"Got visual?" my ear piece buzzes with Marcus's voice.
"Yes. I spot Jameson sitting at the far end table with a male." I answer as I head behind the bar, getting ready to take my place as the bar tender for the night.
"Do you have visual on the companion's face?" Marcus asks.
"Negative. his back is turned to me. But he has a slightly tan skin and dark hair." I describe as I respond to a customer getting in job mode.
"Is your weapon ready for orders?" Marcus inquires.
"Always ready." I say as I serve a few beers and then wait for Jameson's companion to turn around.
"Are you positive that's Jameson?" He asks me again.
"The facials fit. Despite the beard. I'm sure it's him." I answer.
"Then I'll check with Stevens." He says.
"Affirmative." I say as I busy myself with the bar while keeping visual on Carl Jameson.
I'm an agent for the CSIS, we're like the CIA. Except different. For the past year, we've been after a rogue CIA agent that was believed to have fled to Canada. The data base tracked him first in Vancouver. After months of roaming the streets of Vancouver trying to find him or any activities related to him, the database finds him in Toronto. And this is where we are. Canada collaborated with USA on finding Carl Jameson. rogue agent, working for the russian mob, selling his country out and giving Canada to the bad guys along the way. He's been leaving a trail of dead people for us to find, unregistered guns popping up, and a few breeches in security for both our countries. Bombs taking place, and agents turning up dead. So the number one order we've had. Find Carl Jameson and Kill Carl Jameson at all costs. They sent me on the mission along side their best CIA agent Marcus Carlin. Which is why I am in the bar, while he is in a van outside. Jameson has no idea who I am, but he knows Marcus and he can't get spotted.
An hour ago we spotted a man who fit the descriptions of Jameson walk into a bar. First thing we do, get me a job on the inside, no names needed to be given. I am anonymous. The perks of the job. First thing I had to do was determine if that was Jameson or not. From the photos I've seen and videos I've watched, I was pretty sure the man sitting across from where I was standing was Carl Jameson. Which meant we were close to finishing this mission, and I would be close to leaving Toronto.
Because here, I had a name. Here, I could get spotted. Here, is where I was originally running from.
Five years ago, I left Toronto under the pretense that I would be getting married. I was twenty years old, and thought I was in love. But marriage never happened. Nick Collins the man who convinced me to elope to Las Vegas with him, left me waiting as he ran off and joined the army. As I was making my way back home, I felt like I couldn't face my family, I didn't want to come back. I just wanted to run away, where no one had high expectations of me, where no one wanted something of me. I just wanted to go somewhere where I could be anything other than a Peck. Which is how I found myself in Ottawa.
It was apparently inevitable that I would join the police force. My parents were both cops, superintendent mom, inspector dad, and I believe my brother has made detective. I just couldn't face their Peckspectations. I was trained all my life to be a cop.
I was trained to know how to fight, to pick a lock, to shoot a gun, to think like a cop, to follow trails, expect criminal movements, etc. So it was inevitable that I'd join the force but meeting Nick and thinking I was in love, made it all halt, and made me think I had a different future, guess I was wrong.
I didn't want to go back home and hear my mother's "I told you so"s. I didn't want to be another cop and try to live to her expectations. I just wanted to find a way to forget my heart break and still do what I was good at. Which is how I found myself in Ottawa applying for the CSIS. In there I wouldn't be treated as a Peck. I'd be rated according to effort. And with them, I could just discard my name and use another, and no one would have to know what my real name is, or where I'm really from. sounded like a good deal to me. All I wanted at the time was to disappear.
And disappear I did. Except for the occasional "Hey, I'm good. I'm alive." Voice messages I left my brother every couple months or so. Always calling at a time when I hoped he wouldn't answer. Using different phones each time and ignoring every reply and call attempt he makes in return. They had no idea where I was. I was gone from their world.
Until now. But at least the bar U was at wasn't The Black Penny. Where all the cops hang out. Where my brother could be roaming. However, I've been in this bar a couple times before. The place is known for the great pizza. Which is why unlucky for us, the place is crowded.
"Sawyer!." Marcus's voice in my earpiece startles me as he calls me by my agent name.
"Yes Carlin?" I ask waiting my orders.
"Follow Jameson's every move. The second he's alone, we shoot." He relays the commands of our mutual boss at this time.
"Copy that." I answer as I serve a male brunette a few shots of tequila.
Just than Jameson's companion gets up and walks towards the bar.
"Can I get two more beers?" He says as he puts a twenty on the bar.
I pour him the glasses and hand them to him. I reach for the twenty and attempt to give him change back.
"Nah, keep it." He says and walks back.
Something about him seems familiar. I'm sure I've met him before. But lucky for me he didn't recognize me. Changing one's hair color doesn't change the way your face looks. So if he knew me well, he'd recognize me. He must've been someone I've seen only a few times. I have a great memory with faces, and I'm sure I'm bound to remember who he is.
I stare at their table for a few moments until it clicks.
"Marcus." I say into my earpiece. "I have a name."
"A name of who?" He asks.
"The guy with Jameson." I explain. "And you're not gonna like it."
"Who's he?" The voice in my ear inquires.
"Last time I saw him he was a cop. His name is Sam Swarek." I say.
"Last time? You know this guy?" He catches on to my slip.
Shit! He didn't know where I was really from and it should've stayed that way.
"So you're from Toronto?" He asks and I decide to ignore his questions and treat it with silence. I refuse to confirm anything about who I am.
"Did he recognize you?" He asks with a tone change. His tone was all business like now.
"No. He didn't. But what's a cop doing with someone like Jameson?" I wonder.
"That's an interesting question." Marcus wonders with me.
Jus then Carl Jameson gets up to answer his phone and walks out of the bar.
"Jameson left the bar to answer a phone call. Do you have a visual?" I inform Marcus.
"Yes, it's him all right. All shaved and clean though." He confirms.
"I'm on my way out. Keep visual. And do not contact. He'd react or run." I remind Marcus as I tap the other bartender in the place indicating I needed a smoke. And I walk out of the bar after Marcus.
I don't spot him anywhere.
"Where'd he go?" I ask into the earpiece.
"Into the ally by the bar. Be careful, and be at the ready. Just say the code word and I'll be right behind you for backup." He answers.
"Copy." I say as I put my hand towards my back where my gun hides and make my way slowly towards the ally.
Just then I hear a gun shot emanating from the same ally I was heading slowly towards. First thing I do then is pull out my gun and run towards there.
No sign of Jameson. What I do see is a dead body lying on the floor at the back end of it. Jameson must have gone back to the bar through the door that leads into it through the ally. The bar apparently had two back doors. I relax my stance with the hand holding the gun relaxed at my side.
"Marcus. We have a problem." I say.
"Charlie. What happened?" He asks.
Before I could answer I feel a body slam into me from the back and pull me towards the wall. I feel the gun being detached from my hands and handcuffs making their way around my wrist.
"Don't move! You're under arrest!" I hear a female voice say.
I get turned around and I am met with a brunette with brown eyes and a hard jaw.
"You don't wanna do this." I say calmly.
"Sure." She scoffs and pulls her phone out as she keeps her hold on me.
I take advantage of that moment to shrug my shoulder towards my ear making sure my earpiece falls. Must not blow my cover if I get taken in.
Just as I was planning to escape her hold and apologize for having to escape. Sam Swarek appears next to her. I was sure if I fight them both off, they'd have my face posted everywhere as a suspect in a murder and only focus on me. I guess the only solution is to keep calm and wait for my partner to get me out of this mess.
"What the hell happened?" He asks.
"I was just about to make my way into the bar when I hear a gun shot. I run here and I see this woman standing in the ally with a gun." She explains pointing at me. "I didn't have my gun so I had to tackle her from behind in order to disarm her and cuff her."
Just then I hear the sound of sirens and I pray to God that when I get taken in, there will be no one at the devision who would recognize me.
The brunet who tackled me leads me into a squad car after they converse with a few cops who start to appear.
I see an officer I recognize. Officer Shaw I guess. I just hope none of them remember me. But most of all, I hope that if I get taken in, I wouldn't run into Steven Peck, my brother.
"Trust me. I'm not your killer. And it's not in your best interest to arrest me." I try to reason with her again. I was pretty sure Marcus was watching everything and probably already calling head quarters to explain the situation and to see how to get me out of this as soon as possible.
"That's what they all say." She scoffs and puts me in the back of the squad. As officer Shaw high fives her.
"Good work McNally."
As the squad car door closes, I twist the twisting part of my ring to the left, turning the trace on.