The Maya 1.28
Previously On The Maya...
George Kirkegaard tours the newspaper office and printing press where his friend Jim Layton works. Kirkegaard is suitably impressed by the operations, the philosophies and the numbers of the business. He then comes with Layton to a Chamber of Commerce event downtown. Again, he is impressed by the numbers of enthusiastic and successful business owners who come to hear about another's business.
Layton has a catered lunch meeting to attend, but sends Kirkegaard with an Islander coin to buy some lunch at the Outdoor Sandwich Shoppe. He is perusing the menu when a familiar woman's voice asks him if he's ready to order. He lowers his menu and says:
"Paloma?"
The Maya—a living legend covert operative-for-hire that no one she encounters can remember.
George Kirkegaard—a former newspaper owner forced out of business by state government.
Eugenio Stavros—a shipping magnate on a trip to the mysterious Isle of Use to renegotiate a steel contract.
Amara Barclay—a savvy, independent multi-millionaire entrepreneur and socialite with unparalleled beauty.
Mr. Tic and Mr. Snake—two U.S. government officials running off-the-books dark ops involving The Maya.
And now...the next installment of The Maya.
Mr. Tic heard someone talking.
It disoriented him, because he knew he was lying on a cot in a back room of the dance studio, and it was only supposed to be him and Mr. Snake. After a look around the gloom of the empty space, reassured his location hadn't changed or that he was dreaming, he tried to focus in on what was being said.
After a few moments, he determined he was too far away. He was positive, though, it was the first man speaking, and he was pausing here and there, as if he were listening to a response.
Mr. Tic made his way across the room to the edge of the wall. He could hear better now, but it took some real focus. Mr. Snake was keeping his voice down, so as to not be overheard. Mr. Tic stole a peek to locate his partner. Mr. Snake was hunched over a double sink, as far away from the opening as he could be, his back turned, with what must be a wireless phone pressed up against his left ear.
"I can't give you all the details," Mr. Snake said. It was at least the second time he had said words to that effect, and he was already annoyed at whoever he was speaking with. "This is a classified operation. I just need to know how much notice you would need to scramble your team."
While he waited for the answer, Mr. Snake looked over his shoulder at the opening. Mr. Tic narrowly avoided being seen by ducking back behind the wall.
"I understand. How about this. Let's say we wanted all of you and as much of an arsenal as you could muster. How long would that take?"
Mr. Snake listened to the answer. He must have got what he wanted because he began to pump his fist silently in the air.
"Good. That's good. Now how about just half of you and what that size force could carry?" After he got the response, Mr. Snake added, "That's even better."
Mr. Tic chanced another look. Mr. Snake was turned sideways, a big smile on his face. Not sure if he could be seen, Mr. Tic hid again, and waited, holding his breath.
"I'll let you know," Mr. Snake said. After a pause, he added, "You, too. Later."
Mr. Tic retreated back inside the room and over to his cot. Closing his eyes, he waited for several minutes, expecting Mr. Snake to barge in at any moment. He didn't. Mr. Tic rolled over and opened his eyes, searching in the dim light for any sign of Mr. Snake. He was alone. Yawning, he sat up.
It was nearly time for him to get up, anyway. The next few hours, they would both be awake, and then sometime after dinner, Mr. Snake would sleep.
Mr. Tic pondered what he'd overheard, wishing he'd been able to hear more. From the sounds of things, he'd gotten the most important part of the conversation. Mr. Snake was talking to someone about a strike force, definitely black ops, and most likely off the grid, like The Maya.
Frustration welled up, and turned into anger. This had not been a part of their agreement. Mr. Tic was aware of Mr. Snake's desires to do more than just discredit Tuscon Sutton. Ultimately, he wanted Sutton dead. He might settle for imprisonment for the rest of Sutton's life. Neither of that was within the mission scope assigned to The Maya, because Mr. Tic would not have signed off on it. If Mr. Snake could have pulled this operation off by himself, Mr. Tic was convinced he would have. But Mr. Snake didn't have access in his department to all of the things Mr. Tic did. Since it would mutually benefit them and their departments, they had struck a deal.
Now, Mr. Snake was changing that deal. He was also jeopardizing the operation, just by mentioning it to whoever it was on the other end of the line. After all the grief Mr. Snake had given him about covering his tracks, of not quitting, of staying calm and not letting things slip—now he was running hypotheticals with the leader of a dirty ops team. Like those kinds of mercenaries never talked?
The question of the hour was, just what was he going to do about it? He'd already tried, in round about ways to dissuade Mr. Snake from any use of force. He'd won the battle with what The Maya was tasked with. Knowing Mr. Tic's distaste for more action, Mr. Snake had willfully gone behind his back. That being the case, there wasn't much Mr. Tic would be able to do to convince Mr. Snake he had made a big mistake.
Unfortunately, Mr. Tic was in as deep as Mr. Snake. Maybe more, since he was the one who had the connections, and the gadgets, as Mr. Snake was fond of calling the equipment needed to accomplish everything from the money collection from the various department budget lines to pay for The Maya's services, to the radar receiver and telemetry machine they were using to gather the information The Maya was sending.
Mr. Snake clearly felt he was calling the shots. It was obvious he felt he could do that without consulting Mr Tic. It was his idea, and he was the one who had developed the scale and scope of the mission, and recruited through backdoor channels The Maya. He was also the one most convinced that something should be done to Sutton, rather than waiting for death or some incapacitating illness, either of which was just waiting to happen to a man of Sutton's age.
Not sure what he should do or how to accomplish it, Mr. Tic decided to play it by ear. He certainly wasn't going to get more sleep. He got off the cot again, and after stretching his back, walked out into the main room.
'The Maya' publishes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
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