Desmoterion, page 4
Girish shuffled inside the office to sit down on the chair. “You heard what I said; I won’t act like that any more.”
Trent sat at his desk and tapped on the keypad. “And how would I have heard you say that?”
“You were there.” Girish sat back in the chair. “I could smell you watching us.”
“You smelled me? Hopefully, I don’t smell bad.”
“Eh, just like spice. It’s either your shampoo or some nice perfume.”
“You like it?” he asked somewhat bemused.
After a brief hesitation came the reply, “Yeah.”
Trent tapped on the keyboard to bring his laptop to life. “Good sense of smell. At least you’re gaining some tracking abilities. But you didn’t smell me coming into prison when I took you.”
Girish shrugged. “I was more focused on not getting gang raped by wayward inmates.”
“Inmates are able to open your cell at will?”
“No, but you never know what kind of thing is gonna happen next when you’re in there.”
Trent typed into his keyboard. “Indeed. I was harassed during my limited prison time. Maybe that’s why I worked so hard to never let anyone hurt me again.”
Girish studied the look of sadness on Trent’s face. “What’s the deal? You were cold as ice when we met before, and now you’re saying you have emotions.”
Trent glanced up from his screen. “What makes you say that? I don’t recall breaking down in front of you.”
“Well, not that, but you’re letting that mask slip, if only a little. Maybe your asshole exterior is melting.”
Trent went back to his laptop. “And you’re gaining some insight by visual cues. It’s helpful when you’re not set on trying to beat the shit out of your boss.”
Girish snorted. “I’m still going to beat the shit out of you; I just need to learn more moves.”
“Well, until then, you’ll be doing a mission for us. It’s undercover to listen in on conversations around you. We expect you to remember key things as you’re fitting in with the role. After it’s done, you’ll debrief with myself and possibly our leader. That’s up to him.”
“Listening? That’s all I’ll be doing? That sounds like an easy job.”
“No one ever said our jobs would be glamorous. Basically, you’ll be listening to learn any important hints, dates of attack, or where they might be hiding any cargo.”
“Why would they reveal things like that to me?”
Trent sat back in his chair. “Because you will be all but invisible to them. Men like these don’t care about servants around them. You’re insignificant to them and powerless to interfere with their plans.”
Girish stared at Trent, confused. “Servants?”
“Yes, you’ll be disguised as one of the men carrying the food trays around the room. Colin will do the same while listening to another part of the room. Do not linger to listen in; just move around and try to listen in while offering hors-d’oeuvres. It’s as simple as that.”
“Won’t they notice if a regular guy is missing and replaced with me?”
Trent leaned over his desk. “As I said, they don’t care either way as long as you give them food like the obedient boys you are. We intend to capture two of the servants and replace them with you and Colin. These men tend to like brunettes, and you two will do nicely.”
“Like brunettes?” Girish repeated. “What if one of them gets fresh with me?”
Trent noticed the look of nervousness on Girish’s face. “You’ll ignore it and move on to the next person. You’ll need to rein in those explosive emotions and do your damn job. If you blow your cover in any way, they will kill you without hesitation and ask questions later.”
“So, this is a test of my abilities to not act out in anger.”
“Yes, it is, and also to gather intel. You can thank Mike for suggesting you. He brought it to my attention that you’d be a perfect candidate.”
Girish sat back in his chair. “Figures. So do I have to prepare for it? Gear or any training other than listening.”
“When you get the chance, meet with Emyr and tell him you’re on the Lund mission. He probably already knows from Mike. He’ll be able to fill you in on what gear you’ll use. It won’t be much other than some things for your ears.”
“Earrings?”
Trent raised an eyebrow. “No, things for inside your ears to listen to us talking to you. For the most part, we’re going to keep the channel quiet so you can concentrate, but we might give you directions for leaving when it comes to that.”
“How long do I sling food around?”
“No idea, it could be all night. Basically, until the party ends or if you’ve discovered what we’re after. You’ll get a full briefing nearer the time.”
“I doubt I’ll get to wear this while there.” Girish motioned to his black workout clothes.
Trent swiveled his laptop around. “No, you’ll be wearing one of these.”
Girish stared at the image. “You can’t be serious. That’s a monkey suit for weddings and shit. What sort of shindig is this?”
“Think of this as your wedding day. You’d look stunning in a tuxedo, just like the others in the room. That’s another reason we chose you. You’re the best looking, and that’s important for this mission.”
Girish ducked his head to hide a faint blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t look anything different from anyone else.”
A slight smile crossed Trent’s lips before fading just as quick.
* * *
Girish walked into Emyr’s domain.
Emyr glanced up from the gear he was working on. “What can I do for you?”
“Dupont said you’d know what I need for the Lund mission.”
“You said Trent’s name very calmly. Maybe you are changing, like Mike told me.” Emyr smiled at Girish who scowled back.
“Just tell me what I need.”
Emyr laughed and moved away from the work table into the storeroom. He dug inside a clear container, pulling out a small black box.
Girish frowned at it when Emyr brought it over to him. “What’s that?”
“Your gear for the mission.”
Girish took the box out of Emyr’s hands and opened it. He stared down at two tiny pieces of metal on a bed of foam. “Um, what are these? Hearing aids?”
Emyr took one out, reaching up to put it in Girish’s ear. He grabbed a remote control device off the nearby counter and tapped in a few commands. “Let’s test this out.”
“What the hell does it do?”
Emyr grinned and spoke, but Girish couldn’t make out the words, he didn’t even recognise the language until suddenly, a voice spoke in his ear with the words translated.
“It translates languages?”
“Yep, and I can add languages for it to translate from or to with a press of a button. Right now, it’s set to Welsh, which I just spoke. But it can handle any of the main languages. Orion Standard if you want, or old Cornish. For your mission, it will be Ruskie and possibly some similar derivative that we haven’t heard before. I’ll monitor what they’re saying with this other in-ear device.” He stopped to sigh. “Despite what Trent tells most newbie recruits, we’ll be recording the surrounding conversations depending on where you are in the room. You don’t have to remember anything other than trying not to react to what they’re saying.”
“And thereby my test to see if I can control my emotions, thanks to Mike.”
Emyr removed the device from Girish’s ear. “For the most part, but we need to find their hideout and the location of the cargo. We’ve yet to be successful with this group, they’re always outsmarting us in some way. This is our last chance before giving it to another division to take a crack at it.”
“So we’ve done this before and failed? What happened to the undercover guys?”
Emyr returned the device to the clear container without answering the question.
Girish followed him inside. “I take it they didn’t make it out alive.”
Emyr turned around with a frown on his face. “You could say that. Though before that, they were brutalized. We heard every agonizing moment until they found our old devices on them. Then it just went quiet; the transmission died.”
“Is that what awaits me if I screw up?” Girish swallowed hard.
“Pretty much. Trent wouldn’t want me to tell you, but the chance of success is small.” Emyr pointed up at the ceiling. “They don’t want you to fail, but it won’t be easy unless they blab while you are standing beside them.”
* * *
Standing next to the tunnel that headed down to the garage, Trent checked his watch and grumbled under his breath.
“Keep your pants on, I had trouble with this stupid tie.”
Trent glanced up and had to stop himself, letting out an audible gasp.
Girish was in front of him, decked out in a black tux with his long brown hair draped over his back instead of tied back as usual.
Trent eyed the suit and then snorted. He wandered up to Girish, his hands going up to the tie. “Didn’t your father ever teach you how to tie a bow tie?”
“No, he didn’t,” hissed Girish through clenched teeth.
Trent made a mental note to research Girish’s past in more depth.
“Well then, I’ll have to teach you. You take this piece and move it....” He stopped and undid the tie from around Girish’s collar. “You can’t see what I’m doing like that.” He pulled his black sweatshirt down to show off his pale neck and draped the tie over it. “Okay, pretend I’m wearing a tux and watch what I do. You take this piece and wrap it under the other. Then, fold this piece over the front while folding the other half underneath it. Pull ends to tighten.”
Trent glanced up with a raised eyebrow when Girish didn’t respond.
“Thanks for the instructions.” Girish flushed.
Trent undid the bow tie around his neck and handed it over to Girish. “Now you do it.”
Girish fumbled with the tie he couldn’t see.
Trent leaned in, touching Girish’s fingers. “You’re close. Take your right hand and move this piece over here.”
Girish moved his hand while looking at Trent’s red lips, overshooting where Trent wanted him.
“As much as I love playing with your uncoordinated hands, we need to get this done. I’ll just do the last part.”
Girish ducked his head.
Trent shoved Girish’s chin up. “Keep still, I’m almost done.”
Girish bit his lip, and when he looked up, his eyes locked on Trent’s red lips in a second that felt more intimate than he expected or was ready for until Trent said, “You’re ready to go. Emyr and Colin are already in the transporter with the gear.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No, I’ll be here to advise you from afar. There’s no need for me to be there since we’ll be listening in to what’s happening. If necessary, we have others that can intercept but know that if you fuck up, nothing will save you from men like this. They’ll kill you before we can even get there.”
“Then I’ll try to not fuck up.”
Trent smoothed out of the front of Girish’s shirt with the palms of his hands. “I know you will.”
* * *
Emyr greeted Girish with an unmistakable grin as he entered the vehicle. “Having troubles?”
Girish claimed a seat beside Colin, who appeared more composed, his inquisitive gaze fixed on Emyr. “No, what’s the plan?”
Emyr chuckled at Girish’s furrowed brow. “You look like you’ve had the pleasure of Trent’s company before arriving here. I can only imagine the cheerful tidings he delivered about this mission.”
“Undercover missions entail gathering intel, not direct combat, so should be less demanding in that sense,” Colin said calmly.
A sardonic eyebrow arched on Emyr’s face. “Well, Kipper seems to have omitted some crucial details this time. We’ve attempted to locate the cargo and decipher their intentions twice before, but our agents met grisly fates — tortured and killed. This mission is anything but straightforward. Your lives will hang in the balance if either of you falter.”
Colin swiveled to face Emyr with widened eyes. “Kipper mentioned none of this. I knew missions came with risks, but I wasn’t aware it was this perilous. Is that how Henshall perished?”
Emyr nodded solemnly. “Henny was part of the second attempt at this. We were ill-equipped and lacked sufficient intelligence. Trent blames himself, although he doesn’t admit it aloud. This is our last shot before a higher authority steps in, deeming us a failure.”
Girish nodded in acknowledgment. “Dupont did imply the gravity of the situation.”
“The advantage we hold this time is the translation gear. It’s far superior to what we had a year ago, offering a real-time translation instead of a delay. Each of you will wear an earpiece, one for communication with Trent or me and the other for translation.”
Girish retrieved the box handed to him by Emyr and opened it, revealing the earpieces. “So, which one goes in each ear?”
“The translator goes in your left ear and the other earpiece hooks behind your right ear. But be warned, don’t get distracted by eavesdropping on their conversations. Your primary task is to blend in while carrying trays of food. They won’t divulge anything substantial if they catch on to your understanding. If confronted, feign ignorance and speak in your own local dialect as if you don’t comprehend.”
Girish inserted the left earpiece into his ear, a faint feeling of discomfort registering on his face. “This feels odd.”
Colin chuckled at Girish’s reaction. “You’ll get used to it. Every undercover mission has one like it.”
Girish grumbled to himself as he affixed the second metal earpiece discreetly against the back of his ear, concealed beneath his hair, just as Emyr had instructed a week ago. Before he could utter a word, Trent’s voice echoed in his ear, “I shouldn’t have to reiterate what Emyr has undoubtedly hammered into you. Maintain unwavering focus on the task at hand. Do not react to anything you hear, regardless of how disturbing it may be. These men are some of the vilest we’ve encountered, and there's no telling what they’ll say. You aren’t supposed to understand them, so avoid revealing that you do.”
Colin’s brow creased with curiosity. “What kind of things might they say?”
Trent’s voice came through both earpieces, stern and unyielding. “It doesn’t matter; just get the job done. I won’t tolerate failure on this mission due to your sensitivity to another man’s conversation. After your past in prison, you should be accustomed to the sort of robust language that may come your way tonight. Ignore it and focus on your role as servers while moving through the room with the food.”
* * *
The transporter came to a halt within the confines of a forsaken alley. Emyr swiftly relayed their arrival to Trent through the radio.
As Girish fidgeted, his nimble fingers danced over the buttons adorning the cuffs of his jacket. Nerves coiled within him, uncertainty and expectations weighing heavily.
Having finished his communication, Emyr favored Girish with a reassuring smile. “We’ll be right here, watching your every move. Just keep your ears tuned for our signals if anything goes awry.”
A deep, resonant voice emanated from the radio clutched in Emyr’s grasp. “I’ve secured the two outside. You may proceed to the next phase.”
Emyr motioned for Girish and Colin to follow. “All right, it’s time. Head through the back door and find your way to the kitchen a few doors down. They’re anticipating two brunettes, which means both of you.”
Girish thought nothing of the strange comment until later. Colin’s furrowed brow showed he also felt the weight of the mission. “Good luck.”
Colin nodded, words unnecessary in the moment's gravity.
As they approached, Girish and Colin acknowledged with nods the towering figure stationed by the rear entrance, flanked by two bewildered men. Their intuition wisely telling them to walk past and press onward.
An older gentleman, with a crinkled face, thrust his head from a nearby doorway and bellowed, “Get in here!”
Girish and Colin hastened down the elongated corridor without hesitation, each stride propelled by a sense of urgency. The man’s insistent manner guided them into a bustling kitchen teeming with a frenzy of culinary activity. Knives chopped, pans clattered, and cooks scurried to and fro, tending to dishes in various stages of completion.
With a brusque shove, the man handed them oversized platters. “This is for the next round. Circle the room several times before returning.”
An enigmatic fish-based appetizer was on the tray that was thrust into Girish’s hands. He didn’t pause long enough to see what Colin carried before they were both thrust out into the vast ballroom. It was a far bigger party than Girish had expected. The throng of more than a hundred individuals stirred his anxiety. Yet, he couldn’t afford to falter. He had a mission to accomplish, and he was resolved to see it through.
CHAPTER THREE
Trent watched and listened from the communications area along with the head of comms — Kipper Renard. One of his team hacked into the database to give them a live feed to watch. The team comprised a ragtag bunch of hackers and former military radio cryptographers who’s no-good activities invariably got discovered by the CPU, the Planetary Cybercrime Unit.
Convicted of hacking a government agency to get himself and a friend out of military duty, Kipper’s skills were too valuable to languish in a cell for months, so he’d been snatched from prison pretty much right away.
Ironically, the friend Kipper was trying to help also ended up in prison, though on a completely different charge of murder. Both were extracted but placed in different departments.
With a sigh of regret, Trent recalled the mission a year ago when these same men killed Kipper’s friend Henny — times like these always brought the worst experiences back to the surface to taunt him all over again.
Trent punched a button on the console in front of him. “Girish, stop pausing to listen in on conversations. You’re not supposed to know what they’re saying. We’re recording all of it and processing it. Just do your job.”
