Anne Fox - Camp Chaos

“Give me a break. I had to get up at four fucking thirty to make this flight without taking time for eating breakfast.”

They studied each other for a while, he drinking his coffee and she finishing off her bagel. She sat back. “Just what do you need me for?”

He repeated the pantomime of shooting a rifle. “And you’ll have to cross-train for other things we do. But mainly, we need someone who can pick a guy off at 1000 yards, and from what we’ve seen you’re that someone.”

“You gonna bring me my Savage?”

“Honey, we’re gonna let you have any sniper rifle you want. You want a Remington? We’ll get you a Remington. You want a Sako? We can do that, too. You want to stick with a Savage? Fine by us. And not just for your sniper◦– for any gun you think you need.”

She found herself smiling involuntarily. Shit, I do love to shoot. The thought of having any guns she wanted made her nipples stand up in a way no man ever had, and she was glad, for once, for the jacket so he couldn’t see them.

“Don’t let me fool you, Kat. It won’t be all fun and games. This unit is very demanding. You’re going to have to prove yourself physically and mentally, and you’re going to have to develop a skill set that will allow you to take on almost any task that any other member of the team performs. The risks are high. The way the unit operates, you’ll find yourself going through huge periods of boredom, given our expertise isn’t needed that often. But when it is, we have to be ready to go and do our jobs, so there’s not much in the way of down time. It’s train, train, train◦– all the time, unless we have a mission.”

“This is covert ops.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Domestic.”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask how big this team is?”

“No, sorry.”

“Can I ask how long I have to commit to it?”

“We’d like you to commit for as long as you’re physically capable. But people do occasionally resign, and others retire.”

“Besides the fact that I can shoot and enjoy doing so, why me?”

“You’re unattached. You don’t have any surviving close relatives. It makes explaining your absence easier. You’re dedicated. You have integrity. You’re good at your job, not just at shooting. From what I can see, you’ve got the right mindset for what we do.”

“And what about my partners in Albuquerque? You just tell them I transferred?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly do you tell them?”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you that until you commit and sign the papers.”

She resisted the urge to say ‘yes’ right then and there, simply because the whole thing sounded so intriguing. He’s hanging out a big carrot. Could be to lead you into a big trap. And this mysterious ‘I can’t tell you’ is a bit unnerving.

“And you’re naturally suspicious,” he added. “But as long as you feel you can trust the rest of the team, that suspicious nature is a good thing.”

“You’re good at reading people.”

“So are you.” He smiled at her again. “Look, Kat. We need your skills. I don’t know what the other members of the team will think, but I like you already. I think I’ve got you pretty much figured out, too. You’re a little powder keg, and you’ll dig right into this unit and eat it up just as thoroughly as you polished off those bagels.” She realized as he said this that she’d been absent-mindedly cleaning up the bagel crumbs off the plate with the tip of her finger. “Save some room for lunch, Kat. You’ll be eating on the plane, given Quantico is two hours ahead of Albuquerque. No time like the present to start getting you on Eastern time.”

“Sounds like you think I’m going to sign on,” she said.

“You’re the one who said I was good at reading people.” He grinned. “And you’re two cups of coffee into this flight. The potty is that way.”

She wondered if she’d been unconsciously squirming, because until he mentioned it she hadn’t felt the urge to pee. She got up and made her way to the back of the plane. As she sat and did her business, she thought about everything he’d said to this point. Her little voices started to argue. I’m a good Agent. Do I want to give it up for who the fuck knows what? But damn◦– it sounds so much more exciting than spending half my time completing case reports. But what about cartel taskforce? Don’t you still want cartel taskforce? Wish I knew whether this thing is on the up and up. She retrieved the folded transfer order and itinerary from her jacket pocket. Stan’s the one who handed me these. Could these papers be fake? Or did they really come down from above? She studied the signature on the transfer order. It was original, and the handwriting familiar given she had seen many orders signed by this man. She studied it closer. The writing was spontaneous, done in a smooth hand, with no signs of an attempt at forgery. Either someone’s very good at faking his signature, or this is a genuine document , she concluded. She consulted her little voice, and it whispered back, Looks legit.

She got up, readjusted her clothes, washed her hands, and made her way back to her seat.

“I was beginning to think you got lost back there,” the man said.

“Lost in thought,” she said. “I don’t know what to tell you, other than I’m intrigued and would like to know more.”

He shook his head. “There’s not a lot more I can tell you right now. But I tell you what. Think about it some more during lunch.” He leaned over and signaled Doug to come forward. Doug placed a menu in front of her.

“You know my favorite,” the man told Doug. “Let our Special Agent choose hers, and then bring us lunch, please.”

She looked over the menu and picked out a plate of fruit and cheese with a croissant on the side. “And more coffee,” she told Doug, who then disappeared forward to the galley again.

The man leaned back, relaxing in his seat, regarding her with a smile. Although his posture was relaxed, she got the definite impression that the business suit he wore was not his favorite way of dressing any more than it was hers. He just didn’t look like the business suit type. Special for this occasion , she thought, though it looks great on him . The slight bit of grey at his temples had her peg him at somewhere between 40 and 45. She could detect the rugged physique under the suit and noticed he sported a well-developed tan. Lots of time outdoors .

Doug returned and placed food and utensils in front of them. Typical guy food. Club sandwich and chips, piece of apple pie on the side.

He was looking over her food as well. “Cheese and fruit going to fill you up?” he asked.

She swallowed a strawberry she was chewing and replied, “I just ate two bagels, for Chrisake.”

He held up his hands in a surrender pose. “Not trying to be critical. I just remember how you polished off the bagels, that’s all.” He looked her up and down in a manner that told her there was no physical attraction attached. “What do you weigh, anyway? I’ve got you pegged at about 115.”

“You ask a woman about her weight?” she scowled.

“I wouldn’t ask just any woman about her weight. But something tells me you aren’t just any woman, so I thought I’d give it a go.”

You’re fucking right about me not being just any woman, and you’d better not forget it. “One twenty,” she said.

“Where’d you put the other five pounds?” he asked.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll show you.”

“We know about the black belt,” he said, smiling.

“It’s useful when up against jackasses who think they can just take on a woman because.”