Thursday, August 28, 2008

JUNE 2010

AMERICAN JUSTICE COMICS 444

"cancer 11010" PART 1.

PAGE 1.

[1].
LONG ON R.E.D. CELL AGENT 55 STANDING, HANDS ON HIPS, OVER SEATED NAVAL TECHNICIAN. BACKS TO VEIWER. THE TECHNICIAN'S LEFT HAND TOUCHES THE HEADSET HE WEARS. BACK GROUND IS LOW LIT NAVAL COMMUNICATIONS ROOM. NAVAL TECHNICIANS MAN THE NUMEROUS MONITORING STATIONS.

CAP: THE AORTA, NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN. 2010. 08:35.

AGENT 55: AND YOU'VE BEEN GETTING THIS SAME MESSAGE FOR HOW LONG?

NAVAL TECH: WELL SIR, IT STARTED UP ABOUT A HALF OUR AGO. AT FIRST IT WASN'T MUCH BUT IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED IT SELF INTO THE MAINFRAME NETWORK.

[2].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND NAVAL TECHNICIAN. AGENT 55 IS 'TEXTING' ON HIS CHARGE CARD, ONE HAND STILL ON HIS HIP. THE NAVAL TECHNICIAN LOOKS AT THE ELECTRONIC READOUT BELOW HIM WITH A DUBIOUS EXPRESSION.

AGENT 55: OKAY GIVE ME THE FREQUENCY.

NAVAL TECHNICIAN: OKAY SIR. IT'S FDMA 3.14159.

[3].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55'S HAND AND CHARGE CARD. THE "CHARGE CARD" IS THE SIZE AND WIDTH OF AN iPOD. IT IS SHINY BLACK. AGENT 55 IS DEPRESSING THE LARGE ILLUMINATED CENTRAL BUTTON. MICRO CIRCUITRY SNAKES OUTWARD ALONG THE SURFACE IN COMPLEX REPEATING PATTERNS FROM THE CENTRAL BUTTON 'ALA JACK KIRBY STYLE.

AGENT 55 (OFF): A RADIO FREQUENCY? THERE'S NO WAY THAT COULD PENETRATE OUR MAINFRAME DEFENSES.

[4].
CLOSE ON NAVAL TECHNICIAN'S FACE. CONCENTRATING. LIGHT FROM ELECTRONIC PANEL ILLUMINATES FROM BELOW.

NAVAL TECH: THAT'S JUST THE PIGGY-BACK. I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO ISOLATE THE ACTUAL SIGNAL. WHOEVER DESIGNED THIS IS BETTER THAN ANYONE OR ANYTHING I'VE EVER HEARD OF.

[5].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55'S RED ORB HEAD. CENTER OF THE ORB IS A READOUT SCREEN TAKING UP THE AREA DIRECTLY IN FORNT OF THE FACE. REPEATED OVER COUNTLESS TIMES IS THE MESSAGE
"01100011 01100001 01101110 01100011 01100101 01110010 00100000 00110001 00111001"

AGENT 55: KEEP WORKING ON THIS. I'LL BE BACK FROM WASHINGTON IN THREE HOURS.

PAGE 2.

[1].
FULL FIGURE OF AGENT 55 FLYING UPWARDS TOWARDS VEIWER. 200 YDS BELOW IS THE EXTERIOR OF THE AORTA, AN IMMENSE OCEANIC PLATFORM 'ALA KIRBY STYLE, BLOCKS WITH FLYING BUTTRESSES AND THE LIKE. THE ATLANTIC OCEAN TAKES UP THE REMAINING BACKGROUND, WAVES HEAVING WITH CHOP.

CAP A(55): WEDNESDAY'S ARE ALWAYS LIKE THIS.

CAP B(55): NEVER TIME TO HAVE A DECENT CONVERSATION WITH ANYBODY. NO WONDER MY WIFE LEFT ME. I REMEMBER WHEN SAVING THE WORLD AND FIELD WORK MEANT MUCH DIFFERENT THINGS.

CAP C(55): COURSE EVERYTHING'S DIFFERENT NOW. WHAT WITH THE ENTIRE PLANET AT WAR.

PAGE 3.

[1].
LONG ON SENATE BUILDING, WASHINGTON D.C.. CUMULOUS CLOUDS LOOM ON THE HORIZON IN BACKGROUND.

CAP: THE UNITED STATES SENATE, WASHINGTON D.C. 09:12.

[2].
LONG ON AGENT 55 STANDING, BACK TO VEIWER, IN FRONT OF LARGE OAKEN DESK STACKED WITH FILES, PAPERS AND OPEN BOOKS. AT THE DESK IS SEN. WILLIAM POOLE, EARLY FORTIES, ANGULAR FEATURE. WEARS A BUSINESS SUIT. IS HOLDING AN OPEN FILE FOLDER IN HIS HANDS. LOOKS UP OVER HIS GLASSES AT AGENT 55. A BULLET RIDDLED AND SLIGHTLY BURNED AMERICAN FLAG HANGS IN A GLASS FRAME ON THE WALL BEHIND.

POOLE: YOU'RE LATE SPECIAL AGENT. WHEN I SET A MEETING TIME I EXPECT IT TO BE ADHERED TO. MY TIME IS NOT SO VALUELESS THAT I SIT AROUND AND TELL FUNNY STORIES TO MY STAFF. UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE IN WASHINGTON I ACTUALLY WORK FOR WHAT THE CITIZENS PAY ME.

AGENT 55: APOLOGIES SIR, THERE WAS A LAST MINUTE EMERGENCY THAT I WAS JUST MADE AWARE OF.

[3].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND SEN. POOLE. SEN. POOLE LEANS FORWARD, PUTTING DOWN THE FOLDER HE WAS HOLDING.

POOLE: AN EMERGENCY? WHAT KIND OF EMERGENCY?

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55, TAKING HIS CHARGE CARD FROM HIS INSIDE JACKET POCKET.

AGENT 55: WELL SIR ONE OF THE TECH'S AT THE AORTA THIS MORNING HAS BEEN MONITORING A SIGNAL THAT HAS SOMEHOW WORKED ITS WAY INTO M.A.R.R.O.W.

[5].
MEDIUM ON SEN. POOLE STANDING UP ANGRILY BEHIND HIS DESK. PAPERS, FILES AND BOOKS TUMBLE ABOUT TO THE FLOOR. AGENT 55 STANDS STOIC.

POOLE: WHAT!!! HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN!? WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN!??

PAGE 4.

[1].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 HANDING HIS CHARGE CARD TO SEN. POOLE.

AGENT 55: I'VE GOT A TECHNICIAN LOOKING INTO THAT SIR. ALL WE KNOW RIGHT NOW IS THAT THEY WERE ABLE TO PIGGY-BACK A SIGNAL BY RADIO CARRIER WAVE AND SOMEHOW THAT BYPASSED OUR SECURITY COUNTERMEASURES.

[2].
CLOSE ON SEN. POOLE EXAMINING CHARGE CARD DISPLY SCREEN.

AGENT 55(OFF): IT HAPPENED ABOUT AN HOUR AGO AND AS YOU CAN SEE IT HASN'T ACTUALLY DONE ANYTHING BUT REPEAT THIS CODE. I THINK IT'S SOME KIND OF MESSAGE RATHER THAN AN ATTACK PROGRAM. COULD BE A DISTRESS SIGNAL OR...

POOLE: IT'S BINARY.

[3].
MEDIUM ON SEN. POOLE HANDING BACK THE CHARGE CARD TO AGENT 55.

POOLE: I'M SURE THE TECH'S AT THE AORTA KNOW THIS BY NOW, AND IF THEY HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT YET FIRE THEM ALL. I AM NOT HAPPY SPECIAL AGENT 55. NOT HAPPY AT ALL.

AGENT 55: YES SIR.

[4].
MEDIUM ON SEN. POOLE, BACK TO THE VEIWER. AGENT 55 RETURNING CHARGE CARD TO HIS INSIDE JACKET POCKET.

POOLE: I WANT YOU PERSONALLY OVERSEEING THIS INVESTIGATION. MAKE IT YOUR PRIMARY CONCERN. REASSIGN YOUR OTHER CASES IF YOU HAVE TO. I WANT WHOEVER'S DONE THIS FOUND AND BROUGHT IN. I'M SURE I DON'T HAVE TO IMPRESS ON YOU THE DANGER THIS SITUATION POSES?

AGENT 55: NO SIR.

[5].
LONG ON AGENT 55 STANDING. SEN. POOLE SITTING IN CHAIR BEHIND HIS DESK, FINGERS STEEPLED AND PRESSED AGAINST HIS LIPS. PAPERS, FILES AND BOOKS ON THE FLOOR.

POOLE: M.A.R.R.O.W. IS THE SECOND MOST ADVANCED COMPUTING SYSTEM THE GOVERNMENT HAS IN OPERATION. ITS CIRCUITRY ALONE IS BEYOND PRICE. TO SAY NOTHING OF THE INFORMATION CONTAINED IN ITS MAINFRAME. WHETHER THIS IS AN ATTACK OR SOME HACKER'S PRANK, IT POSES A DIRECT THREAT TO NATIONAL AND INTERGALACTIC SECURITY. I WANT WHOEVER'S RESPONSIBLE FOR IT PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT.

AGENT 55: ABSOLUTELY SIR.

PAGE 5.

[1].
LONG ON THE HALLWAYS OF THE UNITED STATES SENATE BUILDING. AGENT 55 IS CLOSING THE DOOR OF SEN. POOLE'S OFFICE DOOR BEHIND HIM. PAGES SCUTTLE ABOUT. THREE SENATORS STAND IN THE FAR BACKGROUND DISCUSSING SOME ISSUE OF CONSTERNATION WHICH MASKS THEIR FACES.

CAP A: 10:31

CAP B(55): WEDNESDAYS.

[2].
MEDIUM ON THE GROUP OF YOUNG SENATORS,NOW FACIALY IDENTIFIABLE AS SEN. THOMAS JEFFERSON (CL), SEN. DONALD BAILEY (D), SEN. GARFIELD WINSLOW (CL). SEN. JEFFERSON LOOKS OFF OUT OF PANEL AWAY FROM THE OTHER TWO TALKING SENATORS.

SEN. BAILEY: I'M STILL NOT CONVINCED THAT THIS MEASURE IS ANY MORE BENIFICIAL TO MY CONSTITUENTS AS THE OTHER DRAFT YOU SHOWED ME TWO WEEKS AGO...

SEN. WINSLOW: LOOK DON, WE NEED YOU TO COME IN ON THIS ONE. IF WE GET ENOUGH SWING VOTES GOING WE CAN STOP POOLE FROM GETTING THE GROUND WORK ON THIS "LOYALIST" ACT NONSENSE.

[3].
MEDIUM ON SEN. JEFFERSON STRIDING AWAY FROM THE OTHER SENATORS, HIS EXPRESSION DOUR. SEN. WINSLOW, MAKING THE "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" GESTURE. SEN. BAILEY, EYES ROLLED TO THE CEILING.

SEN. WINSLOW: TOM HELP ME OUT HERE.

SEN. JEFFERSON: HOLD ON GAR. DON, DON'T GO ANYWHERE.

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 WALKING TOWARD VEIWER. 10' BEHIND SEN. JEFFERSON STRIDES QUICKLY TO INTERCEPT HIM. FAR BACKGROUND, SEN. WINSLOW, HANDS ON HIPS, EYES FOLLOWING SEN. JEFFERSON. SEN. BAILEY LOOKS AT HIS WRISTWATCH.

SEN. JEFFERSON: EXCUSE ME, SPECIAL AGENT?

[5].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55, TURNED TO FACE SEN. JEFFERSON, POSTURE STIFF AND INTIMIDATING. SEN. JEFFERSON, 1' SHORTER THAN AGENT 55, SMILES, HANDS IN HIS WAIST POCKETS.

AGENT 55: WHAT CAN I DO FOR YOU SENATOR?

SEN. JEFFERSON: WELL, IWAS JUST WONDERING SPECIAL AGENT...UM I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT KNOWING YOUR PREFIX, BUT IT'S NOT LIKE YOU MAKE IT EASY FOR ANYONE TO TELL YOU FOLKS APART?

[6].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55'S GLOBULE HELMET. WALL EYE REFLECTION OF SEN. JEFFERSON ON GLOBULE.

AGENT 55: THAT'S KIND OF THE POINT SENATOR. 55 IS MY PREFIX NUMBER. NOW HOW MAY I BE OF SERVICE TO YOU?

PAGE 6.

[1].
CLOSE (WAIST LEVEL) ON SEN. JEFFERSON AND AGENT 55. SEN. JEFFERSON APPEARS RELAXED AND ALMOST JOVIAL. AGENT 55 IS RESERVED AND STANDS WITH HIS HANDS BEHIND HIS BACK.

SEN. JEFFERSON: WELL I WAS SIMPLY WONDERING WHAT AUTHORITY GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO BRING THAT "THING" INTO THIS FEDERAL GOVERNMENT BUILDING?

AGENT 55: SIR?

[2].
MEDIUM ON SEN. JEFFERSON RAISING ARM UP TO REACH THE GLOBULE ON AGENT 55'S HEAD. SEN. JEFFERSON'S HAND IS CLENCHED IN "KNOCKING" GESTURE. AGENT 55 LOOKS LIKE HE'S ABOUT TO FLIP THE SENATOR ONTO HIS BACK IF HE TOUCHES THE GLOBULE.

AGENT 55: SENATOR I RECOMMEND YOU NOT DO THAT.


[3].
CLOSE ON SEN. JEFFERSON. POINTING A FINGER AT VEIWER AND NO LONGER FRIENDLY.

SEN. JEFFERSON: YOU DO REALIZE THAT EVEN YOUR "EXTENDED" SECURITY POWERS DON'T CALL FOR YOU TO CARRY THAT ALIEN WEAPON PLATFORM INTO THIS BUILDING. I MEAN I'M PRETTY SURE ON THIS ONE, SINCE I BLOCKED THAT INITIATIVE YOUR BOSS TRIED TO SLIDE THROUGH LAST YEAR. SO TELL ME, WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO BRING THAT "THING" IN HERE!?

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55, STANDING STOIC, HANDS BEHIND BACK.

[5].
SAME AS PANEL 4.

AGENT 55: NO ONE GAVE ME PERMISSION...SENATOR.

[6].
MEDIUM ON SEN. JEFFERSON LEANIG MENACINGLY INTO AGENT 55. AGENT 55 REMAINS STOIC.

SEN. JEFFERSON: NO ONE GAVE YOU PERMISSION? NO ONE? YOU JUST WHAT...THOUGHT YOU'D IGNORE PROTOCOL AND WALK AROUND BIG AS YOU PLEASE. THIS IS NOT ANCIENT ROME, SPECIAL AGENT 55, AND YOUR BOSS IS NOT GODDAMN CEASAR! NEXT TIME YOU VISIT THESE HALLS BE KIND ENOUGH TO LEAVE THE 3 TRILLION DOLLAR RADIOACTIVE WEAPON AT HOME. AND DON'T THINK THIS IS THE END OF IT. I WILL BE PUTTING FORTH A COMPLAINT AND YOU WILL BE CITED SPECIAL AGENT, ARE WE CLEAR?

PAGE 7.

[1].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55, STIFFER THAN USUAL.

AGENT 55: YES, SIR. WE'RE CLEAR.

[2}.
LONG ON AGENT 55 STANDING FIRM, FACING VEIWER. SEN. JEFFERSON WALKS AWAY HANDS IN POCKETS TOWARDS SEN. WINSLOW AND SEN. BAILEY. BOTH SENATORS APPEAR SURPRISED.

SEN. JEFFERSON: GOOD DAY SPECIAL AGENT.

[3].
FULL FIGURE OF AGENT 55 STRIDING QUICKLY DOWN THE HALL. A YOUNG FEMALE PAGE ATTEMPTS TO GET OUT OF HIS WAY CLINGING A STACK OF FILES TO HER CHEST.

CAP(55): WEDNESDAYS!

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 TAKING FLIGHT OFF THE STEPS OUTSIDE THE UNITES STATES SENATE BUILDING. SEVERAL SENATORS AND PAGES WATCH HIM AS HE GOES.

CAP A(55): WHY ME?

CAP B(55): I MEAN REALLY, LIKE HE DOESN'T HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO?

[5].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55 FLYING OVERHEAD AS IF TAKEN FROM A PHOTO.

SFX: CLICK

[6].
MEDIUM ON SILHOUETTE, MALE, HAT AND JACKET, 35MM CAMERA IN HANDS, STANDS BESIDE TREE. BACKGROUND IS THE GREEN OUT FRONT OF THE SENATE BUILDING.

SILHOUETTE: HEH HEH.

PAGE 8.

[1].
LONG ON AGENT 55 AS HE TOUCHES DOWN ON THE AORTA LANDING PAD. THE WINDS ARE HIGH. A CREW OF FOUR F.B.I. AGENTS LED BY AGENT 26 WAIT ON THE PAD'S STAIRWAY.

CAP: THE AORTA, NORTH ATLANTIC OCEAN. 11:22.

[2]. MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND AGENT 26, SHAKING HANDS. F.B.I. AGENTS IN THE BACKGROUND TRY TO KEEP COMPOSED IN THE MOUNTING WIND.

AGENT 26: YOU'RE LATE.

AGENT 55: YOU WISH.

[3].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND 26 STRIDING DOWN AN AORTA HALLWAY. F.B.I. AGENTS IN TOE.

AGENT 26: THAT TECH THAT BROUGHT US THE INFO CRACKED THE BINARY RIGHT AFTER YOU LEFT. HE SAYS ITS A MESSAGE OF SOME KIND BUT HASN'T DECIPHERED IT YET.

AGENT 55: HE FIND A SOURCE?

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND 26 ENTERING MONITORING CHAMBER. NAVAL AND MARINE TECHNICIANS HUNCH OVER MONITORING SCREEN AND BUBBLES. THE NAVAL TECH FROM OPENING SCENE STANDS HOLDING UP HIS PAIR OF HEADPHONES IN GREETING TOWARDS THE AGENTS.

TECH: SEATTLE WASHINGTON! JUST CAME THROUGH ON THE BOUNCE BACK TRACE. THE RADIO WAVE IS SOME OFF CARRIER ON THE COAST, BUT THE BINARY? IT'S DEFINATLEY BROADCASTING FROM SEATTLE.

[5].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55 AND AGENT 26 REVIEWING A MANILLA FILE FOLDER AND ITS CONTENTS. THE NAVAL TECH STANDS AT ATTENTION.

AGENT 55: GOOD WORK...ENSIGN?

TECH: WOLVERTON, SIR.

PAGE 9.

[1].
LONG ON AORTA MONITORING CHAMBER. NAVAL AND MARINE TECHNICIANS HOVER OVER THERE MACHINERY OR WRITE ON THEIR LOG PAMPHLETS. AGENTS 55 AND 26 STAND TALKING. ENSIGN WOLVERTON SITS AT HIS STATION WITH HIS HEADSET ON, LISTENING INTENTLY.

AGENT 26: SO I GUESS THE GREELY CASE IS ON THE SHELF FOR NOW?

AGENT 55: YES, I JUST SPOKE TO THE SENATOR. THIS IS PRIORITY. I'LL GO TO SEATTLE WITH 19 AND START A FEILD TRACE. YOU AND YOUR TEAM WORK ON THAT CODE.

[2].
MEDIUM ON AGENTS 26 AND 55, TALKING IN AORTA MONITORING CHAMBER.

AGENT 26: M.A.R.R.O.W'S CORE MEMORY HASN'T BEEN BREACHED YET. THIS CODE DOESN'T SEEM AGGRESSIVE IN ANY WAY, IN FACT IT'S JUST A SIGNAL AT THIS POINT. IF IT TURNS OUT TO BE DIFFERENT AND M.A.R.R.O.W IS BREACHED...?

AGENT 55: THEN SHUT HER DOWN AGENT.

[3].
MEDUIM ON AGENT 26 RUBBING THE BACK OF HIS NECK.

AGENT 26: DID THE SENATOR OKAY THAT? REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME WE TOOK M.A.R.R.O.W. OFF LINE? THIS IS A SOPHISTICATED PEICE OF ALIEN TECHNOLOGY AND DOESN'T SUFFER IT WELL WHEN IT'S JUST TURNED OFF.

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND 26. 55 STANDS STOIC. 26 HAS HIS HANDS ON HIS HIPS.

AGENT 55: I'M AWARE OF THE CONSEQUENCES AGENT 26. BUT THE SENATOR WANTS THE CORE MEMORY PROTECTED. IF WE LOSE ACCESS TO THE GLOBULE'S THEN WE DEAL WITH IT. WHAT'S THE MATTER 26, YOU FORGET WHAT IT WAS LIKE BEFORE YOU WERE BULLET PROOF AND COULD FLY PAST MACH 10?

AGENT 26: THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT.

[5].
CLOSE ON AGENT 55. AGENT 26 AND THE MONITORING CHAMBER ARE REFLECTED IN THE GLOBULE.

AGENT 55: LET'S JUST MAKE SURE WE DON'T HAVE TO SHUT HER DOWN.

[6].
LONG ON AGENT 55, LEAVING THE MONITORING CHAMBER. AGENT 26 AND THE F.B.I. AGENTS STAND WATCHING HIM GO. THE NAVAL AND MARINE TECHNICIANS CONTINUE TO MONITOR THEIR STATIONS.

AGENT 26: ...YES, SIR.

PAGE 10.

[1].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 STRIDING DOWN AN AORTA HALLWAY.

CAP (55): WEDNESDAYS.

[2].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 ENTERING THE AORTA COMPUTER LIBRARY. AGENT 19 SITS AT A BANK OF COMPUTERS. HE HOLDS HIS CHARGE CARD IN HIS HANDS. THE CHARGE CARD IS PLUGGED IN, VIA A "FIREWIRE", TO THE NEAREST COMPUTER.

AGENT 19: DOWNLOAD AND DELETE FILE ECHO 2 THRU ECHO 3300.

CHARGE CARD: CONFIRMED.

AGENT 19: DOWNLOAD AND DELETE FILE GOLF 45 THRU IGLOO 721.

CHARGE CARD: CONFIRMED.

AGENT 19: DOWNLOAD AND DELETE FILE ZED 309 THRU ZED 1416.

CHARGE CARD: CONFIRMED.

[3].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 AND AGENT 19 SHAKING HANDS.

AGENT 55: STILL GOT YOU ON PROBATION I SEE?

AGENT 19: NAW. NOT AT ALL. I LOVE SPENDING MY TIME AND TAX PAYER DOLLARS ON FILE DELETION. I MEAN ITS NOT LIKE I HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO...LIKE CATCH BAD GUYS.

[4].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 STANDING TALKING WITH AGENT 19. AGENT 19 IS CLAPPING HIS HANDS TOGETHER IN EXCITED JOY.

AGENT 55: WELL GOOD THING FOR YOU WE HAVEN'T CAUGHT THEM ALL YET. YOU'RE BACK ON THE ROSTER 19. UNDER MY COMMAND, FOR NOW.

AGENT 19: HOT DAMN! I KNEW THE OLD MAN WOULD COME TO HIS SENSES ONCE HE FOUND OUT WHAT A SLACKER YOU ARE.

[5].
AGENT 55 IN HIS PATENTED STOIC POSE. AGENT 19 IN A 'WHAT THE FXXK?' POSE.

AGENT 55: IT WASN'T THE SENATOR THAT LET YOU OFF. I DID.

AGENT 19: WHAT THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT FOR?

[6].
MEDIUM ON AGENT 55 STANDING OVER A COMPUTER. HIS KNUCKLES ON THE TOP OF THE MONITOR.

AGENT 55: BECAUSE YOU'RE A GOOD FEILD AGENT AND WE HAVE A CODE YELLOW IN PROGRESS. OR WOULD YOU RATHER STAY HERE AND PUNCH NUMBERS ALL DAY?

[7].
CLOSE OF AGENT 19, PUNCHING HIS FIST INTO HIS PALM.

AGENT 19: FXXK THAT, LET'S GO!

END OF PART 1.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

BIZARRE THRILLERS! MAGAZINE

MAR 1939

"Circle of Spies"


2.

Major Danger arrived at the Los Angeles train station at approximately 20:00 hours. He was greeted by an Army officer. The officer flinched upon first seeing the Major. The Major grinned, accentuating the lines of the scars on his face. The Major sometimes enjoyed the reactions his scars had on people. Both men wore civilian attire. The Army Lieutenant was assigned to escort the Major to the local military adjutant's office. After a short stop for breakfast at the station diner, the two were off through the downtown area of Los Angeles in a black coupe. The Lieutenant, a one Hammerstein, John George, after five minutes of silence began talking.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
The Major nodded.
"First time to Los Angeles sir?"
The Major turned to survey the young Lieutenant. He was young, about 22, 24. College educated. Thin, but not overly so. Hands used to paperwork and not firing a weapon. All this the Major determined just by looking at the Lieutenant. The Major looked into the man's eyes and saw into his mind. The Lieutenant had graduated 65th in his class. He had not been an overly studious student. Not applying himself as best he could. Taking only a passing interest in advancement. J. Hammerstein was not in the military for "the fight". He was in it for the steady paycheck and it beat clerking for his father's insurance business in Gallantry, Texas.
The Major shook his head. 1939 is not 1917, he reminded himself, and with a wry smile on his battle ravaged face he grunted his reply.
"I passed through back in '22. Then moved up the coast. Lots changed since then."
"I wouldn't know sir. I've only been stationed here two weeks, can't say I've seen much of it yet though. Sir."
"You're not missing much, Lieutenant."
The Major had been surveying the sights and while looking past the Lieutenant, perceived a stray thought from him.
Damn this old man is a tough son of a b---h! Look at that scar!
The Major faced the Lieutenant. The Lieutenant looked away, nervous. The Major turned to face the road.
"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to stare..."
"No need to apologize, Lieutenant. I'm used to it."
After an uncomfortably long silence, "Do you mind if I ask how you got them...sir?"
The lights from passing cars created eery shadows on the Major's face. The Lieutenant was immediately sorry he had asked.
"Belleau Wood." came the stern, stony reply. The remainder of the car ride passed in silence. The Lieutenant drove the coupe into a wooded sub-urb north of downtown Los Angeles. He parked in front of a one story home with a sparsely decorated lawn.
"This is the General's home sir. He's waiting inside for you."
The Lieutenant opened the door to the house. The major followed. They were both greeted by a woman in her early forties. The Lieutenant introduced the Major to her and identified her as the Gerneral's wife. She looked the Major over with a summary glance and smiled. She held out her hand. The Major shook it.
"Gladys Wells. Pleasure to meet you Major."
"Ma'am."
Mrs. Wells smiled and turned to the Lieutenant.
"John, come with me to the parlor. I need some help with that sofa. You'll excuse us Major? We're in the midst of preparing for a party so I apologize for the disorder. Sam is in the study straight back at the end of the hall."
"No apology necessary, ma'am."
The Major made his way to the General's study. The home was decorated in typical west coast decor. Aside from a few military photographs, the house appeared purely civilian. The door to the General's was ajar. The Major knocked three times sharply.
"Come in." came a gravelly reply.
"Sir, Major Daniel Johnson." Followed by a crisp salute gained the Major entry to the room. General Samuel Wells, in his late fifties, wearing a dark suit and bow tie, paced behind his desk, reviewing the contents of a manilla folder. His face was a chiseled mask of perplexion.
"First off, let me say I've read up on your "abilities" Major, and don't try any of that hooky-pooky on me. I don't go in for any of this shadowy operative bull. I'm doing this strictly as a favor to the Commandant. I've had my staff compiling reports for 22 hours and this is what they've come up with."
The General folded shut the manilla envelope in his hands and passed it to the Major.
"You can get Lt. Hammerstein to take you to the barracks where you can bunk for the night. If that's all Major?"
The Major saluted silently.
"Dismissed."
An hour later, the Major was sitting alone in a small barrack room reading the files from the manilla folder. Albert Billingsly; 46, Native Californian, college educated. Hobbyist aviator, purchased the Hillman Bros. Flight School in 1931. Through unidentified investments produced enough capitol to expand School into International Air Cargo Company. Suspected smuggler, though no valid evidence to support charges. Information on smuggling reported to the F.B.I., source; disgruntled employee, Horace Cannlin; 144 Brookshire Drive. No other information available. The Major decided to get some sleep and pursue the lead he had on Horace Cannlin in the morning.

***
09:20 hours found the Major standing outside a dingy looking flop-house, 144 Brookshire Dr. Inside the landlord wiped his sweaty underarms. He was standing in his door frame on the bottom floor of the 3 story apartment hotel. The few questions the Major put to the man were all answered with lies. The Major simply smiled and said he would return later. It didn't take long for the sweaty man to don a coat and hat and rush off to relay information. The Major followed in a requestioned coupe from the Army Motor Pool. He plucked the location of the meeting from the sweaty man's thoughts and arrived before his quarry. The sweaty man took a seat at the bar, ordered a double scotch n' pine and nervously tapped his feet. This man was an amateur. The Major dismissed him as any one to be concerned about. The big man who came into the bar a half an hour later however, was.
The man was big. He outsized the Major 2:1. And his thoughts were cold. A killer's thoughts. A practiced killer's thoughts. This man had done bad things. The Major respected the big man right away. Not out of fear or sentiment. The Major respected the big man out of recognition. The Major also was a practiced killer. And was wondering how he would fare against the big man in combat when the sweaty man let out a yelp and made a run for the back door. The big man did not rush after the sweaty man. He simply sat next to the vacant seat left by the sweaty man. Thirty seconds later the sweaty man returned being escorted by a well dressed man wearing gloves. The well dressed man urged the sweaty man forward, prodding him from his coat pocket. The sweaty man sat reluctantly, obviously nervous. The well dressed man stood close to the sweaty man, scanning the faces of the bar patrons. The big man drank from the glass of water he ordered. The noisy din of the bar recommenced drowning out conversation. The Major easily slipped into the mind of the sweaty man and 'listened in'.
What are you so nervous about, Dooley. We've got you covered. No reason to get jumpy.
I...I...I'm sorry. I was just expecting Malone. N...no..not you.
Am I so frightening Dooley? Be honest.
Y...ye..yes. I'm afraid of you.
That's right. And you should be. You know what happens if we meet again?
Y...ye..yes.
Then answer my questions honestly and we wont ever have to. Understood?
I understand.
Was he a cop?
I don't think so. He didn't flash no badge or anything.
What did he say?
He...he said he was an Interested party. He said he just wanted to talk to Mr. Cannlin.
Sounds like a fed.
He didn't say he was one.
They don't always have to. Dooley it's you're lucky day. Were going to see the boss.
The..the boss? But why? I told ya the truth...honest.
I know you did Dooley. That is why we are going to see the boss. So follow, Greeley.

The Major watched the three men leave. He waited till they were a block away and followed them into the hills in his coupe.