Special Agent Mission Story

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The insistent cadence of the telephone on the bedside cabinet had a certain sense of urgency to it. Stacey stirred from the warmth and comfort of her bed, switched on the bedside lamp, and glanced at the alarm clock. The time was five minutes to six. It was still dark outside. Sleepily, she picked up the receiver and spoke into the mouthpiece.
'Yes?'
It was the Langley switchboard instructing her to get to Headquarters. Director Helms wished to see her as soon as possible. She replied in the affirmative and replaced the receiver. Sinking back into the pillows, she wondered what the hell had happened now. Her partner, Alex Shepard, with whom she shared the condo was away; flying some junket of lard-assed Congressmen on some so-called fact-finding mission to some Mickey-mouse African Republic. He had taken the car across to Andrews Air Force Base the previous morning to prepare his airplane, which meant that she would have to take either a cab, or catch the Langley shuttle bus which picked up over on Tenth Street N; a few blocks to the north. Getting out of bed, she hit the bathroom, showered, and put on her make-up. She dressed in a sensible business suit and double-checked her briefcase to make sure she had everything she was likely to need for the day. Coming out of her bedroom; she made her way to the dining area of the kitchen for a quick breakfast. A cup of coffee and a slice of toast later, she left the kitchen and proceeded to the living-room. She made a quick check to see that nothing was left out that would compromise her identity... as was standard procedure when an operative's apartment was to be vacant for any length of time… and the phone-call suggested that she might well be just that. The shuttle bus didn't seem to b...

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...foolhardy dealers who had thought that the drive past meant that the coast was clear.
John McCarron glanced at Stacey. He knew from experience that it would be a short visit. No right-minded police will be out on these streets fifteen minutes from now. That was when the guns came out. The streets were empty of dealers, runners, and addicts. All the radio cars are would be sneaking off to their holes, parked up nose-to-tail behind warehouses and factory buildings, or, better still, out on the edge of their patrol area at some all-night coffee and donut diner. This was the time that the drug gang enforcers settled their differences, and it was all too easy to get caught in the crossfire. It was also the time that the dirty BNDD agents came calling. With the streets empty they could move without fear of recognition as they collected their take from the various dealers.

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