Mission: Interrupted

Chapter 30 - The Long Wait

Meg spent the afternoon working on her garden, weeding and hoeing rows for planting. It was mindless, but gratifying work that allowed her to be on high alert for any buzzes from her phone or for the subtle changes in the wildlife that would indicate an alien presence. None came before the sun started its decent behind the western mountain range and she made her way inside.

After setting the appropriate alarms, she showered and sat down for a quick bite and a phone call to Norman. He answered after the first ring. "Hey, I'm so glad to hear your voice."

"Back at ya... you make it to Virginia yet, or ya still in Atlanta?" she asked.

"I'm here at Quantico; they gave me a room to stay in. Bob told me it's the same room you used to stay in some times when you were between apartments." He chuckled a bit and she could picture him running a hand through his long, unruly locks. "I gave all the information I could in Atlanta, listened to the tapes of Michael and Samuel and was able to positively identify them by voice and then by photo."

"That's great, Norman. That'll be a big help."

"It made me physically ill, babe... to hear these two men, both of whom I've trusted in different ways, to so casually discuss destroying my life and, and... kill" his voice cracked and she could hear him fighting back the emotions, "killing you. It just overwhelmed me with rage."

"I know and I hate that you are going through that, but it has to be done so we can nail these maggots. Now, do they have enough, or does Bob feel that they need you to do anything else?"

"We talked through a few ideas on the plane this morning and I think what we decided on was that I'm going to call Michael up and ask him to meet me in the city. I'm going to basically tell him the truth, that I knew you were CIA and that in one of our conversations it became clear that you and Nikki McGowan were one and the same. I'll tell him that you're haunted by him and filled with regret and remorse and want to reach out to him to make amends and I'm there to see if he could possibly "see it in his heart to forgive you". Then, I'm going to tell him that you're waiting back at the hotel for us and that I'll go get you if he's open to it. Bob thinks this will cause him to make contact with Don Carlos Antonio directly who'll then contact El Sombre directly which will give us the ability to track him."

Meg was quiet for a few beats. In theory it was a good plan. She would certainly be able to pick up any cellular or satellite activity through her trackers. "All of that all hinges on the assassin not already being here and watching me; but I like it for solidifying the fact that its Michael Tayte facilitating the contract."

"That's pretty much exactly what Bob said."

"Do you think you can do it? Facing Tayte won't be easy, Norm."

"It definitely won't be easy. In fact, it may be the toughest acting job of my career; but yeah, I'll do it alright – got too much riding on the outcome."

"I love you, Norman Reedus. You be careful." She whispered into her phone.

"I love you more, Meg MacAndrews. You survive this, you hear me?"

Hanging up the phone, she put threw away the paper plate she had eaten her sandwich off of and took a bottle of water out of the fridge. She took it, her phone, and the sniper rifle with her up to the loft. The waiting was a psychological game meant to fray the nerves, and would typically cause the prey to come out of their shelter if you just waited long enough. Her intentions were to take control and become the hunter, but first she needed to try and get at least a few hours of sleep. It was only 8pm, but she couldn't be sure when the next time would be.

________________________________________________

It was 3:38 am when Meg's eyes sprung open. No other muscles moved, but she was instantly awake. The unmistakable sound of a 'seet' call came sweeping across the mountainside, from the east about 3 miles as best as she could tell. The call was a subtle early warning system used by small songbirds, very much like an old-fashioned bucket brigade, so the sound rolled gently through the atmosphere.

Meg rolled out of bed and was downstairs in seconds. She slipped through the side door and ran over to the garage where she slid under the car and through the hidden door to the basement in record time. Once sealed in, she flipped on the monitors and looked in the eastern quadrant. It took several minutes of searching but she finally identified movement and by switching to another camera with a different angle she was able to make out a man making very slow progress down the steep slope of the mountain on the far side of the river. To the untrained eye he could be an adventure seeker, out for a hike and got lost; Meg could make out the Gerber Tanto-Tactical Knife in a holster on one hip and a Smith & Wesson XVR 460 Magnum on the other. He had a hiker's backpack on and she imagined that there was a disassembled long-range rifle and other goodies inside.

She pulled up the map of the camera that she had initially spotted him on and marked the location so they would have a starting place to trace back to his vehicle later. Then, she turned to the cache of weapons and started making decisions. She also went to a footlocker and pulled out another souvenir she had brought from the agency, a lightweight Kevlar suit made especially for her during one of her operations in Kazakhstan. It was jet black and fit like a glove; it wasn't bullet proof but would slow one down. It had a sewed on belt that would hold various knives and pistols, along with extra clips. Before she slipped the suit on and the knee-high boots that went with it she inserted a Cold Steel Urban Pal Knife into the hidden pocket just inside her sleeve. It was a weapon that she was preternaturally good at using. It was a weapon that she had prayed that she would never have to use again.