IDEA - 10-14-2020
by
Patrick Ryan
1,436 Words
Tonight it's pitch dark, no stars, the streetlight is busted, and the office park is a ghost town. Headlights appear at the entrance to the park, the only pair you've seen in the two hours you've been waiting. The car rolls slowly into inertia, and I slip into the passenger seat without stopping the vehicle. My Case Officer is driving; that's never a positive sign, "they don't buy that chicken feed of intelligence; you're blowing their ass." From that point forward, my handler will communicate through cipher; open communication risk is too dangerous. We drop by the safe house and study the mission's contingencies. The cobbler drops by the apartment; he has my passports and other papers. I hadn't known we were nearly burned. When he leaves, I corner my handler, "What's going on? Why do I have traveling docs? "He admits an asset was compromised overnight; he takes a USB drive from a concealment device. "In a counter-intelligence mission, we used a cut-out to relay information, and our agent spotted with the informant. Here's the last known recording of our asset, playing on an audio file, "When do we go to Andre's? "We're not going anywhere; it looks like you've been doing some extra-curricular activity!" The audio ends as if 4 or 5 men swooped in and knocked out the agent. So started the most massive covert operation involving a single man with 100s hanging on his every move; politicians, intelligence agents, analysts, and other adjacent spies waiting for intelligence. Information is vital, shared every day in a microdot, behind enemy lines, where so far, everyone has failed.
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