Page 50 of Code Name: Michelangelo

No wonder she, Tara, Ava, Aine, and Quinn had bonded in the way they had. It was all about survival in the same way it would be here. She wouldn’t be in any real danger, nor did I think the trainers would allow her to fail. Everything they threw at her would only make her stronger. Which meant I had to ensure I did the same.

The day I’d seen her for the first time in four years, I told her I would do everything to prove myself worthy of her. It was a promise to myself I intended to keep.

“Go ahead and get settled,” Sundance said after dropping Flick and Pen at another building, then leading me into what looked more like an apartment than a suite. “Your room is over there.” He pointed to an open door. “We’ll reconvene in thirty minutes if that works for you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, reminding myself that mind games came in all shapes and sizes, including making me feel relaxed and comfortable, then hitting me upside the head with a metaphoric two by four.

“And, Michelangelo?”

I’d walked toward the room, but turned around. “Yes, sir?”

“Between what you just came out of and what you’re headed into, I figure you’ve met your quota of dealing with shit. You won’t be getting any more from me, so you can stand down.”

I studied him. Was he sincere or playing mind games? Four years in lockup had taught me to expect the worst every time.

“All right, son. You can keep your hackles up as long as you feel is necessary, but I’ve got six months’ worth of training to teach you in ten days and don’t have time for bullshit on either of our parts.”

He smiled, so I did too.

“Hard habit to break,” I muttered.

“I hear you. Just remember where we are now. We’re keeping the bad guys out, not the good guys in.”

It was remarkable how well the man read me. Then again, it shouldn’t have been. He’d served in intelligence his entire career, achieved the rank of general, and Doc Butler trusted him. That alone spoke volumes. If he wasn’t good at reading people, analyzing situations, and determining the best course of action, he wouldn’t be here, and neither would I.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the main room, waiting for Sundance. I walked over to the windows overlooking the Farm and spotted Penelope. She and Flick were dressed in fatigues. Odd, given we were at an intelligence training facility as opposed to a military installation.

“We’re dropping her straight into the trenches.” Sundance startled me, and he well knew it. “We’ll analyze how much self-defense and hostage-survival tactics she remembers, then Flick will determine what additional training she requires. Your protocol will be the opposite. If you’re ready, come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The room he led me to looked like what I imagined a command center would. Four state-of-the-art computer systems were set up on tables, along with three large electronic boards. Sundance tapped the screen of one computer, and all three boards lit up with surveillance images.

One showed Penelope and Flick. Another appeared to be from a Middle Eastern desert, and the images on the third rotated in quick succession.

“What you’re witnessing is a bump. In case you’re wondering, this is an actual op.” He walked closer to the third screen. “The agent has identified a target. In a few seconds, he’ll stage a seemingly accidental encounter. The response will determine his next steps, the end goal being to build a relationship for intelligence-gathering. The first part of your mission will rely heavily on your ability to gain the trust of those inside the Calabrian Syndicate. Your life will depend on how high and fast you can move up in their ranks.”

“Copy that, sir.”

He moved to the second board.

“Is this live, sir?” I asked when the image panned to what looked like a transportation warehouse.

“It is,” he responded, pointing to a running clock at the bottom of the screen. “Can’t very well take these fuckers out since we’d also kill the very people we want to save. Nor can we mobilize, given if we don’t kill them, the traffickers will before we are able to intercept.”

My ears perked up at the mention of traffickers.

Sundance zoomed in far enough for me to see container lorries being offloaded. Men, women, and children, shackled together like a chain gang, were being led down a ramp and into the building.

“What do we do, Ripa?”

“Track whatever they’re being loaded into.”

“Why?”

“Because the facility is temporary, and for the reasons you mentioned previously, along with the lack of cover of any kind, it cannot be raided.”

“That’s correct. Good job.” I didn’t pick up on any hesitation in his praise, which meant I had to learn to accept it at face value.

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