The Shack: The Milk Run

But Emma detested that vast fortune and everything it stood for. She saw it as rot, corruption incarnate, a soul-devouring source of evil. Somehow though, I doubted she would hesitate to use it as a weapon against these new Synarchists if she had the chance. They were heretics and apostates in her eyes. I had to smile along with Michael at that.

She stepped up to the podium, and in terse, diamond-hard words, explained that she was leading the effort across several agencies and the FBI itself. Her tempo stayed precise, synchronized to a metronome, and her inflection was perfectly even. But her hate and fury radiated blindingly. She had the eyes of her father, The Reinhardt, and those eyes blazed with the cold blue fire of her fury. The Heretics had breached the walls and defiled her sacred grove. When she stated levelly that she would use every tool at her disposal to hunt the rest of the conspirators down, it was a clear warning.

The Reinhardt Apparent was taking up her sword to go to war.

*****

Aftershocks

*****

The White House Chief of Staff leaned back in his chair and looked between the director and me. "So, we paint this as a planned covert operation. Deputy Director Hawthorne and Michael Sandeman's remarkable work to uncover foreign corruption of senior officials in the government gets publicly lauded, gets noted in the papers and on the Sunday news circuit, and we're covered."

"Point of fact, this wasn't a government action, it was..." The director showed a bit more spine than I'd expected.

The chief of staff cut him off. "As far as the public is concerned, this was the work of a foreign country, details classified. Imagine how the public would react if they knew that some of the companies that make their toothpaste, build their cars, and let them play funny cat videos were buying government officials, planning to put them into higher office, and were willing to kill to do it."

I pulled myself a little forward. "I think you underestimate the public. I honestly doubt they'd be remotely surprised."

The chief of staff studied me for a second, with a glint of malicious humor in his eye. "You sound a touch cynical, Maria."

I just stared back at him. "Being hung out to dry has that effect. I didn't exactly get the full support of the administration on this." He'd been one of the talking heads on the news calling for my immediate arrest. But Emma herself had grudgingly cleared him of any involvement. I wondered if he realized how close he had been to a traffic accident or suicide note.

He gave a soft chuckle. "Whatever you think of me, we have common interests here. If the full details of these activities were released, there'd be repercussions that we couldn't predict, much less control. Transnational banking institutions involved in the murder of a very senior FBI agent and the attempted frame and murder of a deputy director? We'll officially set up a task force to figure this out, but I think it would be best if the public just blamed it on the Russians or Chinese."

The finality in his voice was clear. Worse yet, he was probably right. I gave a single unhappy nod.

The director looked doubtful. "You think anyone is going buy into the fantasy of a deputy director going on a covert mission?"

The Chief chuckled. "They'll believe it, Jonas. Have faith. This is an Age of Miracles. We have the perfect superhero fantasy. Just picture it: 'One woman puts it all on the line to save her country and avenge her lover.' We have a few conveniently dead foreign mercenaries, a rash of arrests, and three suicides to show results. It also has the advantage of having quite a bit of truth to it." He paused. "The only problem with this is that we're creating a real superhero, and I suspect that may be very dangerous."

I had wondered if he had thought it through that far. He was smart and ruthless, so of course he had. I shrugged, trying to look harmless and not pull out any stitches. "I just want to be left alone to do my job."

"Don't we all. I'm going to take a rather obvious guess here and assume that you see a large part of that as pursuing the line of investigation into these Synarchists, as you so aptly named them in your reports?"

"I do."

He stared into the wall for a long moment. "Do what you have to do but keep it out of the light."

The director shifted uncomfortably. "This is very risky."

The chief gave a long slow sigh. "She's already dangerous, Jonas. Think about it. Shot, with a collapsed lung, yet she still manages to escape while taking down several of their assets. With her background as an agent, I can almost understand that. But...the rest, Jonas? Infiltrating the FBI itself? You assured me she had no access to Bureau assets and that her 'unofficial' associates were under observation. I confirmed that with my own sources. She knows how to do this."

He looked at me with one raised eyebrow. "Satisfy an old man's curiosity, Maria. How did you pull it off?"

"I fought fire with fire. They used mercenaries. I hired better ones."

*****

My secretary, Peggy, smiled up at me as I passed her desk. "Good morning."

I nodded and poured myself a cup of coffee. "Anything I need to know about?"

"Remember your meeting with Cyber at two and the preparation meeting for the pre-budget meeting at three."

"It's great to be back," I commented wryly. I fingered the FBI lapel pin I'd gotten from Emma and smiled again for the tenth time today. Emma had puzzled over the lapel pin for a couple of days, and then the light had dawned. She'd never said anything, but the sudden smile of amusement had been unmistakable. Emma would never say anything, of course, never risk the compromise, but all the same, the pin made her smile every time.

Peggy chuckled at the despair in my voice, then stopped. "Oh, maintenance is here to test the air vents. Checking for mold, he already did the outer office." She pointed to a blue coverall-clad man in the waiting area.

"Let me check my desk."

After making certain there were no classified documents on my desk and the safe was locked, I buzzed her to let him in.

The slightly rough-cut looking guy came in, nodded to me and wordlessly ran what I assumed was an air sampler over the vents, making notes as he went. I sat down and got to work booting up my computer.

Something felt slightly off, and I looked up. He was sitting in the chair across from my desk, looking at me contemplatively, smoothing a full mustache. A glance toward the closed door to the outer office told me most of what I needed to know. His eyes told me the rest.

I had my service weapon in my purse, in the bottom drawer of my desk. Not a good idea. I'd never get to it in time. The remarkably illegal machine pistol the girls had left with me was under the dash of my car. That had seemed logical at the time, but now...

"Mister Dawes."

He nodded once, then kept right on looking at me searchingly, trying to decide something.

I put my hands open on the desk very carefully. "What can I do for you?"

"Kurt is dealing with Kim. He's making her pay Delaney and the girls a triple bonus. Kim would rather be waterboarded than do that. Even with the amount of money you paid her, Kurt says she'll barely clear overhead on this one." He paused for a second. "Mooky's a fucking idiot. Doing anything to him would be like kicking a cocker spaniel puppy for peeing on the floor."

"Mooky's a decent guy. And he didn't really have any choices."

"I know. Delaney told me." He gave a low sound like a chuckle. "It's cute that you got him a federal open research license for his little weed farm."

"I owed him something."

He nodded. "Probably. Either way, that leaves you."

"It does."

"Delaney won't lie to me. From what she told me, you didn't know anything at all about her or Tiffany before this all kicked off, and that gives you a one-time pass. If you did, I'd expect you to know it'd be a better idea to bleed out than drag any of my girls into shit without my fucking permission."

"Thank you." I hoped that sounded as honest as I meant it. His voice was entirely conversational, almost friendly, but I was starting to understand why everybody was so cautious.

"Problem is, you used her to break into the FBI after you knew. That's not covered by the one-time pass."

I waited. There wasn't much to say to that. It was true. Pleading expediency obviously wasn't going to fly with him.

"If you'd gotten her hurt or gotten her into anything she couldn't handle, we wouldn't be talking."

Delaney definitely had his eyes.

"I'm not sure there's much she can't handle."

There was a flash of pride mixed with a touch of pain in his face, but it was gone in an instant. "Either way, if this hadn't been such a milk run, I'd have been pissed."

"Breaking into the FBI is a milk run?"

He gestured at himself and the office around us, then shrugged. "Apparently."

I couldn't help it; I laughed. "Okay, you have a point. I really need to have a long talk with our security team. You don't have a problem with the Russian mercenaries, though?"

"That's nothing she shouldn't be able to handle. Besides, it was a babysitting gig. Teenage girls babysit. It's a thing. We've seen worse."

"Obviously."

He smoothed his mustache again. "Here's the deal. Delaney doesn't get asked to do anything without my permission."

"You'll give her permission?" I could hear the disbelief in my voice.

"It's complicated. Delaney's life isn't going to ever be normal, at least not for a long time. I haven't been teaching her this shit for no reason. She's had people trying to kill her since she was thirteen, and we can't see the other side of that yet, and we won't for a long time. This... agreement with K2 is a good way to get her the experience and skills she has to have. It's mostly just courier runs. This was a fluke. Bad timing. Kurt's not an idiot. He makes sure I know what I need to know, and he makes sure she has serious backup. This way, she gets practice. She needs that practice for when I'm not there to help. She's also going to need friends and people who owe her."

"So am I a friend or someone who owes her?"

"That's for you and Delaney to figure out."

"And Tiffany?"

"She's not part of this. Delaney just did the best she could with what was to hand. Tiffany's technically covered by the one-time pass." Something that could have been mistaken for a hint of a smile crossed his face. "Besides, unless I'm wrong, you're the source of that ten grand bearer bond for the baby, along with the bottle of Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve bourbon and the cases of high-end red wine that showed up at her house. She seems to think you're even."

Evelyn had found a bottle of the bourbon and the cases of wine for me to send; I felt an internal sigh of relief. "Guilty as charged. I owed her, and I'm pretty sure she'd have refused cash."

"She'd have worked just as hard to save you if she'd been sure you were guilty. It's what she is." I'm not sure the word "wistful" would ever be associated with the man before me, but it was the only word I could think of.

I pondered for a moment. "K2 may have some hiring competition when those girls are old enough."

"You know Quantico wouldn't work out very well for Delaney. Probably wouldn't be real fucking great for Quantico either."

I nodded; he was right. Mackenzie was pretty much tailor-made for the FBI academy. She would probably be the honor graduate of her class. I doubted Tess would have any problems she couldn't overcome. Delaney though...I could already picture the mountain of incident reports and trying to budget for rebuilding the facilities. Maybe Donna had a better place for her. Hell, maybe that was the whole reason Spooky was involved. Still..."There are other options. We can use help off the books sometimes."

"I've heard that."

"I'll make it easy stuff for now."

"You do that. For now."

"You know, you could have just come by the house."

"I could have." He answered it lazily, but I knew what he meant. He wanted, or maybe needed me to know, that there were no hiding places. No safe spaces.

"Are there any dead bodies I need to clean up?"

"Not this time. Don't make me come back." He stood up and pulled a tape printout from his mold sampler and handed it to me. "You need to get maintenance up to your office; you really do have a mold problem."

With that, he quietly walked out.

*****

Epilogue

*****

I stared at the folders on the desk in my study, feeling rather less clever than I had before. Or rather feeling that I'd been a little too clever for my own good. Maybe too clever for anyone's good.

Reaching down, I touched the machine pistol in my purse, a religious reflex to a holy icon, a momentary assurance of my ability to be and do true violence as a last desperate, defiant act against the gods.

Knowledge has power. That was the essence of my world. Some knowledge is useful. Some is harmful.

Some, a very, very small percentage, is truly dangerous.

A vanishingly small amount is plutonium.

Radioactive.

Deadly to all who come near it.

I'd had teams of research analysts and information techs pull the information for me, but I'd analyzed it myself. Stacks of itineraries, passport checks, formal event schedules, and hotel registries. Security camera feeds. Charges for limousines. Basic analysis. Nothing exciting, nothing fancy, nothing one hundred per cent certain. It could all be a coincidence. But I had a bad feeling I couldn't be that lucky. The timing was dead perfect.

Pulling loose strings on sweaters is risky. Sometimes nothing happens. The string breaks, and everything is fine. Sometimes you get the cartoon result, the one where the sweater falls apart with no warning.

This felt distinctly like the cartoon scenario.

I nudged the pictures into a neat row.

Delaney resembled her sisters. She shared a lot of features with Tara and Tiffany. Features they shared with their mother.

Cheekbones, jawline, nose.

But she had other features, especially her eyes...

The smoldering anger in her eyes mirrored Needles. He was truly her father, no matter who'd contributed the DNA.

But that odd blue topaz color... I'd seen it before.

Delaney resembled her sisters.

All of them.

Tara...Tiffany...

And Emma.

******

Post Production Notes:

It's a relief to finally reveal Delaney's biological father. She will always be Needle's daughter to the core, but she is a Reinhardt by blood. Because Delaney didn't have enough problems already.

This story has been a long time in the making - the kitchen surgery scene was written with Doc's input and assistance over three years ago. The Missus and I really wanted to get the story done and posted...then we realized it couldn't be released until "Implacable Man" and "Unstoppable Man" were done and posted. And so it has waited and been revised and revised.

Thanks again to the editors who make these tales readable. They aren't just helpful -- they are absolutely necessary. There's no money it and damn little glory, to steal a phrase, but they do it for everyone's benefit. That goes double for Doc this time -- the meatball kitchen counter surgery scene is as accurate as we could make it. *DISCLAIMER* DO NOT USE THIS AS A GUIDELINE TO PROVIDE MEDICAL CARE. IF YOU ARE SHOT IN THE LUNG, SEEK COMPETENT MEDICAL CARE IMMEDIATELY. Seriously, do the Emergency room thing.

The support from the readers here is always incredible and very, very appreciated. We're storytellers, so knowing we are providing some distraction from daily life, a bit entertainment means a lot to us.

The Missus was amazing on this one: she went over the dialogue in fine detail -- out loud and in character voices -- to make sure it both rang true and fit the characters. It turns out she was a teenage girl at one time, so that gave her some insight to work with.

We are working on a St. Clair prequal set in the Ozarks Moonshine wars of the 1970s, "Luther's War." We are also starting to clean up and work the Shack series into an anthology -- no idea of the timeline. We certainly plan to keep posting the stories here; as I said we're storytellers and where else could we reach this many people?

If this isn't to your liking, there are plenty of excellent writers on Lit -- try Chasten or Saddletramp, maybe Hooked1957 or DFWBeast is more to your liking. There's something here for pretty much anyone, so keep on looking.