CHAPTER 2

July 17th, 9:48 AM
Federal Bureau of Investigation, Elevator 5

The doors closed with a soft hum, and John pushed the button for floor 18. He thought again of Jade and wished he had been on that mission with her. He cursed himself for encouraging her to go. The night before the mission was officially offered, they had discussed it at home. As Jade was always eager to serve, and John was always eager to please her, he told her that he would support her if she chose to accept it. Inside he had hoped that Howell had another team in mind. But Jade volunteered, and John didn’t argue. This was, after all, the life they had chosen. The life of an Agent.

The Agent program was started in 1945, at the beginning of the Cold War. The White House insisted that two soldiers be chosen to be personal protectors of President Truman after the death of President Roosevelt- as rough as dealings were with many countries, the leadership figured the United States looked weak enough after loosing one president, and they refused to let it happen twice in one term. The soldiers who were chosen, however, complained that their talents were being wasted; they had been taken from the Marines Corps. and told they had been chosen for a high-priority “mission,” but were disappointed when it turned out to be little more than bodyguard duty. After a few years and the creation of the Department of Defense, the NSC, and the CIA, the bodyguards were “discarded”- sent to the FBI.

The FBI wasted no time in sending their new recruits on dangerous errands all over the world; intel. recon. against the Ho Chi Minh, HQ strikes in North Korea, secret nuclear disarmament as many places as possible. They did well, and the Bureau asked for more teams such as this one. They made the program into an official branch in the FBI, simply calling them “Agents,” and always kept four teams active. It all began very secretively, and the recruits’ identities were erased and replaced with numbers- Agent 01, Agent 02, and so on. They were each given one partner to work with for their entire service, a single person to depend on in everything they did. They were mostly all considered equal, but buried somewhere deep within the philosophies of the Agent Program, it was assumed that the lower the number, the higher the rank.

As time went on, the secrecy of the program itself diminished, but the numbers were kept as a reminder of their elitism- in 60 years, only 46 men and women had called themselves Agents, and they respected that. Unfortunately, due to the constantly dangerous situations they were placed in, many of the Agents had been killed in action- a statistic never repeated between the Agents themselves. But regardless of the danger, each one cherished what they did for each other and for their country.

The elevator bell hummed softly, and John stepped into the hallway that led to the office of the Director of the FBI. Rebecca had left a note on his desk that said the men upstairs owed her a favor- though it did not say what for- and that he should take his battle to them so they could return her favor by allowing him to go. He arrived at a secretary’s desk.

“‘Morning John,” the secretary said with a smile.

“Hi Samantha.” He did not return the gesture. “Can I see the Director?”

“Hold on,” she said, keying a button on her phone and asking, “Sir?”

There was a pause. She asked John how Jade was. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words. He knew that Samantha had feelings for him, and it somehow made it hard for him to talk to her.

“Yes Ms. Mason?” a deep voice echoed through the phone speaker and into the marble hall.

She keyed her phone again. “Agent 41 is here to see you.”

Another pause, then, “Send him in.”

John forced a quick smile, then pushed past the desk and into the nicest office in the building. The Director sat behind a large mahogany desk and stared at a mass of papers. He looked at his visitor.

“I heard about agents 39 and 40.”

“Yes, sir. You’ve allowed a search and rescue.”

“I know what I’ve ‘allowed,’ Agent.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you come to tell me what orders I’ve signed, or does this visit have some sort of use?” The aging man narrowed his eyes at the Agent.

John hated this. “Sorry sir. I’ve come to request permission to go along with my team.”

“Denied. You should have already been told that. Consider yourself lucky, Agent. If it weren’t for Howell backing you up, both you and your little girlfriend would have been relieved of duty long ago. I’ve tolerated your relationship. But you know exactly why you’re staying here. Dismissed.”

John’s teeth clenched. “I have a written request from Agent 42. I’m…not sure what it’s for, but she said to give it to you.” He held the note up, but the Director didn’t take it.

“Agent 42. Which one’s that?”

“Rebecca Mitchell, sir. My partner.”

The man’s narrow eyes slowly widened. He took the paper and stared at it. There was a long silence, and he took a deep breath. “You want to go along, do you?” He did not make eye contact.

“Sir. I feel responsi-”

“Save it.”

John’s mouth closed. He watched his superior pull a sheet of paper from a drawer and take out a pen. He began writing. John recognized it as a mission order.

“Give this to Howell.” The FBI Director’s voice had suddenly lowered. “And if I were you, son, I wouldn’t come back here for a long time.”