The girl

1.       An Introduction(7)

The girl was running. She was being chased. Closely. The pursuers were getting closer. Her breath came in gasps, but she didn’t slow down. For she knew, neither would her pursuers. Her pounding heart beat against the thin envelope in her jacket. If she could only drop it of somewhere to pick up later… she dismissed the idea in a second. It would slow her down and besides, they would see her reaching for it. Ducking down a side street, she considered her other possibilities. Having run about five and a half kilometres, she could not run much further. She had hoped that the heavy, mountain-like soldiers would not have been able to run far and fast. But the soldiers were well trained; she could not hold that against them. She glanced at her unusual watch. It was nearly four, but her watch held the numbers 0:04:57:89. Five minutes. The girl glanced at her compass, which was attached to the curious watch. She muttered something darkly under her breath, then cut off at a completely different angle to where she was running, switching directions immediately; and the hulking chasers followed.

The girl wondered if she would be out of the blast range by now, having run in circles for ages trying to throw off her pursuers. But then again, she had been running in the wrong direction for too long to be sure she was safe. Dead north, that was her aim. Momentarily looking over her shoulder, she almost knocked over a girl her age running furiously from the other direction.

“Watch it!” The girl snarled threateningly. The escapee didn’t pause, but instead called out softly over her shoulder as she leapt to her feet, “Sorry!”

Now running wildly, the girl expected at any minute to feel the two pronged taser that the security guards carried to sink into her back. After a few minutes, she summarised that somehow, the guards had been slowed down or even stopped, but she could not risk making sure. Glancing at her compass, she sped off down a side street…and came face to face with a towering building.

The MacLeod Research Centre of Chemical Science, more commonly known as the MacLeod Science Centre; was standing right in front of her. The very building that she was escaping from. She gaped, then as the momentum of her charge kept her running, she glanced at the two devices on her wrist once more. The watch held the despairingly low numerals 0:01:09:12, her compass pointed straight at the building. Furious at her blundering and maybe fatal error, she tried to put on a new burst of speed, directly away from the building, running now as if her life depended on it. But her extra speed did not account for much. She had now run for about six and a bit kilometres flat out, and even though those giving the chase had as well, they seemed fitter then her and she could now hear their slightly less ragged breath over hers. They were catching up. They couldn’t be any closer than 9 metres away. The girl’s chest hurt, dodging down an alley way, she once again caught a glimpse of the peculiar timekeeper. 0:00:12:09. “Blast!” She muttered uselessly, immediately regretting the waste of breath.

0:00:10:00.

The watch ticked noisily in the seemingly silent surroundings.

I’m not out of range.

Her breath was wheezy and shallow.

0:00:05:00

The watch beeped louder and louder.

Faster!

Her heart thumped guiltily and painfully against the thin sheet of stolen evidence.

All this for just that.

Her feet thumped desperately against the unyielding tarmac.

0:00:01:00

A long, resounding beeeeeeeeeep echoed in the frightening stillness.

‘I’m not out of range!’ she thought desperately.

The girl stopped, blood roaring through her ears and into her head. She crouched in a protective ball covering her head.

Then in the stillness…

BOOM!

The MacLeod Science Center skyscraper exploded in an explosion so earsplitting and intense that the girl fell to the ground, unable to see or hear a thing. But she knew that the worst was yet to come. Faster than the eye could blink, the shock waves reached her. Blown up and off the ground, tossed about like a leaf in the whirlwind of force. She was carried along with garbage and dead branches; where she came to rest with what felt like a split skull, a broken ankle and a broken finger. Also, her body was aching all over. Slowly lifting a hand to the side of her head, she groggily felt her throbbing head, and her fingers came away with blood on them. She wanted to lie there forever, revelling in the silence and peace. But work was yet to be done, as the sharp envelope corner jutting into her bruised ribs reminded her. Picking herself up, she hobbled as fast as she could away from the scene, leaving a silhouette of where she had landed in the gathering dust and two large stunned forms, the reminder of her escape.

˜·™

Into the shinning, pristine headquarters the dust-caked, roughly bandaged girl strode, then as she landed on her foot swathed in white strips of cloth, gave an involuntary gasp of pain and a lurch of surprise, ending up on the ground once more. A few others around snickered and the normally proud, but now disgruntled figure. A very definite hoot of unsuppressed laughter from somewhere in the throng of people.

Picking herself up off the now dirtied marble floor, the girl; Shelly Hatterson; limped off into the vast expanse of offices that seemed to reach into the distance. There was no need to tell the chief that she had accomplished the mission �" she would never be able to type up her report with a broken finger. Slowly wending her way through the countless desks, Shelly aimed for the health centre. Doctor Lilly would fix her up, while chiding her the entire time for the dreadful attempt at bandaging her own wounds. Shelly was lucky that she hadn’t received more serious injury after her head split open a few weeks ago. After all the dangerous missions that she had attempted and minorly or majorly injured herself in; being tripped by her hateful fellow worker and falling to the floor, cracking her head against the floor was her worst injury so far.

As she expected, the doctor fussed and berated Shelly over and over until Shelly’s already thin patience finally snapped and she snarled at the other.

“Yes, yes, I get the point, just be quiet!” But under Doctor Lilly’s disapproving and completely unsympathetic gaze, she finished off with an only slightly softer “Just get me fixed, will you?” “

Yes, yes, I’m sure, but I don’t feel a bit sorry for you, having been nearly blown up, exhausting yourself by running for that long and that fast without respite and-”

“but-” Shelly tried to interrupt, but the other wouldn’t allow it

“and, Miss Hatterson, and, all on 3 hours sleep for two days.” Shelly made a face that really did not suit her. “Oh, get that ridiculous mask off.” At this, Shelly scowled further, then removed her clever mask. She carefully pulled off her long, thin nose, peeled off her frecks, gently took out her green contacts, her fake braces that were attached to her big false teeth, her fringe and undid some light streaks in her dyed hair.

“Happy now?”

“Not completely. You need to get rid of that ridiculously pale skin. Go have a shower and use some of that soap that takes that fake paling solution off.”

“I need to take this to the chief. I don’t need-”

Doctor Harbor’s petite nose wrinkled as she stood with the air con blowing at her from behind Shelly Hatterson. “Also, you stink too bad to think about. The chief would surely kick you out of the office.”

˜·™

An hour later, a now completely different (yet still grumbling) Shelly sat waiting for the chief outside his office. She was very lightly tanned, with no freckles to speak of at all. Vivid brown, earnest eyes that betrayed a superior arrogance looked out of a pale face which was covered by her damp and knotted curly hair. Her nose was small, not very fat; and her pale lips hid small sharp white teeth.

A loud buzzzz filled the area where Shelly was waiting and an invisible panel in the wall slid away to welcome her in. Shelly silently walked down the familiar long carpeted hallway with a big metal door at the end. The hall’s long, thick carpet almost glowed a deep crimson, adding the only real colour to the pale parchment walls and metal roof. Just before reaching the reinforced metal door, the silent walker turned and reached a deceivingly normal patch of wall, and pressed her hand against it, not forcefully, but adding just enough pressure to lay her hand flat against the papery plaster. Materialising out of nowhere, a blue light traced over her hand once, twice, three times and a keypad of the exact same blue light appeared next to her hand. Typing in a lengthy pass code, Shelly stated in a clear, practised voice “K8a to see C3f. I have completed mission 27b and have the requested item for collection.” After a few seconds of silence, a voice replied mechanically “Permission accepted. K8a, you may proceed into the chief’s office.” Then, directly behind Shelly, another secret panel slid open and she walked through a foot-thick iron door into an office.

The office had, like the most of the rest of the building, polished marble floors and shiny ceiling. What was slightly different about these walls, though, was the thin, shallow slits that covered the walls. Forming patterns in a repetitive design, the walls were anything but flat. The desk was made of an elegant, dark cherry wood and polished until it gleamed. Beneath the desk, there was a rich, colourful rug that brightened the sparsely furnished room. In one corner, a filling cabinet stood proudly; tall and bursting. Facing the desk, in another corner, was a large television that was sectioned into eighths, five of which were continuously changing, showing the camera security. The other three were focused on the entrance and exit, the waiting-room to the chief’s office, and the long corridor leading to the chief’s office. A whole wall was taken up by a one-way, bulletproof glass wall, looking into the main work area, so the chief could see all that was going on outside, but all the people in the office areas could see only a blank wall. The office was small, not inconveniently small, but just the right size for a chief whose main source was his networked Government Protected Computer Source, which everyone called a laptop.

Shelly had been in there so many times that she did not deign to look around, focusing instead on the chief, who turned slowly in his chair and said:

“Good afternoon, Miss Hatterson.”

Shelly replied stiffly:

“Good afternoon, Mr. Eastman, I have the requested information you asked for.”

“Thank you” Mr. Eastman took both the unfriendly blunt hint from Shelly and the mission report unconcernedly. “Where is it?” As Shelly produced the thin yellow envelope, she said “I didn’t open it, because I suspected an Explosive Envelope Sealer or a decoy. Oh, and I dismantled the tracking device on the way over here.”

“Hmm.” the distracted chief said, running his light fingers over the curios object. He turned it over, smelt it, felt it again, tapped it against the desk and listened carefully. After a lengthy and thorough examination of it, he said quite decisively: “It’s a decoy.” Shelly, about to speak, was stopped by the chief who held up a hand as he slipped the envelope through an invisibly deep slit in the wall where the small envelope disappeared.

"So, how were your injuries inflicted, Miss Hatterson?" Mr. Eastman inquired, with an air of amusement.

"My own idiotic fault," The other replied angrily, "The building held a strong metal that pulled my compass out of line. I had been running for about 25 minutes flat out when I ran into the building. I only had about 70 seconds to get out of range, so I couldn't run far."

"Ah." was the response.

Then, after a moment of uncomfortable silence; the opened envelope flitted, slightly scorched, down to them from an overhead slit to land on the chief’s desk.

The chief read it with evident interest, looked up and grinned at Shelly. Wordlessly, he handed the paper over to her, and her mouth twitched into a weary attempt at a smile as she read it. It read:

FINAL DRAFT: *Remember to send*

To  Akilah Ra’id 

I hope this letter finds you well. I am in the best of health should you ever want to ask. Since I have made various and numerous security precautions, I am sure that this letter shall never reach the hands of the spy network that always spoils our plans and you will have no need of worry. My men are building a weapon to deploy on Lyons, should that be where their secret operation is being held, which we have credible reason to believe. Anyway, my men are building a bomb that will, on contact, release a thick toxic smoke that can travel over 10 kilometres in less than ten minutes . This Toxic gas can kill any human within 3 minutes of contact by burning skin and irritating the Lungs to, sometimes, the point of internal bleeding. Also, the blast will severely affect those in a three-quarter kilometre radius and kill all those within a 50/60-metre radius. It is the ultimate weapon; I am inviting you to join me in personally releasing the weapon at 6:35 am on March 1^st.Since I am so sure that this will never reach enemy hands, I will tell you where my men are creating it. They are situated in a large, run-down shed on the outskirts (17 kilometres south) of the small country town named Kilndown in England. I hope that you find this information helpful in your preparation of operation 2b that will commence on day 342. Once again, I hope you are all the better for this news.

From ,

          Mr. Lionel Brutus

 Shelly was smiling broadly now, picturing the infamous Lionel Brutus writing the draft; as she carefully placed the precious envelope on the desk of the chief.

“It’s quite a letter, isn’t it, Miss Hatterson!” said the chief, starting her out of her reverie.

“Yes, Mr Eastman.” Shelly agreed whole heartedly, slightly happier after reading the humorous letter.

“So I think you deserve a two month break from field work.” he contibued. Shelly frowned slightly.

“Two months? But why? Personally, I find that I will be adequately healed in a few weeks ready for my next mission. I can keep working as I would like to continue-”

The chief silenced her with a wave of his hand. “I think two months is adequate for your work. And the conditions of it! Nearly being blown apart, not getting any sleep, being injured, and facing extreme danger. Also, I feel like I haven’t been giving you enough leave, Miss Hatterson. How’s your head, by the way?”

Shelly smiled and subconsciously ran her hand along the faint scar hidden by her hair. “It’s fine, thank you Chief. And thank you for the leave.”

“You are most welcome.” A smile twitched at Mr. Eastman’s face, almost as though he knew something that Shelly didn’t. “You may go now, if you have nothing else to say.”

“No…thank you, though.” The girl walked towards the hidden entrance, missing the chiefs’ broad grin. Just before reaching the doorway, however, Shelly turned. “It’s the 3^rd of January today, right?” she asked curiously.

“Right, as usual, Miss Hatterson.” the chief answered.

“Then how will I disrupt the making of the bomb?” Shelly, dreading the answer. It was expected of everyone who worked there to continue with their mission until complete.

“You won’t.” he said, carefully watching the expression on Shelly’s face. “I have chosen Lucine Kennedy for the job, I’m sure she is an adequate replacement.”

The expression on Shelly’s face was hard to read. Among the hate, resentment and surprise, anger and horror of the very idea showed most prominently on her features. Suddenly, though, she immediately wiped her features devoid of any emotion, a thing she was good at, she replied simply: “Yes, chief” and stalked out of the office. She heard the whirring of the mechanics as the panel slid shut behind her. Every time someone walked out of the office, it changed location, so no-one could ever correctly place the office.

Shelly was furious. She stormed into the main work area, thrusting aside a scared-looking new worker and sat down at her desk so hard that she feared that the chair would break, and all the pens on her desk rattled ferociously. How could the chief even think about doing such a thing? He was practically replacing her! He was smart enough to know that Lucine Kennedy was a spying, evil little worm, crawling and sticking her pretty little nose into everything that did not concern her. Idiot that he was! But then again, Shelly had never told anyone that it was indeed Lucine that split her skull in two. She would never stoop that low. Her anger was just subsiding when she suddenly heard a voice over the loud speaker that was very obviously the chief’s.

“Lucine Kennedy, agent K8b, please come to the office to receive instructions on your next mission.”

Shelly blew it.

Author's Note

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