1
The sun kissed the horizon gently and bathed the sky in a myriad of colors ranging from bloody crimson all the way to soft lilac. The view from the helicopter was beautiful, and Martha Scherer and Chase Timothy relished the wind that caressed their faces with the delicacy of a thousand fists. They didn’t want to be here; they’d rather stayed home. But this was their job, and they had agreed to these conditions, so here they were.
It had been the most surreal call they’d gotten during their ten years of service, and they had seen their fair share of strange stuff during that time. They worked in the International Conflicts Division of a secret global organization that interfered whenever there was a threat of matters spiraling out of control regarding international affairs. According to their superior, Mr. Hutt, this was one of the most important missions of their career. That’s why they guffawed with laughter when he told them that it involved the oldest animal in the world—a 200-year old tortoise kept in the remote tropical island of Saint Helena, located some 2000 kilometers west of the coast of southwestern Africa.
The tortoise, Mr. Hutt said, was called Jonathan, and was beloved by people from all around the world. Tomorrow, October 10th, a huge celebration would be made in his honor. Thousands of people were set to attend, coming from a hundred different places. They had bought an expensive plane ticket just to celebrate a tortoise, which in Martha’s mind sounded like madness. Because of the importance of the event, some presidents and prime ministers were attending as well, the most prominent were the president of Russia, the president of the United States, and the prime minister of the United Kingdom. There was much speculation as to whether the Queen would also attend, but most thought that she wouldn’t. Seeing a tortoise almost as old as she was wouldn’t probably sit very well.
Now to the matter at hand: why had they been called? There was intel that suggested that American snipers were planning on killing poor Jonathan. And, as if that wouldn’t be enough to begin a war, they were planning it as a diversion so they could steal the valuable Hope Diamond from the St. Helena Museum, just block away from the open field where the celebration would take place. Why? Well, simple. The president of the United States was very much in debt, and according to their sources, he had a potential buyer who would pay him millions for the diamond. Their mission would be to protect Jonathan at all cost and to guard the museum.
The helicopter finally descended and landed on a helipad in the Saint Helena airport. They were then ushered into a black, inconspicuous car and taken to the Richards Travel lodge, about ten minutes away from where the party would take place. It was a quaint, cozy house with about thirty different rooms and a common living room where guests could get to know each other better. They wouldn’t be doing any of that, though; they needed to maintain a low profile. Many of the guests were attending the birthday party tomorrow, and they shouldn’t be recognized at all in there. It might compromise the whole operation.
Martha and Chase checked in as a couple under fake names and paid up front, in cash. They proceeded to make some offhand remarks about a long flight and a big day tomorrow and went to their room.
“We should probably go through the plan one more time, just in case,” Martha told Chase as soon as the door was closed and they were sure they were alone in the room.
“Again? Weren’t we tired because of the long flight? We should sleep.”
“No. Octavia and Sergei were tired. Not us. We need to make sure we know what to do.”
“Fine. But we’ve memorized it quite well. We went through it about a hundred times in the way here.”
“Just this time,” Martha promised. “Then you can do whatever you want.”
Chase scoffed. “Sleep, of course.” He liked Martha as a coworker, but she tended to be too uptight and perfectionist, and it was before an operation that she exasperated him the most.
“Okay. So, I’ll stay in the party and keep a lookout for the snipers. According to our informant, one is—”
“Yes, short and muscular, with a scar on his forehead and a crewcut. The other is tall and lean with blue eyes and long hair which is tied in a bun most of the time.”
“It probably will be.”
“You will keep watch at the museum security room. If they somehow manage to kill Jonathan, you will get them there.”
“Remember we have other agents at our disposal.”
“We won’t need them,” Martha looked at him dangerously. They had already discussed this a thousand times.
“Okay, okay, fine.” Chase lifted his palms defensively. “Just saying.”
“This is a minor operation. Yes, there’s a lot at stake. But they are just two snipers, and we have all this information. We’ve got the upper hand.”
“Fine, whatever you say. What else?”
“We capture them and bring them to our Headquarters to await further instructions. That’s it. Go to sleep. I’ll take a shower.”
“Fine by me.”
At noon the next day, they got in the same car that had driven them here the day before. They arrived at the open field where the celebration would take place. It was decorated lavishly, with balloons, streamers, flags, and giant billboards with pictures of Jonathan everywhere. The tables were set around an empty space where the tortoise would be and where people would be allowed to dance and hang out later.
They remained together while the party started, and at two o’clock, Chase went to the museum to take his post in the security room. Martha stayed behind and took a seat in a strategic spot at the table. The celebration started at three o’clock with speeches from the presidents and prime ministers, who took their precious time. All those people think they’re worth a million euros, Martha thought with distaste. When they’re just lucky people who got lucky.
At long last, after what seemed like a couple of eternities, they brought Jonathan to the podium in the center of the open space. She’d thought he’d be big, but he was actually pretty standard-sized. There was nothing remarkable about it. She honestly couldn’t understand how the whole world could lose their mind over this tortoise.
They were now setting the honorary Gold Birthday Hat on Jonathan’s shell, and everyone stood up. Martha did likewise and looked out for anyone who might look suspicious.
“…the guy—or tortoise—of the hour!” A man was saying while holding the hat. “Jonathan!” He put the hat on Jonathan’s shell and lead the applause that followed.
Just then, Martha spotted a man holding what looked like the grip of a gun, the barrel still inside his pocket, as if about to draw it. He was muscular and short, as described. She looked up to his face and saw a scar and a crewcut. That was her guy. Next to him, a lean man with a bun who seemed to be at least twice his size, whispered something in his ear.
“I have eyes on our guys,” she called into her watch, which was connected to Chase’s earpiece. Chase didn’t answer.
Martha made her way through the crowd, quickening her pace with every step. She reached the men and cocked both her guns quietly, then she pressed them to their lower backs. Everyone else was too focused on the tortoise to notice.
“Put your hands up and drop the weapon,” she whispered. Two pairs of hands shot upward. One of the hands belonging to the short man held a white-and-blue water gun. As if to prove a point, he squeezed the trigger and a stream of water shot upward.
“Afraid you have the wrong man, Miss,” the lean guy said.
As if on cue, a red laser point appeared on Jonathan’s shell. Then another, and another, and another, until it was covered in red dots, all ready to shoot. What? They weren’t—the water must have been their signal. Oh shit!
What sounded like at least twenty shots ripped the ongoing applause apart and drew a gasp from everyone. Bullets bombarded the tortoise’s shell and everyone at the table scattered. Martha looked everywhere frantically, trying to find the snipers.
“CHASE! It was a trap! They weren’t the snipers! They tricked us! CHASE! Answer! Do you copy? DO YOU COPY?” Something was terribly wrong. She had to go to the museum herself.
Martha sprinted down the block and reached the museum in less than a minute. It looked normal, a whitewashed building with a slate-colored roof. The door was ajar, though, and she entered. She grasped one of her guns and walked down a wooden floor, straining her ears for voices. She reached a set of stairs and a strained gasp of pain coming from above. She mounted the stairs and neared the door.
“…You thought you were going to catch us?” a voice was saying inside. “Fools! When will anyone learn that you don’t mess with the president of the United States?” Somehow, the voice sounded oddly familiar, as if she’d heard it before but with a different intonation. As if it were… trying to disguise itself.
Martha edged closer to the door and peeked through the slit between it and the frame. She saw Chase bound and gagged on the floor, one of his legs covered in blood. Two people were holding guns at his head. At the head of the room, the man who was talking. He was wearing a balaclava, only his eyes visible. They were jet black and shimmered like onyx. Behind him, a stained-glass window displaying a lighthouse and the sea.
Martha retrieved her other gun and cocked it. The masked man finished his monologue: “Anyway, got to go.” He broke the window with a brick and stood on the edge, looking down at the sea, which bordered the museum at the back. Then he added, “kill him!” and jumped.
“NOOO!” The people holding the guns to Chase’s head were startled by her scream, and that gave her enough time to shoot them both. She ran to Chase, who was sprawled on the floor, gasping in pain.
Blood had completely seeped through his pants, making a small puddle below him. It was still oozing from his wound slowly. Martha took the gag out of his mouth and untied him.
“It was all a trap,” Chase said. “They tricked us! They tricked us!” He was crying, his tears streaking clear paths down his cheeks.
“I know,” Matha replied, taking off her jacket and tying it around Chase’s leg. “It was my fault. We should have called for backup. You could have died.”
“No, it wasn’t. None of us knew. I bet Mr. Hutt will think the same.”
Mr. Hutt… Of course. “Yeah, probably,” she replied. “Now, come on, let’s take you to a hospital.”
Two days later, they were back at HQ, waiting for Mr. Hutt to let them into his office.
“How’s your leg?” Martha asked, her arms crossed, her legs stretched out on the carpet.
“Better. At least it doesn’t hurt much. I’m on a ton of drugs, though.” He smiled.
Martha smiled back. She was about to say something else when Mr. Hutt popped his head out of his office and invited them in. Chase leaned on Martha for support, and she led him into the room.
“I’m going to need your badges and weapons on my desk now. You will be dismissed for life.”
Chase intervened, “It wasn’t our fault and you knew it. They tricked us. Hell, they even tricked you! You didn’t know about all the other snipers yourself. You didn’t know about the masked man either.”
“Mr. Timothy, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be, please. Your badges and guns, now.”
Martha hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t looked Hutt in the eye. She was trying to place his voice, trying to warp it into a different intonation in her head. Then her eyes met his and she saw unwavering, shining dark. She made up her mind. She removed her badge and put it on the desk. Then took her gun and pointed it at Hutt.
“You piece of scum. You thought we wouldn’t realize? It was your voice I heard. And your eyes. I think those were the dead giveaway. Where is the diamond?”
“Miss Shcerer, what are you talking about?” Hutt said, palms in the air.
Chase looked at her incredulously. “Yeah, what are you talking about?”
Martha’s hand didn’t waver. “You were working for the president and needed a way to steal the diamond without trouble, so you set a distraction within a distraction. One was for us, the other for the general public. The water was a signal for the other snipers to shoot at Jonathan after we’d caught the fake ones. And meanwhile, you and your other people ambushed Chase before he could reach the security room.”
“But why involve you? You are way too good. Wouldn’t it have been easier without nuisances like you two?” Hutt asked.
“I think you answered that question when you asked for our badges. You needed a reason to remove us from the squad. To justify your actions with your superiors. Now you have one. Now, where’s the diamond?”
“Well, well, well, you’re good. But you’re not getting the diamond.”
“No?” Martha didn’t care. She was angry, and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Ok.” She lowered her gun and shot Hutt’s foot. He yelped loudly and was forced down to his chair. “I’ll shoot every part of your body if necessary. If you call backup, you die.”
For the first time, she saw fear in Hutt’s eyes. Good. She shot his other foot. “Ready to talk?” No answer. She shot his arm. “How about now?” She cocked her gun again.
“FINE! They’re in the safe.”
“Chase, the safe!” Chase scrambled on his knees to the safe.
“Code?” Martha asked.
“1-5-8-6-7. Please don’t shoot anymore.”
Chase opened it and retrieved the diamond.
They left him there, bleeding and returned the diamond to the museum after contacting Hutt’s boss, who made sure to deal with him as required. All in all, Martha thought, it turned out to be a pretty productive day.
