The Marine Bk. 02 Ch. 04

A/N -- Hello. So Nate/Nick is now an agent. From now on, each chapter is almost a story in itself with references to the past at most. Though a work of fiction, elements of reality will be used, particularly the political and global situation of the world from the past twenty years or so, though this will remain entirely fictional. But it does leave lots of opportunity to create new chapters.

This chapter was somewhat influenced by a few things. One would be a movie named 'Four Lions', a 2010 British satirical comedy about a bunch of homegrown jihadis planning a terrorist attack, but also real-life events and people, including radical cleric Abu Hamza, and atrocities such as 7/7 in London, the Bataclan and Charlie Hebdo attacks in Paris, and various other incidents around Europe over the past couple of decades.

Chapter 1-10: Incest/Taboo

Chapters 11, 13: Erotic Coupling

Chapter 12: Interracial Love

*****

"You know this isn't a good idea," her voice said softly down the phone.

"I know. I know. But..." I needed to sigh and I knew she'd understand. "I just needed to see them again. They won't see me. I know what I'm doing."

"Okay. Just don't hang around too long. I know you won't draw attention, but no-one from your previous life can see you alive."

"Once I see them and assure myself they're okay, I'll be back in London quickly. I know this isn't going to do me any good either, but it was something I thought about from the moment he told me I was based in London."

"I assumed the same thing, so don't worry."

"I'll be home tonight."

"Can I stay at yours?"

"I'll be disappointed if you're not in my bed when I get back, Jules."

"Naked?"

"I want to see a trail of clothing from my front door to the foot of my bed."

"I'll do that just for you, Nate."

"Okay, see you later."

"Drive safe."

Hannah or Emma wouldn't recognise me. I'd died my hair black and had a beard due to my current assignment. I wore eye contacts that made my eyes almost black at the same time. I would be unrecognisable to the man they'd seen the last time I'd departed for Iraq. Plus, I was meant to be dead. They wouldn't be looking out for me anymore.

It was late afternoon as I sat opposite their apartment building, smoking a cigarette. A disgusting habit I'd only started due to the current assignment. I was pleased I'd be finishing that sooner rather than later. Thing about idiots is that, well, they're idiots. Frankly, sending me to deal with them was overkill, but although they were idiots, they still planned on trying to kill people and blow up an entire train station. That was what they hoped anyway. They just didn't have a clue otherwise.

I could have been judge, jury and executioner regarding all of them. Just a double tap to the chest, one to the head, and that would be that. It was the whole point of the training I'd been through. But I had freedom to deal with threats however I saw fit. I'd have no problem taking out those in charge. They'd deserve the bullet coming their way. The idiots who were no real threat, more than likely in over their heads? I'd hand them over to the authorities. I didn't want too many souls on my conscience by the time I was done with the job.

Hannah was the first to return from work just around 5pm. I couldn't help smile as she looked good. No changes to her hair colour or physique, still the same woman I'd fallen in love with and spent a long time in a relationship with. I watched her disappear inside her apartment building. Emma appeared no more than half an hour later. I was pleased to see they were still living together. She'd filled out a little more now that she was approaching her mid-twenties. The lights of their apartment switched on, and part of me wanted to eavesdrop in on their conversation. Another part of me had wanted to break in and have a nosy around, place a listening device or two, just to hear their voices again, but that would have been a step too far.

They both appeared around 6pm, dressed warmly as there was a chill in the air, walking past my car together. They were giggling away about something. That brought a grin to my face, pleased to see they were happy. I wondered if they were going to meet any potential partners. I hoped they were. I almost hoped they'd forgotten about me, though I figured that wasn't likely.

I wanted to follow them, hoping they had moved on and were meeting boyfriends, or even girlfriends, but I'd seen them, and the fact they looked happy, that was enough for me. I didn't need to see anymore right now. I knew that part of my life was over. Whether just for now or forever, only time would tell.

Arriving in London a couple of months earlier, I had wondered if the Aston Martin I'd been given would stand out too much, but considering my townhouse was in a plush area of Kensington, and I 'worked' for a leading global investment bank, I guess it fit my current alias. Once I was back on the M4 leading east, I floored the accelerator, sticking to the outside lane and keeping the speedo to around 85mph, only slowing for the inevitable speed cameras and roadworks.

Driving in London sucks, but my townhouse at least had parking, and I generally used public transport around London. Jennifer lived only ten minutes away in a lovely little apartment. We tried to keep our distance, but she ended up spending at least four nights a week at my place. We didn't particularly answer to the Director, as we had free reign to handle assignments how we saw fit, and he was also aware of our relationship, but we endeavoured to keep it strictly professional where possible.

It was difficult at times when I was at my desk at home and she was underneath it, my cock in her mouth. Guess I really shouldn't complain about having someone I adored who enjoyed having sex with me. And she loved sex just as much as I did, so that was certainly a good thing.

I pulled into my parking spot earlier than I expected, finding Jennifer lying on the couch, though she'd left the trail of clothes I'd requested, smiling as she was sprawled naked. She turned off the TV upon my appearance, her hand running down her body towards her pussy. "You sped back, didn't you?" she asked, enjoying the sight of two fingers sliding inside herself.

"I made sure the cameras didn't flash," I replied, ensuring I was out of my clothes quickly. Lifting her up in my arms, I easily carried her towards the bedroom, lying her down on the bed and joining her. She spread her legs, easily sliding my cock inside her, both of us moaning softly as I buried myself again.

"Fuck me then tell me afterwards," she said.

Her legs ended up over my shoulders, kissing down each legs, which always provoked a giggle. She had fantastic legs, particularly in thigh highs and a short skirt. Leaning forward, she was also very flexible, able to push her knees back until they were practically next to her head. Then she'd beg me to just nail her, hands behind her knees, just pumping away to my heart's content.

"Fuck, I love your cock, Nate," she moaned.

"I'll ensure I eat your pussy before you go home tomorrow morning," I muttered.

"Fuck me afterwards and I'll walk home with your cum dribbling down my legs."

"So I assume your panties are staying here?"

"Of course."

Releasing her legs, she held them back for me as I started to gently fondle her clit. I smiled as she reacted just how I wanted, her face lighting up with pleasure. I loved watching and making her orgasm. She made the most delightful noises, and when her pussy squeezed my cock, and generally helped bring on my own.

"Oh god, fuck me," she moaned, "Harder! Harder! Schneller! Schneller!"

"She's whipping out the German. She's definitely turned on!" I whispered with humour.

"Fick mich mit diesem großen schwanz, du großartiger bastard!"

I fucked her harder, leaning down to kiss her. "Bestes stück Deutsche nuschi der welt."

"So close, Nate... So fucking close... Firmer... Firmer..."

I rubbed her clit like it was going out of fashion. It simply depended on her mood what worked. But it worked like a charm as she practically convulsed underneath me, needing to release her legs and just spread them wide, feeling her hands grab my arse, pulling my cock into her. I blasted inside her within a minute, not relenting for a second until she rested a hand on my chest, the signal for me to slow down and finally stop but not to pull out. I didn't do that until I was soft... if I did go soft.

Wrapping her arms and legs around me, the next series of kisses were tender, full of the feelings we undoubtedly now had for each other. She ran her fingers through my dark hair, having let it grow out, before she scratched my beard. "Getting rid of this soon?"

"Don't like it?"

"I'm still getting used to it. And it does make you look a little older."

"At least it doesn't take long to grow one."

I pulled out and offered my hand, leading her to the bathroom so we could have a shower before returning to bed, Jennifer cuddling into me. "Will you finish it tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow night. I'll call in once it's done. The cleaners are ready?"

"They are."

"Won't be the only one. I eliminate him, they'll bring forward the timetable. Him disappearing will spook them."

"Will they suspect you?"

"Doubtful. They're convinced I'm one of them. They want to believe at least some westerners will support them in their ideals. Spout a few phrases from their book, speak their language, show respect, smoke and drink tea with them, and while some will always remain suspicious, those who need to believe will allow themselves to do so."

"You handle him tomorrow night. What next?"

"Wolverhampton the night after, then I'll do Leeds and Bradford in the one night. That's four of them handled. That leaves the head honcho. Anything on surveillance?"

"He's a cocky bastard. Thinks he's untouchable and that we're clueless about what he's trying to do."

"He'll learn soon enough."

Her hand trailed up and down my chest before she asked, "How did they look?"

"Happy."

"Good. And you?"

"I'm going to keep an eye on them, Jules."

"Just be careful."

I kissed her forehead. "You know I will."

She cuddled back against me. We knew not to fall in love, that would just be a bad idea. I think we were just about sticking to the 'friends with benefits' agreement we'd made.

The next morning was as domestic as it could be, both of us showering then dressing before eating breakfast together. I grabbed my coat and briefcase, heading outside where we parted ways with a kiss. She would head home, as in addition to her role as my handler, her cover was as a freelance web designer, working from home. I had to catch the Underground to Canary Wharf, joining the thousands of others who travelled there and back each morning and evening.

Grabbing a coffee and snack at Costa Coffee, I entered the building I 'worked', passed through security, heading up in the elevator to my assigned office. It was all a cover. I actually did nothing there to do with investment banking. No-one knew except the CEO, who obviously sent word through the grapevine that I was an independent contractor and not to be bothered. I did technically have a manager, but I didn't report to him. I didn't even report to the CEO. I was my own boss.

It was nice to live a somewhat normal life though, even if it was entirely fake. First time I'd ever really done that. I chatted shit with the guys about the football at the water cooler, though I knew fuck all about it. Apparently everyone in London was a Chelsea, Arsenal or Spurs fan. I knew the team names, no fucking idea otherwise. There were jokes about half of London supporting Manchester United otherwise. Must have been something I hadn't learned during my time in the Marines, though I did hear them talk about soccer most of the time. I would enjoy the occasional afternoon in a nearby pub, and had even gone out for a day golfing. I just made sure none of it interfered with my real job.

My first assignment was to infiltrate a group who were plotting an attack somewhere in the UK, assumed to be London, an obvious target, though cities like Birmingham or Manchester would always be potential targets. I won't say it was easy to infiltrate the group, but after visiting the mosque where they were known to congregate, it was surprisingly easy to approach them, enjoy a smoke and some tea at a nearby café, and once I gained their trust rather quickly, we'd be discussing all sorts of topics.

Within a couple of months, I had everything I needed to know. The man who was planning it. The man who would source then prepare the devices. The young men who would be committing the act. And the main man in charge. I knew MI5 and Scotland Yard would perhaps have knowledge as well, but Jennifer would be running interference, and we'd only let them know when I'd decided to let them live or die. The whole point of OGIS was that we didn't want many of these pricks in court and being released out of prison in ten years' time, further radicalised than when they'd headed in. There'd be no Guantanamo. No black site. No anything except them disappearing entirely. Reminded me of a movie I'd seen, about taking pre-emptive action before the crime actually happened.

The Director had asked me bluntly what I thought about committing such acts in the name of keeping everyone safe. "About fucking time," I'd replied.

He'd nodded at that response. "It gets more difficult, Nick," he said softly, "The killing... It wears on everyone in the end, and it will eventually ground you down. It sits on your conscience. On your soul. Most people would claim we're the bad guys, that we're not allowing justice to prevail by placing people like this in cuffs and handing them to the proper authorities. That we should allow these people their day in court, allow them to spew their ideology into microphones, and even the chance that they'll be found not guilty, despite the wealth of evidence of what they intend to do. And don't even get me started on the bastards who are successful."

"They're the enemy," I replied simply, "Shot plenty of them already in Iraq and Afghanistan. They want to kill us. So we'll kill them first. What these pricks are planning, the fact they want to kill hundreds of innocent people? Fuck them. I'll live with it."

I finished late that afternoon, well after most had left the building, avoiding the Friday night rush to get home. Changing out of my suit, I slid into a pair of black combat trousers, black shirt and jacket. Shoulder holster held my SIG Sauer. I carried a second weapon in a small case. The second weapon was non-lethal. Checking the time, I had plenty to get across London to the address I needed.

Travelling via the Underground, I exited at Finsbury Park and found the street where the target lived. There was a long row of shops with apartments above them. The door I needed was easy to pick, heading upstairs, checking the place was empty, ensuring the power was off, before I took position, making sure I could cover the door leading into the living room. I knew the target lived alone and always returned without company after Friday prayers.

Hearing the door open downstairs, I had the non-lethal weapon in hand and waited for him to appear. He tried flicking on the light. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Sit down, Faisal," I said.

"What? Who's that?"

"Sit down, Faisal. If you don't sit down, I'll make your life very unpleasant incredibly quickly."

I'd been sitting in the dark long enough I could see him. He felt for the couch nearby and eventually sat down. I could see him peering at me in the darkness. "That you, Mo?"

"I'll level with you, Faisal. My name isn't Mo. But that's isn't important. What is important is that, in the next few minutes, you're no longer going to be a threat and all your plans will lie in ruins within a couple of days."

He laughed. "What are you talking about, Mo?"

"Faisal, you're all idiots. You think using messenger services can't be hacked? You think deleting content protects you? You think we haven't been watching you and listening in? Trust me, I have all the evidence I need. You're just the first, Faisal. Your entire cell will find itself eliminated over the next couple of days."

"Wait, wait, wait, none of that shit was..."

"Faisal, I know you've been buying the supplies. I've seen your plans. As I said, you're all idiots. You seriously think someone wouldn't notice? We've been watching you for months. All I needed to do was come in, see and hear it for myself, and I've been given the green light." I lifted the weapon and aimed at his chest. "The only good thing for you is that you're just a kid. An idiot kid drawn into something beyond your understanding. Thank your lucky stars I'm not just putting a pair of bullets into you."

Pulling the trigger, the tranquilizer dart entered his body. It was a concoction that would knock him out within seconds, then slow his heart down so much, anyone who checked his heartbeat would think he was dead. From the dart entering his body to him passing out took barely five seconds. It was potent shit.

Placing down the evidence we'd gathered over recent months, all I needed to do was call Jennifer. Cleaners would come to clear out the apartment, and Faisal would end up in the hands of the authorities. He was a nobody in the grand scheme of things, the only reason he wasn't dead. But he was still guilty of being part of the plot and blow himself up. I called Jennifer.

"It's done."

"Cleaners are five minutes away. Authorities have been notified. Make yourself scarce."

Grabbing his phone before stepping out of the apartment, I took one look around to assess my surroundings. No-one was watching, so I strolled towards Finsbury Park station. I wouldn't hear from the cleaners. They'd scrub the apartment clean and, far as I was concerned, Faisal had never existed. He was a single man, no family. The sort of young man that the recruiters favoured. Worked in our favour that his disappearance would barely result in a small column on page fifteen of a national newspaper.

I could have killed him. Many would have suggested it would have been in cold blood had I done so. He was willing to commit mass murder, so would me killing him in return have made me better or worse? Even with all the training, that was one question I always asked myself. I knew the final piece in the puzzle, the one responsible for everything, he was always going to die. Putting a bullet in him would almost feel righteous. But foot soldiers like Faisal, idiots who knew better but were only guilty of planning, not doing? I didn't feel any sympathy if they ended buried in some dank, dark cell for a few decades.

Returning home, I poured myself a glass of whiskey before doing anything else. The night had gone as planned. I was content, though was left wondering if putting a bullet in him wouldn't have been the better course of action.

My phone buzzed, picking it up and answering, "Hello."

"Want me to come around?"

"You're at the front door, aren't you?"

"Yes."

I headed downstairs and let her in, feeling her soft lips on my cheek, before we headed upstairs. Sitting on the couch, I removed my shoulder holster and weapon, grabbing a second glass for her, sitting side by side on the couch. I flicked on my stereo for a little background music.

"So..."

"If I said I sit wondering if I shouldn't have just shot him..."

"You would sound like a trained operative who has completed the first part of his assignment successfully. You figured out what they were up to and have made the first step towards stopping it." She took my hand and squeezed it. "He was going to blow himself up and kill god knows how many people at the same time, Nate. You are putting a stop to that."