Featured image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay
Stretch had a lot of time to think during that mile walk. He had opted to walk it for just that reason. This was completely outside of his comfort zone. Not the being sent to unload some gold coins for the best price he could get. They had stolen and sold various things for years. Not from ordinary people mind you, but from big players. Corporate espionage, government secrets, even the occasional coin collection because it held something or other some other big player wanted.
What was eating at him was coming to terms with what Old Timer had said. The body dump from several years ago is why they were now on the run. They had never had a blown op before or since. Nobody from corporate had dressed them down or told them the cleaners didn’t take care of the bodies, but what the Old Timer said was making sense. Something surfaced from that op which made them disposable.
“Yes!” he spat to that Devil’s Advocate portion of his mind which said “A lie is most effectively delivered between two truths.” He had heard that one countless times and even used it himself from time to time, but, this was laid bare. It could have just been a timing problem. It could have been a lot of things, but one thing was certain, it all went sideways back at the office. Now they were on the run.
Previously, when something went sideways, it was always in a foreign country. They quickly ran to a pick up location and were in the protective arms of the company hours later. Sometimes the company would put out a story that they were held up somewhere in America. It was usually a story.
It was always a training session for the new graduates. They would be the security detail inside and out of the building. This was their first chance to prove they could perform a military style operation and keep it together after killing. Oh, the corporation would be monitoring every foreign travel entry point for the faces of known mechanics who might be sent. The newbies were there to kill what couldn’t be predicted, another newbie. Trained and sent for a first time. Seasoned mechanics could quickly be identified by facial recognition and taken out before they got very far in-country.
The first timers were the wild cards. So were the sleepers. The semi-retired who hadn’t been active in years. After a few years they fall off the radar. They aren’t taking work so they just aren’t noticed anymore. Some never change their first alias. Some find a condo in a major city then spend their days visiting theaters, museums and parks. Some buy a little farm some place with lousy cell phone coverage and only dial-up Internet.
One had to know where the Internet deserts were in America as part of this job. A few used that knowledge to avoid being found once they left. So the story went. After chatting with Old Timer it was sounding far more story than fact. The dude seemed neither addicted to or excited about killing. He appeared to approach it like another oil change at Jiffy Lube. Just something you did every so often.
Focus!” his mind screamed before drifting back.
Twice they had been in such a situation. Once they had to take out the pair of first timers who cut through the newbies. Close quarters in a hardened building where snipers were useless . . . Well, before he spoke with Old Timer he believed sniper rounds were useless. No matter how thick you make the armor, someone will make a bigger, faster, harder bullet to go through it. Anyone who didn’t believe that never actually read up on bunker buster bombs. Funny thought, that, at this time.
No, they were definitely in it now. The company had their habits, psych profiles, DNA and some of their bank accounts. Old Timer was right about one thing. None of the new graduates could ever make it on their own. Perhaps that is why the CIA and KG-used-to-Be are using the company so much these days. The new generation didn’t have enough skills to go rouge. Just enough to kill who they were supposed to kill, steal what they were supposed to steal and no more. They wouldn’t even put their stupid phones down long enough to notice someone was about to kill them. Hell, some of them died crossing the street with buds in their ears and eyes on their phones. Genetically unfit to survive. Thank you Apple. You don’t know it yet, but you most likely killed off a generation. Don’t worry, for the proper bribe Hillary Clinton will keep you out of prison.
Damn! Now I’m starting to think like Old Timer” Stretch spat into the air. “Hard to argue with his survival skills though. You know the rumors Stretch and now you know they are true.”
Those rumors. They nagged at his mind. More than one dictator on the African continent had decided Old Timer should die. No, Old Timer wasn’t racist, at least not blatantly or deliberately. He really tried to be open and accepting. Those dictators wanted Old Timer’s head because of someone he was sent to kill or information he was sent to retrieve. Stretch never believe it was reporters who found and filmed all of those mass graves you saw on the news. They just took the credit for it. Most of them were found and filmed by people like Old Timer, out seeing the sights before a kill.
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