| Subject: Priority Mail 112 |
Author:
Nikita507
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Date Posted: Tuesday, January 04, 10:42:15pm
In reply to:
Nikita507
's message, "Priority Mail 107+" on Saturday, January 01, 10:10:07pm
He eased the binoculars down and frowned as he took the list in his hand and frowned. It was the last name on this list and now he could cross it off. The search was turning to take much longer than expected and when he used to have fun at times, there was no fun at this point.
Too many unknowns.
It was easy to sip the last of the Diet Dr. Pepper and then pull away from the sidewalk where he had taken position. Somehow he had learned a lot of skills that he never thought he would need to know. Now he was thankful that he had those skills.
He was in a small town outside of Chicago and he had no plans to actually be in this town. He had been here years before and had left some things behind he wanted to hide forever. Now he had a choice. To either empty out that storage unit or to continue to let it sit there.
Picking up a cell phone that he recently purchased so that it couldn’t be traced, he called to a messenger service. Engraved in his mind was an address that probably did not lead to a person, but he hoped that it would hopefully lead to someone who should have the most important possession that was in that storage unit.
The area had developed some and that was nice to see. It hadn’t exploded too much but there were more people around and more the units were in use. Carefully finding his unit, he pulled out the key that had seemed to always burn a whole into his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The mementos no longer mattered as he pushed the boxes to the side. The clothes that had once been something he cared so much about did not matter. The past haunted him and all of these items were to be picked up by a charity in an hour. But in the back, the safe was still standing there, appearing as if it had never been touched.
The folder in the safe was not always in the safe. He had the storage unit for a while before he finally put the document that was in the folder inside the safe. He had attempted to use that document to track what he needed, but that was not a skill that he had picked up.
He could make sure that no one was following him. He could change his accent. He could be lewd or the sweetest person ever, but he was not one that could figure out how to have someone help in search based off of that document.
Opening the folder, he exhaled as he looked at the tiny formations that were on the paper. He traced them although he was sure that they were forever formatted into his mind. He wouldn’t remember all the ridges and all the details, but he would remember that outline and the two formations being in red, one in purple and one in green.
It was perhaps the one thing he had done right in the whole messy affair.
He took hand prints and foot prints before he left Nikita’s daughter in an unknown church and walked away.
The failure of knowing how to get into databases to see if there were fingerprint matches, since parents did get their children fingerprinted and into databases this day in age, was something that he couldn’t stand that he didn’t know how to do. Nikita may have made him a pseudo-spy after he survived being an actor, but she surely didn’t teach him enough.
He had even been smart enough to free the baby from the tracker-laden blanket that she had been wrapped in long enough to take her into a craft store to beg a woman to help him make a gift for his wife. She had questioned how young the baby was, but she had been just finishing up one of those kids crafts camps and helped him dip the girl’s hands and feet into paint and then onto the paper that he now held. After washing the baby of the pain, he returned to the tracker-laden blanket before Nikita could have picked up the baby had been separated from the blanket.
The carrier knocked on the edge of the storage unit and asked if he had something to ship. He nodded his head and walked out of the unit, closing the folder. He wasn’t sure if it would ever get to Nikita. He knew that the directions were that he was only to use this address if he was in grave danger, but he couldn’t live with this paper in his possession any longer.
She had to have a way to get to her daughter by now.
He had been searching for her since about six months after he had done exactly as directed. That was around the time that he had a sense that he wasn’t being followed by operatives day in and day out. They had no idea that they were keeping tabs on him to make sure that he wasn’t hiding the baby. They were thinking they were on training missions. He knew better so he obviously knew when they pulled back from training.
There had been times where he had been contacted for small parts in missions but they were few times and often always direct communication from Nikita that almost seemed more like a setup to Mission Impossible than how an organization like Section One should be operating. He sometimes wondered if she had used him in those situations just to make sure that he hadn’t somehow stashed her daughter somewhere.
Then about a year ago, he felt completely alone and he really started to search. He had already had his heart broken nearly three dozen times when he thought that he had found the baby girl to just look at her and know that it wasn’t right. He had tried working in the communities where an adopted girl that was about the right age but he had grown too fond of the children that he got close to that he had to stop doing that.
He filled out the paperwork and the address. He had once been in that city and knew that the building was just one place in a plan. There was no way that Nikita was there. He wasn’t even sure if her plans were still in play since the feel of Section had completely vanished. He could only hope that Nikita had a contingency plan to get whatever he could possibly ship to her.
And he was hoping he was shipping her a way to find her daughter.
“I need a name, Sir,” the carrier spoke as he taped the pen. He looked at the man and frowned. “It is going to Josephine Michaels.”
“I can read that,” the carrier retorted with a strong attitude. “I need your name.”
“I’m paying with cash,” he spoke as he pulled out the one hundred bill and held it there. The carrier glanced and tilted his head to the side. “You can try to tip me as much as you want, the package cannot be shipped without a name of the sender. Company policy. And any company in this town has the same policy.”
“Mick… Mick Jones.”
“Yeah… like your name is Mick,” the carrier rolled his eyes as he plucked the one hundred bill out of Mick’s hand and disappeared.
He stepped out of the storage unit and looked up at the sky. He didn’t know what had changed but he prayed that Nikita was still out there.
He couldn’t find her daughter without her.
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