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Date Posted: 14:46:39 12/11/06 Mon
Author: JayBee
Author Host/IP: adsl-67-119-203-150.dsl.pltn13.pacbell.net / 67.119.203.150
Subject: Succession, Part Three, Chapter 19.2
In reply to: JayBee 's message, "Succession, continued (thread getting long)" on 16:40:25 12/08/06 Fri


With a slow, steady blip, the red dot blinked along the blue grid glowing on Jules's computer screen. The dot marked the progress of a caravan of automobiles through a city halfway across the world; it wove along tangled, nighttime streets, heading inexorably closer to a hidden roadblock -- and a Section ambush.

Adrian leaned in, looking over Jules's shoulder. The rhythmic blinking matched the beat of her heart; her mouth grew uncomfortably dry as she contemplated what was about to take place.

Finally. Her opening blow against Phillip. One designed to smash the chains that bound the Sections to Center, that kept her organization in financial thrall to a man who would turn it into his plaything. Independence, autonomy, freedom to fight evildoers as she saw fit, without Phillip's intolerable meddling: all now within her grasp, a mere mission away.

Visual intel had confirmed that the third car in the caravan carried none other than Cyrus Norasty, co-founder of Red Cell. It was the perfect opportunity to intercept a key player in the fastest-growing terrorist movement of the day; hence, it was the perfect mission to sacrifice to bring her plight to the attention of the Council. The original profile had called for overwhelming Norasty's escort with superior numbers and firepower; unaltered, that profile almost certainly would have succeeded. But by eliminating aerial support and reducing the size of the team due to "budgetary constraints," Adrian had ensured that Norasty would escape -- and that she could pin the blame on Phillip and his stinginess.

Once upon a time, back when her youthful idealism blinded her to the more distasteful aspects of real life, she would have been appalled to think that she would deliberately sabotage a mission. That she would let a monster go free when she had the power to stop him. Then again, in those days she had also believed that everyone who claimed to be fighting terrorism was on the same side. Phillip's controlling behavior had shattered that foolish illusion.

Sometimes the worst enemy was not the opposition, but one's allies.

As the dot neared the target zone, she stepped forward, placing her hand on Jules's shoulder. He tensed at her touch, and she glanced down at him briefly. She disliked him, and he clearly knew it: he was rude, arrogant, and far too Gallic for her tastes. Nevertheless, his ego demanded that he prove himself whenever given a challenge, and she had always found that useful. So long as he was kept in check.

Alas, they all needed to be kept in check. Power-hungry colleagues, unruly subordinates -- sometimes it was all rather tiring.

So very, very tiring.

"Target on final approach," Jules murmured into his headset. "Everybody on their marks."

Blinking rapidly to clear her mind, Adrian took a seat beside Jules and donned her own headset. The radio burst into life as the team members confirmed their readiness. Then she watched, concentrating to maintain an outward calm, as the blip reached the blockade.

She winced as the high-pitched sound of squealing tires filled her ears, followed by rapid blasts of gunfire. After several minutes passed without the rate of firing slowing down, she frowned in concern.

The skirmish should have been brief. Norasty, safe in his bulletproof limousine, ought to have escaped almost immediately -- the undermanned team was simply too small to box him in. Why, then, did it sound like a full-fledged firefight had broken out?

A firefight would be a disaster. With Section's team outnumbered, a genuine gun battle would essentially guarantee the loss of all personnel. But this team was not expendable: she had carefully chosen the best available operatives, with nearly perfect records, in order to convince the Council of the sincerity of the retrieval attempt. <i>I used my best people</i>, she planned to tell them. <i>But without adequate resources, even they can't succeed. That's why the Sections must have autonomy.</i>

She listened in silence, stonyfaced, ignoring the anxious glances Jules flicked her way as team members started dying. Sergio. Yong-jun. Ingrid. Patrick. Within fifteen minutes, half the team gone.

"The target is fighting his way out," shouted Paul, barely audible over the deafening noise. "We can't hold him much longer."

"Abort," she commanded. "Save the rest of the team."

After a brief burst of static, Paul's voice sounded again. "If we detonate, we can take him out. There aren't any collaterals in the vicinity."

Adrian sat forward abruptly. "Detonate what?"

"There's C4 and a timer in the van. We'd have just enough of a window to get the team clear."

What in God's name were they doing with explosives? She hadn't authorized any such thing. In fact, she had gone to great lengths to ensure they were inadequately outfitted. Her eyes darted toward the entrance to Munitions. Walter. That longhaired fool.

"Request denied," she said. "Abort the mission. I want Norasty alive, not dead."

"You didn't provide us with enough personnel to retrieve him alive. But we can take him out, and we should. Otherwise this entire mission will have been an exercise in futility."

If she could have reached through the computer monitor and throttled Paul, she would have. His obstinacy would ruin everything. What made it worse was that, strictly speaking, he was right. By any rational analysis, they should take Norasty out while they had the chance. Paul couldn't be expected to know that higher stakes were involved.

"You heard my order," she said grimly. "Abort."

There were several moments of silence, broken only by the steady sound of gunfire. "You know what, Adrian?" he finally replied, the cold disdain in his voice withering even over the noise of the transmitter. "You're an idiot. You must have slept with someone to get your job, because you don't know the first thing about counter-terrorism."

She froze, as if she had been slapped, her mouth dropping open but no words forming. In the periphery of her gaze, she noticed Jules and several other operatives turn and gape; she did her best to ignore them, although she felt her face flush.

She breathed deeply in an effort to maintain her composure, unable to ascertain whether she was outraged or proud. His blatant show of disrespect was intolerable, unacceptable -- and yet, most aggravating of all, admirable. Unlike the other operatives -- a craven, cowardly lot, all of them -- he had the courage to speak his mind and face the consequences. This was the side of his character she had admired so much, the side that had led her to recruit him in the first place. Unfortunately, it wasn't his only side, as she had discovered the hard way: the courage was one face; the other was cruelty.

Finally, she found her voice. "You can critique my command when you return to Section. I gave you an order, and I expect you to comply."

"You heard her," he called to his remaining team members. "Abort. We lost half the team for nothing."

As the sound of gunfire tapered off, Adrian focused her attention back on that blinking red dot on the monitor. Once again, it began to move, pulling past the roadblock, and then disappearing off the edge of the screen.

Norasty had escaped. But would it be enough?

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