Probationary Agent
U.S. Naval Hospital Sigonella
Sicily
1700 Hours
Stan Hurley watched as Irene paced around the hospital ward like the proverbial caged lion, reading Rapp the riot act for his unilateral decision to assassinate General Rostami.
"This was beyond reckless, Rapp! You could have been captured. Worse, you could have exposed Orion!" She snapped.
"I wasn't. And I didn't. Ma'am." Mitch replied evenly. He was standing with his arms behind his back, weathering the storm of Kennedy's anger reasonably well. Surprisingly, he was even keeping his cool and not yelling back. Will wonders never cease....
"We have protocols in place," Irene continued irately. "We decide who the targets are, not you. You disobeyed orders."
"No ma'am." Rapp replied.
"Excuse me?"
The younger man stood his ground. "No, ma'am, I didn't disobey orders. I followed them. We were sent to Rome to find the physicist and take out the people who were hiring him to finish the nuke. Rostami was one of those people. I completed the mission that I was assigned. Ma'am."
Stan tried to smother a laugh. He wasn't quick enough. Irene rounded on him.
"This isn't funny, Stan."
"No, it isn't," he said, clearing his throat. "But, Mitch is right. He completed the mission. He tracked the target, planned the strike, carried it out without getting made and escaped the country, alone. No backup. That's not something you can train into someone."
He'd be lying if throwing her own words back at her wasn't damn satisfying. Judging by the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was doing.
Kennedy tilted her head back to look at the ceiling in consternation. After a moment, she sighed, then stepped over to grab Hurley's laptop and thrust it at Mitch. "Fine. Report, Mr. Rapp. The whole mission to Dubai, start to finish. Lead with the words 'under orders from Ms. Kennedy and Mr. Hurley.' No reason for the Director to know you're a loose cannon, now is there?"
Rapp didn't crack a smile. "No, ma'am. I'll get right on it."
With a last withering glance at Stan, Irene stalked from the room, leaving them alone. It took a moment for Rapp to shift his gaze to Hurley.
"You're pissed at me too, sir." It wasn't a question.
Stan scoffed and threw his hands in the air. "Jesus, Mitch! You flew to Dubai on your own authority, staked out an Iranian general, killed him and his bodyguards and got out of the country before anyone knew what happened. Pissed? I'm fucking astonished!"
Rapp said nothing.
"Just tell me one thing," Stan continued. "Why?"
Rapp blinked. "Why? He helped build a nuke that could have killed-"
Hurley waved that away. "Nah, save that bullshit for the report. Why?"
Rapp clamped his mouth shut and looked away. He swallowed thickly. "For Annika, sir. I owed her that much."
Hurley watched the younger man for a long moment, then sighed. He pointed at the laptop. "Let me read that before you send it to Irene."
Meeting his eyes again, Rapp seemed to have regained his composure. He nodded. "Got it."
AA AA AA AA AA AA
6 Months Later
Roanoke Valley, Virginia
Hurley leaned against the deck railing and stretched his leg, scowling at the ache. He was too old to be getting shot through the leg. Hell, getting shot period.
He thumbed through the report one more time, absently scratching his newest dog, Rutger, behind the ears. The German Shepherd was a former MP, recently retired. Not unlike me, he mused absently.
Irene had forwarded him the after action report on the op she'd just run in Syria. For the first time, Mitch had been Lead, with Conrad as his backup. Unfortunately, the op had gone sideways, and their support team had been ambushed by the same Syrian terror cell whose leader Mitch had been sent to terminate.
Judging by what he'd read, he was fairly certain who was to blame for the fiasco.
Rutger barked, trotting toward the door to the office. Hurley turned in time to see Rapp and Conrad step onto the deck. Rapp stepped aside, kneeling to greet Rutger. Conrad stayed in the doorway, standing at attention. Hurley tapped the folder in his hand.
"Your report reads like a goddamn grad school thesis, Mitch."
"Too many big words, sir?" Rapp replied, not taking his eyes off the dog.
"Cute. Tell me what happened over there."
Conrad spoke first. "Sir, our team was ambushed-"
"You were sloppy, and got made," Rapp interrupted coldly. As usual, he didn't pull his punches. "If I hadn't had to save your ass, I could have gotten back to the team in time."
Fuming, Conrad kept his eyes on Hurley. "Sir, I-"
The angry tension between them was practically visible to the naked eye. Stan could only wonder what the flight home had been like. He nodded once. "Conrad, go get cleaned up. We'll talk later."
Glaring at Rapp, Conrad shook his head, but didn't argue. "Yes, sir."
Hurley waited until the other man was out of earshot, then looked at Rapp. The young operative was clearly angry, but it seemed to be directed more internally than at his clumsy backup.
"You took out the Syrian and his arms dealer. The mission was successful." Hurley said quietly.
Rapp kept scratching behind Rutger's ears, but his expression darkened. "Hobson bled out in the van."
Stan studied him for a moment. "That wasn't your fault, Mitch."
"I was Lead."
"You did your job. Conrad fucked up."
Rapp looked up at him at last, but his expression was unreadable.
"You're going to take losses. It's part of the job." Hurley said. "We'll put Conrad on support for a while. Maybe we can make him better."
Mitch turned his attention back to Rutger. Hurley pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.
"Thought you were back on the patch?" Rapp asked.
"That's Irene talking," Hurley snapped.
"She's right, it's a bad habit." Mitch retorted.
Hurley decided to change the subject. "That dog likes you better than he does me."
"Because I pay attention to him," Rapp replied.
"Because you give him bacon."
Mitch huffed a laugh, and smiled down at Rutger. It was the closest thing to a pleasant human emotion the troubled young man had displayed since arriving back at the cabin. It also revealed a bone-deep weariness on his face that hadn’t been visible earlier.
"When was the last time you slept?" Hurley asked, eyeing him. He’d heard from his second that Rapp’s nightmares had returned in recent weeks.
"What's sleep, sir?" Mitch shot back without missing a beat.
"That's what I thought. Go bunk out. Chow's at seven."
Rapp hesitated, as if wanting to say something else, but ultimately nodded. "Yes, sir."
Before he passed the door, Hurley called out. "Hey, Rapp."
"Sir?"
"We got a new recruit coming tomorrow. I want you to put him through his paces." Stan's smile turned into a smirk. "Maybe you can work out some of this frustration over the op."
Mitch looked dubious. "Oh, I wouldn't want to kill him on his first day, sir."
He turned and walked out. Stan frowned. Half the time he honestly couldn't tell if Rapp was joking. He looked over at Rutger, who was also watching Rapp leave.
"Traitor," Stan muttered.
END
Sicily
1700 Hours
Stan Hurley watched as Irene paced around the hospital ward like the proverbial caged lion, reading Rapp the riot act for his unilateral decision to assassinate General Rostami.
"This was beyond reckless, Rapp! You could have been captured. Worse, you could have exposed Orion!" She snapped.
"I wasn't. And I didn't. Ma'am." Mitch replied evenly. He was standing with his arms behind his back, weathering the storm of Kennedy's anger reasonably well. Surprisingly, he was even keeping his cool and not yelling back. Will wonders never cease....
"We have protocols in place," Irene continued irately. "We decide who the targets are, not you. You disobeyed orders."
"No ma'am." Rapp replied.
"Excuse me?"
The younger man stood his ground. "No, ma'am, I didn't disobey orders. I followed them. We were sent to Rome to find the physicist and take out the people who were hiring him to finish the nuke. Rostami was one of those people. I completed the mission that I was assigned. Ma'am."
Stan tried to smother a laugh. He wasn't quick enough. Irene rounded on him.
"This isn't funny, Stan."
"No, it isn't," he said, clearing his throat. "But, Mitch is right. He completed the mission. He tracked the target, planned the strike, carried it out without getting made and escaped the country, alone. No backup. That's not something you can train into someone."
He'd be lying if throwing her own words back at her wasn't damn satisfying. Judging by the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was doing.
Kennedy tilted her head back to look at the ceiling in consternation. After a moment, she sighed, then stepped over to grab Hurley's laptop and thrust it at Mitch. "Fine. Report, Mr. Rapp. The whole mission to Dubai, start to finish. Lead with the words 'under orders from Ms. Kennedy and Mr. Hurley.' No reason for the Director to know you're a loose cannon, now is there?"
Rapp didn't crack a smile. "No, ma'am. I'll get right on it."
With a last withering glance at Stan, Irene stalked from the room, leaving them alone. It took a moment for Rapp to shift his gaze to Hurley.
"You're pissed at me too, sir." It wasn't a question.
Stan scoffed and threw his hands in the air. "Jesus, Mitch! You flew to Dubai on your own authority, staked out an Iranian general, killed him and his bodyguards and got out of the country before anyone knew what happened. Pissed? I'm fucking astonished!"
Rapp said nothing.
"Just tell me one thing," Stan continued. "Why?"
Rapp blinked. "Why? He helped build a nuke that could have killed-"
Hurley waved that away. "Nah, save that bullshit for the report. Why?"
Rapp clamped his mouth shut and looked away. He swallowed thickly. "For Annika, sir. I owed her that much."
Hurley watched the younger man for a long moment, then sighed. He pointed at the laptop. "Let me read that before you send it to Irene."
Meeting his eyes again, Rapp seemed to have regained his composure. He nodded. "Got it."
AA AA AA AA AA AA
6 Months Later
Roanoke Valley, Virginia
Hurley leaned against the deck railing and stretched his leg, scowling at the ache. He was too old to be getting shot through the leg. Hell, getting shot period.
He thumbed through the report one more time, absently scratching his newest dog, Rutger, behind the ears. The German Shepherd was a former MP, recently retired. Not unlike me, he mused absently.
Irene had forwarded him the after action report on the op she'd just run in Syria. For the first time, Mitch had been Lead, with Conrad as his backup. Unfortunately, the op had gone sideways, and their support team had been ambushed by the same Syrian terror cell whose leader Mitch had been sent to terminate.
Judging by what he'd read, he was fairly certain who was to blame for the fiasco.
Rutger barked, trotting toward the door to the office. Hurley turned in time to see Rapp and Conrad step onto the deck. Rapp stepped aside, kneeling to greet Rutger. Conrad stayed in the doorway, standing at attention. Hurley tapped the folder in his hand.
"Your report reads like a goddamn grad school thesis, Mitch."
"Too many big words, sir?" Rapp replied, not taking his eyes off the dog.
"Cute. Tell me what happened over there."
Conrad spoke first. "Sir, our team was ambushed-"
"You were sloppy, and got made," Rapp interrupted coldly. As usual, he didn't pull his punches. "If I hadn't had to save your ass, I could have gotten back to the team in time."
Fuming, Conrad kept his eyes on Hurley. "Sir, I-"
The angry tension between them was practically visible to the naked eye. Stan could only wonder what the flight home had been like. He nodded once. "Conrad, go get cleaned up. We'll talk later."
Glaring at Rapp, Conrad shook his head, but didn't argue. "Yes, sir."
Hurley waited until the other man was out of earshot, then looked at Rapp. The young operative was clearly angry, but it seemed to be directed more internally than at his clumsy backup.
"You took out the Syrian and his arms dealer. The mission was successful." Hurley said quietly.
Rapp kept scratching behind Rutger's ears, but his expression darkened. "Hobson bled out in the van."
Stan studied him for a moment. "That wasn't your fault, Mitch."
"I was Lead."
"You did your job. Conrad fucked up."
Rapp looked up at him at last, but his expression was unreadable.
"You're going to take losses. It's part of the job." Hurley said. "We'll put Conrad on support for a while. Maybe we can make him better."
Mitch turned his attention back to Rutger. Hurley pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.
"Thought you were back on the patch?" Rapp asked.
"That's Irene talking," Hurley snapped.
"She's right, it's a bad habit." Mitch retorted.
Hurley decided to change the subject. "That dog likes you better than he does me."
"Because I pay attention to him," Rapp replied.
"Because you give him bacon."
Mitch huffed a laugh, and smiled down at Rutger. It was the closest thing to a pleasant human emotion the troubled young man had displayed since arriving back at the cabin. It also revealed a bone-deep weariness on his face that hadn’t been visible earlier.
"When was the last time you slept?" Hurley asked, eyeing him. He’d heard from his second that Rapp’s nightmares had returned in recent weeks.
"What's sleep, sir?" Mitch shot back without missing a beat.
"That's what I thought. Go bunk out. Chow's at seven."
Rapp hesitated, as if wanting to say something else, but ultimately nodded. "Yes, sir."
Before he passed the door, Hurley called out. "Hey, Rapp."
"Sir?"
"We got a new recruit coming tomorrow. I want you to put him through his paces." Stan's smile turned into a smirk. "Maybe you can work out some of this frustration over the op."
Mitch looked dubious. "Oh, I wouldn't want to kill him on his first day, sir."
He turned and walked out. Stan frowned. Half the time he honestly couldn't tell if Rapp was joking. He looked over at Rutger, who was also watching Rapp leave.
"Traitor," Stan muttered.
END