Agent of Death

Senator Witmore made it clear that this meeting is to be kept secret, so I choose a small place at the end of the city. My suit made people look at me with a general surprise and grind on their face. I was intruder to the mass of working class people and older citizens that came here for the breakfast. Anyway, I kept drinking lemonade and ate a gorgeous pumpkin pie, as it was in the season. Tv reported some commotions in Syria, saying Assad will not bow down before the Spring of brainwashed people, instructed by the mercenaries to riot if their demands are not been met. It all went as planned.

Agent Ibrahim was rallying the Kurds, payed the radical imams to preach from designated chapters of Quran and aspire them for a fight with the Turks who awaited this with knifes between teeth. Tobias gave intel from Russia, stating that all the right people are getting interested in the Levant region. I had no worry about the West and Europe, they always fall in line when shit goes down. All I needed to do is to remind them about our agreement and USA backing policy, and they would listen to whatever the command I give them.

Senator just walked in with his men and a secretary he jealously kept close to him, knowing that she will leave his bed if someone more powerful steps under the light. I wonder if his wife knows this, while she eats with her, stares at those blue eyes across the coffee table.

Bitter old man stood on the door for a moment,  then he approached me and took a sit, where the goons politely escorted the residents out of the object.

– You have a lot of nerve, calling a meeting with me. – he said with a raspy voice, moving sweat from the forehead, – You have must forgotten the history, we have shared  a long time ago. I would never agree to this if it wasn’t for the order from above. It pisses me off to see you like that, like a gentleman, like one of us. You never followed the orders when I was your superior, even less on the field. – he kept talking, looking around at his men and mistress, then he leaned on the table and took my glass, – Lemonade? Seriously? I know you have taste for a sharp drinks, but this much bitterness in not good for the heart.

– You haven’t been so interested in my health until now, so stop the act, we are not in the Parliament. I needed you for other skills you have mastered. – I said, lighting a cigarette, but he waved in the air, so I put it out.

– Other skills? What the Hell are you talking about?

– Remember what we did in Mithria? The whole shattering thing? Funding the radicals, dividing the politicians, fuelling the racial hatred and deviated nationalism? – I rocked in my chair, while his eyebrows met each other to form a rippled face, that signaled with memories from the old days, the glory days and misery we made upon civilians.

– That was a horrible thing we did, but such were our orders. I wash my hands from it. It wasn’t our fault. Our former bosses wanted that to bust up our economy by dealing with both sides, selling them weapons and throwing the old bombs on them, and turning death numbers into green bills. Did you know, that after the bombing, we built several bases there which made Russian very nervous? Oh, boy, we made it good! I bet some diplomat heads rolled down the Red Square when we were wrapping up. Ha, ha, ha. – he laughed, smacking the table, but I just smiled in broken manner.

– Great. You remember it all… I need you to do it again. – I said, when his face shifted into an old grumpy one, – Here is the authorization document for the official mission I need signed. – I said and slid him a piece of paper.

– No. – he replied, – Are you mad? Again? Where? – he asked in wonder, when I pointed my finger at the TV newscast and he bit his lip absently staring at his shoes, – So you did that? I wondered whose hand is into this, but no one could answer it. All my connections spoke of a CIA cover up and classified profiles in the firm, but I would never guess that one of mine did this. You became better than me, but my answer is still no.

– Well, I guess we can fly you out to the Mithria then. I bet they will be delighted to see the man who suggested the use of the Uranium 268 in those bombs that killed 3 000 people. Now, that much bitterness that they have is bad for your harth. Did you know that they have a saying there: We will not forgive you the children? That’s their Never Forget. Funny how fast they have let go of all the things we did there. As a normal American, I am able to walk freely through their streets, eat their food and they will call me their friend, because I am listed as a civilian, but you… They know who you are. They know it all too well.

– Are you threatening me? You piece of shit! I should have left you there to suffer. You can’t do that. THEY will not allow it, and you know it.

– Oh, but THEY did. THEY gave the order. THEY told you to meet me. Don’t you remember? – I tilted my head, proud I can finally revenge for all the things he made me do, when a pause brought the silence where he took out his pen in a bitter motion and signed the authorization of the mission Peaceful Monk, then he drank the rest of my glass, amplifying the bitter taste in his mouth.

Bitter

syrian-civil-war-getty

Connected and inspired with former writing.  See it here:

https://dronstadblog.wordpress.com/2017/03/30/house-of-glaisis/

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2 thoughts on “Agent of Death

  1. Pingback: Critique needed | Dronstad

  2. Pingback: Bitter – Daily Prompt – Ladyleemanila

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