He gradually began to appreciate her being around and the benefits she brought with her. He no longer had to work so late, drink heavily, and he was off the shit. He had time to think more rationally about the end of his marriage and negotiate non-confrontationally with his former wife a better deal for access to his kids. And he had met someone. A high ranking lady who worked for the IRS, divorced with children, like himself. Things were getting serious and he looked forward to seeing his new soul mate after work. He had to admit it ‘Bloomy is good for you’.

How had he been so wrong about her in the past? She was Eunice Bloom, she was the same as she’d always been wasn’t she? Most certainly, but somehow not. Something had changed, not now so bad-ass, some of the hard edges had been smoothed down. Before it had always been so aggressive, both physically and verbally, the disregard, sarcasm and self assurance bordering on arrogance were still there in spades but somehow held in check, not full throttle all the time.

The disregard, sarcasm and self assurance bordering on arrogance were still there in spades

What had happened at the Pentagon? He knew his ill treatment of Eunice was not the reason for the subtle change, she would never succumb to change on any terms of threat or coercion, never in eternity, that wasn’t her. Perhaps John had wasted the opportunity over the years to gain a friend instead of an enemy? What was the essence of the woman? And how could he make amends and redeem himself?

____________________________________________________

Eunice was working late in her office, most of the other workers had gone home for the evening. She noticed some movement at the doorway. John had sidled in and was pretending to look at some legal volumes in a bookcase just inside the door. She sensed this had been building for some time, something within John he needed to get off his chest, and so now here he was. She knew it wasn’t going to be anything bad, as the deranged version of Cunty had long gone. She decided to let him speak first. If he just wants to talk trivia about cases then she would correspondingly do the same, if something deeper then she could do that too. ‘Come on, John, let’s have it’ she urged him telepathically.

He walked over to the window and looked out over the evening streets, avoiding a direct approach to the seated objective. Eunice did not look up from her files, she waited patiently for him.

“Seems we’ve been having quite a bit of success lately.” he ventured barely audible against the outside traffic.

“Yeah, the Gleason Syndicate case came off a treat, a great result all round.” Eunice mentioned the case off hand, it would do.

“You know, Eunice, I, well how can I put it? I really appreciate your contribution.” he at last managed to turn and face her. So this was it. This was John’s equivalent, or in Eunice’s eyes, a feeble form of an apology.

“It’s okay, I’m just doing my job, like your good self and everyone else, I got paid didn’t I?” John smiled at Eunice in acknowledgment before returning his gaze to the streets. Uncomfortable moments passed, he wasn’t done yet;

“Look, about the ‘unpleasantness’….” he stared expressionless at the window. It was clear to Eunice that the opening gambits had been mere feelers to see whether or not she would tell him to fuck off and if that happened he could quickly disengage without losing too much face. At least he felt confident enough to raise the hitherto ‘unspeakable’ which existed between them. Eunice decided she would make it easy for him, she didn’t owe him that, but she would do it anyway;

“John, I hate the original sin, but I don’t hate the man…”

“Eunice, I…”

“Alright! I forgive you! If that’s what you want to hear, and I’m not lying either, unbelievable as it may seem. Fuck, when it was all kicking off I was more worried about you than me! I knew something was badly wrong. We never liked one another but what happened was something way beyond that, no, it was the shock of my arrival that brought everything to a head. Did you know that when you went out of the room Gorgeous let on to me some of the problems you were going through?”

“Christ! He did that? He’s got a fucking mouth and a half on him….”

“Leave him out of it! He’s alright, he’s on our side now. Besides, say if our roles had been reversed and you were the rogue agent returning unexpected to me in my office? I would’ve shot you on sight, no questions asked,” Eunice allowed herself this lie for the sake of strengthening the growing bond between them, “so I suppose I got off lightly!” John let the last statement sink in. There was a nagging sense in the back of his mind that it didn’t quite ring true. Old Eunice perhaps, but not the new. “Don’t dwell on it John, we need to draw a line under this and move forward. What passed is past. Shit, there are bigger things at stake than us. That fucking bomb, if it’s not on it’s way, then it’s already here! It’s essential we work together as a team, if we fight each other then we’ve got no chance, hundreds of thousands could die and our beloved Boston, my adopted second home cast into oblivion for the next two thousand years. I forgive you so now forgive yourself, you have my permission to do so, deal with it!”

What passed is past

John knew she was right, was she ever wrong about anything? And oh, he’d almost forgotten;

John reached inside his pocket and took out a small jewellery box. Eunice, perplexed, eyed the object. What on earth was he doing? This was a very sudden turn around in relations between them for him to believe such a permanent bond should now be instigated. John passed the box over the desk to Eunice;

“Er John, what an honour, there’s no need for anything so hasty, you really shouldn’t….” Eunice squirmed in her seat. It was hard to embarrass Eunice but in this situation she felt nothing but impending doom. How would he react when she said no?

“Open it, please.” He looked at her deadly serious. She would have to open it now, shit!

Nervously she squeezed open the spring loaded lid;

“Aaaaghheeeeii!” Eunice squealed in delight, nearly falling off her chair, “My mother’s necklace! I had nothing left of the set and now this! Fucking ‘A’ John! Oh thank you!”

“No, no, Eunice, you can’t really thank me. It was found on the floor of my office by Gorgeous and he handed it to me. The chain must have broken during the, er, ‘unpleasantness’. So you see it is inappropriate to thank me. The least I could do was have the chain repaired for you, but please don’t thank me!”

“No, it’s all for the better as the other pieces were stolen shortly afterwards, so I’m grateful by what ever means this remaining piece has found it’s way back to me.”

“Here, let me help you put it on.” John offered. Eunice obliged by holding up her hair off her neck so John could rejoin the clasp and let the pendant rest on her collar bones inside the open neck of her blouse. John felt the evening’s tête-à-tête with Eunice had gone well and perhaps it could be further built upon. What else could he do to cement this positivism between them?

“Look Eunice, why don’t the both of us call it a day here? What are you doing this evening? Marianne is cooking one of her specialities tonight and she always does too much, somebody’s got to shift the extra so why don’t you come over? I’ve told her all about my Number 2 and she said she’d love to meet you, so how about it?”

Wow! Dinner at John’s, who would’ve thought? Eunice baulked at the suggestion, things had moved on rather quicker than she could have ever imagined, even in the light of the earlier mistaken nuptials. It was a pity he hadn’t asked the following night as she would have had reason to decline. Tomorrow was her regular fortnightly meeting at McGinty’s with The Saints, Romeo, and detectives Duffy, Dolly and Kiersky. This meeting would be more important than usual because Smecker was also going to make an appearance. They needed his input on particular gangs in Boston who were becoming too strong and required a sharp reversal in fortunes courtesy of The Saints and Romeo. Nevertheless, what was the worst thing that could happen at John’s? Eunice had heard one or two things about John’s latest squeeze Marianne, a tough IRS Inspector who took no shit from anyone. It could be an interesting evening, interest on an already positive investment;

“Okay John, dinner would be nice.”

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 4: Quo Vadis American Woman?

Eunice decided she had better go and sort Gorgeous out and pay him a visit at the health spa. Sure enough, he was working as an informant for the FBI using the cover of being the boss of a high class call-girl service. The idea was that the call-girls would initiate pillow talk and get their clientele who tended not only to be top mobsters, but also high ranking officials within the Massachusetts state apparatus, some of them obviously corrupt, to spill details of their ongoing nefarious activities. As George was now being financed out of black ops money, Eunice despised his argument that he had legitimate reason to call himself a public servant. The reality was that after the demise of his paymaster and wayward protector Yakavetta, he would have pretty soon ended up chumming the waters as fish bait. He was finished so there was nothing else for it but to throw himself into the arms of Kuntsler who had his own vital need to make something work, anything, and take George under his wing. Not that the operation had been a waste of time, some careless and arrogant clients had provided useful details, much of it regarding laundering drug money but specifically one case of a corrupt Senator on the payroll of the drug barons who had intentions of interfering with and diverting police investigations into his paymasters. This Senator was now under FBI surveillance and once sufficient evidence had been gathered to take him and his friends in the Mob down, Agents Kuntsler and Bloom would not hesitate.

The call-girls did not operate from the health spa as it was George’s job to set them up with their own apartments and then provide them with a contact point for any information they might obtain. George continued to run the health spa as a legitimate business but what Eunice objected to was he had set up an actual brothel within the premises on the second floor. This was nothing to do with the FBI and certainly not sanctioned. So what? There were numerous brothels in Boston but Eunice did not like the fact that as the FBI had effectively saved this guy’s fat ass, he was taking advantage of it and diversifying into illegitimate activities. ‘Once a mobster…..?’

Besides, the high class call-girls knew how to and could afford to look after themselves, but at the lower end of the profession it was dangerous, there could be sex slavery, enforced drug dependency and violence. Eunice wouldn’t shut down George’s brothel but she needed him to know she was watching him. Kuntsler wasn’t bothered what Gorgeous did as a sideline, just as long as the pillow talk kept coming.

Eunice shimmied her way down the central isle of the health spa, her Para LDA stowed in her shoulder holster this time. Erika who was behind the nail bar, on seeing Eunice ran out from behind it and threw her arms around the agent;

“Eunice! You’ve returned!”

“Stop that now Erika,” Eunice pushed her arms away, “I’m here on business to see Gorgeous, where is he?”

“He’s in his office, but before you leave, come back and see me!”

George, through the open door of his office saw Eunice approach, her cold unwavering stare upon him;

“Oh fucking Christ, no,” he muttered as he quickly swept the pile of dollar bills on top of the desk into the open drawer, “not that fucking bitch, not now!”

As Eunice entered the office, George jumped up from behind the desk;

“Eunice! Come on in!” He stumbled towards her, arms open.

“Sit your fad-ass down!” She stopped him in his tracks by placing a hand inside her left jacket lapel. Why did everyone want to grab hold of her? But then again, she was such a popular girl, after all.

George decided a quick retreat back to his seat behind the desk was his best option;

“Come on, Eunice, don’t be like that, you and me, we’re good now? Hey, I helped you, remember that day in Cunty’s office…”

“Don’t you ever mention that again!” Eunice leant over the desk in his face, “I don’t owe you a fucking thing!” But she did owe him something. He had wanted to help her and his tears of distress had been genuine, but he couldn’t do anything, hamstrung by his subservience and deference to Kuntsler.

“Okay-okay!” George caved in completely, “What can I do for you?”

“For starters, and I mean starters, what information have you got? There’s something else I need to speak to you about, but first things first.”

“Seven million dollars has come in from New York, my old stomping ground! The Vrublenskis are going to launder it, and the end product four million…”

“What? That’s one shitty deal. You mean they’re going to lose almost half of it to clean it? Fuck that!”

“Yeah, but they’re urging to get it done right away, too much fucking heat in New York, that’s why they’ve pushed it up here. It’s then going to be put into a high end asset, dockside.”

“Dockside?”

“That‘s right, The Capricorn Reef. It’s a yacht.”

“A yacht? More like the Capricious Grief!”

“Ah, it’s not like that at all, it’s not a bad looking tub when you see it. Yachts are all the rage now for mobsters, the must have status symbol. The Capricorn Reef is up for sale, it’ll go for about four million, a few years down the line, sell it for eight, it’s an investment, it’s a done deal.”

“Okay, who’s selling it?”

“The Port Authority!” George laughed.

“Who the fuck?”

“No shit, they seized it because of arrears of berthing rent, maintenance charges and fuel. They’re in on it too!”

“Okay George, we’ll see about them. Anything on the Senator?”

“No, nothing new, rather quiet on that front. He’s still planning to lean on officers within Boston PD involved in anti-mob work, but nothing definite so far.”

Eunice didn’t like the sound of that, detectives Duffy, Dolly and Kiersky could end up in the Senator’s sights, either his or those of the Mob proper.

“So what else?” George shrugged.

“I know about the hookers upstairs, what the fuck are you playing at Gorgeous?”

“Get the fuck outa here! There’s no hookers here, there’s the odd ‘massage’ fee under the table, but…”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you bastard! Don’t insult my intelligence and treat me with some fucking respect!” Eunice almost climbed over the desk at this point.

“Alright, whoa! Stop!” George shrank back as far as he could go in the chair, “There’s one or two people on the payroll upstairs, yeah, nothing fancy, a bit of business diversification, spreading the risk….”

“I’ll spread your fucking face all over the fucking wall, try that for fucking diversification! How many!”

“Four girls… five I think.”

“I’m going up to check on them.”

“What the fuck do you want to do that for?”

“If I find there’s any trafficking or any other sort of coercion involved up there, you know what I’ll do to you Gorgeous.”

“Go on, go and fucking see them, see if I fucking care, it’s all properly run…”

“Well for your sake I hope so, for the sake of a fat ass!” Eunice walked out.

“Shit!” George’s head slumped forwards into his elbow supported hands. Then he was struck by a sudden uplifting thought. He jumped up and put his head through the doorway, Eunice could be seen retreating in the direction of the back staircase;

“Bloomy! Hey Bloomy!” He shouted after her, “You’re back, Bloomy! You’re back!” Eunice stopped, looked over her shoulder, just about managed to suppress a smile, then eyes forward continued on her way.

Eunice climbed the dingy stairs. At the top seated on a stool was the usual goon, baseball bat leant against the wall, supposed to provide security. He looked at her up and down as she reached the last few steps;

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing here, the call-girls have their own place,” he showed his annoyance at her presumed mistake, “you’re not supposed to work up here, go and see Gorgeous to sort you out somewhere!”

“Sorry, wrong profession…” Eunice whipped out her FBI ID.

“Uugh, you’re shitting me…” was all he could manage before being propelled head first down the stairs, coming to a standstill in an unconscious heap at the foot of it.

“Sorry, wrong profession…” Eunice whipped out her FBI ID,

“Uugh, you’re shitting me…”

Eunice looked down the dimly lit corridor, three doors were on either side. On the left the nearest door opened, the working occupant needed to know what all the consternation was about. The woman was a long time prostitute, Eunice could tell. She once again held up her ID.

“Fuck! Everyone,” the woman shouted down the corridor. “it’s a bust!” Other doors opened, producing two men doing their best to try and make themselves decent. They nervously eyed Eunice as they passed her. She ignored them, they weren’t even worth the cursory ‘fuck off’ instruction. Only two punters? Well, it was mid-morning, slack time for business. At the first two pairs of doorways, there were now women standing looking at Eunice.

“Okay, go back inside,” she told them, “nobody’s in any trouble, I’m just here to talk.” Eunice entered the room where the first woman had appeared.

“Hi, I’m KC.” She introduced herself.

“What’s your real name?”

“KC, what the fuck do you want?”

“I want to know what sort of operation Gorgeous is running up here. How safe is it?”

“Well it’s a damn sight more safe than the street, I’ve done that shit for far too long.”

“Okay, so George has given you a roof over your head, but what else does he provide? Security?”

“Sammy provides all the security we need, what happened to him, where is he?”

“Last time I saw him he was sleeping on the job, I think you could do better. What about health, provision for gynaecology?”

“Lady, ain’t you some bitch asking that!” KC laughed, “Who the fuck do you think you are, health and safety executive, staff fucking welfare? What next, gonna ask me to join a fucking union?”

“It’s important, I’m not fucking with you!” Eunice thought it was wrong to ignore such matters, “You do drugs?”

“Yeah, of course I take stuff, I’ve always done and I’ve always controlled it, it’s no big deal.” The two women scrutinised one another. Eunice knew KC was telling the truth, approximately in her mid-forties, she was well attuned to the hand life had dealt her, she knew the score, self assured hardness. KC in turn contemplated her visitor. A beautiful, intelligent and classy lady, mid-thirties, not married, no kids. Understated make-up, a quality manicure and hair a good cut. Expensive blouse and suit, Rolex and valuable necklace, and to raise a smile, those shoes.

Those shoes

There was also the bulge of a gun emanating from the lady’s left armpit, but given the nature of her work, such lopsidedness should be forgiven. An impeccably turned out professional, but sexy and confident with it. An FBI Agent. Go girl.

‘But given better circumstances in life I could’ve easily been you, and it cuts both ways, you could easily have ended up like me… You are wrong to come in here and patronize us working girls, there’s nothing superior about you at all.’

Eunice had a knowing look on her face, she thought in turn:

‘You’re thinking that given different circumstances, I could’ve ended up like you, wrong, lady! Given my gifts of intelligence and other exceptional abilities, I could have never ended up like you. Nevertheless, I have no right to treat you with disrespect or judge you. Actually, I have tremendous respect for you, it’s not an easy life and yet you knuckle down and get on with it. You’re in it and making the best of it you can.’ Go girl.

“Can I get you anything?” KC broke the silence, “Cigarette?”

“No thanks, I don’t.”

“No, your sort doesn’t, a drink?” KC gestured to the half bottle of Jack Daniels on the shelf.

“No, not while I’m working,” Eunice declined, “and for that matter, neither should you!”

“You cheeky fucking bitch!” KC laughed out loud as did Eunice;

“Seriously though, what about the other girls?”

“What about them?” KC was all at once defensive.

“Well, anything you’d like to tell me.”

“They’re out there, go and speak to them yourself.”

“No problem, I’ll do that. Anyway, it was nice talking to you.”

“It was nice of you to come up and see us, and I mean that.”

“I’m concerned, it can be dangerous the line of work you do.”

“Thank you for your concern, but your own line of work can be just as dangerous if not more. Perhaps I should be more concerned for you, Special Agent Bloom?” Eunice gave KC a weak smile and quickly left the room. She felt uncomfortable being upstaged by anyone but she couldn’t dwell on it. She visited the other three doors nearest the stairs. The workers ensconced were much the same as KC, long term hookers, drug habit though under control, making the best of it they could in this dump, could be worse.

“Hello, anybody home?” Eunice knocked on the fifth door.

“Come in.” came the small voice from the other side.

“Ah! Now there’s an accent!” Eunice gravitated instantly to it. She pushed on the door and was confronted by a pitiful sight. This little waif of a young girl probably only just out of high school, seemed as if she hadn’t the strength to stand up from the worn out bed she was sitting on.

“Well, howdy partner!” Eunice jovially punched the girl lightly on the shoulder before sitting down on the bed and putting an arm around her; “And who might you be?”

“I’m Alison.”

“But not just any old Alison, you’re lone star Alison from Texas!” Alison looked into the visitor’s beautiful friendly eyes, needful, hoping. “Well, just look at the two of us,” Eunice squeezed Alison’s thin little shoulder, “ain’t we a pair, belles up here so far away from home! So what’s your story?”

“Nothing, I came here looking for work.”

“Wrong answer, you’re supposed to seek fame and fortune in sunny California, not grey and gloomy Boston! Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“I came here, I had no money. I got in with some people who were friendly….”

“Oh I bet they were all nice and friendly….”

“Like I said I had no money so they put me in contact with George. I didn’t know anyone, he said I could stay here.”

“You’re a runaway, aren’t you?” Alison looked back at Eunice, no answer. “You need to get yourself down that phone booth and make that long distance call home.”

“I can’t, I can’t speak to my parents, it was a hateful situation at home, I can’t speak to them, don’t ask me to!”

“Was somebody touching you?”

“No, nothing like that, but I just had to get away.”

“Oh I don’t know what happened at home, and I don’t care, but it can’t be any worse than the situation you’re in now.”

“What’s wrong with here? I’m doing alright here.”

“What the fuck do you think this is Alison? Finishing School for young southern ladies? You’re a prostitute! You’re being exploited and abused. They don’t give you any money do they? Can you go out?”

“Yes, I can if I want.”

“So you’re not a prisoner here? Well, then I can’t help you.” Alison’s head fell, shoulders hunched. “Look Alison, I can’t do anything if you won’t help yourself. Fuck it, there’s hundreds of runaways just like you all over the state being exploited. If you choose to stay in this life then what can I do? Oh, it’s not my problem!” Eunice all at once felt weary.

“The other women here,” Alison quietly ventured, “why do their faces look the way they do?”

“That,” Eunice angrily turned on the girl, her frustration getting the better of her, “is the face worn by the long term hooker! There’s something about this life that destroys your self dignity and worth, and gives you that look. Hell, it even destroys you physically, all your internal organs, the very stuff that makes you a woman, do you really want to turn out like that Alison?” Alison looked emptily at the floor. “I know what you’re thinking Alison, you think that in your current predicament there’s no alternative to this but you’re wrong, contact social services back home, speak to your parents, once they hear your voice, they will forgive you instantly and beg you to come home, just make that call!”

“I can’t, I can’t!” Alison broke down, “It’s all so messed up. I can never go back and face them after all that happened….” Eunice stood up. “Don’t go!” Alison grabbed the woman’s waist.

“Oh, I’m going. I’m off now. I’ve other people here I need to see. Just remember what I said about that call. I can’t do it for you.” Eunice made her exit before she broke down herself. No, people like that weren’t worth the effort, strays and misfits, all with a hard luck story, just another one, she couldn’t, and didn’t have to save any of them, why should she? Alison.

“Anyone home?” Eunice knocked at the sixth door. No answer so she pushed the door in. Now what have we here? Two women, not prostitutes and yet inside a whorehouse. They looked foreign and poor. Galina and Mariam did not know who this beautiful woman was, but they knew she was a friend. There was strength and the power to render assistance, they recognised it instantly.

“Oh pretty lady, you help us.” Galina seized the woman’s shoulders who seemed confused and unsure what was going on.

“Pretty lady, help, help.” Mariam’s grasp of English was so poor all she could do was parrot Galina as she too took a hold of Eunice. Almost overcome, Eunice raised her hands and as gently as she could manage, pushed the assailants away. The penny dropped, Eunice knew what had gone down here. Shit! Fucking shit! Her hands were tied, she would have to deal with this. There was no way she could let this slide like Alison.

“Lay it on me, what’s your story?” She spoke to the first one.

“My name. Galina Svetenska. I come from Macedonia. I pay four thousand dollar to come and work as cleaner…”

“Any papers?” Eunice could barely summon up enough interest to ask. The woman shook her head, “Yeah, didn’t think so.” Eunice turned to number two; “And you?” Number two looked back at Eunice, misunderstanding and confused, then she looked to number one;

“Her name. Mariam, Mariam…”

“Mariam Puan Kalpak.” Mariam helped her colleague out.

“She from Uzbekistan.” Galina continued, “six thousand five hundred dollar to work in fast-food.…”

“Yeah, I’m fucking lovin’ it.” Eunice summed up her disdain for these poor dupes, “Sammy?” she fired the name at Galina.

“Sammy?” Galina replied.

“He doesn’t let you go out?” Galina shook her head in confirmation. There was no way of turning a blind eye to this. Trafficking people into the country was a serious federal crime. “Get your shit together, we’re leaving.” Eunice made the decision, the only decision.

“Shit?” Galina looked back blankly.

“Your bags, your belongings! Come on! Move!” Eunice began to lose her temper with this situation that had foisted itself upon her.

Galina and Mariam managed to fill a solitary plastic bag each before following Eunice out of the room and into the corridor. KC was waiting at her door for them to pass;

“All in a day’s work, Special Agent,” she laughed at Eunice’s vexed expression, “all in a day’s work!”

Eunice reached half way down the stairs and stopped. The two women following gawped over her shoulder at the vanquished Sammy lying prone in the stairwell.

“Go to the bottom and wait.” Eunice told Galina, “You understand?” Galina nodded.

KC was about to go back in her room and shut the door when she heard those shoes coming back up the stairs;

“Aha!” she congratulated herself. The strawberry blonde head of the FBI agent appeared and rose up out of the stairwell. She traipsed across the landing and stopped in front of KC. The returnee appeared agitated, confused and unhappy.

“What are you doing?” KC enquired.

“I don’t fucking know! I don’t know what I’m doing! But I had to come back!” Eunice sounded so dispirited.

“Then let me help you,” KC reassured the woman, “Go and get the kid, if you don’t you’ll never be able to live with yourself….”

KC watched Eunice barge open the kid’s door and go inside;

“Much obliged to you Special Agent Bloom, do come again,” KC spoke bitter words to herself, “Twenty years too late for some…”

_______________________________________________

George looked through his open door and saw Eunice approaching. She came on relentlessly like the Hindu Goddess Kali the Destroyer, with an expression of all consuming thunder to match. Why? Then he saw who was following her. The blood seemed to drain right out of him, through his feet and into the floor. Shit, shit, shit!

It was the eastern Europeans and that girl from New Orleans or some other fucked up place, he couldn’t remember. He was fucked! All at once the adrenaline pumped into his kidneys, fight or flight? There was the gun in his bottom drawer? No, don’t even think about it, not against Bloom, not unless he wanted to use it on himself. He looked at the window, he looked at the ceiling, no escape.

“What the fuck are these women doing here, George?” Eunice strode right up to the desk.

“Eunice! I swear, I don’t know who the fuck they are, I take whoever I’m given!” He proffered the baseless excuse.

“Bullshit! I don’t give a fuck whether you’re on the FBI payroll or not, people trafficking?” Eunice pointed at the two eastern women, “I’ll have you sent down for that, for years you fucking animal!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t fucking know!” He persisted helplessly.

“And Alison?” Eunice looked at the girl.

“Who?”

“You don’t even know her fucking name? Alison from Texas!”

“Oh yeah, Alison, yeah, yeah, she needed somewhere to stay, I love the kid like my own fuckin’ daughter…”

“Ha!” Eunice threw her head back, “To think you’d keep your own daughter in a place like this! But there again, knowing you Gorgeous, you probably would! If not your daughter, then your own fucking mother, you bastard!” George slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes, beaten. “George!” There was no let up, “George! Look at me!” He warily looked through slits, then wider. Oh god, he was getting the stare. This woman was capable of murderous destruction if provoked, Cunty was smart to bind and blind her. “Now you listen George, and listen good. You will provide women’s health facilities for the girls upstairs, and proper security instead of that knucklehead Sammy…”

“Sammy? Where is he? What did you do to him?”

“He’s on lunch break!” George, confused, looked at the office clock, 10:20, “The deal is, if I ever come back here and find trafficked women or runaways, I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat you’ll have to brush ‘em through your asshole! So wise the fuck up!”

Eunice purposefully walked down the central isle of the spa towards the exit, her trio of new friends behind. All the staff knew who the women from upstairs were and turned their backs in shame, all apart from Erika who came running towards Eunice;

“Eunice! We need to…”

“Not now Erika! Not now of all times!” Eunice brushed her aside.

Eunice led the trio to her Mercedes Benz sedan in the basement car park. They were in awe of it, a big beautiful silver machine.

“You two, in the back, Alison, shotgun with me.” The ship’s captain allocated the seating. Galina and Mariam sat uncomfortably on the plush black leather, frightened and unworthy of such luxury. Galina who was directly behind the driver’s seat, made to grab and hug the lady as she got in, she had to do something to show her unending gratitude;

“Thank you for saving us, pretty lady!” She exclaimed, clumsily and unintentionally winding her arm around Eunice’s neck.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Eunice twisted herself out of the arm, “How am I supposed to drive this thing with you grabbing hold of me all the time? Get back in the seats and put your belts on! You too Alison!”

As Alison carried out the instruction she heard the driver mutter to herself; “Fucking women! You’re worse than fucking men!” The driver fired up the engine and roared out of the car park onto the street, no seatbelt for her. One-handed she yanked the wheel this way, then the other, weaving in and out of the traffic at breakneck speed, and the violent cornering, almost enough to turn the vehicle on its roof! The liberated watched the driver in fascination. Something in silver paper was grabbed up from the central console, unfolded in the fingers of one hand, then the slab of gum fed into the mouth, folded with the tongue and chewed vigorously. Now the car-phone was grabbed up and autodialed;

“Janice! My main gal!” The driver laughed and smiled broadly holding the handset, “Just coming back from Gorgeous’s, yeah I’ll be in…. the letters, you did them…..? Calls? Who the fuck….? I’m coming in, yeah…, okay…,keep him there till I get there……….don’t worry about it….see you, bye!” The handset banged back into the central console.

“Janice! My main gal!”

Galina and Mariam looked at one another and beamed, it was if they couldn’t contain their joy after seeing such a performance! This was the power and wealth firsthand of the world’s only superpower in action, their saviour was an American woman! Her strength and her beauty, her lovely clothes and her awesome car, her life and the way she acted! This was it, this was what coming to America was all about, the dream, to be this woman, to aspire to be someone like that; ‘Oh Providence, may we stand on the shoulders of this giant!’ It had been a terrible false start ending up in a brothel, but now with this wonderful lady on side, the dream was back on track, surely?

The phone rang, the handset was grabbed back up and it started all over again, the laughter, the smiling, the banter and the limitless uplifting enthusiasm, it was difficult not to fall in love with this woman, you couldn’t help it. Alison managed to tear her eyes away from Eunice for a few moments and look over her shoulder at the moronic grinning faces of the two in the back. She was disarmed by their naïve innocence, they were experiencing the dream close up, albeit mostly in dollar signs. Alison was under no such illusions, being an American herself, hell, she was from Texas, there was no shortage of beautiful people in beautiful cars leading beautiful lives in that neck of the woods. Nonetheless, this angel sent from heaven had a profound effect on Alison, she was a larger than life, amazing, loving woman, almost supernatural in her vital element. She was the best thing that had happened to Alison in a long time, perhaps the best thing in all of Alison’s seventeen short years. Things had to improve now for Alison. Actually, they couldn’t fail to get better, she sensed it. Only minutes had passed, to hate one’s life and contemplate ending it, now she couldn’t wait to get on with it. Alison looked once more at the driver, jabbering away on the telephone so full of life to her friends. In the future wouldn’t it be wonderful to be on the other end of the phone? And I too a friend of this lady?

Alison wanted to live forever.

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 5: Sheriff’s Comin’

The night shift went home, the sun rose and the day workers with it.

September 11th , 7:40 am, FBI office, Boston.

The two teams of agents lounged about in Eunice’s office, waiting, for what they did not know, something, a happening.

It had been disappointing that whereas the turncoat scientist in Tehran had been able to provide a lot of technical information about the device, he had provided nothing with regards its delivery to the target or the terrorist cell stateside involved. In the weeks they had been working on this case, nothing had turned up to suggest it was actually in Boston. Rachel Harbinger was convinced that the level of ‘heat’ the CIA applied to Boston, just as with DC and New York, had locked down the city, nothing could get in. The device was probably languishing on some Malaysian dock going nowhere.

“What do you suggest Special Agent Kuntsler?” She asked full of scepticism, “Any new lines of enquiry?”

“Nothing,” he muttered, “I wish to fuck this was all over!”

“Or perhaps I should be asking your Number 2,” Rachel looked towards Eunice, “she seems to be more in command of your team than you do?” This was true, all the FBI team saw Eunice as the real leader. John knew this, but he didn’t mind. She got results and he willingly followed her lead himself. Not that there weren’t other tensions to contend with. Agent Quinn had been systematically hitting on Agent Renata Wolters, the young pretty fair haired girl on the FBI team. Needless to say this attention was most unwelcome by the young agent who considered it a form of sexual harassment. She asked Eunice to look out for her. Eunice confessed that as the CIA team operated under higher authority she was reluctant to force the issue as everyone, including the overall commanding officer Rachel knew about it and disapproved. Nevertheless, Eunice assured the young woman that she would never let Quinn harm her.

“You want a suggestion, Rachel? Let’s get outa here.” Eunice felt prompted enough, “I can’t stand this waiting about doing nothing any longer!”

“Yeah, you look like you’re just about to explode.” Rachel acidly replied. She didn’t particularly like or trust this rogue agent who had been allowed back. The information she provided from The Vatican proved to be rudimentary to say the least, a steep price to let this wanted felon get away with her crimes for such a paltry return. Okay, Bloom had innate ability and was intelligent, very intelligent, but Rachel sensed too intelligent for her own good. Vigilantism was rife in the city whereby the so called Boondock Saints systematically took out every major crime lord and it was widely believed Bloom was the mastermind responsible for springing them out of The Hoag. She hadn’t been made to pay for that and it didn’t seem right she should be allowed to get away with it. Even her boss, that idiot Cunty, was given the brief of hunting down and apprehending them, which so far he had completely failed to do. Something didn’t smell right.

Rachel hated this assignment at the Boston Bureau, she was bored out of her skull and couldn‘t wait to get back to DC where the action was, the dear girl had a career to be getting on with. Since the ‘heat’ in Boston had driven off the threat, once they had seen out this day she could kiss goodbye forever to this godforsaken shit-hole;

“So where d’ya wanna go?”

“If there’s nothing else to do on this bomb threat, let’s do other FBI work, there’s enough cases to be getting on with, you CIA guys can observe if you want.” Eunice suggested, “I haven’t visited one of our informants for a month. Gorgeous George…”

“Him? What the fuck do you want to go and see him for, on today of all days?” John thought it a very odd choice of action.

“Well, I’m going!” Eunice pushed herself off the desk she had been sitting on, “Come if you like, stay if you don’t, you can always get a rubdown if nothing else!”

The nine agents travelled to George’s health spa using two people carriers. As they walked down the central isle of the health spa in their dark professional suits, they were a sight to behold, The New Reservoir Dogs.

“Eunice!” Erika called out from the nail-bar but the Special Agent ignored her staying right on track for George’s office. George fell off his chair with the sight of nine smart purposeful professionals marching into his office, Bloomy at the lead.

“Get up and sit your fad-ass down.” She ordered him, repeat prescription.

“Fuck! What is this? A shake down?” He dumped himself back onto the chair.

“Nothing like that, it may not look like it but this is just a routine visit,” Eunice explained, “are the ladies upstairs being looked after?”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely Eunice,” George protested his innocence, “I’ve got security, health visitors, antiviral hand-wash in the bathroom, you name it, it’s all just like you said!”

“No trafficking, no runaways?”

“It’s all been middle of the roaded! Everybody’s checked out before they come to work here, I swear on my own mother’s life. Fuck it, Eunice, you know me, I wouldn’t shit you!”

“Who is this pimp prick?” Rachel asked John.

“Small time slob, and always was,” John filled her in, “too small to be worth killing, even the Boondock Saints considered him unworthy of a bullet one time. But he has provided useful information at times…”

“Have you got anything for me? Any pillow talk?” Eunice continued her interrogation.

“Yeah! I was just going to call you! I really fuckin’ was.” George promised.

“Well, what is it?”

“The people buying the Capricorn Reef can’t afford to run it so they’re selling it on at short notice. I mean how the fuck are they supposed to finance the next shipment of shit without the ready cash available? I’ll get the girl to work on the customer and try and find out who the buyer is.”

“Well that’s a fucking waste of time isn’t it, Gorgeous? No names, no contacts, no dates, what’s the point of you?” Eunice’s attitude hardened. George appealingly looked to his handler for some kind of support but as he did so, John quickly moved to stand behind Eunice, the message was indisputable. George hysterically searched his brain for something to placate Eunice, the last thing he needed was to upset her;

“There’s something else! Something about money laundering and sanctions busting!” George didn’t really have anything tangible but he would try and make the best of it, he needed to in front of her.

“Sanctions busting?”

“Yeah, busting sanctions against Iran.”

“Sanctions? Iran?” Eunice was suddenly very alert on hearing the second word.

“Exports. I don’t know, some sort of exports…”

“Oil?” Eunice didn’t want to give anything away on the true nature of her interest. The oil embargo had certainly hurt Iran over the years and seemed a good enough neutral prompt.

“No! Not exports from Iran, exports from America to Iran!” George sensed a collective aura of relaxation descend upon the nine visitors though he didn’t understand why, “I mean, mothers in Iran need good quality diapers for their kids just like everybody else!” George tried to make light of the subject, in reality he was on the verge of wetting himself with fear. So many of them in the room and nothing but stony contemptuous silence in response to his joke.

“So what are they sending over there?” Eunice thought she may as well hear the rest of this garbage.

“I’m not exactly sure, machine tools, yeah, that’s it, the girl said the client did machine tools for export.”

“High end machine tools are certainly restricted for export to Iran, especially if they can be used in their armaments industries.” Eunice confirmed.

“But that’s not all, you’d be amazed how much fucking money they expect to make! It doesn’t seem real!” George began to laugh, “It’s a colossal sum!”

“So how much are we talking about?” Eunice went through the motions of enquiry.

“Ha! When our girl is jumping up and down on him, getting the ass fucked off herself, he’s chanting over and over ‘make a billion, quarter of the pie, make a billion, quarter of the pie, make a bill…’”

George’s words were suddenly left hanging in the air as Eunice wrenched him out of the chair and onto the floor.

“What the fuck did you just say?!!” Her face contorted in it’s intensity, inhuman. George froze in shock but Eunice had heard enough to move onto another question, “What’s the company called?!”

“I…I don’t know, the girl knows.” George just had enough breath.

“What’s her name, what’s her number, where can she be contacted…..now!”

“It’s….it’s on the computer…” Eunice hauled George back into his chair.

What had he done to deserve this? All the other people in the room seemed to swirl about him, the centre of a maelstrom. George located the girl’s number and Eunice used his desk phone to ring her.

“Here Bloom, you’d best use my secure line.” Rachel held out her phone.

“Come on, pick up, you bitch!” Eunice ignored the offer and voiced her anxiety, she couldn’t afford to waste a second.

“Gorgeous, is that you?” The pickup responded at last.

“Belinda?”

“Who is this?” The voice all at once became guarded.

“Belinda, this is FBI Special Agent Eunice Bloom on a matter of national security…”

“I’m a little bit tied up at the moment, can’t it wait?”

“Pull your knickers back up, there’s not a moment to lose.”

“Hey, am I in some sort of trouble? This is a legit sanctioned operation…”

“Fuck that! Shut up and listen! The guy you’re humping, the one who’s always on about the billion, the quarter of the pie, who the fuck is he, the name!”

“Oh him, the exporter…?”

“Yes! Him! Him!”

“Shelton, yeah, Ed Shelton.”

“Who does he work for?”

“He’s the boss, Shelton Machine Tools…” Eunice relayed the name and the company to Rachel who furiously accessed additional information using George’s computer internet connection.

“Now listen very carefully to me, Belinda,” Eunice returned to the woman on the other end, “You stay right where you are and keep whoever is with you there also. You are not in any trouble but I am having you taken into protective custody. Do not speak a word of this to anyone else on pain of death or worse and do not make any communications anyway until our people come for you and your client, understand?” Belinda confirmed she understood so Eunice banged the phone down without further word.

“Anything?” Eunice pressed Rachel.

“Shelton, he’s got previous, handling and credit card fraud, but nothing major. The company is a tooling export agent, it doesn’t manufacture the tools, just brings the manufacturer and the overseas buyer together. Head office is located downtown but the tools are processed for export in a warehouse near Boston Common. I’m just accessing the IRS, let’s find out who else is on the payroll.” Eunice noticed Rachel was using special encrypted codes to access databases that were generally out of bounds. How come these CIA spooks had so much more resources than the lowly FBI office in Boston? “Three categories of staff in the IRS payroll records, directors, administration and warehouse,” Rachel gave commentary without looking up from the computer screen, “only two warehouse people….Geoffrey Longacre and Tariq Vindhani. I know it’s wrong to make assumptions about names but the second one sounds middle eastern. I’ll access his drivers licence and do a criminal records check.” Rachel brought up Vindhani’s picture after a few moments tapping at the keyboard, clearly a man of middle eastern origin, he was clean, no criminal record. Rachel quickly accessed all other known data on him. Aged 35, born in Lebanon, himself and his Lebanese parents had been allowed into America as refugees in need of asylum . He was not on any list of terrorist suspects.

“Look at the time!” Eunice urged, “It’s 8:15! We need to get down to that warehouse! If the bomb is anywhere, it’ll be there!”

“Bomb?” George looked frightened, “What bomb?” But Eunice didn’t answer, she had other priorities. George couldn’t believe his eyes as Eunice pulled out her gun and put two rounds through the computer hard-drive.

“Good call, Agent Bloom…” Rachel insincerely approved the action, “What about him?”

“Oh god, no! Please don’t kill me!” George fell to his knees in front of Eunice, “I won’t tell a fucking soul, I swear!”

“I’m not going to kill you, Gorgeous. ‘Every good boy goes to heaven’, you know that!” She re-holstered her gun.

“Oh thank-you, thank-you! You fucking bitch! Thank-you!” George walked over to Eunice on his knees and grabbed hold of her around the legs, clinging on as if for dear life while she patted him on the head. “We’ll have to take him with us,” Eunice announced her decision, “we can’t take the risk.”

________________________________________________

“Shit! They’ve finally arrested Gorgeous!” Erika called over to Heidi on seeing him being pushed ahead of the troupe of agents down the central isle.

On the way out to the Shelton warehouse, Eunice, Rachel, George, Quinn and Peel were in the first chauffeured people carrier, everyone else used the second vehicle.

“What the fuck is this all about, Eunice?” George was almost in tears.

“Shut the fuck up George, I ain’t literally got the time of day for you.” came the dismissive response. Rachel had been on her secure line calling in CIA special forces to surround the Shelton head office building and the warehouse. She also authorised the arrest of Shelton and his staff once it was felt safe to move in against them.

“How far do you think this Shelton fucker is involved?” Rachel asked Eunice.

“If anything, he’s just a fucking dupe. Just trying to make a fast buck, and a big one at that by doing a bit of sanctions busting. You have to hand it to the terrorists, using an export line of communication in reverse to import the bomb completely under the radar, clever fuckers. And Shelton? If he knew what’s sitting in his warehouse right this minute!”

“That’s if there is a bomb,” Rachel countered, “I think we may have just let our imaginations run away from reality. We’ll probably just find crates full of diapers ready for shipping out like our pimp friend here suggested.”

“The words Iran, billion and quarter Pi were used, coincidence?” Eunice looked hard at the one in overall command, “What do you think?”

Both vehicles pulled up in a side street around the corner from the warehouse.

“Stay in the car George.” Eunice ordered, but before he could answer she then spoke to the chauffeur; “If he tries to leave or speak to anyone, shoot him.”

The nine agents avoided the front loading bay of the warehouse and approached it from the rear. It was quite a tall building for such a small footprint in the street, the main ground floor storage area having two storeys over it together with a flat roof. The back door was locked so Kuntsler gave the order for Agent Wolters to shoot out the lock. The nine with weapons drawn slipped through the door and spread out.

“Man down!” called out Agent Conte kneeling down by a body, “It’s Geoffrey Longacre, gunshot to the head.”

“The bastard killed his workmate.” Rachel relayed her condemnation to Eunice.

Blam!! A bullet passed right between the two women sending all agents diving for cover behind the various shelving present.

“Give it up Vindhani!” Rachel called out, “You can’t get away, back-up has the place surrounded!”

Blam!! A bullet hit the shelving very near to Rachel’s head. Agents Quinn and Peel now laid down a barrage of covering fire into the isle so the rest of the agents could advance forward.

“He’s making for the elevator!” Agent Ginsburg shouted the warning. Kuntsler quickly moved to the next isle and saw a running figure, crouched low making for some elevator doors at the far end. He emptied his clip in one burst of fire but frustratingly the ducking and weaving figure managed to get inside the elevator and close the door, the last two rounds harmlessly hitting it.

“Everyone up the stairs!” Shouted John. Eunice kicked off her shoes and sprinted over to the stairwell, disappearing inside and up the stairs.

“Jesus!” Rachel called over to Agent Peel as they both ran to the stairwell, “She’s fit! Can U-Blu really run that fast?!”

As the remaining agents stormed up the first flight of stairs they saw Eunice on the top second storey landing entering onto the main floor.

“Zimmerman, Conte!” Rachel drew their attention, “Clear the first floor, everyone else with me to the top!” When the six agents entered the top floor they found Eunice just inside taking cover low down behind one of the numerous nearby shelves.

“Careful everyone, he could be anywhere.” Eunice whispered to the new arrivals.

“What’s the matter, Bloom?” Rachel crouched down beside the singular vanguard, “Unable to do it all by yourself?”

“Don’t fuck about Rachel! We need to work together on this. We need to move forward like we did downstairs and force him out into the open.”

“How do you know he’s even here? He could be on the first floor.”

The other five agents including Kuntsler, watched the two women intently, fascinated as team strategy was thrashed out between them, the brilliant and massively experienced older woman versus the ebullient young and ambitious newcomer.

“He’ll be up here.” Eunice was certain, “You want a nuclear bomb to be as high as possible to maximise the damage, not that one floor is going to make much difference.” At that moment Zimmerman and Conte arrived up from the floor below reporting it clear.

“Told you so!” Eunice looked to Rachel.

“Alright Bloom, just as long as you remember who’s in command here, this is your final warning, I won‘t tell you again!” Rachel tugged roughly at Eunice’s jacket sleeve and then turning to the rest of the assembled, she gave out new orders; “Quinn, go up the left wall, Peel up the right, flank him and flush him to the rest of us. Everyone else spread out, move forward, clear the isles and cover each other, wait for my mark!”

“Rachel, don’t send the two agents forward isolated up either side,” Eunice expressed her reservations, “you’re putting them in danger, send them with some of my people so they have support.”

“If you question one of my orders in front of the other agents again, Bloom, I’ll fucking flatten you!” Rachel was livid that doubt had been expressed about her judgement, “And you Cunty, grow yourself some balls and keep this insubordinate rogue bitch in line, or I will!”

“The dumb ass doesn’t realise she is exposing her agents to unnecessary danger like that.” Eunice said under her breath to Zimmerman at her side who nodded in agreement. Quinn and Peel duly left and disappeared up the side of each wall, the rest of the agents waited for Rachel’s order to advance. Several shots rang out forward, the distinctive reports of Quinn and Peel’s Glock pistols, now the reply of the terrorist’s gun.

“Push up while they’ve got him pinned!” Rachel at last gave the order. The seven agents edged forwards amongst the shelving covering one another, systematically reducing the objective’s area of manoeuvre. Rachel and Eunice purposefully moved together up their selected isle. Suddenly they were confronted by the target trying to flee from agents Quinn and Peel. By pure reflex action, Rachel managed to fire a shot hitting the man in the left shoulder, he fell back, turned and began to stagger back down the isle. Rachel now took careful aim…

“No!” Eunice screamed, “We need him alive!” She pushed a hand towards Rachel’s gun hoping to deflect the aim. Too late, Rachel fired, hitting the man in the lower back and putting him down just before Eunice forced the gun against a box on the shelving.

“Don’t you ever touch me again!” Rachel reacted badly to Eunice’s intervention, roughly shoving her away with a push to the shoulder.

“He’s no use to us dead!” Eunice tried to reason.

“Negative! I’m in command, not you! You follow my orders to the letter, you mutinous swine!” Rachel wouldn’t listen, “Now get your fucking ass forward and check him for intelligence, move it Bloom!”

Eunice closed down the man, she noticed he was still alive and holding his pistol, though not aimed at her. Their eyes met, it was him, the man on the driver’s licence, Tariq Vindhani.

“FBI, drop the weapon!” She challenged him aiming her Para LDA directly at his head.

“FBI, drop the weapon!”

Ignoring her challenge, he pushed the barrel of his gun inside the left side of his coat and began firing. Eunice thought he was committing suicide but the bullets ripped holes on the outside of the coat as he fired through it. Eunice took careful aim but before she could fire the man’s wrist exploded in blood, the force of the shot flinging his gun to the floor out of harm’s way. Agent Ginsburg appeared from the side and stood over the terrorist, gun trained at his head.

“Nice shooting Agent Ginsburg.” Eunice praised her assistant while re-holstering her gun. The other advancing agents now converged, surrounding the critically wounded man.

“Where are the others?” Agent Kuntsler demanded, “Who else is working with you?”

“No-one else, they’re all long gone,” the man hoarsely spoke, “there’ll be only one martyr today.”

Eunice pulled open the left side of Vindhani’s coat, ran her hands over the lining then tore it away. Vindhani bent his head down as far as he could to see;

“What did I destroy?” He took a keen interest in what the woman was doing.

“Fuck!” Eunice couldn’t contain her surprise, “He’s got the bomb keys in here!”

“What did I destroy?!” Vindhani persisted with added urgency. Eunice pulled out two intact electronic keys, which she recognised as two of the three ignition bomb locator keys. She then pulled out a third shattered beyond repair with bullet holes through it.

“The other one, did I get it?” Vindhani was frantically eager to know.

“Oh no you didn’t!” Eunice triumphantly pulled out the larger abort key intact and unscathed. She noticed an expression of deep disappointment pass over Vindhani’s face, his gunfire had had caused damage but failed to destroy the all essential detonation abort key.

“Shit! We’ve only got two locator keys!” Rachel vented her frustration, “We need all three! Now what are we going to do?”

“We also need the nine numeric abort code too.” Eunice was quick to point out they were still a long way from staving off being vaporized.

“I hear you may have a number as suggested by our math people, Bloom.” Rachel pursued the matter.

“I have some thoughts on what it could be but I’ve no way of corroborating it or knowing if it’s right, and it has no known correlation with the check-digit. We haven’t even found the fucking bomb yet!” Eunice uncharacteristically spoke in defeatist tones.

“Hey! Everyone, hey! Over here!” Agent Quinn’s voice called out from forward.

“Go on, Bloomy,” Kuntsler stood by Eunice, “Go and have a look at the device for me, I’ll stay here and keep watch over Vindhani.”

With that Eunice gathered up the three intact keys and followed the other agents forward. They came upon an office with large internal side windows where agents Quinn and Peel could be seen within. Eunice entered the office along with the other agents and there it was, a great ugly dark behemoth of a thing, squat in the middle of the floor, a meter square facing her and half as much deep. It was evident Vindhani and his terrorist cell had been busy all night, bolting and welding the outer metal frame of the bomb to the girders within the fabricated floor so no quick extraction was possible. In many details the device was different in appearance from the diagram provided by the CIA, but all the distinctive sections were there, the Main console, the Abort console and lastly the Payload section, it’s eight bombs menacingly lined up like assault troops ready for action.

The bomb was clearly live with the Arming key still seated in the Main console, the timer counting down …14:53.…14:52.…14:51.… Eunice looked at her watch; 8:31, of course! Fifteen minutes to 8:46! The reality of the situation to all the agents present now hit home with numbing force.

“This is how he got the Arming code.” Peel pointed to the laptop computer on the desk which was connected to a portable satellite dish.

“Look at this,” Quinn held out a piece of paper for Rachel’s inspection, “The dumb fucker wrote down the code!”

Eunice showed no interest and after placing the three keys on the desk began tapping away at the laptop keyboard.

“Here, Bloom, we have the code, the fucking imbecile wrote it down for us, don’t you want to see it?” Rachel offered Eunice the paper.

“Why shouldn’t he jot it down?” Eunice had other ideas about Vindhani’s motives, “Once he received it through this encrypted link from Tehran and armed the bomb with it, he may as well have sprayed it in fifty foot numerals all over the front of the fucking White House, for all it matters now. It is the Arming code, it is spent information!”

“How do you know it’s the Arming code? It could be the Abort code, you don’t know!” Rachel clung to the hope she was on to something.

“Oh it’s the Arming code alright,” Eunice’s tone was assured, “used to arm the ignition bomb, one of eight in that piece of shit fixed to the floor there. If we don’t get that abort code in less than fifteen minutes, we’re fucked along with the rest of Boston. Our only hope is that Tehran has a last minute change of heart and sends through an Abort instruction via this satellite link and hope Vindhani, the man you critically wounded, will obey orders and act on it. We can always dream can’t we?”

“Don’t you mean send us through the Abort code?” Rachel didn’t quite understand.

“No! There’ll be no further code sent through. The Arming code confirms what the Abort code will be via the check-digit! Vindhani has already worked it out and it’s in his head.”

“Then we must work it out as he did.” Rachel logically followed.

“Exactly! But how? What computations did he do to produce it? That 318 repeating series plus nineteen percent of fuck knows what somehow ties together that Arming code you’ve just picked up and the Abort code. I’m terrified to even look at the number he wrote down, how could I know where to even start?” Eunice paused, and then she remembered on top of everything else; “And fuck it! We’ve only got two locator keys out of three and not much more than ten minutes to detonation, no pressure, like!”

“Look at the code!” Rachel demanded, “Is it the one you had in mind?” Eunice looked at the nine numbers which had been pushed into her hand;

“No, that’s not it, I knew it wouldn’t be.”

“Fuck you, bitch! What would you know anyway!” Rachel angrily admonished snatching the paper back, “If all else fails, I will key that number in, if it’s the only one we have.”

Eunice quickly ran the nine numbers she had read twice over in her mind so she still retained them. Over her dead body would she let that spent code be used to try and defuse the bomb while there was still time.

“Quinn! Relay the number to HQ to see if our math guys can come up with anything, fast!” Rachel passed the paper to the agent so he could carry out the instruction. “Zimmerman, Ginsburg, go and bring Vindhani in here, quickly!” Rachel was intent on trying something different.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Eunice spoke to Rachel as the two agents left the office.

“In this situation, Bloom, the ends must justify the means. If we can’t work out the code then we must extract it from him.” the answer came dangerously quiet and full of intent.

Agents Zimmerman and Ginsburg carried in the frail looking Vindhani and laid him on the floor in front of Rachel. It was clear he had lost a lot of blood and was unlikely to survive. John followed and was immediately struck by the device in the centre of the office and more importantly, the swiftly diminishing resource left on it’s timer.

“You!” Vindhani looked up at Kuntsler, “You seem to be senior rank, and yet you let these two shameless whores order everyone about, you’re not a man if you can’t keep them under proper control…” Before John could answer, Rachel stamped on Vindhani’s wounded shoulder causing him to cry out.

“How dare you, you terrorist mother-fucker!” She spat the rebuke down at him.

“Jesus Christ Rachel!” Eunice hissed between her teeth, “Softly does it, we need the code!”

“Who do you think you’re dealing with?” Rachel was exasperated, “He’s a highly trained Iranian secret service agent, a professional.”

“Just let me talk to him.” Rachel nodded for Eunice to try so she knelt down by Vindhani. “Look Tariq,” she spoke softly, “you’re dying and about to meet your maker. What you’re doing can’t be right, you must know that underneath. If it’s the last thing you do in this world, then do the right thing. Don’t be the man remembered for the mass murder of thousands of innocent people and the destruction of a whole city. After all, we all worship the same God.”

“Your God is the devil and no God of mine,” Eunice detected a painful smile on the face below her, “but you are right I shall be remembered, I shall go down in Islamic scripture as one of the greatest martyrs in the ongoing jihad against the satanic West, a Muslim who helped put right the wrong of having infidel troops invade and occupy our Holy Islamic lands.”

“Tariq, if God is so much greater than ourselves, then let it be so, you can’t make decisions on His behalf, please don’t do this, if anything, save the children! You have a mother, as a woman I am sure she wouldn’t want a dear son of her own to do this. Please, please Tariq, there is so little time, I’m begging you, give me the Abort code.” Eunice watched the man’s face. There appeared to be no yielding or change within it. Then he whispered;

“Come closer.” Eunice did as she was asked, but wary of the potential biting attack that could be launched against her.

“Yes, what is it Tariq? Let me help you…”

“Closer…”

CHEUPTHTH!!

The mouthful of slimy clinging spittle hit Eunice full in the face, some of it into her hair.

“You speak of my mother and dare to speak to me on equal terms, you filthy whore! As God is my witness, I hate and detest women like you who reject their God given place in the family home,” Tariq’s face was twisted in utter contempt, “have you no shame about the way you look? Even your work, nothing but an Agent of Satan! Whores every one of you! American women! Stay away from me!”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha!” Rachel laughed loud as John offered Eunice his handkerchief, “So much for the softly-softly approach, Bloom! I think it’s high time for a different approach, don’t you?”

Eunice stood up. Much the same as what had happened with Doctor Christine, it wasn’t so much the physical contact, repellent as it was, more the meaning behind it that was so upsetting. To debase and castigate the essence of her womanhood in such a way, the theology had become perverted and lost to itself, alien, there could be no reaching out to or negotiation with these people.

Rachel called all the agents over to her by the desk so she could explain what she had decided;

“Look everyone, ten minutes to go. We’ve got no option but to force the code out of him in order to have a fighting chance of defusing the bomb. Once we have the code we can then use the two remaining locator keys to partially locate the ignition bomb, from 8 to 4, using key 1, then 4 to 2, using key 2. We will then have to guess which of the two remaining bombs is the ignition bomb, fit the disarming key to it and tap in the Abort code. Therefore we have a 50:50 chance of being heroes or blowing ourselves and the whole of Boston to kingdom come. So we are in the classic bomb disposal conundrum:

‘Do we cut the red wire or do we cut the blue wire?’

I am in command and I will take that decision. I trust in God that He will guide my hand to make the right choice. I also trust Him to allow me to use whatever methods necessary to get that Abort code. Fuck it! Hundreds of thousands of lives are at stake! The ends justify the means!”

“What are you going to do to him to get the code?” Eunice raised the point.

“I’m going to gouge his eyes out.” Rachel replied indifferently.

“I won’t talk, you can’t make me talk!” Vindhani groaned up his defiance from below.

“When I slowly force your eyeballs out of your fucking skull, you will Vindhani, you will, and as fast as you can, trust me.” Rachel was sure her method would work, “How about it?” She sought the backing of the other agents present.

“We’re right behind you and support whatever decision you take.” Quinn spoke on behalf of himself and Peel, but there was silence from the FBI contingent.

“Well, what about it, Cunty, and Miss Erstwhile Rogue?” Sensing much less than a rousing endorsement from these others, Rachel couldn’t help belittlement from creeping into the question. Agents Zimmerman, Conte, Wolters and Ginsburg looked to their team Numbers 1 and 2 for guidance but they were avoiding eye contact, sullen and silent.

“You’re a fool Harbinger if you think eye gouging will work,” Eunice decided at last to say something, “all he will do is tell you the wrong code. Even if you choose the right bomb out of the remaining two, it will explode when you enter the incorrect code he gave you. As for the agony of putting his eyes out, well it all ends in less than ten minutes doesn’t it? He’s not stupid.”

“No! It will work, it must work! There is no other way!” Rachel became highly agitated, almost willing herself to be right. Eunice looked at Rachel’s hands, they were small, busy and useful looking, especially the thumbs.

“Carl,” Eunice whispered to her colleague, “those keys on the desk, don’t let her near them.”

“What? What you say? How am I to stop her? And……Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Rachel unknowingly aped Carl’s secret question out loud as Eunice made for the office door.

“I’m going up on the roof, I’m going up to have one last look at the city over the Common.”

“You can’t leave! Get the fuck back here!” Rachel was furious.

“I’ll be back down, there’s time enough, eight minutes to go, that’s plenty of time to contemplate eternity.”

Eunice climbed the one flight of stairs to the door which opened out onto the roof. She noticed the CIA sharpshooters already in position on top of the surrounding buildings, no doubt they had cleared the immediate area too, going through the motions ignorant of how quickly the end was coming. She walked over to the railing which overlooked the expanse of greenery that was Boston Common and the city beyond. The Saints, Romeo, Duffy, Dolly and Kiersky were out there somewhere, blissfully unaware that these remaining few minutes would be their earthly last. Perhaps she should have told them, they could’ve kept a secret and left town just for one day, surely? But no, the right decision had been taken at the top, no leaks, this investigation had been correctly kept watertight, and it was too late to do anything for her friends now anyway, best that the end befall them instantly without warning. To think it had all come to this, within minutes, and just minutes ago she had been sitting in her FBI office bored and killing time, now time was to be killed for her, permanently….

Eunice became aware of that unnerving sensation of someone else present, eyes watching her back. Turning around, Eunice saw something approaching from the other end of the roof. It was a woman very much in the image of Eunice herself, long blonde hair, black suit over a white blouse with a crotch holstered gun on her midriff. As the woman approached, Eunice became transfixed, mesmerised by the image, for some unknown reason the harsh contrast of pure black and white clothing was unnaturally hard on the eyes.

Three yards away, the woman quickly drew her gun and stood against Eunice. At last startled into action, Eunice managed to clumsily draw her own pistol, push it in the spectre’s direction, and lay down an uncertain challenge;

“Are you for me or against me?”

Suddenly, and somehow perceived in another unknown dimension, the personage and vital force of the visitation seemed to grow exponentially in it’s strength and magnitude, almost knocking Eunice down with overwhelming power;

“Neither, but as Host of the Lord I have come to tell you this is a holy place. If you are to achieve great things here today, then believe you have it within yourself to save the city, cleanse your mind and pray.”

Dumbstruck, Eunice fell to her knees and prayed, head bent low, eyes closed tight and surrendering the gun onto the surface in front of her.

After some abstract concept of time passage, willing Providence or anything to inspire some answers, random thoughts began to coagulate in Eunice’s mind;

‘This can’t be the end, it can’t be! I can’t die like this, along with everybody else. I can’t lose my life on what was just another day till an hour ago. If I don’t solve this I will die, but I love my life so much I don’t want to die, I want to live! Failure is not an option, therefore I will have to defuse the bomb, BUT HOW??!! What do I know? What secret powers are held deep within my subconscious? What am I capable of?’

Eunice had heard a story about a young mother who had physically lifted unaided a one ton truck off one of her children who was trapped underneath. So what other superhuman powers did one possess and could be drawn upon in circumstances of great stress?

Eunice opened her eyes, retrieved her gun and stood up, noticing the spectre was no longer present. She closed her eyes once more and cleared her mind in readiness. Then with every fibre in her body she asked for an answer, her being, her soul, her subconscious, at maximum;

“If not divine intervention then let it be divine inspiration! If it’s in there, give it to me. Give me an answer!”

The image of the woman who had appeared to her, forced itself involuntarily into Eunice’s mind; ‘A woman very much in the image of myself? The clothes, the hair and the gun! Why should that be? In the street people would mistake her for my own goddamn doppelganger!’ Eunice smiled thinly at such irrelevant nonsense given the momentousness of the situation, ‘I met my own double on the anniversary of the Twin Towers atrocity…..double, double the trouble, a double, two towers, doubled up, Twin Towers….. TWIN!!!!’

Eunice pulled out her smart-phone as quick as she could and accessed the internet. She was working the problem of the Abort code. In the back of her mind there was still the inconvenience of only having two Locator keys when she needed three, but perhaps in time that one could be worked out too?

________________________________________________

“I’ll be back down, there’s time enough, eight minutes to go, that’s plenty of time to contemplate eternity.” Eunice walked out.

“Right, Quinn, Peel, you duly note to witness that the rogue bitch deserted her post, a traitor and a coward!” Rachel couldn’t contain her fury. But Quinn for one, had his mind on other things; Agent Renata Wolters, he’d had designs on this petite fair haired young woman for quite some time. He caught her eye, held it then looked at the bomb timer with only seven minutes to go, he then took her eye again, raising his eyebrow with the non-verbal question; ‘How about it?’

Understanding the proposition, Renata instantly showed her rejection of it by turning away and showing him her back.

“That bitch of yours Bloom has fucked off,” Rachel confronted John, “We’ll have to continue without her.”

“She might be onto something…” John tried to put off making a decision without her.

“We need to get the code out of that fucker lying there.” Rachel was blind to any other solution.

Quinn was suddenly at Rachel’s shoulder as was Peel;

“There’s not long to go, we need to make a start.”

“Jesus Christ, not torture!” Agent Irene Conte tried to back up her Number 1, “Let’s at least wait for Eunice to return, she said she would…”

“Fuck you, you stupid bitch, she’s gone!” Rachel tried to shout down the other woman, “she’s deserted us and ran away when she saw the bomb, gutless, no backbone when it came down to it, she showed her true self alright!”

“No, she said she’d come back, and she will, she wouldn’t lie to us…” Irene defended her friend.

“What we need is a Plan B,” Rachel began to clutch at straws, “anything back from our math people at HQ?”

“I’ve just checked,” Peel provided the update, “they say they’re still working on it.”

“Why don’t you try Plan F?” John decided to corroborate their current predicament, “Like we’re totally Fucked.”

And so it continued, the group of five wilfully ran down the clock arguing, better to do that and die without having to make a decision, what was the point?, the problem they faced was insurmountable, they were all getting more and more out of their heads as they shouted and screamed at one another, just let it end one way or the other. Renata stood well away from everyone by the window looking out across the Common, paralysed into inaction. Carl continued to do as he was asked, he stood by the desk watching over the bomb keys. Thankfully, Rachel or anyone else for that matter, had not made a move for them, then he would’ve been put to the test, could he keep his promise to Eunice to preserve them? But preserve them for what? The time to use them was fast expiring. Harry Ginsburg stood by Vindhani, the terrorist’s piercing eyes still able to hold Harry’s full attention. The fools, arguing about torture and forcing the man lying there to give up the code, they didn’t even realise he was dead.

____________________________________________________

As Eunice approached the office she heard raised voices. She could see Agents Harbinger, Kuntsler, Quinn, Peel and Conte all in animated conversation. As she stepped through the door she was met by Agent Ginsburg;

“Eunice, it’s Vindhani, he’s dead, but Harbinger didn’t kill him, he died of his wounds before she could get to work on him….” Ginsburg failed to finish his report as it was obvious Eunice was ignoring him, she had that singularity of mind and purpose about her. She looked at the bomb clock, just under three minutes remaining, plenty of time.

Eunice walked over to the desk to where Zimmerman was keeping watch on the two Locator keys and the Abort key.

“Eunice, the keys are still here, unused and…” He broke off as Eunice swept the keys up into her hands, turned and strode over to the bomb. She placed the keys on top of the device ready for use. All eight bomb locator test switches were in the ‘ON’ position ready for the first Locator key which Eunice picked up.

“Hey Bloom! You’re back!” Rachel and her entourage noticed all at once, “What are you doing with those fucking keys? I never authorised you to touch them…”

“Let her begin the Location testing!” John spoke up for his Number 2, “We’ve wasted so much time arguing and now it’s almost gone, let her at least get down to the last two bombs.”

All the other agents now congregated facing Eunice as she prepared to start the procedure, the five FBI on the left and the three CIA on the right. Eunice unexpectedly turned off switches 1 and 2.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eunice?” John couldn’t believe what she had just done, “We need to sample all eight bombs for the first key!”

Completely oblivious, Eunice designated bombs 3, 4 & 5 as sample ‘X’ and bombs 6, 7 & 8 as sample ‘Y’.

“Stop! For Christ’s sake!” John lunged forward to try and grab Eunice’s arm, “Ginsburg, Wolters, help me!” Sensing the three coming for her, Eunice spun round and drew her gun all in one move;

“Get back, fuck you! Nobody try and stop me, I’ll kill the first one of you that touches me!” Eunice swung the barrel of her gun in quick succession to point at the head of each of the FBI agents facing her.

“Oh fucking hell,” a horrible thought entered John’s head, “she’s gone fucking rogue again….. Who the fuck are you working for? Is it the Iranians? Or the Russians? Who?” John felt his voice quiver with the lack of confidence in dealing with the situation.

There was only one thing for it, John took out his gun;

“Everyone, present your firearms, aim directly for her head.” The other four FBI agents non too willingly produced their weapons and took aim in the general direction of Eunice, most of them appeared to be pointing wide of the mark, even John’s gun looked as if it was pointed over the target’s head. “You can’t get us all!” John persisted, “Stand down, Bloom!”

“My friends, none of you are going to shoot me, I know it and so do you, and despite what I said just now, you know I’ve no intention of shooting any of you.” Eunice addressed her fellow FBI colleagues, “For the city’s sake, let me get on and do what I have to while there’s still time.” As she spoke the five guns against her began to droop and fall away. She re-holstered her gun and was about to turn back to the device when Rachel spoke up;

“Well, isn’t that all nice and friendly, no-one gets shot because you all love one another so much, ooh, it’s enough to melt my heart! We, on the other hand have no such scruples in taking out a fucking rogue.” Rachel took out her gun, “Quinn, Peel, present and aim for the head, fire on my mark.”

Eunice faced the new threat, there was nothing half hearted or wavering about the three barrels of the Glock pistols pointing straight at her head.

“Leave the keys on top of the bomb and move away Bloom, or we will kill you.” Everyone present, not least Eunice herself knew Rachel meant it and if the order to fire was given it would be carried out instantly.

“You have no scruples?!” John shouted at Rachel, “Then we don’t either! Agents! Present arms!” He pointed his pistol at Rachel’s head, his four assistants doing likewise against the CIA triumvirate. This presentation of FBI weapons in sharp contrast to the first, equalled that of the CIA agents and more in it’s determination to open fire and take down the targets should the order be given. The FBI agents would protect their friend at all costs, even though her behaviour and motives were questionable to say the least.

“Cunty, you’re a fool!” Rachel snarled, “You should take a look at yourself, you’re finished!”

“Let us take her!” Quinn appealed to his commanding officer.

“Yeah, let us, we’re willing to die stopping her!” Peel similarly offered himself.

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Eunice implored before trying to reason with them one last time, “I’ve got to do it all by my fucking self!” She expounded wearily, “Not only do I have the weight of the great city itself on my head, I’ve now got fucking heaven too! Jesus Christ, what do you want from me? I don’t have a choice in anything I do anymore, stop me if you must then go and get blown to fuck for all I care, I’m tired, so very tired….. Go on, John, let them shoot me, I don’t give a fuck anymore, are any of you worth saving? Am I? Curse God and be damned!”

“Fuck the bitch!” Rachel lowered and re-holstered her gun, “Everyone put your weapons away! Only a minute to go, it’s all too late to do anything now, she’s fucked up whatever chance we had, the rogue scum.”

With all weapons re-holstered, Eunice returned to the main objective. She pushed the fist Locator key home into the seat within the Abort console. It at once indicated sample ‘X’ contained the ignition bomb. Everyone watching breathed a huge sigh of relief. The rogue agent had rode her luck and succeeded in guessing or hoping the ignition bomb was not numbers 1 or 2. Luckily this was the case as confirmation that ‘X’ group of 3, 4 & 5 contained the sought after bomb. Eunice flicked off the test switches for ‘Y’ group, bombs 6, 7 & 8. To everyone’s consternation she then flicked off the test switch for bomb 3 before designating bomb 4 as new sample ‘X’ and bomb 5 as new sample ‘Y’. Eunice pulled out the first spent Locator key and picked up the remaining one ready for insertion.

“Oh Eunice, Eunice!” John grasped the top of his head, “You can’t recklessly second guess like that, oh fuck, we’re dead, we’re dead!”

“You see Cunty, what you’ve saved,” Rachel heatedly called over, “an insane psychopath. She has as good as already admitted it, she doesn’t care, she doesn’t give a fuck about anyone, just her own delusional self importance.”

Eunice pushed home the second and last available Locator key, wait half a second for the result….. Nothing! A null result. Everyone watching let out a wail in lamentation of their almost certain doom now. The reckless lunatic’s luck had just run out, the very same lunatic that the FBI contingent had misguidedly held faith in up until that moment. It had been one guess too many, one gamble too far, the last Locator key was gone, they’d had it. Not that this disastrous result appeared to faze the gambler, she was addicted, holding selfishly onto centre stage for the last few remaining seconds, as if they retained any significance now.

They watched as she picked up the Abort key and knelt down in front of the bank of eight identical bombs. She held the Abort key in front of bomb 3’s key slot, her intention clearly to insert it there. Many of the spectators closed their eyes expecting the resultant detonation due to the selection of the wrong bomb for this key. With their eyes shut they heard the key being slotted in…

Nothing happened! The crazy bitch had managed to guess the Ignition bomb, despite her earlier calamitous mistake! Agents Conte and Zimmerman could be heard whispering prayers in the background and the rest of them could barely open their eyes to watch.

Twenty seconds to go. Did she have the Abort code? Nine digits, so now try and guess that!

Eunice looked at the Abort key seated in the front of bomb 3, above it she sensed the timer continue it’s descent; 00:19, 00:18, 00:17…

Rooted to where they stood, the eight watched the small barefoot woman carefully type in a sequence of digits on the Abort key number pad and then press the ‘Enter’ button.

The red ‘Armed’ light on the Main console instantly changed to green, the clock hit 00:04 and remained there, frozen in time.

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: And that gentlemen, is the sound of the fat lady singing!

Silence. No whoops of joy or anything remotely like that happened. To all in the audience, this woman may have had the devil’s own luck in disarming the bomb, but that did not make her a good or responsible saviour, far from it, her behaviour had been insanely reckless in the extreme. They could easily be dead now, along with most of Boston, hundreds of thousands of lives just because she had to have her way.

With the bomb safely disarmed, Rachel now called in the CIA special forces who had surrounded and isolated the building. They all at once stormed inside and Rachel ordered the special forces commander to immediately report to her.

Having defused the bomb, even with evident guesswork, one would’ve expected Rachel to give the order that Special Agent Eunice Bloom be lifted shoulder high by the other seven agents and carried out of the building lauded and celebrated as a god: ‘Praise The Lord! We’ve snatched salvation from the jaws of damnation!’ Unfortunately, the sociopathic brain of Rachel Harbinger did not work along those behavioural norms. She had to take control of the situation and ensure all the credit for the success accrued to her. To this end, Bloom had to be eliminated, destroyed and wiped out, but if this was to be achieved, Rachel would need to move quickly. It had been bizarrely fortunate the FBI set had pulled their guns on the CIA team, what better precursor to move against them, and especially the prime target, Bloom;

“Captain, you see these six Bureau fuckers here, arrest them, take their guns and phones. Lock down the whole area and secure the bomb."John on hearing the order that he and his agents were to be arrested, quickly told them not to resist and cooperate.

"That one,” Rachel pointed at Eunice who was still kneeling by the bomb in some sort of daze, mentally sapped, “take her next door into the second office once you’ve secured her, and bring me her gun and phone.”

Eunice hardly noticed such was her state of mind, the shout ‘Arrest that woman!’, her gun being snatched out of it’s holster, then the holster itself, her spare clips of ammunition and her phone being removed while her hands were zip tied behind her back. Quinn had his own designs on a particular FBI agent too. As soon as Renata Wolters was arrested and her hands secured behind her back he grabbed hold of her jacket lapels and raised her up in front of him so that she could barely reach the floor on tiptoe;

“Look at what I’ve caught myself here, my own little G-Woman, ‘G’ for gorgeous!” Renata turned her face away in revulsion, both Quinn and Peel were big burly men, potentially overpowering. She hopefully looked around for Eunice as there was no way the real leader of the FBI team would let anything like that happen to one of her girls. Unfortunately for Renata, she saw her would be saviour was already being neutralised, two CIA SWAT members were busily binding Eunice and removing her weaponry.

“Quinn! Put the kid down.” Rachel became the saviour of unlikely source, “I need you and Peel with me in the second office now.”

“Arrest that woman!”

As Eunice was being led to the adjacent office she saw John and the other four FBI agents being taken away, hands tied and heads hooded. Evidently Special Agent Eunice had been selected for special treatment. In the second office Rachel and agents Quinn and Peel were already waiting for Eunice.

“Agent Harbinger, you wanted the prisoner’s gun and phone?” One of the SWAT men who delivered Eunice to the office held them out.

“Yeah, thanks. You two can leave us now.” Rachel took the gun and pushed it into her hip pocket; “Quinn, here, guard that phone with your life and let no other fucker touch it.” She said as she passed it to him. She then circled behind Eunice and tugged hard at the zip-tie making sure the hands were absolutely secure before returning to the front. Rachel was confident that with Agents Quinn and Peel present the resources in the room at her disposal were more than adequate by a good measure. Eunice watched Rachel take off her jacket, undo the cuffs of her blouse and roll the sleeves up. Not good. Rachel once more took up Eunice’s Para LDA and swayed it up and down in her hand, testing the weight of it;

“That’s a nice little gun, Bloom, wish I had one just like it!”.

She pressed the clip release catch so it fell to the floor and then kicked it away to the side. She then pulled back the barrel to drop out the chambered round.

“You got it, it’s clear, Rachel.” Quinn helpfully diagnosed. Rachel released the barrel retainer and slid it off, throwing it away to her left with a thud to the floor. The weapon thus disarmed and dismantled, Rachel flung the remainder spinning trigger over butt into the far right corner where it smashed into something causing a loud breaking sound, and she made sure Eunice was watching her while she did it. After having witnessed such a display, Agent Peel now believed that his boss from thereon would do everything she could to harass and undermine the captive. It had to be a gross insult to Bloom, to disarm and break up her personal signature weapon like that in front of her face.

“Be under no illusions bitch, I break your sword over my knee, consider yourself expelled from the 7th Cavalry, an outcast.” Rachel began the session, “So here we are again Bloomy, back to square one, you just can’t help being rogue can you, despite all we’ve done for you to bring you back?”

“I break your sword over my knee”

“What are you doing? I defused the bomb didn’t I?” Eunice still mentally exhausted couldn’t fathom what was happening.

“I defused the bo-omb, I defused the bo-omb!” Rachel insultingly imitated Eunice’s accent in her best Scarlet O’Hara voice, “Oh praise be Jesus! I’m alive!” Rachel first enthusiastically mocked the prisoner, then with seriousness; “And you expect us to be grateful to you after the way you just acted?” Eunice remained silent. It was obvious that Rachel would take revenge now. This woman was ruthless, she had shown that with her eye gouging plans for Vindhani. Quinn and Peel too, were ultra loyal and would carry out Rachel’s orders without hesitation. The two men stood either side of the prisoner each holding an already bound arm so she had no option but to face the main interrogator.

“Quinn, turn out her pockets.” Rachel ordered her Number 2.

“There’s her FBI ID.” Quinn located the first item in Eunice’s jacket.

“Retain that, I’m expelling her from this active service unit.” Rachel advised.

“Her keys.”

“She can use those as a weapon, throw them away.”

“Won’t we need them for when we search her apartment, and also her car?” Quinn hesitated.

“No, I’d prefer just to kick the apartment door in and ransack the dump, and then we can smash her car windows and do much the same.” Rachel looked right into Eunice’s eye as she said this hoping for some reaction but Eunice remained steely composed thus far, even when Quinn did as he was instructed and threw the bunch of keys away to one side. Recommencing the search, he produced an eyeliner pen, some lipstick, tissues and a packet of sugar free mints, these he dropped to the floor without even referring them to his Number 1;

“Oh here’s her wallet…” Quinn pulled it out from the left inside pocket.

“That’s a rather masculine thing for you to carry, don’t you think Bloom? Then again, I heard you had balls. Quinn, give that to me.” Rachel reached out for it.

“There’s nothing in her hip pockets.” Quinn completed the task. Rachel opened the wallet. There was a small amount of cash, a few $10, $5 and $1 dollar bills, and some credit cards which she skimmed away one by one onto the floor;

“Ah gentlemen!” Rachel announced with a grin enjoying the discovery, “we have some personal stuff!” Rachel took out a small piece of card protectively contained within a clear plastic holder and began to corrosively read it out for the amusement of her assistants. Firstly the following in typeface:

ST. ANTHONY’S BLESSING

May the Lord bless you and take you into his keeping; may He show you His countenance and take pity on you; may He turn His eyes towards you and give you His peace.

At the bottom in ink was written:

‘To my beautiful daughter Eunice, stay safe, love Pa’

“Awww! How sweet!” Rachel laughed along with Quinn completely subordinating all dignity as held by the private memento between father and daughter. Rachel turned the card over; “There’s more!” Rachel began to read the additional typeface;

Those that carry this about them with faith will receive many graces. It is a PRESERVATIVE in child-bearing, thunder and lightening, sudden death, falling sickness, dangers at sea and many other dangers.

By the time Rachel reached the end she was struggling to keep herself from bursting out laughing such was the irony of the statement in relation to the captive as she saw it. Quinn sniggered along with Rachel while Peel smiled wanly as a show that he too found it amusing.

“Oh Bloom, I think you’ll be needing more than St Anthony’s blessing once I’ve fucking finished with you!” Rachel dropped the card to the floor and twisted her shoe on it several times. Eunice jerked forwards as she watched it fall but Quinn and Peel reacted immediately and pulled the prisoner back into position. Rachel took out the last remaining item in the wallet, a dog-eared and badly creased old photograph of not particularly sharp focus or quality. Evidently an old family snap using obsolete bygone technology. Rachel dropped the wallet and gave her full attention to the well worn piece of photographic paper. Who was that?, was that Bloom visiting friends or something? Who were the others? Then Rachel realised exactly what the photo was. It was a family snap outdoors and judging by the clothes worn, early 1980s. The one she initially mistook for Bloom was actually the bitch that bore her, Mommy Dearest. It would appear that Bloom was every inch her mother’s daughter, Mom’s long blonde hair in a transitional style between 1970s Farrah Fawcett and the ‘big hair’ of the 1980s. Even Rachel had to admit begrudgingly that Mom was a fine looking woman. The tall man with sandy coloured hair must be Pa but he was otherwise nondescript. Their brood of three was stood in front of them, two girls and a boy, very young in the range three to seven years of age Rachel reckoned. So which one was the brat she had such issue with? There she was in the middle of the three, like a ball of blonde fluff dressed in a little denim smock all sweet and innocent like, as if butter wouldn’t melt? Wherever it was, it was a nice warm day and the smiling Bloom family looked very contented without a worry in the world. ‘Ahhhhhh, pass the sick bucket’.

“There’s no known negative for this, is there Bloom?” Rachel held up the object for Eunice’s attention. Eunice knew exactly why the question had been asked. The best option would be to remain silent and be inscrutable but ultimately any option was futile, Rachel had her.

“If there was you’d have a better copy.” Rachel deduced and then signalled her evil intent by holding the top of the photo in the centre between the finger and thumb of both hands.

“Look Rachel,” the intention forced Eunice to speak, “Hate me if you must, but for pity’s sake please leave my family out of it, your argument is with me, they’ve done nothing to you!”

“Oh they’re fair game.” Rachel fundamentally disagreed, “If through them I can hurt you, I’ll do it, fucking bank on it!” Rachel peeled one side of the photo down halving it. She watched the hurt spread over the face of Eunice as she did so. She placed the two halves neatly together and did the same again, quartering the image. This time the head of the captive dropped and went down, much to Rachel’s pleasure. The four strips were put together, turned to the side, torn in half and then let go, finished.

“Don’t let your head go down so quickly,” Rachel spoke chillingly to Eunice, patting and stroking the underside of her chin, “I ain’t even started yet. Don’t you know how long I’ve waited for this moment, Bloom?” Rachel brushed Eunice’s hair away off the front of her shoulders behind. Then to show manifest insincerity, with delicate fingers she tweaked each end of the pretty silk bow at the front of Eunice’s buttoned up blouse collar and wiped away an imaginary piece of dust from the top of her jacket shoulder, “I knew it, sooner or later you’d go off the rails and do something like this. I thank the Lord you’ve done it now so I can deal with you appropriately. I never trusted you, your handlers back at the Pentagon told me they believed in you and I was assigned to watch your back.”

“Oh, a Guardian Agent? I’m not unaccustomed to the concept.” Eunice contemplated her own role in relation to The Saints.

“But I decided I wouldn’t be that, not for you. I took it upon myself to expose you for the fake that you are, and once rogue, always rogue, isn’t that it? That’s more or less what you’ve been up to here today. By exposing and destroying you, will that be the making of myself?”

Rachel took Eunice’s face in her hands. Bloom was extremely fit, strong and athletic, her sprint up the staircase earlier on had been proof of that, but the face felt fragile in Rachel’s hands, soft skin over brittle bone underneath. Rachel pressed her hands hard against the sides of the face;

“What is inside that fucking brain of yours, Bloom?” Rachel demanded through clenched teeth, “Are your eyes the windows to your soul?”

Now Rachel let her thumbs wander centre and brush Eunice’s eyelids closed, resting over them applying light pressure. Bloom froze, her breathing shallow and quickening, was that trembling all of a sudden in that perfectly honed body? Rachel knew Bloom wasn’t frightened of anyone or anything, but she was clearly petrified now.

The face

“Oh my Lord Jesus, why have you forsaken me?” was pleadingly whispered, almost inaudible from the lips between Rachel’s hands.

“That’s right, pray to your plastic Jesus, for all the good it’ll do you, even He can’t help you now………………… Ah-ha-ha-ha!” Rachel suddenly laughed out loud, wiping the flat of her hand over Eunice’s face and pushing it away, “What are you like Bloom?! I’m not going to poke your fucking eyes out, you stupid bitch, what do you take me for?” Bloom seemed to be relieved but Rachel sensed she had been badly shaken by the threat, game or no game;

“Do I frighten you?” Rachel queried expecting a pathetic lie in return.

“Yes.”

The reply gave Rachel a slight start. She hadn’t expected that. She had expected Bloom to come out all ‘Fuck you, I ain’t scared of nuthin!’ but instead she came straight out and admitted it. No attempt to bullshit and maintain a facade? That was one thing about Bloom you could rely on, she didn’t stick to the script. Nevertheless Rachel would settle for the answer, and it pleased her that the Bloom woman was well and properly terrified of her;

“I do? You certainly know who you’re up against now, you’ll find I’m no pushover like all the other fuckers who’ve been taken in by your bullshit. What were you doing on the roof?” Rachel’s tone hardened, “My sharpshooters have told me you were acting strange as if trying to conceal something. Who were you in communication with? Who gave you the code? Who the fuck are you working for?! I mean to get it out of you!”

As she had previously suggested, Eunice was just about ready to ‘Curse God and be damned’. She had defused the bomb!, and yet she appeared to have fallen into the hands of this evil sadist. Was this to be her reward? Perhaps the bomb had gone off after all and unbeknown to her she’d descended into hell?

“Whatever you do, don’t leave a mark on me.” Eunice still shaken by the eye gouging feint, said without thinking and right away realised a foolish provocation had been made.

“Don’t mark you?” Rachel smiled, “But surely that only relates to people who have some sort of access to due legal process, or legal representation if you like? Why should I be worried about marking you? You mean…. mark you like this?” and karate chopped Eunice across the right cheek knocking her backwards so Quinn and Peel had to stop her falling. “Remember Bloom, you’re the one with the unsavoury record of resisting arrest. Still haven’t learnt your lesson? To be beaten up once is unfortunate, but twice, well, that’s just being plain careless! I heard what you said to Cunty, about the first man that hit you would die,” Rachel smirked, “Well, if you don’t mind me a little bit of sisterly licence!”

“He had my hands tied behind my back too, what is it with you people, what are you afraid of?” Eunice asked defiantly.

“Ah, but you see in that respect he’s not totally fucking stupid. I like having your hands like that, nice and secure where they can’t do the devil’s work, you’re a real Miss-Adventure, aren’t you? But cynicism aside, I certainly am glad to be alive,” Rachel continued, “I’m so glad to be alive so I can keep on having my fun….”

With that Rachel ripped out the silk bow at Eunice’s collar, put her hands inside it and pulled it open popping off the buttons, then tore open the front of the blouse halfway down reaching the bust line when Peel interjected;

“Rachel, shouldn’t we wait and continue interrogating the prisoner back at the Pentagon?” Rachel stopped what she was doing and turned to Peel;

“Oh I don’t think so, no time like the present!”

She then returned to her task, tearing the blouse open all the way down, pulling it apart out of the skirt waistband, exposing Eunice’s bra and bare stomach underneath. First tracing the outline of the ribcage with her fingers, Rachel then placed her hands on either side of Eunice’s ribs and with her useful thumbs prodded the top of the stomach, seeking out the base of the sternum. Eunice looked at Rachel confused and unable to fathom her intentions, what was she up to? Then to her disbelieving horror she realised what was coming and Rachel savouring the moment knew she knew. Eunice tensed her stomach muscles;

“Relax your guts!” Rachel slapped them hard with her hand, “Don’t let me catch you doing that!” Rachel was wise to the countermeasure being attempted. Eunice’s heart sank and with it her attempt to protect herself;

“That’s where it is, boss,” Quinn availed his expertise by prodding his fingers into the tip of Eunice’s sternum, “you want just slightly under it to be most effective, there, I think you’ve got it.”

“There?” Rachel sought assurance.

“You got it.” He confirmed. “Right there, and also, you need to strike upwards not straight on.”

“Thank you Quinn,” Rachel appreciated good solid advice like that. She had one last piece of preparatory advice for the prisoner too; “Good girl, you know when it’s time to take your medicine, don’t you? Boys? Release her so I can put her down. Now you keep nice and still for me, d’ya hear?” Rachel made it plain, flexing her arms and shoulders as she limbered up. Eunice just stared ahead out into the distance, there was nothing else she could do but wait, try and get through and beyond it.

Rachel sank her left claw into Eunice’s shoulder, making as secure an anchor as she could for the force to be applied and concentrated fully on the task at hand. Thus suitably readied, she struck her right fist up under the base of Eunice’s sternum as hard as her strength would allow. Eunice did all she could to fight the excruciating pain of being punched so hard in her solar plexus, she defiantly tried to stay on her feet, tears falling out of her eyes with the exertion. Rachel stood in front, enjoying the result of her work;

“My dear, you really need to double up, and get yourself down on the floor.” Rachel helpfully suggested. Eunice could fight it no longer, the pain, the very breath knocked out of her, she collapsed in on herself and fell forwards against Rachel’s hip. It was with great satisfaction that Rachel let the broken Eunice slide off it onto the floor where she continued to writhe and contort in her agony with no relief forthcoming.

“Oh, you dirty bitch,” Rachel lectured self-righteously, “that’s the last time you denigrate me, your fucking people pulling their guns on me and my friends, I ain’t gonna let it slide. This time there’ll be no way back for you, I’m going to see to it, and you will tell me who gave you that fucking code. And another thing, you know how everyone hates a smart-ass! Agents Quinn and Peel, aren’t you going to congratulate me? Didn’t you see how easy she was to take down? She asked us what are we frightened of? Well, who’s afraid of the big bad Bloom now?”

With one huge final spasm, Eunice rolled onto her back on top of her bound arms and then fainted, her head rolling to one side. Momentarily in silence, the three CIA agents stood around the unconscious woman on the floor, looking down at the fruits of their labour;

“Fuckin’ A, Rachel!” Quinn suddenly couldn’t contain himself, “You knocked her out! Whoo-hoop! You did it, what a punch!”

“So much for ‘The real thing’ Bloom, supposed to be so hard and tough? Who’s the real thing now? You bitch!” Rachel poured out scorn unchecked, “She thought she could take it and wouldn’t go down, the dumb-ass fuck! That’ll show the Southern country bumpkin I can cow-punch as good as any of those fuckers down there!”

“Shit, I think you really hurt her…” Peel considered what Rachel had just done as lethally dangerous even against those well trained for such an event. Hadn��t Houdini died from such a punch? Although knocked out, he hoped Bloom’s constitution was strong enough to get over it, not that Rachel was remotely interested;

“Jesus! I wanted to hurt her, but to actually knock the bitch out, that’s the icing on the fucking cake! Gentlemen, report back to the Pentagon; ‘Scratch one FBI Special Agent!’”

“Agent Harbinger?” The SWAT commander entered the office and at once was struck by the sight of the collapsed woman on the floor, “My God, you’ve given her some!”

“What is it captain?” Rachel betrayed her impatience.

“My team has secured the site, we await your further instruction.” A highly experienced special forces captain, he felt repulsed by the scene. There was something deeply abhorrent about knocking someone senseless. Normally he wouldn’t care but the girl was so pretty! He couldn’t help noticing when his men arrested and disarmed her. No two ways about it, she was an attractive woman. He thought he’d offer to pick her up as he didn’t like the prisoner laid out like that with her blouse ripped open, all her possessions strewn around and were those pieces of what looked like a torn up photograph? Then there was the ugly red mark rising up on the woman’s cheek where they had evidently struck her, the bastards;

“Do you want me to pick that girl up off the floor?”

“No! That’s none of your concern, we’ll deal with her!” Rachel wouldn’t relinquish the quarry. It needed to be tightly kept under control. But the captain wouldn’t be so easily fended away, the woman was lying on her back crushing her bound arms behind. He reached down and pulled the woman onto her right side and brought her left knee up to put her in as near a coma position as he could manage. Then he lifted her chin and checked her throat to make sure the airway was not blocked.

“Didn’t you hear me, captain? I told you to leave that there!” Rachel was determined no compassion be shown, “Get back outside and be ready to liaise with our nukes people who are just arriving.”

Once Rachel was sure the captain had gone and would not be returning she went over to the prisoner and used her foot against Eunice’s shoulder to push her over again onto her back, much to the great amusement of Quinn. Peel couldn’t believe how dangerous his colleagues were acting. With the prisoner’s head rolled over in that position, her tongue could easily drop back and shut off her air supply. He wanted to do something but was too timid to do so in front of Rachel.

“Gentlemen, once she’s regained consciousness, get her outa here!” Rachel wound up her present dealings with the fallen.

Rachel stayed on in order to complete the securing of the site while Quinn and Peel manhandled the barely recovering Eunice to the awaiting prison van outside.

“What about it, U-Blu?” Quinn began to tease the prisoner, “You, me, Peel….., internal rendition, just like old times!”

______________________________________________________

The perceived bomb plot had been well envisaged and briefed for, but when it actually happened the Establishment seemed as if almost in shock and unable to react quickly. Fortunately, any details of the plot and how near the nation had come to catastrophe had not leaked out thus far, so time could be taken to decide how the heroes of the hour were to be rewarded, and the vanquished to be punished. The nation should thank God for giving them Agent Rachel Harbinger and her small team operating from the Boston office of the FBI. Not only had she led the team to finding and defusing the bomb, she had skilfully stopped a rogue member of her team from sabotaging the operation. Details relating to the nature of the sabotage were incomplete at present but it appeared that this double agent may have been working for the Iranians. Agent Harbinger was continuing to investigate and would be providing her own conclusions about this saboteur in due course. They had this rogue agent in custody and in time she would be punished with the appropriate level of severity for her crimes as the nation demanded. Whereas Agent Harbinger, this brilliant courageous heroine could never be officially recognised for the great service she had done for the nation, as reward she would be fast-tracked into the higher echelons of the CIA and held in the highest esteem throughout the corridors of power.

There still remained, however, the pressing need to punish the regime in Tehran for their intended diabolical atrocity. Regime change? With the uncovering of the bomb plot, the Establishment had a good enough excuse for this but the ignorant general public had no such grounds and certainly no stomach for intervention after the misadventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. Instead it was decided to remove the direct physical nuclear threat and put the wheels in motion to bring this about. The Americans gave their ally the Israelis the go-ahead to bomb the Iranian nuclear infrastructure to oblivion and make sure it could never arise again. The Israeli airforce was provided with all the finance, and better still, all the ordnance it needed to carry out the air-strikes which they did with relish as they had been itching to do this for years. Officially, along with the rest of the international community, America condemned the Israelis for their excessive and unprovoked use of force, the loss of life, etc, such is the way these things are played out. _________________________________________________ 　

The six FBI agents and Gorgeous George were separated and detained at the Pentagon. There would be no four star hotel room or a suit of clothes provided for Eunice this time, she got a plain orange boiler suit and a five by nine holding cell, ‘back to square fucking one’.

As soon as Doctor Christine knew Eunice had returned to the Pentagon she paid the prisoner a visit. She was saddened to see the state of Eunice, the side of her face bruised and swollen, forlorn and abandoned to her fate in the common prison cell. Eunice held out her hand to the doctor through the bars but Christine refused to take it.

“Eunice, oh Eunice, what am I going to do with you?” was all she could say before promptly leaving.

The debriefing of all the prisoners began, but gradually everyone apart from Eunice was sort of let go, but suitably gagged under national security regulations with regards the consequences of what had nearly happened. First Gorgeous was released, then the four assistant FBI agents.

Before John was let go, his final debriefing session was conducted by Rachel. She was looking for as much evidence against Eunice as possible. Gorgeous and the four assistant FBI agents had refused to help her, too loyal, but in Kuntsler Rachel knew they had history and hoped he could be persuaded to participate in destroying his Number 2, even after he had supported her at the Shelton warehouse.

Rachel was wrong, he steadfastly refused to sign the affidavit in front of him condemning Eunice, pushing it back across the table to Rachel opposite.

“What’s the matter John? I heard you didn’t like her? Everything in the affidavit is true, she was insubordinate and reckless in the extreme, it’s not as if I’m asking you to lie.”

“Yes, she was all that,” John admitted, “She was insane, no-one can get inside that fucking head of hers, no-one can understand her!”

“Then why won’t you sign?”

“Because, fuck it, I owe her! Oh God forgive me for what I did!”

“John, you don’t owe her a fucking thing. It is she that owes you everything including her life. I ain’t happy about you Bureau people pulling your weapons on my team but if you hadn’t we definitely would’ve gunned her down like the mad dog she is, no two ways about it. So in the light of that, sign!”

“What do you take me for? If you gunned her down we wouldn’t be sitting here, we’d be bits of radioactive dust, your argument just doesn’t square, no!” John refused point blank.

“Okay, so you’re feeling a bit guilty because you beat up on a rogue agent who arrogantly turned up in your office looking to wipe the slate clean, how else were you supposed to react?”

“I didn’t beat her up!” John quickly corrected, “I merely roughly manhandled her.”

“Roughly manhandled her?” Rachel laughed, “She looked a lot worse than that when she was first brought here, I remember the state of her in the room we provided for her. Anyway, what are you frightened of? I gave her a slap or two. I thought her weak with no ability to take even a light punch.”

“You hit her? Fuck you! I’m not cooperating with you. I don’t suppose you untied her hands before you hit her?”

“I don’t remember…”

“Right, well next time why don’t you take her down to the gym and face her on the judo mats, then untie her hands.”

“Oh, talking from actual experience, John?”

“Actually, I am!” John confirmed, “Or better still, leave your IDs behind, each of you take a gun to the Boston docks and let’s see who comes out.”

“Pistols at dawn?” Rachel lampooned the scenario.

“Forget it, don’t give her a gun, but by all means take your own for all the good it will do you. I know who my money would be on!”

“She has no special abilities as far as I can see, only the talent of bullshitting and getting others to believe in her.”

“Don’t ever underestimate Eunice, I did that for years like a blind idiot. I won’t make that mistake again. You’re young, you just don’t see it, do you? The immense abilities of the woman you’re trying to take down.”

“Okay, she’s a bit smart upstairs, but she’s no smarter than I am. I saw through her right away, trying to front it out when she couldn’t work out how to defuse the bomb, in the end she just guessed it, nearly killing us all and the whole of Boston in the process! She has her little girl charms but as soon as I came on the scene, the real real deal, I exposed her for the worthless chancer she is. From here on in, she can consider any luck she has as well expended.”

“There’s only one worthless chancer I know, she’s sitting right here in front of me!”

“Well Cunty, not only are you a fucking hypocrite, preaching to me about untying Bloom’s hands, but you and the rest of your Bureau assholes have been a huge disappointment to me. What is it with you FBI fuckers? You’re supposed to help us CIA guys, but it feels like drawing teeth most of the time just to get any cooperation, I give up on the lot of you! Here is the chance to bury once and for all this fucking rogue who is totally unfit for public office, and none of you will do it out of some sort of misguided loyalty.”

“No, not loyalty. It is our love for her. Even I too have grown to love her. My department can’t function without her. I can’t function without her! The bad-ass and the bravado, it’s all for show really, underneath she is the most decent person I know, and also her capacity to forgive.”

“Alright little man or little mouse or whatever you are, you’re no use to me so you can scuttle back to the Boston office of the FBI and immerse yourself with investigations such as Gorgeous George and the other fucking shit you deal with of no consequence, but there’ll be no Bloom to hold your hand from now on, go on, fuck off, get lost.”

_____________________________________________

Eunice didn’t even have the benefit of debriefings, her sessions were more like interrogations, hour upon hour alone in a room where the phrase ‘Who are you working for?’ was repeated endlessly over the loudspeaker. It was mental torture designed to grind her down despite all her training to resist such methods. Behind the large mirrored glass on the wall, Eunice knew Rachel was there watching her. Why didn’t she have it out with Eunice head on, what was her game plan? Once Eunice did bang on the glass and said she wanted to talk. This managed to produce a nondescript interrogator who entered the room.

“Who are you working for?” he asked.

“You know who the fuck I’m working for!” Eunice angrily replied, “I’m an unofficial ambassador representing The Vatican, but you know that doesn’t divide my loyalties. I’m still a patriotic American, a law enforcement officer, a public servant! I just want to do my duty!” The interrogator did not answer. He about turned and left the room.

“Who are you working for?” the loudspeaker started up again.

After such endless sessions, Eunice was returned to and dumped in her cell, worn out. For the whole of Eunice’s incarceration, since she was not let out to do exercise, she had kept up her fitness regime, press-ups, sit-ups etc, and endlessly paced up and down the nine foot cell to get the required number of steps each day. But after two weeks she had to give that treadmill up, to pace up and down like that hour after hour was the actions of a caged animal, she had seen mentally disturbed animals in zoos do the exactly same thing. Eventually the days not interrupted by interrogation were spent lying on the bed imagining herself far away having happy times with friends and family, however, she knew such prolonged escapism was the first step on the road to insanity, soon she would refuse to return to reality and be lost. She was rarely let out to have a shower, denial of such basic hygiene to the woman was cruel, the tiny washbasin in the cell was better than nothing, but inadequate, just like the food. This was half rationed and revolting, almost inedible. The guards constantly taunted and threatened her:

“Hey U-Blu, what happened to the fitness regime? No ten thousand steps today? Ha-ha-ha!” Eunice lay on the bed with her back to him, so he couldn’t see the tears spilling out of her eyes.

“U-Blu! Have you got dirty hair?” He was correct, “Have you got lice?” She didn’t have, “I think we need to shave your head, what about it? Would you like that?” The suggestion to destroy her hair she knew was no idle threat, Rachel was quite capable of ordering it. Such threats constantly weighed down on Eunice, the thoughts of which made her curl up in the corner of the cell, arms across her face in an attempt to blot it all out. Occasionally the old fire within Eunice to resist came out such as the time when Agent Quinn paid a visit in order to get in on the act of taunting her. He leered through the cell bars at the wasting woman;

“Look at the fucking state of you, Bloom. Just think, if you were a dog in that way the vet would need to have you put down.”

“After the way you sexually harassed one of my girls on the team, if you were a dog you’d be castrated!” The cellblock guard on duty couldn’t help himself but laugh at the response of the prisoner, embarrassing the would be bully.

“You’d better learn to show me some respect, you little bitch,” Quinn came right back, “I’m the Number 2 to Rachel Harbinger, the lady who led the team that defused the bomb, and yet I don’t think you even know my first name!”

“Well as it happens I don’t know it, but if my first name was ‘Shit-for-brains’ I’d keep quiet about it too.” The guard had to force his hand over his mouth and turn away to stop his rising hysterics on hearing this.

“Ah, you’ve got all the smart answers, haven’t you, Bloom. Just you wait till the impeachment hearing arrives. You’re going to need some pretty smart fucking answers when Rachel starts on you, believe it!” Then he quickly walked out not wishing for a protracted verbal argument with one better than himself.

Such small tactical victories may have been welcome but did nothing to alleviate Eunice’s overall strategic catastrophe. Rachel’s instigation of Internal Rendition with the inherent lack of human rights was gradually grinding Eunice down. The tell tale signs were becoming undeniable. Regardless of the threat to shave her head, Eunice’s hair was self destructing anyway. She had managed to coax out of one of the women guards a tiny mirror and a comb. But by this stage the comb was inflicting a lot of damage, clogging itself up with many loose strands as she tugged it through the brittle tresses. She fearfully inspected her scalp using the mirror which confirmed her worst fears, thinning both in the look and the feel of it. Eunice could also feel her teeth loosening in her upper and lower jaw bones, her muscles began to waste, and with the realisation this hell might continue for the rest of her life, Eunice’s mind was heading the same way. Internal Rendition II? You could get used to anything, couldn’t you?

Rachel sought regular updates from the guards about the state of the prisoner. It was working, Bloom was buckling.

It came to pass that Rachel felt she was ready to instigate impeachment proceedings against the prisoner, a brief she had applied for and was given by Eunice’s five CIA handlers. Rachel was pushing for rendition to Guantanamo Bay without trial, and for life with no chance of release. Rachel was confident she could arrange that for Bloom and that confidence had grown as the day of the impeachment hearing grew near. Rachel had done her homework and made a convincing case against the accused. She briefed Quinn and Peel on the main thrust of her prepared condemnation of the prisoner she planned to present at the hearing. Quinn was all enthusiastic and gave Rachel his unreserved support. Peel on the other hand felt at this stage at least, there was room and time to air concerns. He thought it was wrong to participate in such a one sided hearing whereby the accused was not allowed to call any witnesses on her behalf, but for the sake of his own neck, he was coerced to do it. After all, Rachel was the daughter of Congressman Henry Harbinger IV and being the member of such an established and influential family on Capitol Hill she had been duly fast tracked into a senior operational position within the CIA. Nevertheless, why were they bothering with the hearing at all? Just imprison the woman and throw away the key. This hearing appeared to be all for show, something for the great and the powerful to make them feel good about themselves. Certainly Rachel thought the hearing was important. As leader of the team that located and defused the bomb she was in line for further promotion and a special commendation. However, in order to secure and consolidate this, Rachel first needed to complete the destruction of Bloom and a good performance at the hearing would ensure she obtained those well deserved rewards. But Joe Peel, after he read the resume of evidence prepared by Rachel against Bloom, plucked up enough courage to voice his concerns;

“Don’t you think we are going a bit too far with this Rachel? I mean much more evidence like this and you’ll have that girl up facing a firing squad. It’s getting too much, you wouldn’t want that to happen, surely?” Rachel thought on whether she minded or not momentarily;

“Fuck her!” And that was that. Joe didn’t want to be part of this investigation any more. He shuddered at being party to such a grotesque act that incredible day, the three of them standing in a circle looking at the unconscious Bloom on the floor, the other two pouring down scorn and laughing at her. He didn’t understand Rachel, or for that matter Quinn, why this pathological hatred of Bloom, it didn’t sit right. It went over and above prosecuting a rogue agent, Rachel was a terrible bully, she was addicted, yes, that’s what it was, she was addicted to hurting Bloom.

A week previous he had been getting some lunch in the canteen when he came across Rachel and her entourage of sycophantic friends. She was bragging about how she had suppressed and arrested Bloom, the rogue upstart;

“She can’t take a punch, I tell you. She went rogue again and came at me all fists and feet flying. I says to her ‘Girl, it’s about time I put you on the floor… ’. In pure self defence, just as a parry, I pushed out my fist towards her and caught her on the chin, knocking her clean out. She’s fucking useless, no punch resistance, nothing!” Then on seeing him, “Hey Joe, you were there, that’s exactly how it happened, didn’t it?”

“Um, yeah, spot on…” He hated himself for it, but what else was he supposed to say?

“So there you have it, everyone, I went one better than Cunty, I knocked her out!” Rachel continued to bask in the collective adoration, “There’s no way back for Bloom now, she had her chance and she blew it, yeah, that’s what we’ll call her from now on: ‘Blew-it-Bloomy!’ Thank fuck I’m not in her shoes, six inch heeled Pradas or not!” Everyone laughed.

Now here Joe was, a couple of days before the hearing in Rachel’s office reading this obscene dossier;

“Rachel, why do you hate Bloom?”

“I don’t hate her, I just severely dislike her. There’s something about her that gets right on my tits. The accent, the 'fuck-me’ shoes, the flirting with all the men like a dirty slut. This hard-boiled classy broad act, I’ve no time for it at all. Above all, her criminality, an accessory to murder, now I’ve got her banged to rights on that, no excuses.”

“Yes I know, it’s just I’m so uncomfortable with the depth of the condemnation. Have we nothing good to say about her?”

“What the fuck are you on?! No credit must accrue to this criminal rogue agent, that’s just wrong and contrary to all that justice is supposed to be about. It must all accrue to us, the people who really deserve it. It will be the making of our careers! I hope to follow my father into Congress you know, think about what’s at stake, what can be ours as long as we don’t fuck it up! Help me wipe her out, you know in your heart we’re only doing what should’ve been done in the first place. I’m relying on you Joe, you’re my man! Do this for me and I’ll see you right for the future, I guarantee it.”

Joe left the office with a heavy heart, torn between his loyalty to Rachel and the fact he knew he was doing something wrong. He didn’t know who to turn to so he confided in the only one he considered available, albeit inadequate, Quinn;

“Andy, I don’t know what to do. This impeachment hearing is such bullshit, the whole thing has been concocted by Rachel with the sole aim of destroying Bloom. Why does Rachel need to do this? She already has a great career and probably a shining future in politics. I don’t want to give evidence at the hearing but if I don’t, the ramifications against me could be terminal. What can I do?”

“Keep your head down, read the script and stay the course.” the advice of the older man was uncompromisingly plain, “Do exactly as she tells you and never antagonise her, remember I know her a lot better than you do so listen up. I tell you, Joe, with the backing of her father on Capitol Hill, she’s got more fingers in pies than a leper on a cookery course…”

__________________________________________________

Impeachment Hearing day. Eunice was brought into the room with the long table. The original five handlers who would sit in judgement had not yet arrived but Rachel was already there, waiting;

“Here you are dear, have a seat, just like old times,” Rachel grabbed a seat from the wall and put it in front of the long table, inviting Eunice to take it, “nothing much is going to happen, just an informal chat.”

“Shouldn’t I stand?” Eunice questioned, drained and seeming to lack focus.

“You’re in no fit state to stand, remain seated at all times, I insist, don’t go fainting on me!” Rachel put a hand on Eunice’s shoulder pressing her to take the seat.

Three minutes later the panel of five entered the room from the door behind their side of the table. The Chairman immediately gave the prisoner a filthy look as soon as he saw her:

“What are you doing sitting down!” he boomed, “How dare you show such disrespect to the panel!” Before Eunice could react she felt herself being roughly hauled to her feet out of the chair. It was Rachel;

“Mr Chairman, if she is unwilling to show you respect by standing humbly before you then it is only right she should kneel…” Rachel advised The Chairman before putting her foot into the back of Eunice’s left knee, breaking the lock and forcing her to kneel.

“I think your opinion is perfectly reasonable, Agent Harbinger,” The Chairman gratified the presentable young woman, “the prisoner shall remain in that position for the duration of the hearing.”

Rachel retreated and left the prisoner kneeling and isolated in the centre of the room, debased and off to the perfect bad start with the panel who would decide her future. In the following five minutes the panel accessed the wi-fi for their tablet computers and shuffled their paperwork amongst other settling in activities in readiness for the hearing proper. Eunice’s knees were already hurting, the hard floor becoming harder second by second. Eunice noticed the woman panellist on the far right get up from her seat, approach The Chairman and whisper in his ear. As she did so The Chairman looked directly at Eunice, degraded and centre stage. He nodded and the woman returned to her seat.

“Bloom, just because you are insolent, infantile and have no breeding, it does not follow that we on this panel should sink to your base level. This hearing is not to be conducted as some sort of game.” It was a game, “You may thank us that we shall allow you to stand before us.” Eunice gratefully carried out the Chairman’s instruction and got to her feet:

“Thank you Mr Chairman.” Eunice said with her head bowed and hands folded respectfully behind her back.

“Mr Chairman, I don’t think the prisoner in the light of what just happened….” Rachel tried to object to the prisoner escaping from the punishment so well designed.

“Agent Harbinger, be rest assured the gross disrespect of the prisoner to the panel has been duly noted and shall be taken into account in our final judgement. Everyone can see she has already suffered and rightly so, one cannot expect America to be kind to it’s enemies.” The Chairman mollified the ambitious accuser, “If you please, can we get started and hear your evidence.”

The session was not a court but it had all the feeling of being a trial. The panel of Eunice’s five handlers sat behind their long table in judgement, there were guards stationed at the door and at strategic points around the sides of the room, stenographers to record the discourse, Rachel as prosecutor, and the orange clad prisoner with nobody to defend her but herself. There were also about twenty others seated in the room, Eunice did not know why they were there, presumably participants unwilling to pass up the opportunity of such a spectacle.

Eunice had tried to make herself as presentable as possible for the hearing but it was very difficult to do so with what she had. Everyone present when she was delivered to the hearing had been shocked by her half starved and dirty appearance. Prolonged absence of exposure to natural light had made her complexion grey and wasted, the half rationed prison food such as it was and the consequent loss of weight had made her face drawn and gaunt. Eunice asked one of the women cellblock guards if they had any spare hair ties so she could wear her hair tidy in a ponytail, but nothing could be done with the orange boiler suit, it was degradation personified.

Rachel was now ready to present the evidence against the prisoner. First as a warm up she called Agents Quinn and Peel to give their prepared evidence to the panel. Agent Quinn did not need to be persuaded to condemn the prisoner in the strongest of terms. Then it was Agent Peel’s turn. Robot like, he read out his prepared section of the condemnation and then sat down. The next witnesses Rachel called were the sharpshooters stationed on the surrounding rooftops of the Shelton warehouse. They confirmed the accused had been acting strange, crouching down as if trying to conceal what she was up to, then accessing her phone. The last witness Rachel called was the commander of the CIA SWAT team. The captain confirmed that the prisoner had refused to relinquish the bomb and had violently resisted arrest, the ensuing fight causing the damage to the side of her face and base of her sternum which had been noted in the original incident reports. If any of them were sympathetic to the prisoner, they refused to show it in public as such luxuries of conscience have to be set against the risks to one’s career and pension. What was the point anyway? Bloom was all but destroyed, this hearing was the final nail in her coffin, Rachel Harbinger had seen to that, if not executed for high treason then Bloom would certainly die in prison. She was fucked. One by one they all trooped in and toed the required line, condemning Eunice without reservation reiterating their damning evidence already contained in the dossier compiled by Rachel who now was ready to give her own invective against the prisoner, evidence and summing up all rolled into one;

“After the original criminal act of exposing The Roman leading to his murder at the hands of vigilante thugs, the so called Boondock Saints, Bloom ran away abroad into hiding but that did not stop her instigating the prison break of the Boondock Saints out of The Hoag. Clearly the woman was a dangerous menace even in exile. The Boondock Saints since escaping from prison have been implicated in the murder of hundreds of persons involved in organised crime, there is no justification for this, or the circumvention of due legal process. All these persons would be alive if it were not for the criminal Bloom. Specifically in relation to the Iranian nuclear bomb investigation, Bloom was insubordinate to her Number 1 Special Agent Kuntsler, and also myself who was in overall command of that section of the counter terrorism operation from the Boston FBI office. On the day itself, when I took the decision that in the absence of any developments to that point we should carry on with day to day FBI work and go and visit the informant George Pappalardi at his health spa, she just wanted to sit around in her office and waste the available time. I reluctantly brought her along as it sickened me to have such a time-waster on the public payroll. She interfered with and blocked my commands as much as she could at every stage of the investigation, such as destroying state evidence on George Pappalardi’s computer by shooting her gun into it to the endangerment of all those present including members of the public. She then threatened to shoot the said informant, pulling him to the ground and striking him several times with her gun for no apparent reason. She refused to carry out specific orders and absconded to the roof at a critical time she was needed. She grabbed my gun when I had it trained on the terrorist Vindhani causing it to go off unintentionally and fatally wounding him. This is why ballistics showed that my gun had fired the fatal shots…”

At this point Eunice noticed wry smiles appear on the faces of some panel members. This ambitious young CIA agent had not yet ascertained the subtle boundary of acceptable bullshit, and that which lay beyond it;

“… She advocated the use of torture, and specifically eye-gouging to extract information from the wounded Vindhani so that myself and Agents Quinn and Peel had to physically stop her from carrying out such an abhorrent act. I wish the panel to note that that I have sought an expert psychoanalytical opinion on this and it has been reported back to me that anyone who contemplates such behaviour is a psychopath of truly bestial proportions. She wilfully and recklessly decided to defuse the bomb herself using nothing more than guesswork in direct contravention of my orders. I had instructed those present I would defuse the bomb using logical and set procedures as far as I could, but she confiscated the Iranian deactivation equipment and in refusing to surrender it she recklessly wasted valuable time almost letting it run out, there were only four seconds left till detonation on the bomb timer in the end. But even worse than this,” Rachel paused to enhance the gravity of her next statement, “was that she pulled her gun on myself and my assistants, Agents Quinn and Peel. When we tried to persuade her to hand over the deactivation keys and restrain her, she threatened to kill us. With only about thirty seconds left on the bomb timer, we bravely decided that her guesswork would be better than nothing at all so under duress we let her carry on at that late stage. On return from exile, she refused to accept Special Agent Kuntsler’s seniority over her and she violently attacked him leading to her arrest. Similarly, she resisted arrest at the bomb crime scene. It was only with the help of Agents Quinn and Peel who I’m recommending for special promotion, I was able to arrest and suppress her. On both occasions necessary force had to be used such is her violent and unstable disposition. To sum up, what we have in Bloom is a highly dangerous, criminal, egocentric psychopath, blind to all reason and conscience, devoid of all decency and humanity to the exclusion of everyone else. I do not wish to question the judgement of the panel, actually it is very laudable the way you gave this rogue agent a second chance to prove her loyalty, but sadly she has betrayed your trust in the most disrespectful and callous manner imaginable, and I leave it to you now to pass the appropriate judgement, if justice is to be seen to be done, she must pay in proportion to the crimes committed.”

Rachel sat down, pleased she had made a good case against the accused, no witnesses could be called by Bloom, it wasn’t that sort of hearing. Ultimately it was Bloom’s word against her’s. Who in the CIA or at the Pentagon would take the word of a rogue FBI agent against Rachel Harbinger, their rising star? There was a ten minute break while the panel deliberated on Rachel’s discourse.

Eunice watched them intently discuss what had been presented, nodding their heads in agreement and exuding satisfaction that the arguments had been well put. The man to the right of The Chairman spoke a bit louder than he intended;

“Shall we bother letting her speak, can’t we just go straight to sentencing?” Eunice picked out over the general hubbub.

At last The Chairman called the room to order, then he addressed the prisoner;

“Okay Bloom, it is a pretty damning indictment we have just heard. We have virtually decided that you will be cashiered and imprisoned indefinitely. Nevertheless, we brought you back and are partly responsible for the consequences of your misadventure. In the light of this, I think we are owed an explanation?”

“There’s something I don’t quite understand,” it was the woman on the far right of the panel who spoke before Eunice could answer, “we are all familiar with the configuration of the device and how it was to be disarmed, and I can see how Bloom managed to guess her way to the ignition bomb, but what I don’t understand is how she guessed the abort code, that is nine digits long, it’s impossible!”

“Yes Bloom,” The Chairman took up from his colleague, “how did you know the abort code? One part of our investigation into this affair is that someone gave it to you when you were up on the warehouse roof. We have already heard you were acting strange, why were you crouching down? What were you hiding?”

“No concealment. If you must know,” Eunice momentarily reflected while closing her eyes, “I was actually praying.” This was met with many large guffaws and laughter from the audience.

“What? You have religion, Bloom?” The Chairman sarcastically sought clarification with a broad smile.

“That’s a question never put to me and one thus far I’ve not had to consider,” Eunice frowned, “I’d never have thought, but it looks like I do…”

“Have you ever heard anything so obscene?” Rachel raised her objection to the information, “Talk about being top of the class at 'Satan’s School for Girls’, if you put that demon seed anywhere near a church, she’d burst into flames!” More laughter broke out.

“Harbinger, don’t say any more statements like that.” The Chairman warned the prosecutor, “And you Bloom are treating the hearing with contempt, for the last time, was there a code, and if so how did you come by it?”

“There was no abort code!” Rachel interjected, “Our computer technicians have gone all over the bomb and key circuitry and there is no trace of an abort code, it never existed, and she knew all along and wouldn’t tell us!”

“Be quiet Harbinger! Let Bloom speak!” The Chairman restored order. The room waited. Did the washed out beaten figure have a reply? Did she have anything to say?

“There was an abort code.” She said barely audible even in the intently silent and all listening room.

“There was an abort code?” The Chairman questioned, “Well, what was it? And try to speak up!”

“It is 5-2-4-1-2-8-8-0-0.”

“Oh really?” The random list failed to inspire anything within The Chairman, “Then why didn’t you tell us?”

“I was never asked, Agent Harbinger has ran all the interrogations since my return here, this is the first time I have been allowed to speak.”

“She was never asked!” The Chairman and the rest of the room once more broke into laughter at the preposterous comment. “Do you think this is some sort of farce, Bloom?”

“Who gave the number you?” The woman panellist on the right spoke again.

“No-one, I worked it out myself. Haven’t your own mathematicians been able to compute it from the Arming code left at the scene and the check-digit? I mean only nine numbers, that’s one billion combinations, a large but not an infinite number. Any half decent computer should be able to churn through that in a few seconds and find the nine digits which correlate to the Arming code and the check-digit via inverse tangents. Anyway, I never thought of raising the Abort code during interrogation because I presumed the brilliant math people at your disposal here during all the time since the bomb was defused, would’ve computed it just as I had.”

The panel looked to one another blankly and somewhat confused by the perfectly reasonable but unexpected question from the prisoner. There followed a minute of much muttering, shaking of heads and pulling of faces amongst the panellists. With no end to the private deliberations in sight, The Chairman brought his own people to order, there unlikely to be any information immediately to hand in answer to the point raised;

“Now look here Bloom,” The Chairman’s ire had been raised due to the fact the prisoner had made them look slightly inept, there was something about this woman, who and what exactly was she?, “we ask the questions, not you!”

“What was that number again?” The woman panellist was determined to get to the bottom of it, “How exactly did you compute it?”

“The Abort code is 5-2-4-1-2-8-8-0-0. Like I said I worked it out from using the check-digit and the Arming code which Vindhani foolishly wrote down when he activated the bomb. I worked it out when I was up on the roof using my smart phone to access the internet and it’s internal scientific calculator. I don’t know how I managed it, some sort of divine inspiration at work, perhaps the extreme time constraints and unbearable stress of the situation forced it out of me, I don’t know, but I shall reconstruct the computation for you now if you wish. Do you have a flipchart or a marker board that can be brought in?”

“She wants to teach us some math!” The panellist on the near right raised a laugh, “It’s too late for you now Bloom to try this as a second career, School Marm!”

“Get her something to write on so she can show the Hearing what she’s wittering on about.” The Chairman ordered the guard by the door.

Eunice waited for the media to be produced. As a young girl she had always wanted to be a teacher, now she was to get her chance. Perhaps she had chosen the wrong profession? To think she could be in school right now, the young children all gathered around her as she read them a story…. Hmm..… Eunice let her mind drift….. Are you kidding? Not to be a Special Agent of the FBI? There was no other life worth living! To let this life, her life be destroyed in this hearing was unacceptable. She had to fight back, fight for this life and get it back at all costs. It had been hard enough work to get it in the first place.

The guard returned wheeling in a blank flipchart on a trestle, throwing the marker pen at her feet, refusing to hand it to her. Eunice picked up the marker pen and gathered her thoughts, where to begin? She would have to start her explanation somewhere, start at the beginning:

[FLIPCHART 1]

“We were all aware that there was a heavy emphasis within the Iranian intercepts that the Abort code was related in some way to Machin’s formula for computing Pi using inverse tangents, to quote ‘

Quarter Pi, the denominators, double 239’ etc

Here is Machin’s formula, I’ll write it out for you:

Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/239

The denominators of the inverse tangents give the following numbers: 5239 but that’s not nine digits. Double 239 you get 5239239 still two short. The best your maths boffins could come up with was the possibility that ‘double’ meant ‘squared’. 239 squared gives you 57121, then add this to the original four denominators you get 523957121.

This was the default code I was given by your maths people to use for lack of anything better coming to light. However, you can’t compute Pi with it and they spent valuable weeks putting it through their computers to find a correlation with the check-digit ‘0.00318318318… Plus 19%’ to quote it, no correlation was found at all. I prayed I wouldn’t be called upon to use 523957121, I rightly had no confidence it was anywhere near correct. But up on the roof, what had changed? For one I had the nine digit Arming code as an additional piece of data the Abort code could be correlated to along with the check-digit. I’ll write these out:

Arming code 475871200

Check-digit 0.00318318318.… plus 19%, the inverse of the repeating sequence gives the numbers 31415 which are the first five digits of Pi.

I wasted about two minutes on my phone multiplying, dividing and generally messing about with the above numbers in a blind panic, as if that was going to help, but by just looking at them, ultimately I knew that was not going to give me anything definitive. I needed to somehow involve the computation of Pi, but how? In desperation and hopelessness my mind started to wander. For some reason I thought about the day and the fact it was the anniversary of the attack on the Twin Towers in New York. Then it came to me, your maths people had substituted the word ‘squared’ for ‘double’, could I in the same way substitute the word ‘twin’? ‘Double 239’ could mean ‘Twin 239’?

Your maths people had already told me the number 239 had special properties such that it is a prime number, what else could I find out about it? Before I continue, I’d just like to warn the panel that everything in a crazy two to three minutes up on that roof began to cascade and click into place. I don’t know how or why but divine inspiration or not, that’s what happened.

I accessed the internet on my smart-phone and typed in 239 on a well known search engine. The first line that came up was the website of an also well known internet encyclopaedia, which gave the low down on the number 239. It reiterated it was a prime number, and in that area of the number line primes tended to come in pairs or twins!

And the prime number twin of 239 is?……241!

Can Pi be computed using arctan 1/241? Let’s try and do it on the chart:

Is Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/241 ?

Well, given 241 is not 239 then logic tells you it won’t be but something within me told me to persist with this so I computed the product of the above formula. Can someone on the panel please compute it for me on their computer so I can write it down?

(At this point the lady panellist on the right offered up the use of her tablet computer, passing it to one of the guards so he could hand it to Eunice.)

Thank you Ma’am. Let me take a few moments to compute the figure…..

And…… here it comes….. 0.785432885

Which as expected is not a quarter of Pi.

Again, working on blind intuition,

I wanted to know the difference: Pi/4 = 0.785398163

A repeating number like 0.00318318318! 0.0000347222222

I knew I was on to something but it wasn’t clear yet what it was. We used inverse tangents to compute Pi, so working in reverse what is the tangent of 0.000034722222..?

Well, given that represents such a thin angle in trigonometry the tangent of this gives you virtually the same number 0.0000347222…

So what is the inverse or the arctan of this number? Hit your 1/x button and you get……. 28800

Therefore computing Pi using arctan 1/241 you should use the following formula, here it is:

Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/241 - arctan 1/28800

By all means check the computation, it is correct.

Extract the arctan denominators and you get: 524128800

That’s nine digits!

However, is that the Abort code?

Without correlation to the other data it is no better than 523957121, the number I had no confidence in. I was immediately struck by the two zeros at the end of the number just extracted. Where had I seen something already like that? Of course, the Arming code, let’s write it out again:

Arming code 475871200

Abort code? 524128800

The two endings 200 and 800 are just

asking you to add them together! 1000000000

Which is?…….. One Billion!

(There was a huge audible gasp in the room as the biggest buzz word in the whole bomb plot investigation was computed as an actual number.)

The intercepts repeatedly mentioned about ‘making a billion’ so there we have it, one billion made! But the check digit ‘0.00318318318 plus 19%’ how does that fit in?

Again, for some reason intuition told me to look once more at the inverse tangent computations. If using the proposed Abort code in the format 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/241 - arctan 1/28800 gives Pi/4 then using the same format what does the Arming code give?

4 arctan ¼ - arctan 1/758 - arctan 1/71200 gives: 0.978581347

Make a billion so add this to Pi/4 0.785398163

A meaningless figure: 1.763979510

But wait a minute, the intercept talked about ‘make a billion then take away’ Take away or subtract?

0.978581347

-0.785398163

0.193183183.…

The intercept in relation to the Check-digit mentioned 0.00318318318… Plus 19%.

Well 19% in it’s decimal form is 0.19, add this to the repeating sequence and you get 0.19318318318…

The above number!

At that, all numbers, intercepts and buzz words were correlated and reconciled. 524128800 was the Abort code, it had to be!

If you’re finding all that too complex to follow through, then let me summarise on the flipchart - in a nutshell!

1) The intercepts lead us to Machin’s formula by mentioning Pi/4 and the ‘double’ of number 239.

2) Machin’s formula is Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/239

3) The Prime number twin or double of 239 is 241

4) To compute Pi using arctan 1/241 you rehash the formula thus:

Pi/4 = 4 arctan 1/5 - arctan 1/241 - arctan 1/28800

5) The arctan denominators of this are (The Abort Code) 524128800

6) The Arming code as used by Vindhani was 475871200

7) Add together to ‘make a billion’ 1000000000

8) The Arming code in arctan formula format is:

4 arctan ¼ - arctan 1/758 - arctan 1/71200

9) Which computes to: 0.978581347

10) The Abort code in arctan formula

computes to Pi/4 which is: 0.785398163

11) ‘then take away’ or subtract, which

gives the Check-digit ‘0.00318318318.…

plus 19%’ as a decimal figure 0.193183183…

That completes my explanation on how I computed the Abort code and verified it. Whether I could ever perform at that level again is debatable but that is what happened up on the roof. It was just me, my phone and the internet, but chiefly me, alone.”

The panel were stunned and unable to give an opinion at first. It was evident that two of them were using their tablet computers to check the computations written down.

“What evidence do you have that this number was the actual Abort code?” The man to The Chairman’s immediate left spoke.

“None other than it has to be. It’s the only solution to the Persian intercepts as translated that fits. Talk about lost in translation, your people coming up with ‘double’ instead of ‘twin!’ There is nothing abstract about the phrases used, they are literal in their nature! ‘Make a billion then take away’, and ‘0.00318318318… plus 19%’, you looked for the chimera that wasn’t there, how could you have overlooked it? Up until that point how could have I? I knew it had to be the code so I used it, that was the exact sequence I entered into the Abort key after I slotted it into the front of bomb number 3.”

“That’s a lie!” Rachel jumped up from her chair, sensing her greatest career triumph starting to slip through her fingers, “There never was a code! There’s no evidence for one!”

“Sit down Harbinger! I will have order here!” The Chairman’s interest was well drawn now. It seemed the Bloom woman would have her day after all. They all knew the translated intercepts, and Bloom’s number seemed to tick all the boxes, no other proposed number so far had been able to do so. The Chairman noticed that the prisoner’s voice towards the end of her presentation was getting quite hoarse, the months of not using her vocal cords much had made them wear out quickly with the sudden increase in output. He thought he had better do the decent thing and tell one of the guards to get her a drink of water.

She gratefully gulped it down and appeared much refreshed, thanking him genuinely and unconditionally. But there was something else he observed. Bloom had seemed to start from a position of defeat, beaten and lacking confidence. But gradually as the figures were written down and more importantly, as she began to interact with the room, she started to come out of herself, gaining in confidence and outgoing self belief, feeding strongly off the human contact. And it was two way, the room seemed to reciprocate the prisoner’s goodwill and magnetism, they felt the pull. The Chairman couldn’t suppress his unease, could this upbeat extrovert be so terrible as in the evidence laid out against her? She was doing something to him, bringing out his paternal protective instincts. He wouldn’t show it for a moment though, his hostile trial of the prisoner would continue, for now at least.

“We will get our mathematicians to check your figures Bloom, but I can’t confirm anything at this stage.” The Chairman defensively was noncommittal.

“What about your reckless guessing of which of the eight bombs was the ignition one? What do you have to say about that?” It was the man to The Chairman’s left again. The panel could sense the sea-change but they were reluctant to pass up so easily their earlier amicable decision of what the outcome of the hearing would be. Rachel was reassured somewhat, at least they had got Bloom on this one.

“There was no guesswork at all.” Eunice began slowly, choosing her words carefully, “Initially I worked along the same lines as the rest of the team on site when Vindhani managed to destroy one of the three ignition bomb locator keys. We could get down to two bombs and make a 50:50 choice, a choice between salvation and oblivion. Someone at the time actually mentioned it as a bomb disposal cliché, do I cut the red wire or do I cut the blue wire? As your wire cutters close over the red wire with only seconds to go on the bomb clock, you suddenly have a change of heart and hastily cut the blue wire. It doesn’t explode and you jump about shouting ‘It’s the blue wire! It’s the blue wire!’

Well to hell with all that, leave that for the movies. I’m not risking thousands of lives and my beloved second home of Boston to the proverbial flip of a coin, no thank you!”

“You talk of cliché, Bloom, but there was only four seconds left on the timer. A pretty fine margin wouldn‘t you say?” The Chairman was quick to suggest a tinge of hypocrisy when comparing the woman’s discourse against the facts.

“I know, but what I’m trying to explain is that odds of 50:50 were just inconceivable to accept, even a 1% chance of setting the bomb off was still too high for me. I wanted, I demanded certainty, zero chance of detonation.”

“She’s insane! I told you!” Rachel was out of her chair again, “How are you to achieve that with only two locator keys, I ask!”

“Quiet, Harbinger! I’ll have you removed if you interrupt again!” The Chairman was becoming very irritated with the prosecutor, as he had increasingly warmed to Bloom he had experienced the matching opposite in relation to Harbinger. He couldn’t wait to hear what the accused had to say now and he believed this was the case with everyone else present, all apart from Harbinger.

“On the way down from the roof it came to me, in those thirty odd seconds as I descended the stairs, divine inspiration working overtime again, if you like. I discovered a flaw in the Iranian logic. On the face of it, their set method is very logical and efficient, 8 bombs down to 4, 4 bombs down to 2, 2 bombs down to 1, by use of three locator keys. What they overlooked is that it is possible with the way the device was configured to locate the ignition bomb using only two locator keys. Let me explain…”

Eunice flipped over the sheet she had last written on to start with a fresh piece of paper.

“We are all aware of the configuration of the bomb and the functions of all the component parts?” Eunice checked before proceeding.

“We have the details etched onto the surface of our brains, get on with it, Bloom!” The Chairman urged the prisoner. Eunice began to write out the following logical procedures. As she began The Chairman thought the handwriting of the prisoner was typically feminine, very rounded and neat, despite the rush to get it down on the paper.

[FLIPCHART 2]

Eunice was about to embark on additional information about the overall procedure when the man to The Chairman’s left thought he saw a fatal flaw in the woman’s logic. He was very impressed with her ascertainment of the Ignition bomb, however, he believed there was still an element of luck involved, specifically, a one in four chance of being annihilated. This may have been better odds than evens, but by the woman’s own standards any chance of detonation was unacceptable. With satisfaction he looked at the faces of the other four panellists, they appeared to have swallowed it whole with their silly expressions of awe and wonderment, just because on the day it had very fortunately panned out as the prisoner had written. Didn’t they realise how easily the woman’s flawed logic could have led to disaster?

“Can I mention something Bloom?” He raised a point of order.

“Thank you, sir, but if you please, I’m not quite finished, there’s something ….” Eunice apologetically replied.

“That’s all very well and good Bloom,” he cut her off, “But there’s something I really need to say first.” Just before he launched his attack to knock down her written postulate, he paused, in anticipation of savouring the look on everyone’s face, and especially Bloom’s when he delivered the next devastating line;

“What if the Ignition bomb was Number 1 or 2?”

What he expected was a stunned silence in the room, Bloom would be hamstrung, totally lost for words and then crumble into mediocrity before everyone’s eyes. He would be a god before all.

It didn’t happen. Instantly on hearing the line, Bloom with a little shrug nonchalantly said she was just coming to that matter which totally wrecked the devastating effect the line was supposed to have. She turned to the flipchart and began to write once more.

[FLIPCHART 3]

At this point Rachel sprang out of her chair and ran across the floor to Eunice, grabbing her shoulders and pressing her mouth near to the prisoner’s ear. The Chairman should have intervened but didn’t. There was a resigned air of inevitability in the room. They weren’t certain what was going to be written next but everyone had a feeling how it was going with the self assured scribbling coming quick-fire over the paper, Bloom was going to do it.

The two women were locked together in the centre of the room in their own world far removed. There was intense whispered interaction going on between them. The whole room strained in silence to pick up anything, but couldn’t.

“Fucking hell Bloom! What do you think you’re doing?!” Rachel demanded an explanation. Eunice looked puzzled, her train of thought suddenly broken by this other woman’s unexpected arrival;

“What am I doing? I’m only doing what the panel has asked me to do…”

“Think about what you’re doing to me!!” Rachel sank her nails into the shoulders causing Eunice to wince. Rachel’s suit was new, dark and crisp, hair soft and beautifully styled, her hands slender and manicured, the sweet perfume, her make over at perfection and ultra professional, so young. Eunice was that woman once…. Eunice could not reject outright the closeness of her nemesis, she let her cheek rest against the pretty young woman’s soft waves of hair, there was cleanliness, dignity and a recognised human being behind it.

“It’s my job,” Eunice whispered keeping the interaction private, “You know, following orders and all that shit. I still consider myself an officer of the law even if you don’t. They’ve asked me to explain so I’ll do it.” Then after a brief pause; “I don’t care anymore, you can have me shot afterwards if you like Rachel, I’ve just about had it with everything….”

“Agent Harbinger, please…” The Chairman spoke quietly but sufficiently audible. He wasn’t angry, merely yielding to what had to be, “let Miss Bloom finish, for pity’s sake, please let her continue…”

‘Miss Bloom? Miss! So that was the way it was going, was it?’, Rachel took in the unsettling thought. She let her hands fall away from the almost vindicated, turned and shuffled back to her chair, flopping down onto it, crushed.

Eunice turned to the flipchart for one last time:

[FLIPCHART 3 CONTINUED]

Eunice, having completed the written part of the demonstration, turned to address the panel;

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the panel, all I have written, the entire procedure will work with any selection and de-selection of bombs, locator test switches and samples, as long as the proportions are kept the same. Please feel free to test the above algorithm as desired.

Additionally, as a necessary point of clarification, the computation of the correct Abort code and the ascertaining of how to find the Ignition bomb with only two locator keys, with only minutes to go forced me to pull my gun on my fellow agents when they tried to stop me. There simply wasn’t enough time to explain all I’ve written down here today and there was no way I could let them take that 50:50 chance when so much was at stake. Dire straits call for extreme measures, I had to do it.” Eunice looked at the faces of the panel, they were awestruck combined with pained regret in that they had been party to such a disgraceful showpiece.

“Miss Bloom….I…….I think….” The Chairman needed to say something as it was supposed to be his show, but he had no words to say.

“For Christ’s sake, Max, call an adjournment!” The woman on the right whispered far too loudly so everyone heard.

“Let’s…. let’s adjourn the hearing……, for half an hour.” The Chairman bumbled the decision out, “Bring that flipchart into the deliberation room.”

The panel filed out into the adjacent room as quickly as they could to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere hanging in the Hearing room. Deliberate it as they must, due to the computations Bloom used having to be checked as it was impracticable to take in and understand them first time, everyone watching the unfolding presentation nevertheless had the horrible stomach churning feeling that the logic stood up. This realisation had particularly impressed itself on Rachel. She was intelligent enough to appreciate the methodology of what had been divulged, and intuitively she knew it was correct and would stand up to subsequent scrutiny. Therefore she had no option but to sit in the chair as every atom of her screamed out in denial “No! No! No! No! No! Oh God help me!”.

This one time rogue agent by use of logic and reverse logic, and thinking completely outside the systematic 8, 4, 2, 1 process, had saved a city. The panel and everybody else on the other hand, had got it totally wrong about her. For Rachel to dig herself out of this one would now take some doing.

“Miss Bloom?” Eunice turned and saw that it was one of the guards offering her a chair. She thanked him and sat down, totally spent and thinking of nothing.

Rachel was now in tears, completely destroyed by the prisoner’s evidence. The ultra ambitious CIA agent had invested everything in wiping out the prisoner, and now such heavy investment would reap the requisite return. She got up and went over to go one on one with her resilient adversary;

“You fucking bitch,” Rachel wretchedly accused Eunice, “look what you’ve done, you’ve destroyed everything!”

“I didn’t destroy you Rachel, you destroyed yourself. Terrible, really. When you offered me breakfast in that room on my first morning here, I thought that girl is here to help me, I am with such decent people now, yes, I thought you were my friend, and all the time you were working to destroy me, shocking.”

“But what am I supposed to do now?” Rachel held out her hands, beseeching the new power enthroned in front of her.

“You? You were the one to suggest eye gouging to get the code, not me, and in the circumstances, given what was at stake, you may have been justified, but it says a lot about you, Rachel. After I had defused the bomb and saved the city, saved your sordid life and the lives of your two thuggish assistants, you arrested and viciously assaulted me, why?”

“Kuntsler attacked you too! And you can hand it out yourself, I read a report that you hit George Pappalardi with a wooden sign in the spa!” Rachel was quick to dilute the blame.

“What John did was wrong, no two ways about it, but there were mitigating factors that made him unhinged, me turning up like that unannounced for one. The crux of what happened, is that I became a golden opportunity for John to take all the woes of his life at the time out on someone, a most wanted rogue agent. Let’s face it, he was virtually on the edge of having a nervous breakdown at the time. But John Kuntsler, fundamentally is not a bad man. As for George, we have always had a peculiar relationship, he knows I can be a bitch but ultimately I am fair. He is also in love with me, I can tell, but would never admit it, the fool. But you? At my most vulnerable moment to rendition me and use all that is in your power to destroy me, you’re the psychopath, not me.”

“But Eunice! We can be friends now all this Hearing nonsense is over and I know what really happened. If I knew then what I know now, I would never have acted in that way. Fuck it Eunice! We were all out of our heads that day, the pressure cooker of trying to function within yards of an armed and soon to detonate nuclear bomb! The pressures of the job are enormous regardless of that situation anyway, we are all chasing our careers, you know the score. We are basically the same, you and I Eunice, we have the right to be ambitious.”

“Ambition? There is so much of myself that I see in you Rachel when I was your age. But there is also so much of myself I don’t. By all means arrest the FBI team if they have misbehaved on the assignment, but then to single me out for such animalistic treatment the way you did had no justification whatsoever.”

“But that’s all in the past and best forgotten. Why dwell on it, development of a short memory can be so good for you. Oh please say a good word for me to the panel when they return, I always liked and admired you but I was too proud to show it.” Rachel was suddenly all upbeat but it wasn’t fooling Eunice, the young woman was very fearful for the future, “Come on Bloomy! Do you remember at Shelton’s warehouse, we walked down that isle shoulder to shoulder, guns out blazing away at Vindhani? What a team! We were like sisters… you were my big sister I could admire and look up to. I want us to be like that again!” Rachel reached out and stoked the top of Eunice’s head to show empathy but immediately pulled her hand back when several hairs came away between the fingers.

“Oh yes,” Eunice allowed herself a bitter smile, “You’d love to turn the clock back, wouldn’t we all? You, me, friends? Sisters? The last time you called me your sister you karate chopped me across the face, and then shortly afterwards punched me as hard as you could, smashing my lungs right up into my heart. I may have survived it but I’m in no way indestructible. To think you could have the gall to put yourself on par with my own beloved sister Clarice! You hurt me Rachel, both physically and mentally. Look at me, a ruin of a woman, you did this to me. What sort of sisterly behaviour is that? Indeed, what sort of behaviour is that from one woman to another? Sisters!”

“So I’m the first woman that struck you? So what are you going to do?, kill me like you promised Kuntsler if he hit you? You may as well kill me now in the light of what you’ve done today. When I’m in such dire need of your help, on the very basis of your humanity, surely you can’t deny me?”

“You weren’t the first woman that struck me. That particular honour belongs to somebody else. But you can be rest assured I’m not going to kill you Rachel, I won’t facilitate you an exit strategy. In matter of fact, the idea of one killing another has some bearing on the big question you have failed to ask me so far. It’s there in the back of your mind so why don’t you ask me?”

“Okay Eunice, all this needn’t have happened, your imprisonment, this stupid fucked up hearing, the waste of everyone’s time and efforts, if you had just told me on day one what you’ve just told the panel now. You could have been back in Boston months ago, a heroine, an FBI superstar amongst all your friends. And I too would have been part of that, a famous team member who defused the bomb. By withholding the information you’ve brought us both to within an inch of disaster.”

“I am a law enforcement officer. You were in ultimate command of the team and as such I had a duty to divulge my methods of defusing the bomb to you, even after you arrested me. But you see I don’t think there is anything normal about our commander and subordinate relationship, in this respect I have to act smart. What would you have done once I had given you the information?”

“What sort of question is that? I would have had you released right away and explained the situation to the panel and all the other powers that be. It would have been me kneeling down in front of the panel, not you, beseeching them to exonerate you.”

“Oh no,” Eunice shook her head in contradiction, “it would have been me kneeling down with you behind, the barrel of your Glock in the back of my skull. You would’ve had me murdered or like I said, done the deed yourself. You see I know what sociopaths like you are capable of. Telling you that information would be tantamount to putting my head in a noose and pulling the lever myself. The people present were right to laugh when I said I didn’t divulge because I wasn’t asked, I withheld the information out of pure necessity, self preservation!”

“But you lied to the panel! You didn’t explain yourself as you were duty bound to do so, not because you thought they’d already worked it all out themselves, but because of some crazy idea I would kill you? Oh please! Me kill you? You think I’m capable of murder? What crazy talk is that!”

“Oh yes, I know you,” Eunice said through gritted teeth, “definitely!”

“Oh ha-ha-ha, how could you say that about a fellow agent, ridiculous!” Rachel nervously tried to laugh away the damning accusation and decided she had to try and steer the conversation in the direction of her objective; “Now look, I know we’ve got off to a bad start but going forward we need to rehabilitate our working relationship. You saved my life and a life saved is a life owed so I owe you one Eunice! Forget Kuntsler, I want you to be my Number 2 in charge of the Boston FBI anti-terrorist section going forward.” Rachel tried the futile tack of pulling rank, even now, “I so much appreciate all you have done under my command and may it continue. You said so yourself, I am your boss and you have to submit to my command. So how about it, Eunice, Kuntsler’s job all yours with me in overall control. Do you see the way I can fast-track your career for you? We’re both going to have such a great future working together. Do the right thing Eunice! Please can we simply move forward from the past, please forgive me. Wasn’t it John himself who told me you had tremendous capacity to forgive…”

“John told you that? Oh…” Eunice reflected on what her Number 1 had said about her, momentarily touched.

“Christ Eunice! He nearly pistol whipped you! Surely what I did was no where near as bad as what he did and yet you forgave him. Show you can do it again for someone who comes to you genuinely sorry, contrite and a friend. You can do it, be reasonable Bloomy!” Rachel puffed and rolled her eyes pretending this was just a temporary misunderstanding and everything could be retrieved as long as ‘Bloomy’ would stop her silly girl attitude and see sense. Eunice knew different;

“You are very much a victim too but not in the way you think, blaming me and the way circumstances moved against you at the end of this affair, you’re a victim of your own wickedness, you never asked to have a corrupted evil brain in your head, did you? At the warehouse you asked me if you frightened me? I didn’t lie because yes you do. You’re dangerous Rachel, and very bad. I hear you have political ambitions? People like you shouldn’t be let anywhere near the corridors of power, you’ll end up casting this beloved country of ours into the abyss. When I have the misfortune to contemplate you, I think of the dread arrival of the Anti-Christ.”

“Eunice, how can you say such cruel and hurtful things?, as Jesus forgave, follow Him, please do the same…”

“Those transgressions I choose to forgive shall be set aside, those I choose not to won’t be. What should I care about you now? I did my job to the best of my ability and managed to save a city and it’s inhabitants. You want my advice? Don’t be here when the panel comes back in, leave…, oh, I don’t know, go and throw yourself in the Potomac.”

Was that it? Rachel looked at the woman seated in front of her. Wasn’t she going to offer anything? She was staring away to one side, as if even denying the existence of the applicant. It was finished. Rachel began to walk away, then suddenly broke into a run and burst out through the exit.

Presently, the panel of five returned, but they did not take their positions at the long table, they came and stood in a semicircle around the exhausted woman. Out of respect, Eunice made to stand up.

“No, stay seated!” The Chairman held up his hands, a wall to stop her. Moments passed. Eunice appreciated that as The Chairman was looking down at her with such genuine compassion, she knew then she was saved.

“Is this,” The Chairman spoke to all assembled, “how America treats it’s heroes?”

He then went down on one knee and taking Eunice’s hand, kissed it. Retaining her hand he got to his feet, drawing Eunice up out of the chair and into his arms.

The room at once erupted into rapturous applause. Eunice buried her face into The Chairman’s chest and began to cry uncontrollably, her shoulders jerking violently in his arms. It was over, the nightmare and injustice of her life had been vanquished.

“Where is she being kept?” Eunice heard The Chairman speak over her head to one of his ADCs.

“I think in the cells.” came the nervous response.

“Good Lord no! Put her in one of the guest suites, and get her out of this damn boilersuit! Have her measured for a new wardrobe, and get your best beauticians in, make her beautiful, an image fit for a heroine!”

“Right away, I’ll get on it…”

“My dear child,” The Chairman spoke intimately to the woman in his arms, “is there anything we can do for you?”

Eunice through her tears thought for a moment, then;

“I….I want my life back! My old job in Boston, I want to go home!”

And that gentlemen, is the sound of the fat lady singing!

_____________________________________________

Dear reader, to find out what happens next in Part 2 go to:-

www.specialangeleunicebloom2.tumblr.com

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

PART 2: Coming Back, Leaving

Chapter 7: Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz

Eunice was all cried out, there were no more tears left. She drew herself away from the Chairman;

“Mr Chairman, Sir, am I still a prisoner?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then I’m free to leave?” Silence. “I want to go back to Boston, can I have use of a car?” Eunice persisted.

“How can I put this,” The Chairman tried to be as gentle as he could, “my lady, you’re not going anywhere soon. We would appreciate it if you could stay a while.”

“I’m walking straight out that door and onto the highway, I’ll hitchhike if I have to!”

“Hitchhike in that orange suit of yours? You won’t get any takers, my dear.”

“Christ only had one coat, this one will do me just fine!”

“What you are suggesting is pure madness, think about what you are saying.”

“If no car, then I want some money, I need to get home!”

“You want money? I’m not going to give you any, you’ve already got money. Go over to your former friends at the J. Edgar Hoover Building, I believe there is forty dollars of yours in a little tin box they have retained for you, you’re welcome to it…” He was loving this, making fun of her and watching her antagonised expression develop. He thought it hilarious she seriously wanted to hitchhike back to Boston in the state she was in. He wouldn’t let her defy him, he ruled the room. He was the Chairman of the panel who were her handlers. Now that the heroine had revealed herself, he wasn’t going to let her escape that easily. He was having such an amusing time, the only way a superior can when playing games and making fun of a subordinate.

“You said I’m free to go, well then I’m going! I don’t care how I’ll do it, I’ll find a way! I’m not spending another night here!” Eunice was determined to get on the way back to her beloved Boston.

“Alright, you are free to go,” the Chairman appeared to capitulate, “prison bars can no longer bind you, but we can’t let you go in the state you’re in, therefore, my lady, we must bind you with our love…” Eunice looked back at the Chairman, not understanding.

“Ladies, gentlemen, everyone!” The Chairman cast wide his invitation to the room, “Our heroine wants to leave us, can you all help me?”

Eunice sensed someone come up behind her, a large male arm wrapped itself around the front of her waist, someone else from the side, a female arm across the front of Eunice’s shoulders, and so it continued, the people pressed in and swamped the emaciated woman. As she disappeared into the morass of bodies the last thing the Chairman heard from the woman were some feeble protests;

“No, no, stop, you’re smothering me, I’m free to go, let me go!” Then nothing more as she was apparently overwhelmed.

“Having fun Max?” The Chairman’s fellow panellist enquired.

“Ah Pamela, I must admit, I am rather enjoying myself.”

“You always were a bit of a bastard when you had to be.” Pamela Curtis accessed her foremost career experiences with the man.

“You heard what she was planning to do, I mean, only a slip of a girl like that, she’s completely mad!” the Chairman disagreed, “No, this is different, I’m not being a bastard, I’m being protective. What a funny girl!”

Smiling and satisfied his retaining operation had worked, Max summoned over one of his remaining ADCs;

“Get Doctor Peach down here. But also, under no circumstances is Miss Bloom to be given the use of a car, she is NOT to go.”

The ADC acknowledged the orders and left to get the doctor.

“She’ll certainly need the doctor after that!” Pamela expressed her concern at the melee of bodies that had engulfed their girl. The ADC returned and informed Max the doctor was on her way.

What was that coming in over the general hubbub of the room? Starting slow and quietly at first but gradually getting quicker and louder;

“Bloom - my…… Bloom - my…… Bloom - my!”

“Ah, they were chanting their recognition and appreciation of the heroine.” Max declared.

Doctor Christine rushed down to the Hearing room as soon as she got the message;

“Bloomy!! Bloomy!! Bloomy!! Bloomy!! Bloomy!!…”

What on earth? A huge mass of bodies heaved in the centre of the room. Instinctively Christine knew her charge was somewhere in there, lost and in need of rescue.

“Come on, get off!” Christine began to force her way in.

“Aw, don’t be like that doc,” someone said, “didn’t you know, it’s hug-a-hero time!”

“She’s not a hero! Don’t ever call her that!” Christine angrily pulled away another arm, “She’s my patient!”

Christine continued to push away the heaving bodies, seeking her objective somewhere in the centre. She saw some dull straw coloured hair, the last few bodies were forced aside…

“Eunice!” Christine seized the woman, “Get to the Infirmary now!”

_________________________________________________

Once Eunice had been safely taken into care at the Infirmary, the Chairman gave Doctor Peach specific orders. Miss Bloom was not to be allowed to leave until she had fully recovered;

“I can’t let her turn up in Boston like that all emaciated and in an orange boiler suit, we’d be crucified if that ever got out! Detain her under the mental health legislation if you have to!”

Christine did not have to resort to such tactics over the coming weeks, Eunice herself appreciated she needed to recuperate before venturing back out into the world at large. Christine was gratified to observe how quickly Eunice responded to proper food, rest and initial light exercise, moving onto a more strenuous regime after a short time, her atrophied muscles reconstituting their strength and gaining tone. The doctor knew already from her charge’s first stay at the Pentagon, Eunice was a strong girl, both mentally and physically.

One afternoon Christine asked Eunice to come with her out of the Infirmary. Eunice was to put on a smart suit, pin her hair up, and wear sensible shoes!

To Eunice’s dread, Christine brought her to one of the interrogation rooms she unfortunately had so much experience of already.

“Oh no, is all this going to start up again? Internal Rendition III?” Eunice rounded on the doctor.

“Don’t worry, just go in and sit a while.” Christine gently ushered Eunice in and closed the door behind her.

Eunice sat at the bare table under the watchful and judgemental one way glass panel, alone with her thoughts. After fifteen minutes Christine entered.

“Who was it this time behind the mirror?” Eunice wished to know, “Rachel Harbinger? The Chairman? Who!?”

“Come here, stand up.” Christine ignored the questions.

“Now what?” Eunice did as she was told. Christine pinned the U.S. flag badge to Eunice’s jacket lapel.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Eunice gave the article a withering look, “a cheap lapel pin?”

“Yes, a cheap lapel pin,” Christine did not seek to disagree, “but not just any old pin, guess who’s lapel that was on a minute ago behind the mirror?” Christine watched with pleasure as the expression of shock and realisation spread over Eunice’s face; “Yes, that’s right my little G-Woman, it’s his personal gift to you. He had to see you, he couldn’t put it off any longer so he took time out of official business to come here on a special visit.”

“Why wouldn’t he speak to me?” Eunice was almost in tears at the perceived missed opportunity.

“He cannot. What happened never happened, do you get my drift? Commander in Chief or not, he is still a political animal, he can’t converse with a onetime rogue agent even if you saved an entire city. He wanted to see you so that’s what he did, but that’s all he did, you were like passing ships in the night…”

“Oh, I see.” Eunice resentfully realised that despite all she had done, she was still tarnished by her past, her work for ‘Team Saints’.“

"Come on, Bloomy!” Christine took the patient by the arm and led her to the door, “It’s not so bad, wear that badge with pride, you earned it!”

_______________________________________________

When The Vatican found out how their acting ambassador had been falsely arrested, internally renditioned, half starved and blamed for crimes she hadn’t committed, to put it lightly, they were not best pleased and asked for an apology. The Americans obliged by expressing their sincere regret for the events that had unfolded. Thus satisfied, both sides quickly drew a line under the matter and considered it closed. Internally there was a half-hearted enquiry about the treatment of Bloom initially raised with The Chairman. He helpfully suggested the matter should be forwarded to the main investigating officer at the hearing, namely Agent Harbinger. Her backers and apologists within the Establishment duly wrung their hands;

‘the dear girl is so highly strung and such an impetuous young thing, but one shouldn’t worry, she’d be sure to grow out of it in time!’

The enquiry was sort of left at that. Rachel could consider herself most fortunate to be let off so lightly. Nevertheless, Harbinger was dropped from any promotion lists for the time being.

_______________________________________________

Christine was losing Eunice. She begged her to take a prestigious job either at the Pentagon or nearby FBI HQ which if requested would be granted to the heroine without hesitation. But no, Eunice was determined to go back to Boston, to her friends. She was fully recovered, bored and restless. Her old job in John Kuntsler’s department beckoned, she was going. This time she telephoned him personally to let him know, better safe than sorry!

Before she left, Eunice asked the Panel for a complete discharge from their control now that the Iranian bomb investigation was wrapped up as far as she was concerned. The hunting down of the rest of Vindhani’s terrorist cell had progressed apace and was pretty well complete by the time of her leaving, there was nothing more she could contribute to the overall case.

To her great surprise, the Panel refused. The Chairman was adamant they weren’t going to give up their girl. She would be recalled to DC as necessary and would comply. He warned her the option of using handcuffs and a blindfold was still at their disposal if required! Eunice knew the Chairman was only messing with her in relation to his last comment, but it would never come to that, if recalled she would go, it was her job, her duty.

All that remained before leaving was a heartfelt goodbye to Eunice’s dear friend Doctor Christine Peach. Goodbye, and not goodbye, nothing final at least, her panel of handlers had seen to that, Eunice would return. It would be just a little bit of waiting to make the heart grow fonder, if that was possible.

John informed his department of the imminent return of Special Agent Bloom and the Director told the rest of the office. Immediately the pessimistic oppressive atmosphere in John’s department dissipated at the news. With Eunice being absent for so long the department had returned to a dysfunctional state similar to the time when she had been rogue and in hiding. Few cases appeared to get solved and the Director had been on John’s back about the lack of efficiency and low clear up rate. Eunice’s return couldn’t have come sooner to help John and his department out of the fix they were in.

John noted when Eunice actually arrived the next morning, a party atmosphere almost broke out in the office, everybody jumped all over her, especially Carl Zimmerman, he could tell the young man was falling for this older woman. She was the same as ever, beautiful, personable, alluring and funny. How they had missed her those long six months while she had been away on ‘Special Assignment’ in DC. Only the Director, Kuntsler and the four field agents originally assigned to the bomb investigation knew the classified truth behind Eunice’s absence, they were beyond ecstatic at the way she had saved herself from the brink, there was justice, righteousness and a God after all. The Director and the five agents had been privy to the report on what had actually happened at the impeachment hearing. The woman was a genius and above all, a heroine, she had saved their lives and hundreds of thousands of others.

John watched the unfolding welcoming party from his office through the slats in his venetian blinds. He dared not go out and join in, memories were long in relation to her initial return. He sat back at his desk and waited. After half an hour the lady herself entered the office, closed the door and stood by it, history repeated itself;

“Special Agent Bloom reporting for duty, Sir.” the irrefutable statement could not be better put for all its simplicity as delivered to her Head of Department;

“There’s no need for all that formality, come here you national treasure!" John got up from his desk, went over to Eunice and took the small woman in his arms, giving her a great big hug;

"I thought I’d lost you, but you saved yourself!” John spoke over her shoulder, “Ooh look at me, Bloomy, I’m just like a great big teddy bear to you, really…”

“More like a great big grizzly bear, don’t you think John!” They both shared a constrained laugh at the response, sufficient for both of them to know they were ‘good’.

Eunice entered her old office. John had made sure no-one else moved into it since her absence in the light of the remotest of chances she would return, now he had been vindicated. Nevertheless, someone had given it a good tidy, all the piles of paperwork and case files had been put away and the desktop cleared, all apart from one solitary envelope asking for her attention. She picked it up. It simply said ‘Eunice’ on the front. She turned it over; ‘from Joe Peel’.

Eunice rubbed the envelope between her fingers, there were at least two pages of A4 paper within, that would make it quite a long letter so he must have a lot to say. What could it possibly be? It had to be some sort of belated apology, sincerest regret, mitigating circumstances and such like. Eunice was back in Boston, back at her beloved Bureau, the last thing she wanted to do was go over all that again or think about it. Later on that evening back at her apartment, Eunice burnt the envelope in the kitchen without opening it, and only then this course of action was delayed because she had no wish to set off the office sprinkler system, certainly not on her first day back!

Over the coming days everyone else within the department could not understand the evident deep special bond between Agents Kuntsler, Bloom, Ginsburg, Zimmerman, Conte and Wolters, but it wasn’t something bad like a clique, it was something good and not to be questioned. Naturally, Eunice threw herself full on into the cases and assignments, knocking them down as a line of dominoes topples. It was no surprise to John, he knew of her capabilities, but it made him no less grateful, and in the nick of time too, Marianne was about to leave him unless things improved. Bloomy was good for you, oh yes!

As a matter of course, unknown to John, Eunice immediately re-established contact with ‘Team Saints’. First of all she met Smecker who The Vatican had sent to Boston specifically to welcome Eunice back and brief her on Mob activity in the city. They met late at night on Boston Common.

“Eunice! My little marvel!” Paul held her tight against him, “We never doubted you for a moment, The Vatican and I, we knew with you on the case we couldn’t fail. Cardinal Carrovaldi wants you to go to Rome at the next opportune moment so the Pope Himself can personally thank you for your sacrifice and great service on behalf of The Vatican, no, not just The Vatican, America, the world!”

“Really? You don’t know how close I came to failure, if not vaporized in the nuclear blast, then either executed or starved to death as a double agent!”

“You are a double agent, doubly beautiful, working both for the FBI and The Vatican! Oh my dear girl,” Paul squeezed her tighter, “I heard all about the internal rendition, but it’s over, you’re back!”

“Back again,” Eunice ruminated as Paul released her, “let’s hope this time I’m back to stay.”

“I hear they compensated you, how much did they give you? A billion? They should’ve done, given the nature of the investigation and how much was at stake.”

“$73,570 to compensate me for loss of salary plus a bit for the physical damage done to me.”

“No!! Tell me you’re shitting me!”

“I was on course to get a payout of five million dollars reward and compensation, but on reflection, late in the day doubts were raised.”

“What fucking doubts? I don’t believe this!”

“There remains the perception of a remote possibility that I was a double agent in the service of the Iranians. In theory, because Vindhani had been incapacitated, I had to take over and find out if a last minute abort message was going to come through from Tehran. For that purpose I went up onto the roof and lo and behold it arrived on my smart phone right on cue, you know, my phone, the one Harbinger took from me and was never seen again? They gave me the abort code and told me which bomb was the Ignition one. The flaw in the logic with regards only two locator keys being actually required was deliberately built in and known by me as a failsafe to the failsafe, but I only had to go through the motions of play acting with that because I had been given the Abort code and the location of the Ignition bomb anyway!”

“That’s just total bullshit, nobody in their wildest dreams can believe that!”

“You can be rest assured they don’t otherwise they wouldn’t have let me go. Officially they have given me the benefit of the doubt but in reality I think they were just looking for an excuse not to pay me. They have better things to spend five million dollars on, trust me, you know the state of the public finances. When I think of all the money they spent on that fucking turncoat scientist in Tehran!”

“Don’t be like that Eunice, we couldn’t have done it without him, even if he was acting under duress!”

“Well he can have his new life in anonymous luxury. You have to consider that this affair never happened and the powers that be certainly don’t want any five million dollar audit trail in relation to it knocking around in the system leading back to little ol’ rogue me. My true reward is that I have the personal gratitude of the President and his U.S. flag-pin proudly on my lapel! What more can I ask for? Did you know that $73,570 had deducted from it a proportion for the board and lodging I saved while I was in prison? That’s bureaucracy for you, some bean-counting little fucker of an accountant worked it out to the nearest ten bucks, and then rounded it down!”

“Oh the fuckin’ assholes!” Paul paled at the unintentional added insult to injury inflicted on the girl.

“It’s better than nothing, but I don’t care really. The main thing is that I am alive and I have saved the lives of ‘Team Saints’ and all other Bostonians for that matter, that and I’ve been given my old job and life back at the Boston Bureau.”

“What more could you want?” Paul gave Eunice a broad smile, “Jeeezz! But five million bucks!”

“If the Chairman of my panel of handlers is to be believed, I still have forty dollars of your ‘coming-in’ allowance at FBI HQ, but otherwise I lost everything, my lovely apartment which I’d got just perfect after coming back from Costa Rica, my furniture, my clothes, the lot. Rachel Harbinger and her two henchmen completely gutted the apartment and then they had my Ford Mustang dismantled and crushed. The only thing I managed to keep hold of was my old silver Mercedes sedan I use for work, and only then because I loaned it to Janice, my PA because her own car had broken down. That’s fucking gratitude for you, they don’t give a fucking shit.”

“But you’ve got a new apartment , you’re all settled in now?”

“Yes, I’ve also used some of the money to buy myself another car for leisure.”

“Oh yeah? And what type of car might that be?” Paul already knew the answer.

“A big roaring Ford Mustang.” Eunice smiled at the thought of it.

“And what else did you buy? Any shoes and handbags?”

“One or two, Paul,” Eunice put on a fake frown, “just one or two…” ____________________________________________________

Next on the agenda, was to meet up with the sharp end of Team Saints. Paul had been called away and couldn’t make the meeting but that didn’t stop Eunice’s determination to get down to business as usual in their private war against organised crime within the city. Connor, Murphy, Romeo, Duffy, Dolly, Kiersky and Eunice arranged to meet at McGinty’s.

All six men welcomed their Guardian Agent back into the fold, each in turn hugging and kissing her with such physicality she felt she’d done a night’s work even before it had begun. They had missed her both as a friend and operationally, the absence of her inside information and crime scene manipulation techniques in the aftermath of a hit had rendered the team less effective in the war over the past six months. For the next couple of hours the entourage slipped easily into craic mode, so comfortable in one another’s company, a drink, a reminisce, a laugh. Why bother with the business at hand when you’re having such fun with old friends. More drink please, to hell with having a clear head and thinking straight.

The matter had to arise eventually, the boys began asking probing questions about what Eunice had been doing in DC. What was so important down there that she had to attend, didn’t they have enough resources already to deal with anything arising? Eunice was vague and evasive. She merely stated that it had been very important work on a national level, both exhausting and rewarding, but it was over and she was back in Boston now to pick up where she’d left off. In order to change the subject Eunice reiterated what she had learned from Smecker about ongoing organised crime in the city. There was plenty of low level activity but nothing major at the moment. On that basis there would be little requirement for action by The Saints in the immediate future. The brothers and Romeo were not pleased to hear this. They had not been on an operation for several weeks and were becoming restless, they needed some action, now.

“What about Gorgeous?” Murphy suddenly thought about their old acquaintance.

“What about him?” Connor asked.

“He’s running a fucking whore-house over the health spa.” Romeo filled in the information which just about punctured through the brothers inebriated senses along with his own, “there’s talk of people trafficking and forcing runaways into prostitution.”

“Is there now?” Connor was very interested, “After all we did for him, he’s rewarding us with a prison fuck!”

“Doesn’t every good boy go to heaven?” Murphy cunningly asked.

“But he’s not a good boy, is he?” Connor judged, “Let’s take him out, and for good measure, let’s burn down his fucking health spa.”

“Fucking brilliant idea!” Murphy didn’t need convincing, “We can source all the petrol we need from our underground contacts, no problem.”

“Boys, you can’t do that,” Duffy expressed his strong objection, “you can’t set fire to buildings down-town. You’ll end up killing innocent people!”

“Fuck it, let’s fuckin’ do it man!” Romeo was all go.

“The health spa is legit.” Dolly supported his fellow detective, “People’s livelihoods depend on it. As for the brothel upstairs, you can’t stop prostitution, and it’s a safer place for the hookers to work than out on the streets.”

“We can do it tomorrow night just before we go away!” Connor ignored the detectives, “We need to start planning it right now. Myself and Murphy can take the front, Romeo, you take the back, Duffy, Dolly, you two up on next doors fire escape in case he tries to get away across the rooftops. Kiersky, bring in the gerry-cans when we give the signal…”

“BOYS!” Eunice jumped to her feet, “OVER - MY - DEAD - BODY.”

“Over your dead body, what?” Murphy looked at her confused.

“Over my dead body do you take out George.”

“What the fuck? What do you mean?” Connor couldn’t believe what he was hearing from an ally, “He’s a scumbag, we gave him his chance, he didn’t reform so let’s kill the fucker. There’s fuck all else at the moment for us to do.”

“He’s not to be touched.” Eunice was immovable.

“Says the fuck who?” Murphy became indignant, “Why not?”

“He’s small time and he’s not worth the trouble. Smecker thinks he may be of some use to us in the future but he couldn’t elaborate how.” Eunice lied. Perhaps she should let the boys know George was now an informant working for her department, but no, they had no right to be privy to such information given his link to the Iranian bomb investigation or anything else in relation to national security. It’s complicated.

“Well we want to waste him and since when did we need your fucking permission?” Connor posed the challenge.

“If you want to shoot him, then you’ll have to shoot him through me.” Eunice gave them her terms. All six men looked at one another aghast, had they heard that right?

“What is it with this fucking broad?!” Romeo appealed to all and sundry.

“What were you up to in DC? Who were you working for?” Connor raised the ugly head of the prior query again. It hadn’t been answered to his satisfaction and now he was suspicious.

“She’s certainly bought into the DC mode of dress!” Murphy snatched the flag pin out of Eunice’s lapel and ran into the centre of the floor, “Look boys, she’s gone all fucking patriotic and jingoistic!”

“Give that back.” Eunice approached Murphy holding out her hand.

“Sure…” Murphy held it out to her but as she was about to retrieve it, he flicked the pin out of his fingers to Connor who had also entered the floor.

“Finders fuckin’ keepers!” Connor held it up.

“Come on, hand it over.” Eunice turned to close with the new possessor but he quickly tossed it to Romeo now also involved. The three men then indulged themselves with a game of pig-in-the-middle, surrounding Eunice and tossing the badge back and forth between them as she furiously tried to recapture the mostly airborne object. The three detectives watched the unfolding scene with growing unease. Something was wrong, Eunice did not appear to be enjoying the game, and she loved playing games with the boys. Duffy in particular sensed growing anger and frustration in Eunice as the boys skilfully and carefully kept the badge just out of her reach. Eunice abruptly ceased trying to chase down the badge and just stood still in the middle of the three, a dirty look on her face.

“U-Blu……, U-Blu, here it is, don’t you want it?” Murphy taunted her from behind.

The Para LDA was whipped out of her holster and turned to point straight into the face of Murphy;

“Hand that over now! You fuck-pig!”

Whoaah! Where the fuck had that come from! The three detectives, Connor and Romeo threw up their hands and surrounded Eunice in a frantic attempt to defuse the lightening deterioration in matters. Murphy in complete shock stared back down the barrel of the gun. Connor pushed the barrel skywards and then wrenched the gun out of Eunice’s hands. Everyone knew there had never been any intention of pulling the trigger, even the safety was still on, nevertheless, some serious shit had just gone down.

“Jesus Christ, Eunice!” Duffy put himself right between the woman and Murphy, “There’s no need for that! The boys were just having a game, you know the boys!”

“Do you know what I had to go through to earn that?” Eunice was unrepentant.

“What? That? A fifty cent piece of shit you get out of a cornflakes packet?” Connor was so incensed he had to be restrained by Romeo, “Don’t you do that to my brother! Try that again and Cunty will have his work cut out ‘cos I’ll use this fucker on you!” Connor held the gun by the barrel, “Where is that fucking thing?” He retrieved the disputed item from his still shocked brother, “Stick it!” He threw it at Eunice where it hit the front of her shoulder and fell to the floor.

Kiersky bent down and picked it up, offering it back to where it belonged, an opportunity to help Eunice not to be missed. To his dismay she angrily ripped it out of his grasp, the pin gashing his finger. She didn’t say thank you or anything, just put it into her jacket side pocket.

“Look, this isn’t helping us at all in our objectives,” Dolly tried to mediate, “we should be fighting the mobsters not arguing amongst ourselves.”

“Lady, you have lost your fucking marbles.” Murphy had regained enough composure to pass judgement.

“Come away Connor, forget the fucking broad, let’s go to the bar and get another drink.” Romeo tried to separate his friend from Eunice but Connor wasn’t finished with her yet;

“What happened to you Bloom? Ever since you came back from Costa Rica you’ve never been the same, you’ve changed. Why can’t you be like you used to be? We used to have such a great craic, a laugh and a drink. Our first meeting since you fucked off for six months and left us to do it all by ourselves and not one fucking word did we hear from you till now, then you behave like this. First you won’t let us take out that slime-ball Gorgeous and then you react like that just because we’re having a bit of fun. You need to learn just who the fuck is running this outfit. I’m giving you notice Bloom, if you don’t step up to the fucking plate and start doing right by us, perhaps we can do without you on the team.”

“Oh no, Connor,” Kiersky decided to step in, “we can’t do without our Bloomy on side! We’re just like the Magnificent Seven!”

“Shut the fuck up Kiersky!” Connor vented his anger on the linear thinking detective, “Who asked you?”

“Fuck this, Connor, Romeo, there’s nothing on the agenda, not even Gorgeous now.” Murphy advised, “We may as well go.”

“My gun?” Eunice coldly asked after it.

“Here, get it yourself.” Connor tossed it onto one of the nearby tables refusing to hand it back to her. The three men then walked out.

“Boys! Boys!” Duffy tried to go after them, “Come back, don’t do this.”

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll shoot the fucking bitch!” Connor made sure he said it loud enough for Eunice to hear. Connor was so furious Duffy could almost see the steam coming off him. The three completed their exit leaving Eunice with the detectives. She walked over to the table lost unto agitated thoughts. To think that those three men only had the privilege of arguing with her due to what she had done on the previous 11th of September, if only they knew what they couldn’t know. Much the same could be said for these three fool detectives and the rest of the Boston populace. She re-holstered her gun;

“Damn, damn and fucking damn!” Eunice didn’t understand how the meeting had gone so badly wrong. It had started so well but thereon had gone completely downhill. The misfortune of The Saints picking out Gorgeous as their next hit then the badge incident just now, she blamed herself for that. What was she thinking? It was only a game after all, fuck!

“Sit up at the bar Eunice, Kiersky will get you a drink.” Dolly put his arm around Eunice to lead her.

“Yeah, get me one too while you’re about it, Jack.” Duffy ordered the team dogsbody. Eunice sat with the three for another hour or so, she definitely needed a drink after the prior big fallout, but there was no craic to be had now.

“Don’t worry about the boys, Eunice,” Dolly comforted her, “they just need a day or two to cool off, it was the drink that was talking, you know that.”

“You know Connor, Eunice,” Duffy spoke in support, “it was all in the heat of the moment, he didn’t mean what he said, the stupid hurtful things friends say to one another when they fall out, they regret it right away. What we need to do is go out on operations and kill a few thugs, then we’ll be right back to where we belong, a happy team.”

“Yeah-yeah! Team Saints!” Kiersky tried to engender some esprit de corps.

“Shut the fuck up and just pour the drinks, Kiersky!” Dolly stated the mutual feelings of himself, Duffy and Eunice.

__________________________________________________

Connor felt like shit when he got up the next morning as did Murphy and Romeo once they had cooled off. To fall out with such a dear friend who had been away for so long, to argue like that was stupid and infantile. The timing of the current events had conspired against them too. No sooner had Eunice arrived home then the brothers had to return to Ireland to deal with matters arising in relation to Poppa’s estate. Romeo had never been to Ireland so out of courtesy they asked him to go with them, show him around and treat him to some real Irish hospitality from the old country. They decided to put off the making up with Eunice till after they got back in a months time as they were sure she must still be mad at them.

Eunice was very disappointed to be denied the chance to make up with the boys sooner rather than later. Smecker knew about their return to Ireland as he had provided them with the fake passports to facilitate it and he told Eunice their leaving was the reason she couldn’t raise them through the usual channels of communication. He informed Eunice of the boys expected date of return so she had best wait till then to get back in contact. In the meantime Eunice took detective Duffy’s advice on board, what they needed was a nice juicy Mob take down to bond and be buddies again. To this end in the following fortnight she took the three detectives out in her car at night to reconnoitre known Mob hangouts looking for the next piece of action. A week before the boys were to return a message came through from The Vatican direct, not through Smecker as was the usual case, but nevertheless it was just what she was looking for. It was a first for such a message not to be confirmed personally by Smecker but she really needed this as a vehicle to apologise and make up with the boys. Eunice could hardly wait for her working day with the Bureau to end so she could act on the message. All she needed to do was drop off some files at her office and then go and pick up the detectives for a nightly outing. She had just got back to her office when her desk phone rang, John Kuntsler’s extension.

“John?”

“Eunice, can you get over here, have you a minute?” Eunice entered John’s office and he asked her to close the door before she sat down in front of the desk, bad memories of the first Internal Rendition suddenly came flooding back, it was that floor-space.

“There’s been something on my mind which I’ve wanted to broach earlier and have put off, but I can’t do so any longer; The Saints.” John got straight to the point.

“The Saints?”

“Don’t fuck with me Eunice, The Boondock Saints.”

“Okay, what about them?” Eunice shrugged.

“Their apprehension is still the business of this department. It’s my job to get them and ensure they face justice.”

“And my job, John, is that my job too since I’m in your department?”

“Oh Jesus!” John punched the desk, he couldn’t have posed the question better, “Like I said, I never raised the matter because I’ve had other major priorities, but I can’t let it go any more; you, them, this department, it doesn’t fucking add up!”

“Since when were you a mathematician?”

“Did you break them out of The Hoag? Honestly, answer me, I need to know.” He ignored her invective.

“No, I didn’t. I was in hiding, there’s no way I could’ve had anything to do with that.” Eunice spoke truthfully, as it had been chiefly Smecker who had orchestrated the breakout.

“And yet you fed them classified information which allowed them to murder The Roman!”

“Guilty as charged! Let’s rake it all up and go over it again, why not? Eunice Bloom the accessory to murder!" She acknowledged her guilt, "But a deal was done, and one you went along with after a false start, for me to be brought back in. Was it worth it John? Given what went down in a certain warehouse overlooking the Common?” John did not answer. He knew she was right, any price was worth paying to avoid what nearly happened. But he still was unwilling to diverge from the initial subject;

“Are you still helping them?”

“No, of course not. Why should I do that after being rehabilitated? I’d never risk that after all I went through to come back in.” First the truth, now the lie, as necessary.

“I just don’t fucking get it! All those gangsters month in, month out, taken down and ending up with pennies over their eyes, is it The Saints or is it the work of copycats? Why can’t we ever seem to resolve it? I’ve given up attending the crime scenes, I usually send Zimmerman and Conte down because I’ve had it with it.”

“You’re not suggesting I go?” Eunice stifled a laugh.

“Oh don’t fucking tempt me! Wouldn’t that be rich, you on site gathering evidence against the very fuckers you helped to kill The Roman! Don’t head-fuck me!”

“Open your eyes John. How easy is it to break out of The Hoag, the toughest maximum security prison in the state? How did your SWAT team who captured The Saints at the residence of The Roman treat them?”

“They treated them like heroes.” John reflected.

“How long were The Saints let stay pampered in the prison infirmary long after their wounds had healed? How come my return from rogue hiding was kept out of the press and not reported on in the media? Does that suggest something to you about the attitude of the people who really run this city with regards The Saints?” John didn’t want to hear this, but that was all Bloomy when she got going, hard cold facts, it didn’t matter how uncomfortable they were to hear. Receiving no response from John, Eunice decided to give him some friendly advice;

“Take all your Boondock Saints files out of your ongoing case cabinets and dump them in some inaccessible archive in the basement, stop sending our people out to the crime scenes and let those bungling idiots at the PD clean up the mess. Put it on the backburner and leave it well alone for all our sakes. The scum of Boston are being cleansed and The Saints are the perfect conduit employed to that end by such powers over and above our heads, we can’t possibly envisage, earthly and otherwise.”

“I’m not down with that!” John wanted consolation but wasn’t getting it, “Dirty-Harry-esque, the legal system maybe a pile of shit but it’s the only system we’ve got!”

“John, my dear John, life’s too fucking short to be chasing after phantoms. The department is back on track and everyone is going to have a great future. Turn off your computer, tidy your desk and go home to Marianne. Don’t dwell on the way things are ‘Dirty-Harry-esque’, you need to learn acceptance and just go with the flow, get yourself Bloomy-esque; not everything smells like a pig’s ass in Summertime…..”

____________________________________________________

“Get off your fucking ass and get that will you, Kiersky?” Dolly couldn’t find the energy to raise himself and he knew his colleague Duffy would almost certainly be in the same slothful mode. Jack angrily threw down his pencil. The last thing he needed was to be pulled away from completing his rather enticing sketch of Eunice’s smiling face. And as for doing some actual police work at this late hour in the station?, fuck that!

Bloomy 4 Kiersky? In your dreams Jack, in your dreams….

“Yeah?” Jack grabbed up the cordless phone.

“Oh, it’s you. Is Duffy or Dolly there?” Eunice’s soft southern tones were all at once music to Jack’s ears. Jack immediately put his hand over the mouthpiece,

“I’ll just take this outside.” he informed the other two present as he quickly went out into the corridor; “Eunice! Great to hear from you, no my friends aren’t around, they’re out of town at the moment on undercover assignment and can’t be reached.”

“Fuck! It looks like I’ll just have to make do with you then. Get your shit wired, I need you to come with me and check something out.”

“Oh Eunice!!” Jack’s heart leapt, to go out on assignment with Eunice all by himself.

“I’ve had this message via The Vatican that the Vrublenski and Back Bay Fen gangs have joined up to bring in even bigger shipments. They’re now meeting at Bantams Clubhouse Pier 9 every Thursday night to negotiate everyone’s cut.”

“Tonight? But it’s eleven o’clock already.”

“Carpe Diem, Jack, Carpe Diem….”

“What was that? Carp dream? But Eunice, I hate fucking fish!”

“Lord protect me not to suffer this fool…” Eunice whispered away from the mouthpiece, then full on into it, “Seize the day Jack and you better hold onto the sun just as long as it will shine. Remember this, detective, kneel down and pray; thank God for every day He sends you .”

“Yeah, yeah, live for the fuckin’ moment and all that shit, I get you.”

“That’s right Humphrey. I feel I need to go down and check that it’s really happening before I involve The Saints when they return, I can’t believe it’s happening.”

“Sounds crazy, those two gangs hate each other, there were turf wars between them for years, well, stranger things have happened.”

“I want to reconnoitre the joint from a safe distance and make sure they all turn up. Then next Thursday I can call in The Saints and Romeo to take them out. Two birds with one fucking stone, how’s that for work output efficiency!”

“If you can pull it off, yeah, let’s do it. You mentioned The Vatican? Didn’t you get it direct from Smecker like you usually do?”

“No, that’s what I can’t figure out. He must have sent it through his contacts in Rome for some godforsaken reason, talk about going all around the fuckin’ houses, a message to me in Boston about Boston, courtesy of Rome! Anyway, I’ll be round, be ready!”

Kiersky knew that as a threesome the detectives were about as effective they could be on these covert excursions with their very own superlative FBI guardian angel watching over them all ‘Elvis fucking Costello’ like, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity of being the singular Boston PD representative on this occasion. Kiersky was waiting in the PD parking lot when Eunice drove in. ‘Here we go,’ Jack thought, ‘As it was sung in Eddie Cochran’s Somethin’ Else …… Here comes that girl again…’.

She pulled up, leant across and pushed open the passenger door for him.

Here comes that girl again…

“Ooh, I do love your Mercedes,” Kiersky voiced his appreciation, “Hmm, Benz, such lovely lines, beautiful curves!”

“Get in!” Eunice laughed, “Before I fuckin’ leave without you!” Kiersky didn’t need to be asked twice. He loved riding around as a front seat passenger in Eunice’s big silver Mercedes sedan with her at the wheel. He loved watching her race through all the interchanges and throw it into the corners with complete abandon. Okay, so the car was looking a bit worse for wear, Eunice being such a hard task master, both the front airbags were already long gone by the present night’s outing, but how he loved her company and her banter, and above all, her nearness. Eunice grabbed up the phone, that phone, and autodialed;

“Carl? It’s me. How are we doing with those case files………? Uh-huh…………….All of the documents?” And so it continued, Jack scrutinising the driver intently. The business part of the conversation ended when she started joking and laughing with Carl; “Yeah, put one over on me , try as you fucking like, ha-ha-ha-ha…….. You want to treat me to what? Big spender are you Carl? I don’t pop my cork for every fucker I see! Ha-ha-ha!” Jack loved watching Eunice in action, but who was this Carl? Some other agent at the Bureau?

“I don’t pop my cork for every fucker I see! Ha-ha-ha!” Jack loved watching Eunice in action

Conversation over, the phone was put back in the central console. Eunice flicked a glance over at the passenger and noticed the discomfort on his face;

“What’s the matter, Jack? Have I been neglecting you?” she teased the passenger so testily. Jack looked back but didn’t say anything. He then returned his eyes to the road ahead and eased himself back in the comfortable seat. He so much wanted to be there and stay for as long as possible. As they drove into the dock Eunice took a shortcut through one of the alleys between the warehouses. Unfortunately half way along there were some inconveniently placed trashcans blocking the way. As they approached the blockage Jack advised her to stop so he could get out and clear the way. Ignoring the offer Eunice instead hit the accelerator making Jack flinch at the consequent crash of metal upon metal on his side of the car as she knocked the trashcans out of the way. Would she bother to get the wing repaired, as if such things were important to Eunice?

They drove on down to Pier 9 where Eunice parked the car strategically next to one of the warehouses so that it was almost hidden but with a clear line of sight to the one storey clubhouse. All the lights were on within the club so one could see right into the front bar area unobstructed.

“Strange, nobody here yet?” Eunice appeared puzzled.

“Yeah, how come all the lights are on?” Kiersky was equally confused.

“Something’s not right. Even so, it’s only half past midnight, could be an early morning meeting. Let’s hang on for a time.” Eunice decided.

It didn’t make sense to Eunice. Why hadn’t the message come from Smecker as usual? What was the clubhouse doing with all its lights on but nobody at home? She should back off and leave it alone. But no, why should she? Her curiosity was aroused, and besides, she had disarmed a nuclear bomb under enormous pressure, she was well able to handle this dead to the world stakeout!

Usually in this situation if Kiersky was out on assignment with Duffy and Dolly, he would have decided ‘Fuck it! Let’s not bother and go and grab some coffee or something stronger on the way home.’ But this was different, he was with Eunice and he had her all to himself, he wanted to stick around.

At 1 a.m. there was still no movement, just the static clubhouse fully lit up and empty.

“Look Jack, you get some sleep,” Eunice offered at last, “and I’ll keep watch. Then we can change over at 3 o’clock.”

“No, I’ll do the first watch, Eunice, you get some sleep, I don’t mind.”

“You sure? Okay, a girl’s got to get some beauty sleep from somewhere round here!” Eunice got out, took off her trench coat and got back in through the rear door intending to lie down in the back using the coat as a blanket. She was astounded when Kiersky did the same, entering the back of the car on his side.

“What in fucks name?” she questioned, but this didn’t stop the detective from parking himself down beside her.

“Can we talk?” He was looking into the foot-well avoiding her eye, ashen faced and sickly looking. Eunice struggled to keep a straight face, something hilariously embarrassing was about to happen but not at her expense;

“That’s one thing we can do in here, sure!” Eunice had a pretty good idea where this was heading but she wasn’t in the least bit worried, there would be nothing nasty or abusive involved, in fact she was more concerned for Jack, they probably did need to clear the air and talk.

Something hilariously embarrassing was about to happen but not at her expense

She knew it had been on his sad little mind for the past year, moping around with the hangdog, lovesick demeanour, it was nothing more than she had come to expect, hadn’t it been the same with Greenbeans? Nevertheless, Jack should consider himself fortunate, pre-Pentagon Eunice would have kicked him straight back out through the door ‘Go fuck yourself!!’ and then driven off. But since that time she had changed, not fundamentally, she was still the same old Eunice, but there had definitely been some subtle transformation within her.

Eunice waited for Jack to speak first, sitting dead still with her hands folded on her lap, still trying not to smirk at the man’s gross ineptitude. Nothing appeared to come, but then;

“You’ve come back here to sleep then?” he ventured quietly.

“Yep, that’s the general idea since you’ve got first watch!” She almost ‘old Eunice’ added; ‘So what the fuck are you doing back here, what are you up to?’ but she stopped herself, the man’s heart was breaking so best leave out the flippancy. Jack was hunched in the seat, his hands clasped very tightly together. Eunice waited patiently, and waited.

“Fuck it, Jack! What is it? Speak to me!” Jack pressed his hands to his face, covering his eyes, he couldn’t bear the sight of her expected reaction;

“Will you sleep in my arms tonight?”

Eunice took in the request. She had expected something in that vein, but not that particular thing. She needed to think for a few moments about what had been asked.

Jack opened his fingers slightly so he could see through the gap. Eunice was looking at him in a strange contemplative, noncommittal sort of way.

“Fuck it, I’ll go!” Jack grabbed for the door catch.

“Stop!” Eunice now reacted, “Stop Jack, stay and talk.” Jack duly stopped trying to get out and sat back in the seat. He immediately felt a lot more relaxed and at ease with Eunice’s initial response. The tension in the air of the previous few moments had seemed to dissipate, undoubtedly helped along by Eunice;

“What exactly do you want from me, Jack?” No more uncomfortable silences from now on Eunice decided.

“I just want you to sleep in my arms tonight. I want to hold you all night long.”

“Hmm, not ideal,” Eunice thought about the practicalities of the request, “it’s not exactly going to be very comfortable in here with the two of us.”

“You could sit on my lap!” Jack blurted out without thinking.

“Aaagghh! You fucking pervert!” Eunice shrieked with laughter. The old Eunice sprung out of the new one, the wholesale taking the piss one, but fortunately for Kiersky, not the kick-ass one, “You want me to lap-dance you ! Aaaagh - haaaa!” She doubled over in the seat .

“Fuck off you bitch!” Kiersky punched the headrest in front of him, “I didn’t mean it like that, fuck you! You know what I mean!”

“Hey! Car abuse!” Eunice pretended to be annoyed; “Ooh-wah! Ooh-wah!” making mock siren sounds to further send up the ludicrous suggestion, before doubling over again in hysterics.

“Shit!” Jack thought, him and his stupid big mouth, so inept.

“It’s alright Jack, I know you didn’t mean it like that, I just couldn’t stop myself!” Eunice gradually got herself back under control, “But I still need you to tell me what are your objectives, what do you hope to achieve with where this is going?”

She’s laughing at you Jack but you just don’t see it

“Oh Christ Eunice, the fucking hopelessness of it, I’m…..” Eunice waited, not wanting to finish the sentence for him, “I’m…… I’m in love with you!”

“Oh fuck, not that again!” Eunice pushed her head back into the headrest and stared at the roof lining, “Every swinging dick is in love with me at some stage or another! Mind you, I know you’re feeling what you think is love for me, you fucking ass-hole.”

“But I do. I think about you all the time. Every morning when I pull into the Boston PD parking lot, I look out for this car praying you’ll be visiting. If it’s there I feel elated, I rush up to the section and there you are with Duffy and Dolly or talking to the Captain, so happy! If your car isn’t there I feel my journey has been a total waste of time, another pointless day ahead of me.”

“Love? You call your jerk-off lustful fantasies about me love? Jack, you are one fucked up individual! You’re just another besotted boy I have to put up with, a wet dream infatuation, squeezing off the dome every night. You love me? Bullshit!”

“But you’re too easy to love Eunice, I can’t help it…” Jack kept on to Eunice’s annoyance;

“Love, love, love! What is this fucking word, what does it mean? I love my family, my friends, what the fuck has sex got to do with it?” Eunice vented her frustration.

“Me and my wife loved each other once, in the early days. Yeah, I’ve experienced sexual love, I think it’s way out you seem to have no concept of it, Eunice, you being so fucking smart an’ all.”

“I can’t love anyone! I have to protect myself, look what happened to Greenly! Don’t you understand!” Jack looked back at her, lost, so intensive. “Oh no, not the big fucking puppy eyes! Don’t do it to yourself Jack. What is it with fucking men and me? I am a woman. I am a feminine woman and I enjoy being like that. I look after my appearance, diet and exercise well, and look the best that I can be. If that means wearing sexy clothes and skyscraper heels, so be it. I have an extrovert, dynamic, savvy and bad-ass type of personality. I am good company and people like to be around me. I am prone to flirting and use my sexuality for limited operational purposes. This aspect of my personality has caused some to accuse me of being a whore, but I am not like that….”

“No!” Jack was quick to genuinely agree.

“I love my job and I am very good at it too. It is dangerous, but that’s the deal.” Eunice was by no means finished with selling herself, “I am intelligent, professional and I get results. I can use effective violence when I have to but I am always fair. I love living in America and being an American, I love my country and I’m a patriot, and proud with it too, you see this flag-pin on my lapel? Ultimately, I can only be myself, I enjoy my life and I enjoy being me, and naturally I enjoy being around my friends and they enjoy being around me…”

“Yes….yes….” Jack nodded, it was all true.

“Does this make me attractive to men?”

“You bet the fuck it does,” Jack sadly admitted wishing to God this facet could only be exclusive to him, “like I said it’s too fucking easy to fall in love with you, we’re all at it, victims. Women too in a funny sort of opposite way.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the woman every man wants to fuck, and the woman every other woman wants to be.”

“Oh, so it’s as simple as that, you just want to fuck me, Jack?” She leant right forward in the seat, a Darla-esque vamp in his face.

“No!”

“Oh, alright then.” She sat back in the seat with a little shrug and cynical ‘fair enough’ look on her face.

She’s still laughing at you Jack!

Jack, realising the consequences of what he had just said then had a quick change of mind;

“Um… Yea-eah.” But decided to qualify it when Eunice raised an eyebrow in response; “But not like other men!”

“Aaagghh!! You are a fucking pervert!” She was all at once doubled up in hysterics again, “ ‘Not like other men!’ Then in what way do you want to fuck me? Fucking pervert! Aaaghh! Aaaghh - haaaaa!”

Eunice continued to make great play at being freaked out and actually opened the door and jumped out, waving her arms around as she tottered about on the concrete in her six inch heels; “Help me! Help me someone, save me from this pervert!”

“Oh you rotten bitch, you’re loving this aren’t you!” Jack shouted at her through the open door. Still laughing wildly, Eunice jumped back in slamming the door behind her:

“It’s a good job Greenly isn’t around to witness this, bless his soul,” Eunice was still struggling to control herself, “he’d be out there banging on the roof shouting ‘get a negotiator, he’s in there all touching her and shit!’ Oh Jack, you are funny! Aaaagh-haaaa!!” Eunice was having a great time tying poor Kiersky up in knots, his utterances being the most ill thought out ‘foot in the mouth’ garbage imaginable, “Oh you sicko bastard, I’m running to the hills already! Ha-hah-haah! Fuck! My eyeliner!” Eunice couldn’t stop the tears coming.

“Fuck! My eyeliner!” Eunice couldn’t stop the tears coming

“Oh yeah-yeah, you fucking bitch, you know it all don’t cha?” he bumped the side of his head against the window in frustration, “You know what I mean!” After a minute Eunice regained her composure, wiping the tears out of her eyes;

“Oh god, I’ll have to come out with you more often!” and began to laugh again, but stopped abruptly when she saw the little pleading look in his eye, “I was being facetious!” old Eunice mode, no don’t, back to the new one.

“Eunice, talking of Greenbeans, did you and him have a thing going? I mean, were you in love with him?” Jack was very interested, if it were true then who knows, he might be in with a chance?

“No…. Yes! I don’t know!!” then nastily, “Look, I don’t really know you Kiersky, mind your own fucking business why don’t you!” Eunice became very defensive, “So why do you want to know?” She began to decipher his thoughts.

“Oh nothing, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“So do you want to fuck me, Jack? Well, what about it?”

“No, not as a one off.”

“Yes, I believe you and I know where you’re coming from. You don’t just want a fuck, you want something more, a deeper connection, a relationship?” Jack didn’t answer, no denial or confirmation. “Don’t go there Jack, like I said before, don’t do it to yourself. Shall I tell you why?” Still no answer, but she had his full concentration and eager anticipation. He needed to know and learn the truth.

“What if you had me as your wife or girlfriend, do you think you would be happy?” Jack paused to think hard at the question. Shit, there was only one truthful answer;

“No.”

“Why not?” No answer. “Well, I’ll tell you. We’re not compatible. Our relationship wouldn’t be as equals. I would dominate you, not intentionally, but that’s the way it would play out. You would be relegated to the role of a little poodle hanging around my ankles. I could never respect a man like that…..”

“Oh thanks!” Jack showed his displeasure at the last comment.

“Oh shit! I didn’t mean it like that, not that I would ever disrespect you Jack…” Eunice was being tied up in knots now.

“It’s okay, I understand.” Jack helped her out.

“We would both be unhappy. Then what would happen? We would argue and I would throw you out. Then you would come grovelling back, begging for forgiveness. You know I don’t wish to demean you saying that but we both know that’s how we’d end up. Also, in no way am I suggesting you are some sort of loser I’m condescending to talk to, that’s not what is going down here. We may not be compatible as lovers, but we are equal in all other respects. At the end of the day, fuck it, Jack, if you’re in love with me, for your own sake you need to fall out of love with me. That may seem a remote possibility at the moment, but trust me, in a year’s time you’ll look at me and wonder what the fuck you ever saw in me!”

‘A year?’ Jack thought, ‘Never in eternity!’;

“Yes Eunice, I understand one hundred percent where you’re coming from, and you’re right, I knew it all along.” Jack accepted the main thrust of her argument.

“The other thing of course Jack, is you’re married!”

“When the fuck did that get in the way of anything?!” Jack lightened up.

“No, seriously!” Eunice wouldn’t be sidetracked.

“Oh, that’s a pile of shit too. A marriage on paper, or a marriage of convenience if you like. Once the kids reach high school I don’t know what we’ll do, get divorced I guess.”

“How many kids have you got?”

“Four, three girls and a boy.”

“Seems like a pretty successful marriage to me, you must’ve been at it like fucking rabbits!”

“Early on it was good, like they all are. What about you, Eunice?”

“What about me?” She gave him a stern look.

“A man, you know, somebody, kids?”

“Oh I do wish you fuckers would stop repeating the same old shit to me over and over,” her brow creased with annoyance, “you never change the record; ‘Don’t you want a fucking family, Bloomy?’ Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not for marriage, it’s just that marriage has decided it’s not for me, and kids? The same fucking idea but worse!”

“What would be your ideal man?” Jack was suddenly interested, “Huh! I shouldn’t think such a man has ever existed; U-Blu compatible? Now that’s a tall fucking order!” he considered the specifications but then noticed Eunice was thinking deeply about his question.

“Yeah, there is a template,” Eunice allowed herself a little smile as she looked Jack in the eye, “Smecker.”

“Oh yes!” Jack clapped his hands loudly once in recognition, “I know on the face of it, it’s a preposterous idea, but I understand you right down the line.”

“A straight Smecker, that’s what I need,” Eunice mused, “but somehow the sex would wreck everything, do you see what I’m saying, Jack?”

“Yeah, a fucking paradox.” The conversation appeared to have reached a natural break but Jack was determined to keep it going;

“So you can read me like a book?” Jack tried to think of some way he could get his own back in their friendly brinkmanship, “Well there’s something I know about you that you don’t know.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

“I’ve noticed it when we go down the firing range to squeeze off a few practice rounds. Do you know you repeatedly blink in delayed reaction to the muzzle flash as you shoot your way through the whole clip?”

“Fuck off! No way do I do that!” Eunice was both outraged and disbelieving. Jack remembered at college many years ago he dated this girl who when she talked her upper lip pulled on the septum which caused the end of her nose to twitch up and down. She was in complete denial just like Eunice when he told her about it. But the reaction when she tested it out by looking in the mirror while talking and finding out Jack’s observation held up was priceless. Now watching Eunice’s reaction, ha-gotcha! She would now probably go and video herself firing the gun and play it back at one eighth speed. Jack would love to be there and see her expression when she found it out to be true!

Bang! - Flash!

Blink! Ha, gotcha!

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything so retarded in my life. Jack, you don't know ‘jack’ about me! Do you know what I’ve been up to since I came back from Costa Rica? Do you know what high stakes I’ve had to deal with? You and your little life in Boston!”

“High stakes? What are they? That’s something that’s always been in the back of my mind, why did you fuck off to DC in complete silence for six months and why won’t you elaborate anything about it now you’re back? As your friends, me, Duffy, Dolly, the brothers and Romeo deserve an explanation. We thought you had disappeared off the face of the earth. Oh God, I missed you so much!”

“You don’t know and you’re better off not knowing, ignorance is fucking bliss, trust me!”

“It can’t have been that important. Is there anything you can tell me about it?”

Eunice thought for a few moments, was there any small piece of trivia in relation to that torrid period she could feed Jack to satisfy his curiosity?

“I had to make a presentation at the Pentagon!” Eunice tried a jocular approach, “I was there in front of a big room of people, with a marker pen and a flipchart, I felt like a school teacher!” Eunice wrapped her arms around herself thinking of the memory, but there had been nothing jocular about the event in reality.

“A school teacher?" The Prime of Miss Bloom! Jack felt compelled to produce the image in his head. Eunice could be like that, she could put you into a daydream about her whether you wanted to be in one or not. There he was again, a spotty, pubescent adolescent placing an apple on Miss Bloom’s desk before she arrived to take the lesson if he was on time. He sat at the desk and waited for the lady in question to arrive, a goddess to such a simple unworldly youth. The door opened and Miss Bloom entered. ‘Oooorrrghh!’ He struggled to keep his hands above the desk such was the object of his lone nightly fantasies:

Miss Bloom’s hair as ever was pinned in a smart bun, her lovely eyes looking out from behind those big thick black framed academic glasses of hers, the starched white blouse teasingly with three top buttons undone and skin tight, the tartan pencil skirt, black stockings and sensible shoes rounded off the perfect image, every schoolboys dream, the exception being Smecker of course!

Miss Bloom on seeing the apple picked it up, manoeuvred it directly over her waste paper basket and dropped it.

"Oh Miss Bloom, there was I thinking I was teacher’s pet!” Jack called out to the one in authority.

“Kiersky! I am very disappointed with your work I had the misfortune to mark last night.” Miss Bloom was angry with her wayward pupil, in full disciplinary mode, how beautiful! “See me later. You will stay late after lessons and redo your homework up to the required standard.”

“Miss Bloom?”

“Yes, Kiersky, what is it?”

“Can I have detention with you every night from now on……?”

“Jack? JACK!” Eunice grabbed his arm and shook him.

“Oh…Oh what? Sorry I must have drifted off…”

“Didn’t you hear anything I said? I was telling you about how I helped crack a secret code and worked out a procedural algorithm. I had to show the people in the room the methodology so I asked if I could write it out for them on a flip chart, weren’t you listening?”

“Oh yeah, the secret code and the algorithm, yeah, you did really well, great stuff Bloomy!” Jack hadn’t a clue what she was on about and Eunice knew it. What did the machinations of national security have to do with this little guy of the Boston PD anyway? She was only trying to be nice to him.

Jack looked up at the full moon arisen above the lit up and deserted clubhouse. All over the world, all the people looking up at their moons, surely nobody could be feeling as hopeless as he was on that night? To be with Eunice but then to lose her once the morning came;

“Isn’t it funny, Eunice, when you think of all the moons all over the world…” Eunice was slightly puzzled by the phrase but quickly applied logic to it. Sure there were moons all over the world, there was the moon risen over the bright lights of sleepless Manhattan, it’s perfect crescent was there over the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, and it’s silver beams tried to penetrate the leaden clouds hanging over Big Ben in London. Moons all over the world? Okay, “… but isn’t it strange you never get to see more than one of them any time?”

Oh my fucking god! Eunice snapped fully to attention;

“Jack, there is only one moon!” Eunice enlightened him, “Fucking hell, Jack! What planet are you living on, Jupiter?”

“What? You’re shitting me. You mean to tell me it’s the same moon all over the world?”

“That‘s right, Mr Hubble, no moons, just the moon, sing-u-lar.”

“Really? Well fuck me, whad’ya know? Humph, whatever next?” Jack guffawed, “Next you’ll be telling me there’s only one sun!”

“Jesus fucking Christ Jack, have you always been this stupid, or were you struck by lightening in 1995 or something, and since then never looked back?” Eunice made her hand into the shape of a gun, put the finger to her temple and flicked her thumb; “Paff!” She threw her head back in a parody of suicide, “Jack, I’ve just about lost the will to live having to listen to the shit you come out with!” She then looked at him totally fazed. Was it possible somebody could be so ignorant about the nature of things? He said he was in love with her but what could she ever have in common with such a man?

Eunice remembered one morning she was driving into Boston PD for a meeting with Detectives Duffy, Dolly and Greenly, and then this random idiot, evidently as some sort of personal stunt, using a parachute threw himself off the top of one of the skyscrapers and landed three cars in front of her causing the whole line of vehicles to brake and screech to a halt. She should have arrested the lunatic but decided against it, she was late and couldn’t be bothered. On reaching Boston PD she felt the normal human urge to tell someone of her unusual experience. The first person she came across and knew was Detective Kiersky;

“Hi Jack, you’ll never guess what happened to me on the way here right now…” Obviously this is not a question but merely a precursor to relating the story once the other person asks what happened. But Jack, being the way he was didn’t see it like that, this was Eunice Bloom, he didn’t want to look stupid in front of her, he needed to come up with something to impress;

“Ummm…. Let me see… I know! You bumped into the Police Commissioner and he told you all about the Gilchrist murder case?!”

“What? Errr…. No?” Eunice was suddenly thrown completely off course, where the hell had that come from?

“Ummm….. There was a gas leak and all the roads got shut off?” He was trying the scattergun approach now, trying to hit the mark whatever it was. Eunice backed away. No, this particular interaction just wasn’t going to work. Jack’s brain seemed to be wired in a most peculiar way. Inane and maddening to deal with;

“Come on, Jack,” Eunice yawned, “It’s getting late….”

“But Eunice, you haven’t said yes or no to my request…” but before she could answer he quickly continued; “Do this for me Eunice.”

“Yes, I’ll do it for you, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, it doesn’t mean anything. All I’m asking is for one night I can have you in my arms and no more.” Eunice reached over and took Jack’s face in her hands;

“You are a dear friend Jack, I will gladly do this for you, and besides, with all that flab…” she poked a finger into his pectoral muscle, “I think you’ll make a comfortable enough pillow! But aren’t we forgetting something?” Eunice looked towards the clubhouse.

“Oh fuck that, nobody’s going to turn up now, false fucking alarm, come here!”

She put her arms around Jack’s neck and playfully looked up into his eyes with a wan little face, her own eyes falsely pleading and messing with him, all at once Darla again;

“You stop that! Fucking bitch!” Jack shoved her roughly away back onto the seat and she burst into giggles again. She returned but this time for real, no more games. Eunice kicked off her shoes and swung herself up to sit sideways on Jack’s lap, placing her head on his shoulder and one arm around his neck. Jack took up her trench coat and pulled it up over her shoulders. Jack loved that black trench-coat of Eunice’s, with it’s bright silver buttons in two rows down the double-breasted front. It was a top end quality overcoat, unlike his own beige trench-coat, cheap, crumpled and ill fitting. He loved the way her hair tumbled wildly all over its shoulders, sometimes entwining a lock or two of itself in the epaulets.

He loved the way her hair tumbled wildly all over the trench-coat shoulders, sometimes entwining a lock or two of itself in the epaulets

He turned off the internal light as he felt her make herself comfortable under the coat. Jack wanted Eunice to get all nice and warm, he wanted her to exude warmth so he could have some of it. Jack lowered his cheek to rest on the top of her golden hair, so soft like silk, and the smell of her Givenchy perfume, he could almost burst into tears at her loveliness.

Eunice’s breathing began to get slower and deeper, Jack could feel her heartbeat slow and regular against him. Occasionally she would stir slightly. Truth all told, Jack wasn’t particularly comfortable in that position but to hell with that, he counted his blessings; ‘I ain’t complaining’, he assured himself he was the luckiest man alive.

Eunice was fast asleep, Jack could tell. What was that she said? Thank God for every day he sends you? Fuck that, please don’t send another day. Jack could do without morning coming, Eunice would wake up, rub her eyes, stretch, and then they would be off in search of some coffee and a bagel. That would be that, never to be as close to Eunice as he was now ever again. Yeah, fuck tomorrow, he wouldn’t miss it. Jack thought about that immortal question earlier on: ‘Do you want to fuck me, Jack?’ but that’s all it was, a request for information, it was certainly never an offer, but he didn’t mind;

“Oh Eunice,” he whispered, “my lovely sleepy dreamy lady, all mine tonight…”

After some time, Jack moved the trench coat collar down below where Eunice’s arm was draped around his neck. He could just make out the flat watch face of her Rolex in the dark interior. ‘Rolex - that’s one classy lady!’ Carefully he pushed the light button on the side of the watch; 03:50 a.m. Well after changing of the guard time, but so what?, before going to sleep, they had both agreed the stakeout was total bullshit. Jack was loving every part of that night and it still wasn’t over! Her laughter and hysterics earlier on, and playfulness, then sometimes reflective and serious. That mischievous coquettish little look she had in her eye when she was having fun, she was home.

That mischievous coquettish little look she had in her eye when she was having fun

She had talked and listened to Jack without being patronizing, she had been both frank and honest and met him half way in relation to the serious subject matter raised, he could have no complaints on that front. Jack just wanted it to go on and on, hanging out with Eunice, just sitting in the back of the car, talking to her, laughing with her, having her all to himself, wonderful, wickedly selfish!

For some reason, Jack decided he would like to look upon Eunice’s sleeping face. He reached up and switched on the interior light. He was stunned to see Eunice’s REM in full motion. Guiltily, he quickly switched off the light as he felt he had committed a great sacrilege playing voyeur to something so personal as the woman’s dreamtime.

What could she be dreaming about? Taking down gangsters? Cracking a code? Shoes and handbags? In her dream did she need a hero in her hour of need? Could Jack dive into her dream and save her? She would love him then, surely? Oh shut up you idiot! It was getting near the stage where Jack would fall asleep himself, but he held on through the small hours, this was Eunice-time, once it was gone, you couldn’t get it back.

“Thank you for letting me love you.” Jack whispered, squeezing her gently in his arms. Her soft warmth, fragrance and sleepiness, surely after this he could say he had lived? That wonderful song kept flooding his mind; ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations. Did it matter if he deluded himself just this once? Not a bit!

It was getting near dawn and Eunice was starting to wake up, stirring more often and at times momentarily being awake, eyes open briefly before closing them again. The next time she did this she whispered;

“Jack, are you awake?” He had to make a snap decision, yes, that was it, he’d pretend to be asleep and not answer…. No! Answer her you fool, she can’t be very comfortable in that position, if she thinks you’re asleep she’ll slide off you to get more comfortable without, as she thinks, hurting your feelings;

“Yeah, I’m awake.” He whispered back. He felt her breath out and relax before nuzzling her head back into his shoulder, to get a bit more sleep. The sky was brightening in the east, dawn was coming, fuck it.

It was light outside and Eunice’s body clock had done it’s proper cycle, she was fully awake.

“Good morning.” He said.

“Good morning, Jack.” She replied. She slid off him and onto her side of the seat. As she did so Jack took a gentle hold of her wrist but she immediately twisted and pulled it out of his grasp;

“A deal’s a deal, Jack, one night, remember?” She reiterated the terms of their contract. He didn’t reply. She sat bolt upright and arched her back, arms raised, hands folded at the back of her neck, her backbone audibly cracking as she stretched herself . The front of her jacket parted as her breasts were pushed out by the action. With a start, Eunice noticed Jack’s unwavering stare at her cleavage;

“Enjoying the view?” She remarked disdainfully. What was he to reply, stupidly lie and say he wasn’t looking at her breasts? He felt some guilt at doing it, but they were beautiful, the shape and curve of them.

“You have beautiful breasts, Eunice.” Jack stated the plain fact while nodding his head, and then as an afterthought, another “All of you is beautiful.”

Eunice looked back at Jack for a few moments showing no reaction. Then she leant over the front seat and looked intently at herself in the rear-view mirror;

“Jesus Christ, look at my fucking hair! I’m a mess!” She took fright at the sight of it. What was that thing she kept doing, parting the locks on her crown and inspecting the scalp? Then she aggressively shook the whole mane out and tried to toss some life back into it, dragging her spread out fingers through it several times for want of a brush. Jack watched in awe. She was a woman.

A girlfriend, a wife? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could experience this display every morning? All at once Jack was sad, it wasn’t going to happen, hadn’t she said so last night? Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? Was she doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts? No, she wasn’t, she was just…. being herself, Eunice.

She pulled on her shoes and got out taking her trench-coat with her, putting it on and with a little shiver wrapped it tight around herself against the morning chill. She had left Jack.

Jack also got out of the car. He opened the front door and grabbed up his hat and beige trench-coat from the front seat and put them on. As Jack straightened the coat on his shoulders, he had a notion that as with the night, perhaps he could spend the whole day with Eunice, a ‘Perfect Day’ Lou Reed-esque.

“So you’re really into this film noir shit, Jack?” Eunice suddenly whipped off his hat and put it on, pulling it low down over her eyes. She then tugged up her coat collar at the sides so it covered most of the lower part of her face;

“Samantha Spade, private eye, here’s looking at you, blue eyes!” Eunice gave her best Bogart voice, in spite of her own regional shortcomings. Jack thought her lovely in that hat, evidently she was still in a playful mood, that augured well for the rest of the day, it had to!

“Ahhh, my legs and back are still stiff,” Eunice reached down and felt her calf muscle, “let’s take a quick walk along the pier for five minutes, stretch ourselves, get some air!” Jack himself was quite sore from being sat in the same position all night so it would be good to stretch his legs.

They walked out to the deserted dock and leant on the railings looking out to sea. Let this five minutes last forever.

“Oh look!” Eunice exclaimed, “look, dolphins out in the water, Jack! Can you see them!” Jack strained his sleepless eyes to the distance. Yes, there was definitely something there, a school of dolphins or porpoise, but he was more interested in Eunice. She was so beautiful in that hat of his, the way she took such delight at her marine discovery and smiled so kindly at him. ‘My Girl’.

A new song broke into his consciousness, the opening bars rising up, unstoppable:

‘I, I wish you could swim,

Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim.

Though nothing can keep us together,

We can be heroes, just for one day

I, I will be king

And you, you will be queen

We can be us, for ever and ever!

We can be heroes, just for one day

We can be heroes

We can be heroes,

Just for one day’

“Feeling refreshed?” Eunice snapped him out of it, “We really have to be getting back.” She looked at her watch. They’d had their five minutes. Eunice noticed how down Jack looked and knew the reason why;

“Come on!” She punched his shoulder, “It’s not so bad! We’ll be out together again in a week or two!” She led him back to the car. As Eunice took out the keys Jack approached her and tried to put his arms around her but again she pulled away;

“Hey, we have a deal remember?” She looked at him sternly.

“I’m allowed one last hug, surely?” Jack tried his luck. With a slight nod of her head, Eunice communicated she was good with that. “I’m allowed a hug whenever I want?” He pushed his resources of courage to absolute breaking point.

“Oh okay, alright!” Eunice abruptly gave in.

Naturally, Jack was elated; ‘Oh happy day!’.

Jack took Eunice in his arms and waited a few seconds before bending his head low and began kissing Eunice on the side of her neck. She waited a moment for him to finish then wriggled away out of his arms;

“I give you an inch and you take a fucking mile, Jack Kiersky!” She gave him a reproachful look, even so, it was obvious to Jack she had enjoyed being kissed in that delicate and sensitive area.

Unfortunately the wind was abruptly taken out of Jack’s sails when she plonked the hat back on his head;

“Game over!” she informed him, “We really need to go.”

Right at that moment the car phone began to ring. Eunice jumped into the driver’s seat and picked it up:

“Carl? What do you mean where am I? I’ve been out on fucking stakeout all night. I’m just on my way over now…….. What’s the matter Carl, have you missed me?… I’m always fucking late am I?…..Ah ha-ha-ha!… You asshole!…. Ah ha ha ha……Yeah, alright, see you in a bit.” She rang off.

Jack had watched the conversation unfolding intently. She had been laughing and joking with Carl.

“Jack, I really must go now, Carl is waiting for me. Either get the fuck in or get left behind, it’s your choice!”

“Who is this Carl?” Eunice decided she didn’t like the tone of Jack’s question;

“Oh, you want to know? He’s assisting me on one of my current investigations.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Who wants to know anyway? Actually, he’s been fucking me all week and he wants me round at his apartment right now so he can fuck the ass off me some more…..” She waited for Jack’s ultimate reaction, in the meantime enjoying the conflict of emotions at war with one another for the control of his face. She then burst out laughing at his crass and naïve jealousy having pulled his leg in such a vicious way. Now realising the joke was on him, Jack burst out laughing too;

“You fucking bitch! Do that to me again and I’ll throw you off the fucking pier in the water!” Nonetheless, Jack couldn’t get the first few bars of Lou Reed’s ‘Perfect Day’ out of his head, it was a persistently re-emerging theme;

“Hey, let’s not go back into town just yet, why don’t we check out the clubhouse, lights on all night and welcoming like. We might be able to rustle up some coffee if there’s a machine, or what about a whisky, that’ll warm us up quick time! The morning is young, where’s the rush?”

“Lights on all night and welcoming? Sounds like somebody’s trying to empty out their jam-jar full of fucking quarters with no good reason if you must ask.” Eunice was unconvinced.

“Why don’t we go in just to check it out, I mean, we’ve been here all night, we may as well have something to show for our time here?” Jack hoped he could put off their return into town well into mid-morning if not for as long as possible.

“Nah, fuck it, I’ve got to get back to Carl, we’ve got a lot to get done today, he’s relying on me and I promised him an early start.” Eunice needed to get the day’s itinerary under way, spending any more time with Jack was just wasting it.

“Five more minutes? Surely Carl can wait five fucking minutes?”

“Alright, five minutes!” Eunice gave in though she had just about reached her limit with Jack. She got out of the car and slammed the door shut, “Five minutes and then we’re gone!” She abruptly turned her head; “Oh my fucking hair!” This time she was using the tinted glass of the car door as a mirror, again trying to bring it up to acceptable standard brushing furiously once more with her spread fingers, she was a woman doing womanly feminine things mostly unique to women. How many times did the dear lady have to check her hair-roots? She had done it using the internal mirror and now again in the door glass grooming her crown, parting the hair this way and that, frowning and looking concerned.

Jack didn’t understand women, they were a mystery to him. Going shopping with them in boutiques, this obsession with bags and shoes, mirrors and their appearance…., what was it all about?

“Your roots look fine Eunice, trust me!” Jack gave her a self satisfied smile.

“My what?”

“Your roots, they don’t need re-doing, I can’t see them!”

Eunice gave Jack a hostile look for several moments, then said;

“What do you know about anything?”

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 8: Et in Arcadia Ego

Eunice entered the front door with Jack close behind. The building was old and of basic design. One large open plan bar-room with a sturdy heavy wooden bar at the far end, four large square pillars themselves arranged in a square to support the wooden roof beams in the central floor area. Two banks of fruit machines, back to back with a central service gap between them were within the four pillars floor space. The rest of the floor was sparsely filled with a few tables and chairs.

“Very odd,” Eunice passed comment standing by the fruit machines which together with the lights, were switched on, poised to receive the next coin, “not locked up and the lights on all night?”

“Yeah,” agreed Jack, “No watchman, nothing. Anyone could’ve come in here last night and totally emptied the bar, that’s so fuckin’ weird!”

Eunice made her way to the side of the bar which had a badly placed hatch in it’s centre rather than at the end which was more usual and better for customers. She looked down the length of the bar. Above the cash till was a faded framed sign ‘Bantams All Nite Bar!’. Pinned on one of the support pillars just behind the bar surface was dog-eared poster from a liquor supplier stating ‘Select Ales, Export Beers!’. On her side of this pillar was another framed sign hanging up ‘Bar food special - All U can eat $7.75’. Singularly unimpressed Eunice entered the short corridor out of the bar-room to where there was a small kitchen and stores area, again this was fully lit up. At the end of the corridor was the back door which was also the fire exit and as such opened outwards. Eunice pulled down on the door bar, pushed the door open and went out onto the parking lot without having to step down.

“The back door isn’t even locked.” She called back to Jack who followed her out, “What a dump, I’ve seen enough, I don’t know what the hell was supposed to have gone down last night, fuck it, let’s go.” Eunice quickly gave up on the venture.

“Do we have to go so soon? Can’t we have a look round and see if we can rustle up some coffee?” Jack was losing her, anything to stop her leaving.

“No way! I’m going back up into town right now!” Jack couldn’t hold on to her. They went back inside and Jack pulled the fire door closed behind him. They continued back through the bar-room intending to make their way back to the car the same way they had come. To Jack’s surprise, Eunice came to an abrupt halt as she neared the front exit and began to scrutinise her surroundings intently;

“Hmm, all lit up and inviting….” Then an expression of realisation suddenly came over her face.

Their attention was immediately caught by the revving of an engine and the screeching of tyres coming to a halt out front. The van driver looked straight in at the two in the bar-room near the entrance, then with a further loud rev of the engine surged off around the side to the rear parking lot.

“Bastard!” Jack presumed evil intent, “He’s going around the back to avoid us, I’ll get him!” With that, Jack ran back towards the rear corridor.

“Jack, wait!” Eunice called after him but he had already disappeared down the corridor. Another roar of an engine and screeching of tyres at the front. Eunice’s blood ran cold as she saw five heavily armed men jump out of this second van and run towards the clubhouse.

“Fuck! It’s a set up!” Eunice shouted and began to back away from the entrance, “Jack! Jack! I need you back here! Jack! Where are you!”

As the five ran towards the entrance Eunice made note of the weaponry, two pump-action shotguns, two uzi submachine-guns and what looked like an old military rifle - yes, an M1 Garand, strange fifth choice? Eunice knew that in close quarter combat, rate of fire and not necessarily accuracy was often the deciding factor. With her Para LDA and two spare clips giving her a total of only eighteen single pistol bullets against these guys’ weaponry, meant that taking them on would be entering into an unequal relationship. She needed to run. Eunice was no coward but escape was the best option, be a heroine if you must, but ending up dead somehow didn’t do anything for her. Eunice kicked off her shoes and ran back into the corridor;

“Jack! Jack! Are you there?” she called out to him expecting him to appear from the kitchen. She reached the back door, pushed down on the bar and put her shoulder to it but to her dismay found it wouldn’t budge. In desperation she briefly pounded the door with her fists. Intuitively Eunice knew this was not going to work so she drew her pistol intending to blow out the hinges. But what if that didn’t work? She had very limited ammunition. Decisions….

Blow out the hinges.

Take the door down and save yourself. Eunice unloaded three shots into the top hinge and the three last shots of the clip into the bottom one. The rounds expended were effective, clearly destroying the hinges and severing their attachment. Holstering the reloaded weapon, Eunice pushed with all her strength against the door but to her disbelief found it still wouldn’t budge. Then came the gut wrenching realisation that it wasn’t going to move.

“Oh my god, I’m trapped….”

Where the fuck was Jack? What had happened to him? They, she needed that extra gun. It looked like she’d have to do it all herself, again.

Where would The Alamo be? The kitchen and stores were too small to manoeuvre, a cul-de-sac and death-trap. Back into the open bar-room was the least worst choice.

She ran back and was immediately seen entering by the five thugs who now stood inside near the entrance. As Eunice leapt over the bar she was met with a hail of fire from the uzis and several blasts from the shotguns. As she hid behind the bar, glass exploded above her and splinters of wood flew in every direction.

“Fuck, I’m in deep shit…” Eunice recognised the dire crisis she was in, pressing her forehead to the top barrel surface of her weapon.

“Cease fire! Knock it off!” She heard the order shouted out. Brief silence.

“Hey, heeeey! Bloomy? Are you there Bloomy? A very good morning to you!” Laughter. This confirmed to Eunice what she already strongly suspected. It was a set-up. They had come for her;

“Be sure and treat yourself to one last drink while you’re behind there! The condemned always deserves a good fucking send off!” More laughter;

“Yeah, compliments from The Roman, you fucking bitch. Payback time!” The five were revelling in the moment, that of trapping the prey, and anticipation of the resultant kill;

“What is it you’re supposed to like? You bitch! A good old fashioned shoot ‘em up? Much obliged Calamity Fuckin’ Jane!”

A roar of uzi and shotgun fire erupted, glass and splinters showering down once more on the cowering woman; Think Eunice, think! Options. What options? Try and think! And now a new sound: Blam!!!

A high velocity round went straight through the bar and also penetrated the wall behind at the far end from Eunice. The Garand! So that’s why they had brought that. No internal fixture could afford Eunice protection against the power of the army rifle. It was either die or be flushed out and then die.

Blam!!!

Straight through again, a yard closer,

Blam!!!

Another yard, the shooter was systematically moving down the bar, Eunice needed to do something. She scrambled towards the hatch opening, the penetrating bullets having not quite reached that far along, diving flat on the floor with her head just around the corner, pistol drawn and poking out, with rapid fire shot an exposed Uzi number 1 in the legs, and then when he fell down, in the head. Tried and tested method, works every time. But she had used up all her second clip, not a good rate of return for just one guy.

Garand now concentrated his fire around the hatch opening as Eunice threw herself away from it back along the floor. As she slipped in her last remaining clip she noticed the remaining uzi had stopped firing. There was the clatter of an empty magazine on the floor. Through the continuing blasts of the shotguns then came: Blam!!! …Chingg!! which she recognised as the empty round charger being ejected from the top of the Garand. Two of the four were ‘out’ and reloading. Act now! NOW!!

Like an avenging banshee Eunice ducking low stormed out from under the hatch flap, weapon held straight and level. Garand was slightly to the left of a pillar, separated from the three others, charger in hand about to reload the rifle. Eunice fired and fired at Garand as she ran, the blasts of the shotguns were frighteningly close, the shock waves of the too near pellets splashing her hair into her face.

The blasts of the shotguns were frighteningly close, the shock waves of the too near pellets splashing her hair into her face

As she fired off the entire clip, two shots hit Garand causing him to stiffen in shock and then drop to the floor, rifle and charger clattering down with him. Eunice flung away her spent weapon and half skidded, half fell to where Garand was lying. She grabbed the rifle and charger and threw herself behind the pillar sat low with her back pressed up against it. Stunned with this completely unexpected counter attack and the taking out of another of their number, the three also sought shelter behind the remaining pillars, musical-chairs but with very high stakes.

“Greg! Move round and get her!”

“Fuck off! You go and get her!”

“Flush her out now, fuck you! Omar, you help him!” the first one came again. Nothing happened. Eunice could sense fear in their voices. ‘Not so gung-ho now are we?’

She looked at the bullet charger in her hand. That was some ordnance, eight chunky 0.30/06 shells giving her quite a bit more punch than her little Para LDA. Did Garand have any more chargers? She was about to reach out and search him but frustrated with their inability to find courage to do anything else, the three poked their guns around their respective pillars and began firing into that of Eunice. She huddled as small as she could as plaster and bits of wood blasted out from behind her back.

She looked at the rifle, how does this work? Yes, push the charger down into the top, lock and loaded. She needed to do something, continue taking the initiative. If she sat there they would get her eventually. Don’t take on the uzi, she would have better chance with one of the shotguns. As Shotgun 1 was chambering another shell Eunice swung the muzzle of the rifle out and aimed squarely at his pillar. Small game woman, big game rifle.

She repeatedly pulled on the trigger. The kick of that beast against her shoulder! Not only did huge chunks of the pillar disintegrate as her rounds hit the front of it, there seemed to be similar damage emanating out of it’s rear. Suddenly, Shotgun 1 cried out and collapsed sideways from behind the pillar;

“Take a taste of your own fucking medicine!” Eunice heard herself screaming momentarily losing control. “That’s dangerous!” she reprimanded herself, “Keep control, focus!” How many times did the rifle butt punch the front of her shoulder during the madness? She counted them off in her head, seven times! Shit! She had only one round left. What now?

The gap between the fruit machines! If she could get in there she would be strategically well placed between the two remaining gunmen. Seeing the two had stopped firing to watch Shotgun 1 fall, Eunice made a dash for the gap. Shotgun 2 saw her just in time to loose off a round. As she dived into the gap, the fruit machine nearest to her took the full force of the shell blowing out its front but essentially providing the necessary protection.

“The bitch is between the slot-machines!” one called out to the other. The uzi and the shotgun now recommenced firing, peppering the unfortunate equipment exacting a high price for the protection it afforded Eunice. The small woman crouched low and waited for some advantage, anything that might give her an edge, the enormous long and heavy M1 rifle across her knees, finger on the trigger, poised and ready.

The uzi stopped firing. Has he exhausted the clip? No! It had jammed. Eunice heard him frantically trying to clear the action and get it operational. Giving up, the weapon clattered to the floor. Eunice now heard a round being chambered into an automatic pistol. The odds were still moving in Eunice’s favour but she only had one bullet left. Did she have anything to outmanoeuvre them?

Now or never! Eunice broke cover and ran out between the two pillars the men were hiding behind;

“Here!” She announced herself. Both men simultaneously broke their own cover to finish the exposed target which had gifted itself to them, pistol-man in front facing Eunice and shotgun-man approaching her from behind. Eunice heard the distinctive lock and load sound of the pump-action behind her as a shell was made ready. In front of pistol-man, Eunice as calmly as she could presented herself as a good easy target. As the pistol came up pointing right at her, trigger squeezing backwards, she threw herself down twisting sideways as the bullet seemed to pass her with only a hairsbreadth to spare, hitting shotgun-man squarely in the chest, taking him out. Eunice, now on the floor, rifle out of position and very vulnerable to pistol-man. Panicked and unnerved by what had just happened, he rapidly fired round after round in the direction of the woman on the floor, one handed and with no attempt to control the kick of the weapon, desperately looking for a way to back off and escape.

Eunice, bring the rifle up to your shoulder, steady, aim… A spurt of fibres flew from her trench-coat sleeve, grazed by a round, the buzz and pressure wave of a round whizzing past her cheek….

Stepping backwards all the time, he wasn’t even looking at her properly, his eyes frightened and squinting as he jabbed the pistol at her letting off each round. Shut everything out, concentrate your whole being, focus…

Crack-ck!! -splinters shot up from the floorboards right in front of her….

Blam!!!…Chingg!!

The spent charger flew out of the top of the rifle making Eunice at once flinch away from it. The man in front of her was a man no more, the top of his head had gone. He stood for a few seconds, then dropping his pistol, toppled backwards in a heap.

Eunice stood up and dropped the rifle.

All of a sudden an unbearable sadness descended upon her. _____________________________________________________

“Jack, wait!” Jack ignored Eunice as he raced down the corridor eager to prove himself to her. He would sort this prick out who was trying to sneak in the back, he would protect her! Jack could hear an engine revving very near as he reached the back door. As he pushed it open it hit something and he only just managed to jump through the shrinking gap which was being squeezed closed by the back fender of the first van.

Crruunchh!

The back of the van jammed right up against the door sealing it shut.

“Hey! You in there!” Jack challenged the driver. Startled, the driver looked round and seeing Jack, flung open the door, jumped out and began running away down the parking lot.

“Stop! Police!” Jack pulled out his pistol. He took a careful aim at the fleeing figure and squeezed off a round. Astounded, Jack watched as a plume of dust ejected itself from the man’s back and he appeared to fall, then he recovered, and began to stagger out of the parking lot into the adjacent warehouse area.

“Fuck! I got one!” Jack congratulated himself and decided to pursue the wounded fugitive and finish the job. The man had managed to stagger some way before collapsing, propping himself half sitting up against a wall;

“Don’t shoot, I’m not armed, I’m just the driver.” he croaked up at the approaching detective.

“You little prick!” Jack showed no sympathy, “You nearly took my fucking legs off. What the fuck are you up to with that van?”

“Don’t hurt me, for Christ’s sake, get help!”

“Oh I’ll help you alright, let me show you what I mean….” Jack felt elated. What a night, what a day! He was one of The Saints now! Jack pressed the muzzle of his gun to the man’s head and tried to remember The Saints execution mantra. Failing this, he attempted to recreate the final line as best he could;

“I feel your Patrick, And a spirit’s sanctum!”

“You fuckin’ arse for a brain….” the man looked up at the detective with contempt and then with a very slight movement of his head referred his would be executioner back towards the clubhouse. Jack looked over his shoulder. Several loud shotgun booms and the occasional ‘brrrrrrrrr’ of high rate automatic gunfire were erupting from the clubhouse. Now came the distinctive ‘crack-off’ of singular high velocity rounds when heard from a distance.

“Oh fuck! Eunice…..” He looked back to the driver but he had since expired. Jack raced back to the clubhouse as fast as he could. The gunfire within the clubhouse seemed to come in waves punctuated by odd silences. As he reached the back door he was appalled to see the blown hinges, shot out from the inside. The keys were still in the ignition so he fired up the van and lurched it forwards just enough. As he jumped out of the van he heard one last Crack-off! of the high-velocity weapon, then silence. He wrenched the door out of it’s frame and ran inside;

“Oh fuck me!” Jack thought in total panic, “Eunice…, she’s in big trouble.” He ran back through the corridor towards the main bar area gun drawn at the ready.

“Eunice! Eunice!” Jack called out in vain as he reached the corridors end and then ran into the bar-room, but skidded to an immediate halt as he was confronted by a scene of almost unimaginable carnage.

“Oh my god!! What the fuck….”

The destroyed fruit machines, still sparking with their frayed and exposed live wiring, two of the four pillars shot to pieces and devoid of most of their outer cladding, hundreds of spent shell casings, broken glass and debris strewn all over the floor, the blood and the corpses, one of them with half his head gone. Heart stopping.

Jack ventured into the central area stepping over the huge ugly brute of an old military rifle lying on the floor. He walked over and around the five dead bodies, their weapons and spent magazines beside them, all apart from one. This one had Eunice’s empty Para LDA near to him. Oh Christ what had happened to her? Where was she? Jack was fearing the worst, something too terrible to consider;

“Eunice! Eunice!” Jack called out more in hope than expectation again. He sensed someone else there. He turned.

“Eunice!! Oh thank Christ you’re alright!” Jack’s heart almost leapt out of his chest, feeling such self liberating joy and relief, “You survived!! My beautiful baby!”

There she was in her black trench-coat standing in front of the bar completely still. Jack had been so drawn to the carnage in and around the four central pillars he had neglected the bar end of the room. She stood looking at him with a slight scowl on her face tinged with contempt.

“Fucking ‘A’ Eunice!” Jack put away his gun and walked over to her, “You got them! You got them all!, you fucking maverick Eunice!” He punched the air, “It’s like the fucking OK Coral in here! Oh Eunice! How’s that for a fucking mornings work! Hey! Did you know I killed that other bastard who was trying to sneak round the back? He tried to run and I shot him! Plugged him good and proper!”

Eunice remained silent, the deepening scowl on her face did not register with Jack. She spread her arms in a signal to Jack that she wished him to hold her.

“Oh my baby girl, you want a hug do you?” Jack was only too eager to accept the invitation and took her in a tight passionate embrace; “Oh dear, dear, did the nasty men upset you?” He cooed in pseudo parental tone. But after only a few seconds in the embrace, Eunice twisted herself hard, shrugged out of Jack’s arms and stood back from him. Confused by these contrasting signals Jack looked back at Eunice. He noticed for the first time the deeply resentful scowl on her face, accusing, disgusted and contemptuous.

“Oh look Eunice, there’s no need to be like that, okay, I fucked up big time leading you in here and then running off like that, but you dealt with it, everything’s cool now, you took them all out, oh ye of little faith, Super-Eunice! Super-Bloomy!” Still no words from Eunice, just the hard uncompromising accusing stare.

Shit. She must be well and truly pissed with him;

“For fucks sake Eunice! I was worried about you when I came back just now! What the fuck was I supposed to think when I came in and couldn’t find you, your spent gun lying amongst those dead fuckers, I was petrified, blind sick with worry about you! If anything had happened to you….” Jack’s words trailed off.

Given the wholesale destruction of the bar-room, five heavily armed men against one woman, regardless of how exceptional she was, it must have been a very close run thing,

“Oh god, if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do, after this….” He was all at once sick and upset. Still the cold accusing stare. ‘Tell her you’re sorry, she said you were funny, humour her….’

Suddenly, Jack had what he thought was a really clever aside, something to get Eunice laughing and back to her usual friendly bantering self;

“Hey, you do that to me again Bloomy, I’ll kill you!”

She did not laugh or even smile as Jack expected, quite the opposite, the stare became ultra-intense, piercing in it’s hostility.

Then it broke, the eyes lost their fire, almost looking tired. Eunice shivered violently, her whole body briefly convulsed in tremors.

“That’s what you’re gonna get in here now, nothing but the cold morning chill since these inconsiderate fuckers have just shot out all the fucking windows. Don’t worry Eunice, you know that whisky I told you about earlier on, I’ll break open a bottle in a bit, that’ll get us both warmed up nicely, you’ll see.” She seemed to have calmed down, besides, she liked him underneath, and she did find him funny in a kooky sort of way. My girl.

Jack was home and dry. What an outlandish but perfect day this had turned out to be. Totally out of the blue he and Eunice had taken out some sort of gangland raiding party, God knew what abomination they were planning that morning. It gave him such feel-good ideas about the future, his future with Eunice. Heroes just for one day? This was just the start of it, they could be heroes for ever and ever!

“Look at this, look at it Eunice!” Jack gesticulated with his right hand backwards into the main bar-room, “What a fucking ace team we make. You and me, we took them all on and wiped out every last one of the muthas. Yeah that’s it! We could be the new Bonnie and Clyde - ah-ha-ha-ha!” Jack laughed at the joy of it, “Just think, the new Bonnie and Clyde and all our adventures together, of course, we wouldn’t be outlaws, we’d be on the right side of the law…” Jack qualified their new proposed partnership.

Eunice gingerly stepped backwards till she backed into one of the barstools, sat up on it and leant back, propping herself up awkwardly and uncomfortable looking against the bar.

“Just you and me from now on Eunice, I don’t think we should bother going out anymore with Duffy and Dolly on our little excursions, we don’t need anyone else, we’re brilliant just as we are alone…” Jack couldn’t help but break into a huge grin as he spoke, Eunice’s eyelids were dropping, all drowsy like, after such an exhausting fire-fight and her less than comfortable night in the car, who could blame her? ‘Would you just look at that sleepy lovely little lady! Ooooh, she makes me want to curl up with her all warm and cosy!’

“We’d have to use our own names, we wouldn’t call ourselves ‘The New Bonnie and Clyde’, I mean, don’t be so fucking stupid! I know! How about ‘Kiersky and Bloomy’?” Jack put it to Eunice but her eyes were dreamy and distant. “Oh, you don’t like that?” Jack wondered, “Oh you think you should come first? You mean ‘Bloomy and Kiersky’? Actually, I think I like that better, it rolls off the tongue much better don’t you think? Yeah, that’s it, ‘Bloomy and Kiersky’. In partnerships it’s always best to preserve the alphabetical order, that way there can be no arguments because it’s fair. Did you know the comedy duo Abbot and Costello fell out over the order? Costello as the funny man thought he contributed more than the straight man Abbot so after many years as Abbot and Costello he wanted it to be changed to Costello and Abbot, but by that time their careers were fucked anyway. Look, I can see what you’re saying, even though we’re equals on the team, ‘B’ comes before ‘K’, alright, alright, I’m completely good with that….” Jack presented his hands, palms facing Eunice…

“Oh fuck! Oh fucking help me Eunice! I’m hit!” Jack stared at the blood smeared all the way up the left sleeve of his beige trench-coat, he followed the smears up to his shoulder where they then continued down the left side of the coat;

“Aaaaggh - I’m bleeding, aaaaggh, I’m bleeding bad!” He floundered about all hands inside the coat and out trying to locate where the wound was. Where was it? There was no blood on the left side of his white shirt inside the coat? What was going on?

He stood still. He didn’t feel shot, it didn’t make sense… Jack was all at once concerned, something was wrong! Then he heard a strange ‘pad-pad-pad’ sound. There was something dripping onto the floor underneath Eunice’s stool!

“Oh fuck, no!” now he reacted correctly, “You’re hit!”

He rushed over and pulled her into his arms off the stool. She was completely limp, he needed to lie her down, on the floor? Up on the bar! With her right side nearest him, he laid her out.

“Where are you hit? Where are you hit, damn it!” but she didn’t reply, her sad eyes continued to look up at him. He pulled open her trench-coat and then her jacket.

Jack didn’t know who was screaming, his brain seemed to jellify at the sound of his own horrific cries. It was bad, very bad. The whole right side of Eunice’s white blouse was drenched red with blood. There was so much of it, it began to run off the bar and down the side panels. Jack even tried to push it back across the bar with his hands, somehow willing it to go back inside her.

Now Eunice was on her back the blood poured up her chest, onto the sides of her neck and into her hair. Severely in need to try something that might help Jack ran to the entrance;

“Help us! For fuck’s sake somebody help us!!” He screamed out the door. But there was nobody there, he knew it, futile.

He ran back to the stricken woman. The blood appeared to be pouring out of a wound in her upper right chest area. The poor woman’s heart was her own worst enemy, with every beat it pumped her life blood away.

“Pressure! That’s it, it needs pressure on it!” He deluded himself. As he rammed his crossed palms down on the wound, Eunice convulsed violently and spat blood which ran down her cheeks;

“Oh Christ no! I’m making it worse!” He wasn’t, that wasn’t possible. Eunice’s eyes began to dim and flicker, her star was going out, she was moments away from death.

“No! No! No! Please don’t die, Please don’t go, Don’t go, don’t go my Eunice, please don’t go, oh my God, please help her!” Jack pressed his forehead to the top of Eunice’s chest unable to watch her inevitable passing; “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t die, please don’t die, please God, don’t let her die….” with eyes held tightly closed he uttered these phrases over and over through clenched teeth, a mantra in denial. If he willed it hard enough, and prayed hard enough, surely God would grant him a miracle? People got miraculous remission from terminal cancer if they prayed hard enough, didn’t they? He kept it up, his forehead on her chest; “Please God, please, please, please, … please!” unwilling to face the truth.

Eunice was dead. She had died about three seconds after he had pressed his forehead to her, he knew that.

“Send me a miracle Lord, send me a miracle!”

He opened up his eyes dead ahead into the red sea, waited a few moments then swivelled them to the left, in hopeless hope.

The time for denial was over. Lifting his head he noticed Eunice had managed to close her eyes. But that was the only calming image to be had in an otherwise horrific scene. The blood was everywhere, all over the bar, in an expanding pool on the floor, all over Eunice’s clothes and congealed in her hair. It was all over Jack too. There was now nothing left but the deepest inconsolable grief imaginable for him to suffer. He pulled her lifeless body to his chest and cried out in agony at her loss. Her passing was destroying him, the realisation that he had badly fucked up and led her in there to face such insurmountable odds alone.

After some time when he could scream and cry out no more, he laid her back down on the bar. He pulled off his blood soaked trench-coat and rolled it up into a makeshift pillow for her head.

“Oh Eunice, your hair!” He wailed at the way it had been ruined and matted by all the congealed blood. He pulled her jacket closed over the red drenched blouse and buttoned it up noticing the US flag pin in her lapel, the one that Eunice and The Saints had fallen out over, so stupidly and unnecessarily. Now they would never be able to make up like Jack knew both sides had greatly wished to do so. Oh Lord, The Saints! He then pulled her trench-coat together and buttoned that up too, finally folding her hands over her chest, somehow it seemed the decent thing to do.

The all consuming raw emotion appeared to have burned itself out for now, but the reality was still painfully there and not going away.

Eunice was dead. But that was impossible! It had to be a dream, but it wasn’t. He had fucked up and she was dead. It seemed so unreal. What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened!!

“You can’t fucking die!” he shouted out in anguish, “You can’t just fucking die!”

What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened!! You can’t fucking die! You can’t just fucking die!!

They’d been walking along the pier just a few minutes ago looking at dolphins out to sea. He’d had her sleeping in his arms all night. They’d been laughing and joking, talking in the back of the car till the small hours. She’d jumped out of the car laughing and squealing at his inane comments. That morning she’d leant over the front seat and ruffled up her hair and then combed it with her fingers, a woman. How she had laughed last night, doubled up hysterically, tears streaming. She had discussed relationships with him and been frank and honest. He had hung out with her loving her company. His cheek down on her hair, she’d asked him if he was awake, her closeness and warmth under the trench-coat, her REM, deep sleep breathing and her heartbeat.

Her body was colder now and the blood had started to dry around the edges. No way back, she was long gone. How could this happen? She couldn’t just get killed, not like this. He had wanted her all to himself all day, seems like he had got his wish, so there she is now, happy? Doesn’t God move in mysterious ways? My girl - My girl!

Her plans for today. She was supposed to be uptown now with that Carl guy on assignment. What agenda now? What agenda now? Now and the future!

He turned around with his back to Eunice and sank down on his knees, leant backwards pressing his head to the bar under her. He outstretched his arms and took hold of the railing which ran the length of the bar. With the knowledge of what he had done to this poor innocent woman, Jack had inadvertently created a cross to crucify himself with, Eunice being the beam. Right away he was into another period of shouting;

“No, no, no! Oh God help me! Please!” and similar in refusal to accept the present state of the woman lying on the bar above him. The loneliest man in the world….. options?

Eventually he let go and collapsed forward into the pool of blood. What happens now? Well, he’d have some explaining to do. First of all to his dear friends Duffy and Dolly, then, ‘Oh God no!’ he’d have to explain it to the brothers and Romeo. They would be bad enough, but then came the killer thought - Smecker! How could he look that man in the eye and tell him? How could he not look that man in the eye and tell him? One by one their faces, The Saints, Romeo, Duffy, Dolly, and finally Smecker, all sullen, accusing.

Have yourself a good look now Jack, she’ll never laugh of banter again because of your colossal ineptitude. Now she is lost forever

“Check-mate detective!” Jack berated himself, “You can’t endure the unendurable!”

There was only one way out. He would kill himself. He didn’t want to live now anyway, now that the sunshine of Eunice was gone. You better hold onto the sun just as long as it will shine….

“Yeah, kill yourself, you fuck-up!” he passed his own sentence. Jack got up off the floor and stood once again facing Eunice. He drew his pistol and placed it on the bar, he also took out his two spare clips and placed them along side the gun.

“Which bullet is to have the honour?” he interrogated Providence, “The next one in the gun, stupid, who gives a shit?”

He picked up the gun and drew back the barrel, chambering the next round, he looked at it through the ejector port and hesitated. Like he said, check-mate, he had no move, he had to do it. He released the barrel and cocked the hammer. He then pressed the muzzle to the underside of his chin, his finger on the trigger. He took hold of Eunice’s hand and closed his eyes;

“Sorry Eunice, from the bottom of my heart I’m so sorry I led you into this and wasn’t there for you….” he spoke to her in the darkness, “Please forgive me……..”

Game over! Do it, do it now! Do it. Come on, do it! What are you waiting for? Do it. You can’t face Smecker and the boys with this. Do it for fuck’s sake… Do it, do it!

He pulled the gun away. He was such a coward, he couldn’t do it. And yet, Eunice was dead - still no way out. He had to do it.

Once again he pressed the gun to the underside of his chin. If he grasped Eunice’s hand for much longer with that level of force he’d end up breaking her fingers.

No way out, Do it, do it, do it!

“Oh Christ, why can’t I do it?” he groaned.

He felt a hand on his left shoulder. He froze rigid with the contact. Then a voice, a scintillating voice whispered in his ear;

“Now what’s all this nonsense about, huh? You could at least offer the lady a drink first?” It couldn’t be, could it? Impossible!

Jack opened his eyes, something very strange was happening, everything looked grey monotone, he didn’t remember pulling the trigger, perhaps he had? He was still standing at the bar but somehow not at the same bar.

The voice! He turned to his left to be confronted by Eunice.

She was dressed in old style western frontier clothes. Eunice once described to Jack how she imagined she would look if she had been there with The Saints when they took out Yakavetta and his henchmen. And now here she was, complete with her big ivory handled Army SA revolver at home in the leather crotch holster, the Stetson, waistcoat, leather pants and long riding overcoat. One interesting addition was the five pointed sheriff’s badge pinned to the lapel of her coat. She was so beautiful.

The gun dropped out of Jack’s hand and fell to the floor. All the blood had gone, he was still wearing the same clothes but it was no longer on them or his hands.

“Eunice! You’re alive!” He tried to throw his arms around her but she skilfully batted his arms away;

“No time for that now, cowboy!” She put him straight.

“Oh but Eunice, what has happened, where are we? Are we in heaven? Fucked if I know how, but I did it, I really did it, I pulled the fucking trigger!”

“Oh no you didn’t! Sorry to disappoint you, but this is definitely not heaven. This is Rocco’s Bar.”

“Rocco’s Bar?”

“Yep, an amazing facility whereby the living can meet the dead in an intermediary state between the two worlds. Rocco asked God if he could set it up so he could meet The Saints, cute isn’t it? I’m a bit annoyed with them for keeping it a secret from me. I was amazed to find out about it as soon as I passed over.”

“Passed over, you don’t mean….”

“That’s right, Einstein, I’m dead. According to your timeline I died about half an hour ago. You, my man, are still in the land of the living. Remember, Rocco’s bar where the living and the dead can meet, now you know who’s who in here!”

“Oh fuck, you’re really dead. For a moment I hoped…. But that’s insane, how can you be here in such a short space of time?”

“Time in heaven doesn’t necessarily work in the same way as you understand it….. Look, talking of which, we ain’t got fucking time for idle conversation!”

“No Eunice, you can’t be dead…”

“Oh I’m dead alright. And you would be too if I hadn’t brought you here and stopped you, you fucking asshole. What were you thinking? All you would’ve achieved is being another dead member of the team like Il Duce or Greenbeans. We need you alive and onside, you’re no good to anyone dead!”

“But Eunice, after what has happened today, I just want to die, I can’t live with myself anymore…”

“Condemn yourself if you must but I’m telling you not to self-harm. DO NOT kill yourself, that’s an order, officer! I mean it, okay?” Jack nodded, “Besides, try and shoot yourself in the brain like that again and I’ll have no option but to get you some bullet proof underpants!” Eunice watched Jack to see if he got the joke but his mind was somewhere else, “Anyway, I think the least you owe me is a drink, get yourself bar-side detective!”

Eunice seated herself on a stool in expectation of the requested service. Jack duly accepted the assignment, lifting the hatch and going behind the bar. He inspected the available drinks. Irish whisky, what else for the members of the team? He placed the bottle on the bar.

“Mine will be a Bourbon if you don’t mind.” Eunice declined.

“Bourbon? But don’t we always drink Irish…”

“Like I said, Bourbon please. Have one yourself.” Jack obediently replaced the bottle with the desired choice and poured out two glasses.

“Slainte!” Jack raised his glass.

“To Dixie?” Eunice countered not raising her glass.

“Er, yeah, to Dixie it is.” Jack replied as corrected.

“To Dixie!” They clinked their glasses and drained them in one go.

“Look Eunice,” Jack began to refill the glasses, “stop fucking about and get back in your body. I don’t accept this timeline shit, it’s only been minutes…”

“You just don’t get it, do you? I’m gone, finished, I’m done with earthly life, there is no way back. I’ve stopped you killing yourself, Christ knows why, but anyway, I have me a new ‘afterlife’ to live now.”

“Oh Eunice,” Jack looked at her pleadingly, “I feel so responsible for what has just happened. I fucked up persuading you to go in there and then didn’t protect you when I should’ve done. I went off on a wild goose chase and look what happened, can you ever forgive me?”

“I forgive you absolutely, unreservedly and without condition or qualification!” Eunice absolved, “Now that’s out of the way, you must do the same and forgive yourself.”

“I can’t, I can’t do it. The loss of you is too much to bear, I’m guilty, I must be punished for it somehow.”

“Fuck it, we all make mistakes. You were trying to protect me from that guy coming round the back.”

“The fucker wasn’t even armed! A waste of fucking effort!”

“Give yourself time. You’ll see I’m right in the long term, stop beating yourself up! Where’s your pride? You’re part of ‘Team Saints’, you have a mission to perform!” With that, Jack appeared somewhat reassured, he continued drinking in silence. Then at last he asked;

“What do you do in the afterlife?”

“The good news is that I have gone to heaven. The bad news is that heaven isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’ve been assigned one of the toughest jobs there is.”

“And what would that be?”

“Guardian Angel, and fuck knows why I should look out for the some of the ungrateful mortal fuckers God has assigned to my protection.”

“Jesus! You’re not talking about…”

“Oh I don’t include in that category any members of ‘Team Saints’, I assure you…”

“You mean you’re a guardian angel looking after everyone on the team? Whoo-hoo!!” Jack clapped his hands at the good news.

“Yes, me and three others…”

“Who? Oh I guess that must be Il Duce, and um, oh of course Rocco, and um - oh you don’t mean…?”

“Greenbeans!”

“Yes, I knew it!” Jack wouldn’t be denied his own special piece of salvation, “He’s in heaven watching over me!”

“Good for you mortal fuckers but not so good for us. God, or ‘The Man’ as He’s known up here is very demanding of His angels. It’s very much a heavenly equivalent of the FBI up here, you are expected to perform and get results, if you don’t The Man can be a fickle wayward bastard when He wants to be. You can be de-winged or even cast into hell at any time if you really piss Him off, let us say, I have to do my utmost to rise to such heavenly challenges as they are assigned. Recently, I managed to squeeze a promotion out of The Man. I now have the honour of having the official designation ‘Sheriff of the Firmament’ up here. Along with my usual duties I’m in charge of law enforcement against any souls who transgress and get out of line, and I wear this badge of office accordingly. Because of this, and because I was in the FBI, within the elite group of guardian angels, myself, Rocco, Greenly, and Il Duce, they refer to me now as the Guardian Agent.”

“Sounds to me like you’re doing just fine, Eunice, and you look fantastic as ever!”

“Thank you for that detective, flattery will get you nowhere!” Eunice quipped. “I miss it though, I miss my earthly life. Oh well, my time had come. The Man took me into heaven and gave me a job to do. I am an ‘Angel on all of Your shoulders’.”

“An Angel on all of Our shoulders.” Jack contemplated it dreamily, “How wonderful…”

“Times up, Jack. I’m afraid it’s kicking out time.” She gave him a solemn look.

Jack opened his eyes. He had dropped the gun after all, it was on the floor in the pool of Eunice’s blood. She was still on the bar in effigy and he was still soaked in her blood. She really was dead but at least he knew she was in heaven looking out for him and the rest of the team. The mental trauma of all that had happened, the sleepless night, the killing of the driver, the death of Eunice, and meeting her in the intermediate world, finally took it’s toll on the man. He turned, stepped into the middle of the blood pool and then sat down in it not quite knowing where he was….

Somehow he managed to take out his cell-phone and autodial Duffy;

“Jack, where the fuck are you? Carl Zimmerman at the Bureau has been asking about Eunice, apparently you two went out on a lead last night?”

“Eunice? She’s an angel.”

“She’s what?”

“She’s an angel on my shoulder.”

“Fucking hell, Jack, what are you on? You’re not making sense, where the fuck are you?”

“Bantams Clubhouse, Pier 9.”

“Pier 9? What the fuck are you doing out there? What was that garbage you were saying about Eunice? Where is she?”

“She’s dead, she’s an angel on my shoulder.”

“She’s what? Look, you’re seriously scaring me with some really fucked up shit now. Stay where you are and don’t move. I’m coming over right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can, stay there!”

Duffy immediately phoned John at the Bureau. He was worried about Jack but all that weird stuff about Eunice being a what?, and being dead? He decided to involve Eunice’s direct superior, even though he hated him for what he had done to the woman. Duffy then phoned Dolly and told him to drop everything, something bizarre was afoot concerning Eunice, and somehow Jack was involved, off his head spouting crazy stuff. Duffy arranged to pick him up before Kuntsler.

Duffy told Dolly and Kuntsler on the drive over in greater detail how Kiersky had sounded strange and out of it, something about Eunice may have had some trouble;

“He actually said she’d become an angel and gone to heaven,” Duffy laughed nervously, “fuckin’ schmuck!”

But neither of the others laughed back. John in particular merely retuned a perplexed look from the passenger seat. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

The three men duly arrived outside the clubhouse in order to find out ‘what the fuck was all this about?’ In shock they immediately saw the abandoned van out front and the bullet holed clubhouse windows. Drawing his weapon, Duffy went in first;

“Police! Show yourselves! Put your weapons down and come out hands raised!” Kuntsler and Dolly followed, also with guns drawn.

What had gone down here? Five dead guys…..

And “Jesus Christ!” Duffy nearly dropped his gun with the shock, “Jack? What the f…” the words choked in his throat.

“Eunice!” John’s eyes were riveted to what was on the bar.

“My………God…..” was all Dolly could utter as he let his poised weapon fall away.

A blood soaked Detective Kiersky sitting in a huge pool of the same which had evidently poured onto the floor from the top of the bar, blood from…..Eunice!

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!!!” John heard himself scream at the bloody imbecile in front of him.

“Eunice…” Kiersky simpered with a wan smile, “She’s an angel on my shoulder…”

“WHAT?!!!” John took two large strides into the pool and stamped the sole of his shoe hard into Kiersky’s shoulder propelling him backwards in a heap, “Get this piece of shit outa here before I fucking shoot it!”

Duffy and Dolly quickly scrambled to their friend’s aid, and tried to pull him away and to his feet.

“It’s alright boys, Eunice is fine, I spoke to her, she’s an angel…”

“Shut up you fucking wad! Come on! Let’s go!” Duffy cut him off. Duffy and Dolly urgently needed to get their friend away from Kuntsler, the look of his psychotic stare at the dead woman on the bar suggested his shooting proposition was no idle threat;

“Go on, get outa here, you trio of useless fuckers…..,” it hadn’t quite sunken in to John what the consequences would be of this situation, he was operating on impulse, “and don’t return…., send backup, now!”

Duffy and Dolly dragged Kiersky to the car and bundled him into the back seat. The blood was not only all over Kiersky, but also Duffy, Dolly and inside the car.

“Jesus! Talk about fucking up a crime scene!” Duffy jumped into the driver’s seat. As he reached for the ignition, the reality hit him with the force of a nuclear blast;

“Eunice…?” he looked at Dolly in the passenger seat for some sort of reasoning, “My God, she can’t be dead, it’s not real…”

Dolly leant his head down on the dashboard, and wept.

John should have gone through the clubhouse and checked it clear of hostiles, but no, he stood rooted to the spot for what seemed a very long time. The woman on top of the bar was plainly dead, the amount of blood loss confirmed that. But the woman was Eunice Bloom, the brilliant Special Agent Eunice Bloom, the saviour of Boston! She can’t die, she can’t FAIL!! She can’t lose it all like this! He saw something glistening in the dried blood on her chest and neck. Oh fuck no, it was her mother’s diamond pendant necklace. Every image was conspiring against John to hurt him psychologically. It wasn’t fair!

His phone rang. It was Carl Zimmerman, had John seen Eunice?

“Yes Carl, she’s here with me.”

“With you? We were supposed to meet at the Bureau. What is she doing with you?”

“Carl, you’d better get down here, Bantams Clubhouse, Pier 9. I think……. I think she’s dead.”

Sirens, Boston PD cops invading the building, challenging John so he had to flash his I.D., Carl arriving and breaking down inconsolably at the disastrous passing of one he so admired and saw as mentor. John also felt his emotions at breaking point. Forensics came, photographed and dusted everything. They photographed Eunice, it was all done in such a perfunctory insensitive way, just another crime scene to process. John had done as much at all the numerous homicides he had attended, but didn’t they know this was different? Didn’t they know who had died?

Presently, they were able to give John some preliminary information. Eunice’s discarded empty gun and two spent clips confirmed she had fired every bullet available. Kiersky’s weaponry on the other hand, showed quite some contrast; two full spare clips, a full clip in the butt of his gun bar two rounds, but one of these was chambered. Had he really only loosed off one shot in all this carnage and yet survived? It just didn’t add up.

“Special Agent Kuntsler?” a cop put his head round the corner of the corridor, “Sir, there’s another dead fucker out the back, a block down.”

“Yeah, thanks.” John acknowledged and then sent Carl to look further into this new development. Now came the morgue guys. These were the last people John wanted to see. First they took away the five dead thugs, all bagged up tidy, and wheeled out. Then they came for Eunice, gurney and unfolded body-bag in readiness;

“Hey Ash, look at this fucking broad,” one remarked to the other, “a ritualistic killing! They made her lie in effigy and then shot the bitch! Ha-ha-ha…”

“Yeah, there’s always some fucking hooker involved getting in the way,” Ash was also dismissive, “it’s always the same ain’t it, collateral fucking damage and then we’re left holding the shit…”

It was a tough job and a bit of hangman’s humour every now and again was probably necessary to keep one sane, but this cruel insensitive disrespect was more than John could take. He floored the first one with a blow to the jaw, the other one he grabbed hold of by the front of his coat; “Do you fucking know WHO you’re talking about? DO YOU KNOW?!!”

Then he threw them out, gurney, body-bag and all;

“Send somebody else, and if I see either of you mother-fuckers again, I’ll put you in a body-bag!” In a way, this unfortunate incident gave John some respite for another half an hour. But two other morgue guys turned up with another gurney and unfolded body bag. They unzipped the bag. John couldn’t bear the thought of Eunice being bagged up, the finality of it sealed the fact she was dead and not coming back. The two men began to carefully lift Eunice off the bar-top.

“You be gentle with her!” John commanded sternly, “She’s one of ours, a heroine!”

“Don’t worry Agent Kuntsler, we’ll take good care of the lady.” they promised him. As they placed Eunice in the body-bag and pushed her limp hanging arms inside, John turned away as the zip was pulled up over Eunice’s face, taking her away forever.

Virtually all day at the crime scene, then back to the Bureau to fill out endless reports including those concerning the homicide of Special Agent Bloom. News had already reached the Bureau before John got back. Everyone was in tears, some almost hysterical with grief, and John had to use tremendous willpower not to succumb to that, he certainly felt like it inside, that and the numbness, the disbelief and denial that it had happened. And yet, it had.

Special Agent Eunice Bloom homicide - file extract

Then there was the other stuff. The chains that bound John and would never release him, the guilt and the shame, the abominable crime and injustice he had committed against a woman who had surrendered and put herself into his protective custody in good faith. She should’ve killed him but didn’t. Even though she had forgiven him, it would never be enough, and after today, nothing but the despair of his private hell on earth beckoned.

Eventually, John decided to phone Duffy and located him at his apartment. They talked at length about the insanity of the day, how it didn’t seem real. John enquired after the ‘fuck-wit’. Duffy confirmed Kiersky would be staying with him until his mental state got itself back into some sense of reason, telling Jack’s wife he had been called away on a long term assignment at short notice. Jack kept on and on about this weird stuff, about Eunice as a guardian angel looking over his shoulder. Duffy was really worried about him.

“We need to get him debriefed sooner rather than later,” John was determined to force the issue, “we need to know what the fuck they were doing out there today, what was the nature of the investigation?” Duffy kept quiet. Eunice’s involvement with any of the three Boston PD detectives could only mean one thing. Something Kuntsler needed to be kept well away from;

“I’ve no idea, Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened to create this shitty mess?, disaster!” Duffy summed it up, “Eunice, oh Eunice, you poor girl…”

“It seems she never learnt her lesson,” John contemplated bitterly, “that bastard Kiersky, a great big baby sitting in a pool of blood in front of her cold dead body.”

A great big baby, sitting in a pool of blood in front of her cold dead body

Duffy thought for a moment;

“Yeah, hard to cure: ‘Educating Rita’.”

Hard to cure: Educating Rita

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: The Saints are coming!

The death of Eunice very quickly reached the upper echelons of the Establishment. Gleefully, the corrupt wing couldn’t believe their luck and it was cause for some concealed celebration. An exceptionally leaky set-up arranged using incompetent local mobsters. Even all six of the assholes sent to kill the bitch got themselves killed. Why hadn’t she smelled a rat and seen through it right away? They granted she was a hell of a smart broad, so why had her judgement completely gone out the window? They were pleasantly surprised it had worked and it was worth every cent of the $3,000,000 bounty put on her head. At $100,000 for every piece of silver, a snip at the price, but a bounty set at that level ensured there would be plenty queuing up to have a go, one of them had to succeed sooner or later, but that particular leaky plan, set up at such short notice? They had to think twice though about using their fake lines of communication to get the message through to the bitch, once blown it couldn’t be used again.

On review of the autopsy report it showed how lucky they had been to nail her. But ultimately, it couldn’t have worked out better. She had saved Boston and with it all their black market and organised criminal structures. Once she had done that they could kill her and that’s exactly what they did. They swore they would get her. Did anyone think they were going to forget it after what she did to take out The Roman, the man who was going to come back from exile and inherit the Boston operation and run it for them? Fuck no, nobody does that to them and gets away with it. Didn’t they have a reputation to live up to? In the darkest corners of the Establishment, several little high-fives were exchanged and smug congratulations were had all round. Hard copy photographs of Eunice’s bloody corpse on the bar top were obtained, passed around and well thumbed, gloated over. The wholesale destruction and violent end to the woman they hated so much was well cherished indeed.

The self-righteous wing of the Establishment took a very ‘told you so’ stance on the matter, admonishing the pragmatic centre for their folly. If the woman had been put in prison like they suggested, she may have lost her freedom but she would still be alive. Her defusing of the nuclear bomb was conveniently left out of these reflections. When the corrupt wing heard this they merely scoffed at the idea, what planet did these fuck heads live on, as if prison would protect the bitch? All they would’ve done in this scenario was order her murder at the hands of their people on the inside.

The pragmatic centre was as ever, pragmatic. The woman was a heroine, her service to duty and the nation was incalculable. Her brilliance and application to her work was unsurpassed in the modern era. Nevertheless, brilliant and useful as she was, there would be others similarly brilliant and useful. Such assets are ultimately expendable and when necessary sacrificed for the greater good.

The lookout who called in the assassins at Bantams Clubhouse reported back to his handlers who the primary target had been with and who was first to turn up in the aftermath. The corrupt wing knew of Special Agent Kuntsler, he was a useful idiot who was largely ineffective until Bloom had rejoined the team. Now without her, it was presumed he would revert back to type. Who was that guy who had entered the clubhouse with Bloom and who were the other two who had turned up with Kuntsler? An appraisal of the three pinged back right away; useless idiots of the Boston PD not worth another thought. Of course, in the background to all this, remained the small matter of The Boondock Saints. But at least for now Bloom had been eliminated, that was something that could be built upon towards the ultimate objective.

__________________________________________________

It was reported on the TV news and in the Boston press about the sad death of the very popular and personable FBI Special Agent Eunice Bloom while on active duty. She was very well known and respected as a member of the Boston Bureau office.

The very popular and personable FBI Special Agent Eunice Bloom

The Boston Globe reported it under the headline ‘La Morte d’Eunice’ while the Boston Herald used the headline ‘The heart of Boston has ceased to beat’.

Numerous other articles and photographs about the lady were published over the coming weeks until the remembrance service could be held. There was also this crazy rumour in some sections of the press about her once going rogue and becoming a fugitive before being accepted back, but because of the all encompassing grief at the loss of one so special, no-one of any note would give any credence to such a story, the Bureau itself refused to comment on mere speculation. Neither would the Bureau speculate on what the nature of the investigation was at Bantams Clubhouse that led to Special Agent Bloom’s death.

Internally, John Kuntsler was also at a loss to explain it. He couldn’t get any sense out of Detectives Duffy, Dolly or Kiersky for that matter. All he knew was that Kiersky was heavily involved and needed to find out how much of the blame for what happened should rest at his door. Kiersky.

John could not get the final horrific image of Eunice out of his head, the dried blood on her cheeks and in her hair, it had poured out of her mouth, poured out of her chest, poured everywhere. He needed another image, one he could hold onto, anything but that one.

After some time, John could take it no more and decided he had to go and see Eunice at the mortuary. In three days time the family funeral directors were going to remove the remains so he thought he’d better see her now before it was too late. The head-mortician on duty was very pleasant and professional.

“How is Special Agent Eunice Bloom?” he asked the woman.

“Be rest assured Special Agent Kuntsler, we have taken very good care of her. She has been washed, her hair well prepared and we have put a gown on her.”

“Can I go and see her?”

“Sure, go right down and speak to Gavin who’s on duty at the moment.” she stood to one side so John could make his way down.

Gavin was not so professional, he came across as bored and fed up with life amongst the dead rather than the living. He opened up the hatch and rolled out the tray Eunice lay upon. John forced himself to look at her face. They had done a good job, he could live with this final image even though she was dead, her face with that pale greyish cold look of the long deceased. Thank God they had done something with her hair. It had been swept off her forehead, gathered in a ponytail to one side and rested on the front of her left shoulder. A damn sight better than the state he had last seen it. He was suddenly struck by how delicate she looked.

“Have you seen the autopsy?” Gavin ventured being not quite sure of the reason for the visit. John said he hadn’t, but he may as well hear about it;

“How many times was she shot?”

“Hmm, I’d say about a quarter.”

“Don’t fuck me about! What do you mean?”

“Forensics discovered a bullet hit the floorboards in front of Agent Bloom. The end of one of the boards had been repaired at some stage where a nail had been driven in, but not particularly well. This bullet hit the head of the nail, broke apart and about a quarter piece of it flew up and hit Agent Bloom in the upper right chest causing a fatal haemorrhage to her right lung and surrounding tissues….” Gavin pushed the collar of the gown to one side so John could see the small entry wound. Gavin began to enjoy his new role of pathologist, now he wasn’t so bored after all.

“Fuck off, don’t shit me, I can’t accept that, how come such a small fragment caused so much internal damage?” John had never heard of anything so tenuous.

“The irregular shape of the fragment caused it to turn inside the lady, at least twice. But I can’t say I blame you for reacting like that Sir, the lady should be considered very unlucky, I’ve never come across anything like that in all the years I’ve been here. Just think of it, that bullet, which had already missed her, millimetres either way and it wouldn’t have hit the nail. And another thing, the bullet fragment grazed the edge of one of the metal buttons on her overcoat. If it had hit the button full on it would’ve saved her. That fragment had just enough energy left to go through her overcoat, her jacket and four inches into her chest, one fragment, just one fragment of a spent bullet. It’s margins Sir, incredibly fine margins at work.”

“Yeah, those extra unused bullets in your gun would’ve been decisive, detective fucking Kiersky!” John knew where to apportion blame.

“That’s not all forensics came up with,” Gavin wanted to keep the audience captive, “did you know they found Agent Bloom’s prints all over the Garand? Two of the five hit squad were killed by the Garand, another by probable friendly fire and the other two from Agent Bloom’s Para LDA. She must’ve been in one hell of a fire-fight. There was powder residue all over her hands, hair and clothes, and the kick of the Garand left a noticeable bruise on the front of her shoulder.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” John nodded in appreciation, “she went down fighting all the way.”

“And there’s something more. The dead asshole one block away had been shot once from Detective Kiersky’s gun.”

“Ah so that explains it,” the pieces were starting to fall into place within John’s mind of what had happened, “Kiersky.” He spat out the name of the one to blame for this disaster. Then John was struck by a procedural anomaly;

“How come you fuckers have access to the forensics report and I don’t?”

“Boston PD, what do you expect?” Gavin shrugged his shoulders in fake apology.

“Fuck! They could’ve given me the courtesy of a copy, she was one of my agents, assholes!” John then took out his frustration with the local police on the official present; “I think you ought to go,” John decided he’d tired of being in the company of this corporate drone, “and another thing, get that fucking label off her foot!”

“You what? She needs that….”

“She is not to be labelled, logged or categorised, get it off now!”

“Okay, alright, it’s procedure, what’s your fucking problem?” Gavin pulled at the string tied around the big toe.

“Go on, get out. I want to be alone.” John sent him packing.

“Fuckin’ jerk-off!” John heard muttered as the attendant passed through the door.

So this was it, this would be the last time John had the privilege of seeing Eunice. Her parents were taking her south to be buried in the family plot, all that would happen in Boston would be a remembrance service and dinner afterwards, a eulogy and all the usual crap that had to be gone through. He wanted to reach down and hold her but knew he mustn’t do that, that would be gross disrespect to the remains. He did, however, allow himself to take her hand. It was small, cold and lifeless but it did give him some comfort.

“My dear Eunice,” he prayed over her, “I haven’t forgiven myself for what happened like I know you asked me to, but know this, I am truly repentant for the wrong I did you. At least I have that to rely on. Rely on?” He sorely felt the loss, “I am reliant on you for everything in the department. What am I going to do now without you at my side?”

Somehow the autopsy and forensic reports he had just heard made his despair all the worse. Of all the shitty luck! She took down all the heavily armed assailants sent against her and then what happened? If only when the funeral directors came and opened the hatch to take her back home would they find it empty. It would be empty because she would be back at the Bureau inspiring all the team, just like nothing happened. When John took a peek through the venetian blinds in his office, she’d be there across the way in her own office, probably holding court to the team, special as ever. The thought lifted John’s spirits somewhat;

“Goodbye Bloomy!” he bade farewell at last, retuning the tray back in and closing the hatch, “In three days time, may you not be there when they come for you!”

_____________________________________________

Three days passed and the funeral directors arrived to collect Eunice’s remains. At the morgue the hatch was opened and she was delivered into their care. Three days wait for John, the remembrance service. He hated these things, the endless eulogy, crass superlatives even though for Eunice they were deserved for once. It was disappointing that Eunice’s one time rogue status had leaked out to the press but since she had apparently died in the line of duty everyone decided in the interests of decency not to pursue this, more important was to mourn the passing of a public servant, a heroine. The bomb plot naturally remained buried, Kuntsler and his team sworn to secrecy. It was a shame Eunice could never be publicly recognised by the Establishment for what she had done, but if it ever got out how close the nuclear attack on US soil had succeeded, the CIA and FBI teams pulling guns on one another, the essential role a onetime rogue agent had in disarming the bomb, the public outcry would be unimaginable, heads would roll in high places.

John didn’t properly attend the service, he stayed out of sight at the back of the church, not wishing to see Eunice’s family. The sheer numbers who came to pay their respects, her extended family up from Etruria, all her friends and acquaintances from the Boston area, not forgetting all those recently acquired in DC, it really concentrated John’s mind, just how many would be attending his remembrance service and funeral?

He looked at the casket in the central isle of the church, Eunice would be back off to Dixie soon, she was truly gone, no way back, no way for John. The Bloom family had laid on a buffet fete in the grounds of an adjoining green space by the church. John and his team felt obliged to attend although he stood in a corner alone, isolated, the price one pays at such gatherings for having no friends.

“Have you seen my wife Beatrice?” The southern drawl was unmistakable, had to be William Bloom, Eunice’s father as Beatrice was her mother, John had read up on the family members. Clearly a distinguished southern gentleman, but otherwise unremarkable, it was hard to envisage such a genius as Eunice springing from that tree. One of the mourners informed Mr Bloom that she thought she had seen his wife back in the main marquee and he should try there. John remained in hiding where he was, minute by minute, why did they pass so slowly?

“Has anyone seen my husband?” Again, the unmistakable southern accent, “somebody told me he was down here looking for me?” The voice came from behind one of the smaller marquees in front of John where he was trying to hide himself from view.

Beatrice Bloom strode around the corner and straight to where John was standing. John was stunned. This was 90% Eunice. The way she walked, her face, mannerisms, everything, it wasn’t difficult to guess which side of the family’s genes were dominant. John knew she was aged fifty-eight but she looked nearer forty-five, and beautiful, like her daughter. Eunice’s American flag badge was proudly worn on her jacket lapel, Beatrice was even wearing the diamond pendent that John had arranged to repair, the one Eunice was wearing when she died.

“Ah, Agent Kuntsler? You were Eunice’s direct superior, I believe? No words to say about her at the eulogy? I wonder why…” Beatrice gave John a stern look.

“Mrs Bloom? Your husband, I believe….”

“Aw forget him, it’s you I’d like to talk to, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Me? What about you Mrs Bloom. When you came around the corner just now, I thought it was Eunice, oh, I had to double-take!”

“Yes, that is interesting you should say that. Every time Eunice used to visit us back home and she walked in a room, all the people there would think she was me.”

“I can see why!” John tried to make easy conversation and gave Mrs Bloom a broad smile.

“Agent Kuntsler, did you cynically handcuff and blindfold my baby girl so she couldn’t defend herself and so you could attack her?”

John nearly collapsed in shock. What did she say? Did she really ask that? How did she know? John knew Eunice would protect her own mother from such an awful story so how else had Beatrice found out? Janice? Or someone else from the office present at the service. Why did God hate him? The shame all at once returned;

“I….. I….. That wasn’t me!” There was denial in John’s words but also a belief that there was an element of truth too, old Kuntsler had been the perpetrator, but that crazy messed up man no longer existed. John was new, reborn, that could never happen again from him.

“Did you hurt my baby girl?” Such force from the unendurable question.

“Oh God no! No! Mrs Bloom, I didn’t!” John needed to extricate himself, otherwise he would disintegrate under the withering accusations. Eunice had pleaded with John not to hurt her, now John was pleading not to be subjected to such an examination, for the love of Christ, not this, may hell swallow him up rather than to look into her mother’s eyes, Eunice’s eyes, and face such a test, God help him;

“But Mrs Bloom, she forgave me!” John had at least that to cling to.

“That may be the nature of the good woman, but me to you?, after what you did, never! She willingly surrendered herself into your trust, a law enforcement officer, she was vulnerable and you should’ve been there to protect her and what did you do?, you betrayed that trust in the most brutal of fashions!” The words were flung in his face. John had to try something else, something! Beatrice was a mother, perhaps he could appeal to her parental instinct, turn it from protective attack to sympathetic care;

“Mrs Bloom, you are Eunice’s mother, don’t you understand, I have a mother too…” and he made to put his hands on Beatrice’s shoulders.

“Don’t touch me!!” She struck and punched his hands away with her delicate fists, “And don’t touch my baby girl!” The loathing and revulsion on the woman’s face was unbearable to behold. John didn’t deserve that, he was a good man. But along with the loathing and revulsion, there were also tears coming in Beatrice’s eyes. No, not that, please, was John that evil? She appeared to be fighting them back, John realised that out of pride she did not want him to see them. She brushed her jacket open each side and placed her hands on her hips, arms akimbo, so Eunice…

Arms akimbo; so Eunice

Oh fucking hell, Christ no! She was armed! John could clearly see the butt of the gun in a shoulder holster peeping out from the inside of her left jacket lapel. Had she come to kill him? He had left his own sidearm back at the Bureau armoury out of respect for the event.

“So you have a mother, Cunty?”

What did she just call him?

“Do you have a father?” John swayed on his feet, he didn’t understand, why was everything imploding, collapsing?, “Well you go fuck your pa, d’ya know him?”

Kuntsler ran. Within the hour he was bent over a toilet seat taking in line after line.

_______________________________________________________

Poor Eunice, against all the odds, using all her considerable qualities, she had steered the rocky passage all the way back from Costa Rica, overcame the immense mental trial of single-handedly defusing a nuclear bomb, and survived the severe ravages and near starvation of internal rendition at the hands of a psychopath. Where she had miscalculated and fallen down was her failure to appreciate the boundless ineptitude of Detective Jack Kiersky.

There was still no way out of checkmate for the hapless detective, he couldn’t even kill himself after he had promised the angel Eunice he wouldn’t do so. The unending hell of knowing he had gotten the good woman killed, all because he selfishly wanted a Lou Reed-esque ‘Perfect Day’ with her. To make matters worse Beatrice Bloom had written him a letter expressing regret he could not attend the forthcoming remembrance service, but thanking him for being at her side when Eunice had died. How brave he must have been with only the two of them taking on so many heavily armed criminals, he was a hero. She thanked him from the bottom of her heart and he would always be made welcome at her home in the south should he ever pass that way. Sick to his core, all he could manage as a reply was a short thank you note with the usual platitudes about Eunice’s passing being quick and she hadn’t suffered.

Oh God, how he hated himself, he could barely face the shaving mirror in the morning. Duffy did a great job getting Jack out of bed in the spare room and back into work each day, and eventually back home to his wife and kids. Life had to go on, he was in it, fuck it.

The Saints, however, were less forgiving. They called him to a meeting at McGinty’s. Connor, Murphy, Romeo, and Smecker were already there when Duffy and Dolly arrived with Kiersky. Logic told him he should lie about what had happened, the consequences of telling them how it was couldn’t ever go well. But then he thought of the Guardian Angel on his shoulder and on all their shoulders. He owed it to her to tell the truth, purge his soul, a redemptive catharsis. As he related the exact unfolding of events that dreadful day, the faces of The Saints and Romeo grew darker and darker. Duffy and Dolly’s expressions were suitably horrified from the outset when they learned the magnitude of Kiersky’s deceit and betrayal, the way he had connived to exclude them from the night’s excursion. This fact alone had been sufficient to seal Eunice’s fate. Duffy felt particularly wounded, after all he had done to help Kiersky since that tragic day. Dolly in turn was sickened by the information in a different respect; that poor unfortunate woman, he remembered the night Greenbeans died and she threw herself upon his body so that Dolly had to drag her away in his arms in order that the remains could be removed.

He remembered the night Greenbeans died and she threw herself upon his body

Dolly had to drag her away in his arms in order that the remains could be removed

Smecker sat showing no external emotion, inscrutable. By the time Jack reached the point where Kuntsler, Duffy and Dolly arrived at the clubhouse, he was very tearful at having to relive the awful truth. Then he fell silent, nothing more to add. Now await judgement.

Connor got up off his stool, calmly walked over to Jack and punched him full on in the face, knocking him to the floor. Murphy now waded in, grabbing up Jack off the floor and throwing him headlong into a set of tables and chairs sending them flying. No sooner had Jack landed then Romeo grabbed hold of him in a head lock, his enormous strength almost sufficient to pull the man’s head off;

“This fucker’s neck is mine!” Romeo claimed the quarry tightening his huge arm muscles, “Christ knows I loved that woman!”

The unpalatable truth weighed heavily on the brothers and Romeo given the terrible way they had last parted with Eunice, particularly Connor;

“If I don’t leave now, I’ll shoot the fucking bitch!”

It could never be put right, someone had to pay. Duffy and Dolly were as equally shattered as The Saints on hearing the full warts and all details of what had happened. Nevertheless, the tale as told fitted the pieces of the jigsaw together, why Jack had been acting so weird. They wanted to intervene but couldn’t. In a strange sort of way perhaps being beaten up might do their fellow detective some good, he wanted to be punished and suffer for his catastrophic negligence.

“You useless, worthless fuck-up!” Murphy screamed at the throttled man, “That woman was an exceptional and irreplaceable part of our team!”

“Here, Romeo, let him go, I’ve a better idea…” Connor pulled out his crucifix with one hand and his Eagle pistol with the other.

“Yeah, let’s do the fucker.” Romeo threw Jack back on to the floor.

“Boys, if I could give up my own life to bring her back, you know I would!” Jack offered up his soul in recompense.

“Great idea!” Murphy took out his crucifix and pistol and pulled Jack to his knees.

“Jesus Christ, boys!” Duffy tried to protest, but he knew The Saints, once they had decided something…

“Please don’t! There’s no need to kill the poor bastard, he’s not worth it…” Dolly too tried to intercede.

“Shut the fuck up and keep out of it!” Romeo silenced them.

“Paul! For fucks sake do something!” Duffy ran over to ethereal team player, “We can’t do this!”

“We’re turning our own fucking guns on one another!” Dolly too was now in front of Smecker pleading, “Stop them, they’ll listen to you!”

But Smecker stared straight ahead at the unfolding scene of execution, refusing to intervene.

“You’d better get your Jesus right, boy…” Connor spoke to the back of the head before him as he chambered a round.

“Yeah, for all the fuckin’ good it’ll do you now…” Murphy added, also priming his gun.

Jack felt the two silencers on the back of his skull as the brothers recited their execution prayer over him. He used the short time left to contemplate his worthless existence, surely no-one since Judas had been so detested, vilified and hated? He was unwilling to do it himself, he had promised Eunice he wouldn’t, but it was right The Saints should kill him after what he had done and they were mercifully obliging to help him out of this fix. Peace at last, he closed his eyes. The final words came soon enough;

“In Nomeni Patri, et Fili Spiritus Sancti…..”

As the words were said Jack quickly blessed himself and waited for oblivion….

He waited, and waited…

The brothers looked at one another, angry and frustrated. This was no joke to frighten Kiersky, they meant to kill him and yet when it came to it they couldn’t pull the triggers.

Then came a slow hand clap echoing in the room;

“Well done boys, what a performance!” Smecker’s voice seized everyone’s attention, “You should know better than to recite the prayer with no intention of following it through? It’s sacrilegious, you’re not for that, killing someone on the right side of the law? I mean, c’mon!”

In a rage Murphy floored Kiersky with a blow to the side of the head using the gun butt.

“Well what are we to do with this fucker?” Murphy shouted back at the ghost, “You heard him, it was all his fault, we have to do something with him.”

“Our dear friend Eunice,” Connor lamented, “of all the fucking idiots in the world, having the gross misfortune of getting involved with this one, he got her killed, the fuck-up!”

“Kiersky didn’t kill Eunice,” Smecker wouldn’t hear of it and stated his own view, “It was me, I killed her. That day at FBI training college I picked her out to be my protégé, I may as well have cast her into hell the day I did that.”

The Saints and Romeo reflected for a few moments on what Smecker had said, but they weren’t diverted from their conclusions about Kiersky;

“Either way, I no longer want this worthless car-crash of a man on the team,” Connor was insistent, “I don’t know why we took him on in the first place. He’ll probably end up getting us killed an’ all!” But Smecker remained silent.

“Go on! Get this mutha’ outa here,” Murphy instructed the detectives, “He’s off the team, only you two from Boston PD going forward.”

“And another thing Kiersky,” Connor stood over him, “don’t you ever darken our fucking paths again…”

Duffy and Dolly helped Jack up and escorted him outside. Duffy was in terrible turmoil. He felt great sadness for his friend but he too felt the urge to kick the shit out of him for causing the waste of such a wonderful team member so needlessly; ‘Jack, you’re gonna reap just what you sow!’.

When they got outside Jack was bundled into the back of Duffy’s car, the other two taking up the front seats. Before Duffy could start the car Jack reached forward and took a hold of each man by the shoulder;

“Boys, thank you for sticking by me,” blood trickled out of his smashed mouth as he spoke between the front seats, “I’m so grateful I can always count on you guys, my friends forever, what would I do without you?”

Suitably gutted by such misconceptions, the two up front exchanged glances, with a left hook from the driver and a simultaneous right hook from the adjacent passenger, the face between them was struck with such force, the recipient was knocked backwards into the seat unconscious.

___________________________________________________

The Loreto Norte gang had struck silver, their boss El Nicoya had made it into the big league. Incredible, with an opportunistic contract killing and three million bucks in the bank, how’s that for a day’s work? He didn’t even have to pay those six idiots sent to do the deed since they all got killed. He didn’t even know who the broad was or why she was wanted dead. More importantly, he had ingratiated himself with some very powerful people not only in Boston but New York and DC too. Lucrative work and territory were now being pushed his way, all he needed to do was rise to the new challenges, things were looking very good indeed, not bad for a one time slumdog from the backstreets of Managua.

Unfortunately, El Nicoya had omitted to count in one very important factor in this bright future he envisaged for himself and his cohorts: The Saints. _____________________________________________________

Completely unexpected, Jack received another letter from Beatrice Bloom;

Dear Jack,

I will come straight to the point. I wish to gift to you Eunice’s Mercedes car as she often said to me she had the impression you had a soft spot for it and liked going out on assignments in it with her. I believe it is the car she was using the day she died and to tell you the truth I always worried about her safety in the career she had chosen for herself. Therefore since this car was always the one she used for work I do not wish to retain it but I do want it to go to someone who I know will appreciate it and give it a good home. For my part, I’m not really one for flash cars, just give me the open road, my old Dodge pickup and my shotgun stashed behind the headrest, and I’m as happy as a roadrunner! However, one has to draw the line somewhere with one’s principles so I will be retaining Eunice’s Ford Mustang. That was her leisure car - did you ever get a ride in it? Fast and furious girl, my Eunice, I often wondered which side of the family she got it from! Enjoy the Mercedes (for God’s sake get that wing repaired!), a chauffeur will be delivering it to you in the next day or so.

Always your friend,

Beatrice

“Well didn’t God move in mysterious ways? And Eunice had a Mustang?” Jack spoke to himself bemused, “She certainly kept that one quiet!”

The chauffeur called at Jack’s apartment and handed him the car-keys. The Mercedes had been left in the apartment underground parking lot. Jack rushed down to see it and there it was waiting for him like a silver chalice, the Holy Grail.

He fearfully opened the driver’s door, being one so unworthy and peered into the sumptuous black leather interior. He looked at the driver’s seat and steering wheel, it didn’t look right, not how he remembered it. He raised the seat, brought it forward and lowered the steering wheel. Then he rushed around to the other side, got in and viewed the adjustments from the passenger seat, yes, that was it, ready for Eunice to jump in, fire it up, ram the gear shift into drive, and floor it so they could shoot off, reckless, carefree. Her packets of chewing gum were still in the central console, and the telephone…. Never to be laughed or bantered into again.

All at once his emotions began to overpower him, he couldn’t bear to look into the rear seat area where Eunice had spent her last mortal night, that night with him, in his arms. Jack reached out his hand and gently stroked the circular emblem in the centre of the steering wheel;

“Oh dear lady, what have I done?”

______________________________________________

Etruria County, Church of The Virgin Mary and Saint Peter cemetery, Bloom family plot. Paul Smecker watched from a safe distance and waited until the Bloom family mourners had dispersed after they witnessed the casket descend into the ground and cast the usual few symbolic roses and shovels of earth upon it. He watched the grave diggers complete the task and leave the resting place with a tidy mound of fresh earth over it. Eunice was now in the care of her ancestors.

It was now safe for Paul to approach the burial place and pay his own private respects. Extraordinarily, he remembered watching in secret Eunice paying her own respects over his fake grave all those years ago. What a fucked up and crazy world we live in……., it was just that, this lady no longer lived in it, and, her grave wasn’t fake, it was the real thing. Paul keenly recognised the ‘real thing’ concept cut both ways.

The woman was smart, too fucking smart, surely as Christ already knew His fate when He arrived in triumph at the gates of Jerusalem, Eunice must have also known how her own return would end, that too after a brief period of triumph. Sooner or later someone would get her for what she did to expose The Roman. But she had to come back, continuing out in Costa Rica was as good as being dead, or in many respects worse, being the living dead.

He placed the roses on the headstone but struggled to find anything to say worthy of the lady entombed. Finally;

“My beloved Eunice, I am so sorry I brought you to this, gone before your time and never to achieve your ultimate potential. Forgive me and from now on look after and protect me. If it pleases you, may I remain your humble servant. Be at peace now Eunice, forever in heaven.”

1 note · View note

specialangeleunicebloom-blog · 8 years ago

Text

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0By0-uopLKbeCSml4am54WmtxTDQ

Chapter 10: Tales of Brave Ulysses

Through the inter-world communication highway Guardian Angel Eunice Bloom contacted Jack and summoned him to Rocco’s Bar. There was to be meeting of the Guardian Angels and Jack was required to attend. He was very apprehensive on having to put himself once again in the intermediary world, it was surreal and frightening but at least he would get to see his beloved Eunice again.

Jack walked into the bar-room and was immediately hit with the divine image giving him such a feeling of unprecedented elation, there she was sitting on a barstool at the bar. She was not as he had expected, dressed as The Sheriff, but in much the same way as in her mortal existence, two piece navy blue pin-striped suit, cream silk blouse tied at the neck with a smart bow, those shoes, the Para LDA at home in the crotch holster, and her hair beautifully pinned up. This wasn’t the playful ‘shoot ‘em up’ sheriff, this was Eunice the FBI Special Agent. The business at hand would be serious indeed.

“Eunice! Eunice!” he ran over and hugged her tightly.

“Go on, I said you could have a hug whenever you liked, cosha-cowboy!” She put him instantly at ease. Jack took the proverbial mile and kissed her delicate neck, so wonderfully soft, together with the scent of the Givenchy fragrance, he didn’t want to let go.“Come on, too much the real thing is bad for you.” She put her hands to his shoulders and gently ushered him to the adjacent stool.

“Yrrrreeeereeeoowww!!”

The cat leapt off the stool just in the nick of time before Jack sat on it.

“Fuck! The bar-cat!” Eunice admonished herself, “Sorry Jack, I didn’t see it there.”

“There’s a cat here?” Jack watched it shoot off into a dark corner.

“Yeah, Rocco’s cat, don’t fuckin’ ask.” Eunice terminated the matter.

“No drinks Eunice? Shall I get some like before?” Jack got back down off the stool all too eager to serve.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You’re a fuckin’ asshole!”

It caught Jack’s eye exactly as it uttered the line from the cage hanging up behind the bar.

“Christ, you have a parrot too?”

“That’s Joey, he adopted me and now he’s taken up permanent residence here. Don’t look at me, he learned that from Rocco, honest!”

“I’ll get the drinks.”

“Not this time, Jack, that’s the job of the barman, and here he comes…”

In lurched Rocco in that purposeful way he always walked;

“Rocco!” Jack strode over and met him halfway across the bar-room.

“Howya doin’ kid. Hear you’ve been havin’ a bit of a rough time of it lately?” Both men embraced in the centre of the floor, “What can I get you?”

“Bourbon, definitely a Bourbon!” Jack called after Rocco as he lifted the hatch.

“Hold that order, barman! We need more people so we can really get the craic going…” Eunice announced just as another arrival came through the door;

“Greenbeans!” Jack leapt in the air for joy, “I don’t believe it, you piece of shit!” Both men grabbed hold of one another almost as if their salvation depended on it.

“You dick-wad dogsbody, you think I’d leave you behind to face it all by yourself?” Greenly gratefully exchanged abuse. Eunice threw her head back laughing in that unique way of hers, loving the surprise she had concocted for everyone’s enjoyment.

“The Saints are coming? They’re here!” the heavy Irish brogue was unmistakable. Jack looked towards the door in expectation, in awe. Il Duce came in and calmly walked over to Jack holding out his hand. When Jack accepted the offer with his own trembling hand, Il Duce put his other hand on Jack’s shoulder;

“Are you alright, son?” Jack nodded unable to speak, “Barman! Four Bourbons and one for yourself!” Il Duce placed the order leading Jack and Greenly over to the barstools, “But I shall insist on an Irish whiskey later!”

Before Il Duce sat down Eunice stood up and he took her in his arms;

“Gentlemen, isn’t Julie a lovely girl.”

It was a statement, not a question. Naturally there were no dissenting voices, just smiles in agreement. Everyone being seated, the drinks were poured.

“Well Jack,” Il Duce addressed the only mortal present, “we thought it about time you met God’s very own elite team of Guardian Angels, what a happy little band we are, helping the Good Lord’s earthly friends out of all their little fixes and travails. We even have our own elite of the elite, Guardian Agent Eunice on side!”

“Get the fuck outa here, Duce,” Eunice made light of her exalted status, “I’m no better than any other angel here!”

“You don’t get called Guardian Agent in heaven for nothing.” Il Duce persisted.

“She’s a complete fucking bitch in matter of fact!” Rocco chipped in causing the whole group to fall about laughing.

“Strange, Eunice, you seem just like the way you were…. I mean….Fuck! What am I saying!” Jack couldn’t believe his ineptitude and insensitivity, why was he always like that?

“Come on, let’s not dwell on that.” Il Duce helped Jack out, “We need to get down to business.”

“So what do you want with me?” Jack tentatively asked.

“We hear you’ve been kicked off the team, the boys no longer want you around?” Il Duce sought confirmation.

“After what happened to this dear lady here, can you blame them? I don’t know how any of you can bear the sight of me, oh Eunice, I’m so sorry…”

“Yeah, yeah, change the fucking record, Jack!” Eunice wasn’t interested in covering the same old ground, “we have to move on, what happened, happened and can’t be undone, accept it.”

“The reason why we’ve asked you here, Jack, is that my boys are in great danger,” Il Duce explained, “they are going after the gang who killed Eunice. Take it as Gospel, they’re going to kill every last one of them, no questions asked. Unfortunately, we believe it is not going to work out like that. Confucius said that when you embark on the enterprise of revenge, dig two graves. We’re not privy to the full facts but we know it will end tragically, and I’m determined that won’t happen to my boys, I love them too much. We need someone to intervene and save them, and you’re the man to do it.” Poppa paused to let his words to Jack sink in before continuing; “Jack, I heard what they did to you at McGinty’s, but don’t mind the boys, they were never particularly very good at dealing with the death of a friend, all the angels present here can vouch for that.”

“It’s alright, I wanted them to hurt me, and besides, what can I do to help? Look at me, I’m a fuck-up!” Jack expressed his total lack of self belief, “I’ve lost all my friends, the most painful of all is Duffy and Dolly, they’ve frozen me out and won’t speak to me, they ignore me when I try and speak to them.”

“Aaahh! The guys just need some time, they’ll come round.” Greenbeans dismissed the matter in relation to his PD friends as a mere trifle. But Jack continued in the same woeful manner;

“Not a week goes by without being punched in the face by somebody. Last week patrol officer Sharon Laker left some evidence to do with a case I was working on in her squad car. I asked her if she would go and get it for me, and do you know what she says to me? ‘Get it your fucking self, Fed killer!’.”

“She don’t really mean that, Jack,” Greenbeans continued to play down the situation, “I’ve worked with Shazza, she’s got a heart of gold, that girl.”

“It’s gross insubordination!” Jack disagreed, “I looked to Duffy and Dolly for moral support but they just nodded and smiled at Sharon instead! Anyway, I went down to the station parking lot and as I was retrieving the evidence from the front of the car this guy jumps me from behind and knocks me down. As I tried to get up he slammed the fuckin’ door on my head!”

“Christ, that sounds painful,” Rocco winced, “that poor door!”

“This tall young looking guy, reddish-brown collar length hair…” Jack gave the description.

“Oh-oh,” Eunice looked away, “sounds familiar…”

“I asked around, Carl Zimmerman. Yeah, that’s who it was. You told me he was assisting you on an investigation?” Jack asked Eunice.

“Carl, oh Carl,” Eunice thought on the young man, “Don’t take any notice of Carl, he’s just a kid with this massive crush on me, you know, little boy hankering after the older experienced woman thing, funny really.”

“So I brings the evidence up to the office but I can’t continue because my head is all busted up,” Jack wouldn’t cease his lament, “the guys and Sharon can’t believe the state I’m in, giving me such astounded looks, so I takes the rest of the day off sick. As I was passing their desks on the way out expecting to be ignored as usual, I hears 'Hey kid,’ I turned around and himself and Duffy exchanged a concerned look before moving it onto me, 'look after yourself.’ Dolly finished quietly.”

“It seems the guys want to forgive you but can’t bring themselves to do it, not quite yet,” Greenbeans summed up his take on team PD relations, “Like I said, time is a great healer and they’ll be right with you again. You know the guys, they’re hurting so bad over Eunice.”

“It’s not just them, everybody hates me,” Jack was determined to condemn himself, “they all know what I did, the way they look at me and talk about me, I can’t take it anymore, there’ll be no forgetting, no forgiving. Oh God, I dread the future!”

“So you’re worried about the world hating you, Jack?” Il Duce asked, “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last who’s had the misfortune of going through that. Didn’t Christ go through it during his trial and crucifixion? Didn’t our dear Eunice here have much the same during her internal rendition and impeachment hearing? There is a lot of it about, the all pervasive, self inflicted and soul destroying hatred of the hater. All of us angels here are dead and have left the mortal world behind, but you Jack, you are in it and are of the world, and if the world hates you, then know that it hated God before it ever hated you.”

“And as for forgiveness, Jack?” Eunice now spoke, “You know that I have forgiven you, isn’t that enough?, but you also seek the forgiveness of the world at large? Well, isn’t forgiveness a funny thing? It can do so much for the forgiver even more so than to the forgiven, but in this respect it is much the same as physical exercise, it has few takers. Jack, don’t waste your time with them.”

“And finally, this thing about dreading the future?” Rocco’s turn now as sage, “Never worry about the future, it comes soon enough…”

“I know what you’re saying, and you’re just trying to be nice,” Jack hoped if he recognised their clemency they might let him off the hook, “but I’m totally useless, I can’t do it, I can’t!”

“You don’t realise how perfect you are for the job in so many respects,” Il Duce begged to differ, “cause and effect. If you were responsible for the inadvertent death of Eunice, then my boys getting killed going after these thugs can be traced back to that event also. So do you want that on your slender shoulders too? Saving my boys is a way of redeeming yourself, it’s also a way of getting yourself back on the team.”

“If I can come in after being rogue and rejoin the FBI, then you can do much the same, Jack, rejoin Team Saints.” Eunice made the comparison.

“There is something very special about this band of mortals and immortals, The Boondock Saints and their acolytes, nobody is cut adrift, we stay together, God put us together, only He can tear us apart.” Il Duce told Jack, “If you’re a prodigal son, then you must be returned to where you belong.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? I know nothing of what’s going to happen. Why can’t you guys help them? You’re supposed to be their guardian angels, aren’t you?” Jack pleaded to give up the responsibility.

“We can’t intervene,” Rocco spoke up, “it’s hard to explain but we can’t fuck too much with the timeline, we’ve done too much already, finding out that the boys going after these thugs will end badly.”

“Well, let’s just warn them, I’ll call them!” Jack came up with the obvious solution.

“No can do Jack,” it was Greenbeans who now advised his friend, “again, that will fuck too much with the timeline. Things need to play out as much as they near would’ve done with no intervention on our part. We can bend the timeline, but do it too much and it will snap. God knows what will happen then, literally!”

“Do not under any circumstances warn them.” Eunice gave Jack the look she seriously meant every word.

“Look, Jack, you know you have Eunice as an angel on your shoulder but now you have all of us on your shoulder too.” Il Duce relayed the new set of circumstances, “With all of us guiding you, surely you can’t fail?”

“How will I know what to do, when is this tragedy supposed to happen?” Jack felt he was being inextricably talked into something beyond his capabilities.

“It is going to happen soon, probably within the next ten days or so. We will only know the location when the boys actually start to plan the hit. Then you must act on our communication and we will guide you. I say we, but it will mainly be Eunice.” Il Duce was explicit.

“With Eunice on my shoulder, I know I can’t fail!” Jack suddenly felt a surge of optimism at the mention of the Guardian Agent’s name.

“I believe in you Jack,” Eunice gave her encouragement, “We all do, we know you’ll succeed. Save them, and keep us proud to call you our friend.”

“Everyone!” Greenbeans jumped to his feet, glass in hand, “To Jack, our friend!”

“To Jack, our friend!” all the guardian angels enjoined. Jack felt so humbled and yet so proud, to have such a host as friends, watching over him and helping him, life was suddenly good once more.

“Our business is done, our friend has agreed to help us!” Rocco pronounced and produced fresh bottles of Irish whiskey and Bourbon, “Let the craic commence!”

Jack was on board one hundred percent alright, anything to put right the wrong that was essentially his fault. However, there was one condition in accepting the mission he needed to inform his immortal handlers about, could he also fulfil a personal wish of his?

Party-Piece time!

“I will do as you ask on one condition…” Jack began.

“Anything Jack, your wish is our command!” Il Duce was most accommodating even though he had no idea what Jack wanted;

“Eunice, can I see your cowgirl gun twirling routine? I’ve heard it’s something really spectacular to see!” Jack stated the condition.

“Don’t be an idiot, Jack,” Eunice didn’t think it was a good idea, “I’m not dressed up for it and I don’t have my Army SA with me.”

“But you’re an angel, transform yourself into The Sheriff.” Jack tried to persuade her.

“Go on, Eunice, do it for him.” Greenbeans took his friend’s part.

“No, I’m just not in the mood.” Eunice wouldn’t indulge him.

“Well if not that, then something else?” Jack had another idea, “I hear because you’re a Guardian Angel, you have a winged form?”

“Oh fuck, not that!” Il Duce expressed his complete disinterest in the subject.

“If that’s true, then please Eunice, can I see you in that form?” Jack pressed on.

“It’s not unique to Eunice you know,” it was Rocco who spoke, “we can all do that too.”

“The wings are just a symbolic thing,” Eunice decided to tell Jack how it was, “just like a badge, such as my Sheriff badge or my FBI ID. One’s wings are rarely shown, but especially not on assignment, can you imagine that? You’d end up giving the poor bastard you’re trying to protect a heart attack! They even have some flight capabilities but you have to be careful, that is unless you want a face full of fucking pavement! The only time they should be properly shown is when all the angels have to form up on The Man’s official annual birthday bash, similar to the Queen of England’s Trooping of the Colour. Sorry, Jack, but that’s the only time they’re shown.”

“Oh come on Eunice, just for me, please….” Jack begged her.

“Fuck the rules! The rules are there to be broken!” Rocco thought it a shame they couldn’t see Eunice more often in her winged form, “Why don’t you do it for him, Bloomy?”

“I’ll do mine if you’ll do yours!” Eunice laid down the challenge.

“Fuckin’ deal!” Rocco grabbed the chance to shake on it, “You first!”

“Oh no, no, no, no….” Il Duce put a hand over his face shaking his head at the same time, “You’re like a pair o’ fuckin’ bairns…”

“Alright everyone, stand back while I do my little Wonder Woman thing.” Eunice got up from the bar and moved to the centre of the room. She stood to attention, closed her eyes and slowly raised her arms, palms upwards as if trying to levitate in flight.

There was a brilliant blinding flash of light but not painful to Jack’s eyes. Once they became used to it and began to refocus, the image before him was indeed truly divine. The Guardian Angel Eunice wore a crown of gold which itself was swamped by waves of billowing fair hair, the pure white flowing robes were edged with silver braid, her eyes shone with a luminous vibrancy, huge snow white wings at least ten foot tip to tip filled the bar area, almost touching the ceiling. In her right hand she wielded a golden spear. She appeared as if to float, her sandaled feet did not touch the floor. To bathe in the sunshine of her omnipotence, one was inexorably drawn to her. Jack’s knees started to tremble and he felt obliged to kneel before the image. The Guardian Angel Eunice began to speak to him, the words flowed to his naked ears like the siren sweetly singing, dreamlike as if passing over the corn of the Elysian Fields….

“Jack,……Jack,….. Do not kneel before me…….. I’m not the fucking Pope!”

As Jack obeyed and struggled to his feet, there was another blinding flash and it was all over, there stood Eunice in her professional suit to take a bow before the loud applause from Rocco and Greenly.

“Oh Eunice! That was unbelievable!” Jack could hardly catch his breath, “Does The Man choose your outfit?”

“Of course not! We get to choose our own image,” Eunice corrected him, “I based my image just now on the Greek goddess Athena, pagan artefact though she is, the flowing white robes, the crown and the spear.”

“A Greek goddess?” Jack fawned in wonderment, “Eunice, let me be your brave Ulysses!”

“I do have other angel modes you know!” Eunice suspected Jack was becoming dangerously besotted again.

“You should’ve shown him your ‘Silver Lady’ winged image, Eunice. I prefer that one to ‘Athena’.” Greenbeans advised.

“Well if you don’t mind, it’s my turn now anyway!” Rocco got up from the bar and took centre stage, “Guess what I chose for my fuckin’ winged image!”

“Lord preserve us, I can’t take much more of this bullshit.” Il Duce confided to himself wishing they would show some semblance of maturity.

“You’ll want to see this, Jack!” Greenly warned his friend to keep focused. Rocco did as Eunice had done, he stood to attention and raised his arms. There was an enormous puff of impenetrable black smoke, and within it a tremendous roar of some diabolical engine, throbbing with such violence, the whole bar-room shook in sympathy to it. Then two huge spurts of red flame appeared from within the cloud to burn it away so that The Guardian Angel Rocco could be revealed at last. Rocco’s pure black wings edged with golden feathers were even bigger than those of Eunice, German helmeted and clad completely in black leather, he rode upon the ultimate two wheeled stallion, the beast that was the Terminator’s Harley Davidson, complete with two side holstered sawn off shotguns. Rocco revved the engine, at once the two super charged jets of flame shot forth from the exhausts. The vibrations shook Jack to the bone, the roar threatened to burst his eardrums.

“Now that’s what you call a Hells Angel!” Greenbeans shouted to Jack over the din. Rocco released the clutch but held the front brake and began his rear wheel-spin on the bike, burning rubber and tracing out a black circle on the floorboards. The fumes from the exhaust and burning rubber began to form a new cloud to obscure the Angel Rocco. Two final jets of flame from the exhausts blasted away the smoke and it was over. Rocco stood before the applauding Eunice, Greenly and Jack, and then took his bow, Greenly being the most vocal;

“Whoo-hoo Rocco! You knocked us right out of the fuckin’ park!”

“Rocco?” Jack was unsure how to interpret what he had just seen, “You mean to tell me you’re working for the other side? You’re a…….. a Hells Angel, you’re really from Hell?”

All the angels burst out laughing at this idiotic misreading of the image, all apart from Rocco;

“Fucking retard!” He didn’t find the assertion amusing in the least.

“Your turn now, Il Duce!” Rocco piped up.

“No fucking chance, I’m not into all that showboating shit.” Poppa declined the invitation, “Besides, I can’t compete with either you or Eunice. You know what I look like, a decrepit old Moses coming down the mountain clutching his two crumbling tablets, yeah, that’s right, paracetamols!”

“Do it for the kid now he’s here.” Greenbeans backed up Rocco.

“What do you think, should I do it?” Poppa looked to Eunice.

“You don’t want none of that.” She spoke in such a way that there was a finality about it.

“In that case I’ll show you my winged form!” Greenbeans got up to take the floor in readiness for the display.

“Oh for the love of Christ, don’t.” Eunice tried to dissuade her fellow angel.

“What do you mean ‘don’t’? It’s really ace, I’ve based my main winged form on the Emperor Julius Caesar!” Greenbeans was certain his display could easily match the awesome imagery of the other two.

“No Greenbeans, it doesn’t go well with you.” Eunice wasn’t convinced, “The pink turtledove wings, the above the knee toga, the tacky gold leaf head garland and the silver spray painted sandals, then there’s the cheap looking glittered sword. You look like Liberace on speed!”

“How can you say that!” Greenbeans became indignant, “I took a long time working on it, getting the image just right!”

“What she’s trying to tell you, as diplomatically as she can…..” Rocco decided to make it plain, “Pony Boy!”

“Jesus! If I have to look at that, then all deals are off!” Jack informed his handlers.

The deal was done.

Beautiful Angel Eunice traversing the Elysian Fields (plus Joey!)

1 note · View note