Sometime in January
The hotel room was meant for two people, but the remaining available space would make you think otherwise. At least the room was cheap, and it had everything two people posing as husband and wife, who were traveling on a budget, needed. There was complimentary coffee and tea, a TV, and a small desk and chair by the window. It was The Benefactor’s idea to fly the team commercially and in pairs. Sure, the new identities worked fine, but it still felt like too much of a risk for Ignacio.
However, his "wife" had convinced him to trust the Benefactor's decisions. He stared out the window at the view of the neighboring building's wall. There were only a few feet between the hotel and the other building. It even narrowed to the left, further away from the street. Well, he thought to himself, at least I don't have to worry about a break-in.
The door to the bathroom opened, and he turned to see Melissa emerging from a cloud of steam. She had recently dyed her hair to match one of Japan's most common hair colors, dark brown. Plus, it made her match her passport photo. She stood at five feet and ten inches, one inch taller than Ignacio. She was wearing a loose navy blue "24 Hour Le Mans" t-shirt and loose shorts. Despite all that, he could see the strength in her toned arms and legs. Melissa claimed to be from everywhere. She was currently one of The Benefactor's favorite mercenaries and the team leader for the mission. Having been one of the world’s top assassins, she’d traveled far and wide, never finding a place to call home. That is, of course, the story everyone was told.
"Wow," Ignacio's eyes went wide, "Can you please tell me how to get calves as beefy as yours?"
"By working on them," she said, putting her hands on her hips, turning her back to him, and flexing her calves.
Ignacio cheered her on.
She turned back to him, taking a brush from the bed, and pointed at Ignacio with it, "Have you heard from the others?" she said, taking the brush to her hair.
"Yeah, I got a text about 10 minutes ago, said they were grabbing food and stuff before stopping by. I told them to bring you a tuna mayo onigiri."
"My favorite." She said, taking a seat on the bed.
Ignacio closed the curtains to the window, pulled out the chair, and sat sideways to face Melissa, leaning back on the wall. The time on his wristwatch read 6:22PM, and it was already dark outside. He watched Melissa as she brushed her hair. Curious as to whether this would be his last job or not. He'd made enough money over the years to enjoy himself an early retirement. He thought of buying an old airfield and turning it into a personal racetrack.
"I can feel you're eyes boring into my skull." Melissa looked over at Ignacio and met his stare, "What's on your mind."
Ignacio inhaled deeply, then let it all out, "Same ol' same ol'."
"Hm." Melissa nodded. She was sitting at the far edge of the bed but scooting closer to Ignacio. "What plan is it now? Bookstore? Café? Arcade?"
"Racetrack."
Melissa nodded, and her eyes moved around the room."
"I could take an old airfield, renovate it, buy some cars, and just have fun."
"How long until your fun turns to boredom, though?"
Ignacio looked down between his feet. "Handful of years, probably. If I'm lucky, two handfuls of years."
"And then what? You return to the life? Start another business?" Melissa motioned around with the brush.
Ignacio stayed silent, not knowing what to do if boredom bested him. Having never thought about retirement before, he was just making it up as he went. If times got really desperate, there were always long and short-term jobs available with The Benefactor. There were corporate espionage or good ol' fashion government spy work. Ignacio went to answer her question, but there was a knock at the door before he could.
Melissa got up gently and walked to the door. Meanwhile, Ignacio grabbed the Beretta 9mm that was on the desk. He kept a close eye on the door, then Melissa turned and raised a hand. Ignacio relaxed in his seat and set the pistol back down.
The door opened, and Melissa stepped out of the way to let the rest of the team. The first through the door was Paloma. She was from Peru, and she was exactly five feet tall. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing an oversized tan coat. She was also carrying a big black bag, no doubt her equipment. Paloma had worked as an intelligence officer in the pentagon for The Benefactor. Her skills with all manner of tech, both old and cutting edge, often made her the first choice for jobs and assignments involving all kinds of tech.
Behind Paloma was Curtis. He was the tallest of the team standing at six feet and three inches. Curtis had always been infatuated with the idea of flying, which led him to the British Royal Air Force, where he constantly trained to try and master every aircraft. Flying came to Curtis as naturally as covert operations did. That's how the two had met each other. Curtis and a team were sent to extract a high-value target. A Russian doctor had done illegal human experiments, which led to treatments that cured various forms of cancer. The Benefactor sent Ignacio to recover the doctor as well. Ignacio had been able to subdue everyone except Curtis. Midway through their brawl, Ignacio told him that he needed a pilot and that he'd get paid enough to eventually buy his own F-35A Lightning. Since then, Curtis and Ignacio have been best friends.
"Good to see you, bruv!" Curtis handed Melissa a bag of food and reached over Paloma to shake Ignacio's hand. Paloma tossed herself face down on the bed, giving space for Curtis and Ignacio to hug.
"Likewise, brother. It's been months, man; I'm glad to see you're doing well."
"More than well. Last job landed me on a pair of F-35A's."
"A pair?"
"I helped some Oligarch in Europe seal the deal on a venue in Rome for his daughter's birthday. So, he gifted me with F-35's that were too hot for him to use." Curtis grinned excitingly.
"Look at you, man. That puts you at four now, right?"
"That’s right, plus everything else I’ve nicked, I’ve built up a real fleet.” He said, smiling.
Paloma grunted as she pushed herself off the bed, taking the backpack off. Melissa helped set her bag to the side.
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“Alright then. Since you two are here, let me ask, did you go over the updated job details?” Melissa crossed her arms and waited for Curtis and Paloma to answer.
“We checked it out on the flight here. Everything looks solid, but I do have some questions.” Paloma pulled out a small notebook from her pocket.
“Before you start your inquiries, I have a quick question.” Curtis looked at everyone in the room, “the job details had rundowns on the previous two jobs the three of you were on. And since I wasn’t there, I feel it's important to ask: What the fuck happened in Canada?”
All eyes fell on Ignacio. He had explained it more than a few times already, and he didn’t quite enjoy talking about it. Still, it seemed important to explain it again. “Alright, but I’ll keep short. The last job we had, before this one, required us to retrieve financial records from Conch Oil. Rumor was that Conch Oil was falsifying numbers to hide money used for blacklisted merc companies in West Africa to strong-arm them into giving up oil-rich land. We thought we were the only ones there, but we were wrong. The Green Guardians were also paying a visit.”
“Those fuckin’ lunatics? Mate, don’t tell me they made you?”
“They did. I was disguised as an employee when they got me. We all had comms, so the others knew to abort the mission. But – they started asking me about employee home addresses, where they could find them and saying shit like, ‘once we’re finished with you, we’ll get all your little friend.’ Now, I thought they were talking about execs, but then Paloma found a janitor shot to death on her way out and let us know.”
“By friends, they meant everyone who worked at Conch Oil,” Paloma said quietly.
“Melissa told us to not engage, but I ignored her. Killed a bunch of the Green Guardians at the offices, which led to a shit show firefight, and then Francis got blown up.”
“Poor Frankie, she was a good lady. Really good with a car.”
Everyone nodded.
“Only reason The Benefactor didn’t fry his ass was because Francis was on board with stopping the Green Guardians. If either Paloma or I would’ve gotten killed, well, he wouldn’t be here.”
Ignacio shrunk in his seat.
“Enough that now. Let’s go over what we know for this mission. Once we’re finished briefing, I’ll let you go on your way to do your parts.”
As Melissa talked, Ignacio’s mind drifted in another direction. She was right about what The Benefactor would’ve done. There were two things that they didn’t tolerate: loss of innocent lives and unnecessary loss of life. This was probably what was pushing those thoughts of early retirement. He screwed up. And he’d never screwed up before. At least not as heavy as this time around. Ignacio told himself that it was justified. The Green Guardians were out to kill innocent people. He tangled with them before and knew they wouldn’t just kill the employees. To them, the families would’ve been complicit just for being family, and they would’ve died as well.
Maybe he was losing his edge. His ability to focus on his missions had been waning for almost a year now. His mind would travel all over the place, worrying about things he didn’t need to worry about, and Canada was just the first time he had acted on those worries. Would it happen again? He asked himself. He looked at his team, and that same worry filled his mind.
“Ignacio? You listening?” His name sounded muffled, but the other words came to him clearly as Melissa's voice broke through his distracted thoughts.
“Yeah, I’m listening.” He said, sitting straight up in his chair.
Melissa eyed him skeptically while Curtis and Paloma looked away.
Ignacio shrugged, “The mark is Lady Elaine Tilman, great-granddaughter of famed explorer Sir Eustace Tilman. She, like her grandfather, has recently used her influence and wealth to abscond with recently discovered relics from an ancient village near a volcano in Central America. Lady Elaine has brought those relics here to Japan. The Lady has them in her private gallery inside her own three-floor penthouse at the top of one of Tokyo’s tallest buildings.” Ignacio reached over to the bed and pointed to an incomplete rough floor sketch, “Sources have confirmed that the gallery is on the topmost floor, but they didn’t get much else. Paloma will find out more information on the three-floor penthouse, such as electronic security measures, blueprints, any other valuables, etcetera. Curtis will get his hands on the Trent Security guard rotations while you and I will take to the rooftops surrounding the penthouse and peep into the gallery, which has windows all around.” He leaned back and turned to Melissa, “did I miss anything?”
Melissa shook her head. “No, you got it all. But you know, no need to show off.”
Curtis snorted under his breath.
“Well then. Does anyone have any questions?” Melissa asked the group.
Paloma raised her hands, “I do. I’m assuming you want keys to get inside. Do you want me or Curtis to get them?”
“I’ll leave that up to the two of you. So long as you get them and are discreet, that’s good enough. Anything else?”
The room stayed silent.
“Alright then, I’ll leave you all to your tasks. Remember to check in with any necessary updates.”
Melissa opened the door to the room to let Curtis and Paloma out. Closing and locking it behind her, she returned to the bed and sat down. She stared at Ignacio, not with annoyance or displeasure, but with concern.
“Something is up with you, I can tell.”
Ignacio looked at her, then looked away.
“What’s on your mind?”
He swallowed hard, a knot in his throat, “I’m worried that I’m losing my edge for this kind of work. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I rather take my retirement with a racetrack than make more mistakes.”
“You’re not losing your edge. If anything, I think you’re getting better. What happened with the Guardians could’ve been prevented.” Melissa leaned on her knees with her elbows. “I’m not supposed to tell you this because it goes against The Benefactor’s idea of compartmentalization, but they knew about the Guardians.”
“What?” Ignacio furrowed his brow in confusion.
“They’d spun up a team to intercept the Guardians once they were finished at the offices. I only found out after the mission that we were risking running into them.” She reached over and put a hand on Ignacio’s arm, “If I would’ve known, then I would’ve told the team, and we wouldn’t have gotten into that hot mess.”
Ignacio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t change the fact that I slipped. I let my emotions get the best of me, which has never happened. I don’t want the people I care about to get hurt again.” He pulled his arm away from Melissa and stood to grab his shower things. “This has to be my last job. It’s better to live in boredom than to risk losing more.” Ignacio walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
There was only silence in the hotel room as he undressed. He never liked how hotel bathroom mirrors made him look. He was built like a tank, which he liked to tell himself, but the mirrors always accentuated his flaws. He was good at handling himself and knew how to throw his weight around to get the upper hand on anyone bigger than him. But the reflection of scars, stretch marks, wrinkles, and hair all unnerved him. Before, he was always confident in his ability, so he never thought about his appearance, but now – it was as if he could see a change happening before his eyes.
There was a knock at the door, “Curtis didn’t bring enough food. I’m going out to get more. Want anything?”
“Sure,” he said. “Get me an egg salad sandwich and – ”
A memory suddenly interpreted his words. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. The image wasn’t blurry or hazy. It felt more like he was watching a movie. Looking around, the day was beautiful and sunny. There was a street in front of him and a line of people waiting at a bus stop on the other side. A woman wearing a colorful dress approached. She set a plate down on the wooden table next to him. There was an egg salad sandwich, a sliced pickle, and some napkins. She also put down a cold glass of orange soda. Ignacio moved without wanting to. He picked up the sandwich and could feel the bread on his fingertips. From behind, Spanish music played on the radio. Then it all began to fade and blur like any memory until it was gone. The sensations also disappeared, and Ignacio struggled to remember what he had just experienced.
Melissa’s muffled voice called out from beyond the door again, “And a what?”
“A soda. Orange if they have it.”
“Alright. Be back in a few.”
Ignacio heard the fading footsteps and the opening and closing of the door. He leaned his head on the bathroom wall and rubbed his eyes. What’s happening to me?