Heaven’s Rejects - Episode 11

Episode 11 – “Your Reputation Precedes You”

Previously:

The threat to Las Vegas is over.  The bodies are back in the morgue.  The casinos are cleaning up to get back in business.  And I am finally out of Las Vegas.  If one more person said that I wasn't allowed to be there, I think I'd have kicked them in the crotch.

Fighting the animated dead is tough.  And we added to the difficulty by trying to not damage the bodies too much.  Their loved ones would be thankful, if the John Does are ever identified.  What happened after all that, though, well, shit show is too kind.

There's another player on the scene.  No idea who.  No idea what they want, except the necromancer.  I was a step behind in all this.  I want to blame myself, but Demona pointed out that there wasn't a way to predict what happened.  An army of dead men dressed as Elvis out to destroy Las Vegas?  Another group of people stealing the necromancer from the local cops just before we could?  Team One One Seven is going to follow up in Las Vegas.  My team gets a new assignment.

Now
Nadia stood behind Demona, who sat on the office chair on the other side of the Chief.  "Seriously, Chief?  This isn't a joke?"

The Chief glared at Nadia.  "Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Not at all."  Nadia smiled.  "I've always wanted to go to Israel."

"All of you are up on your immunizations?  And you all have valid passports?"

All three agents nodded.  "What's the mission?" Ian asked.

"Our teams in the Middle East are reporting people disappearing along the Mediterranean coast.  No one country is losing more in these disappearances.  And since they're spread out, local authorities aren't aware of a bigger problem."

Demona raised her hand.  "What sort of disappearances?"

The Chief slid an brown envelope across the table.  "Details are here.  You'll have plenty of time to read on the flight to Tel Aviv."

-**-

This isn't the first time I've flown overseas, but Paris on a class trip is far different than Tel Aviv to find, wait, let me see here.  Huh, not even a guess at what we're looking for.  Anyway, this is exciting!

International trips get interesting.  Weapons are restricted.  Sure, try carrying a pistol on a domestic flight in America.  At least I can still get what I need sent to me.  An international trip?  There's not much I can do.  I'll have to leave the useful weapons behind and hope that the Agency can get me something in time.

I've been wanting to go to Israel since I was ten.  My great-grandparents wound up moving there in the Fifties, though my grandmother stayed in Brooklyn.  It's a busman's holiday.  We're working, though if we have the spare time, I want to explore a bit.


-**-

The fifteen hour flight on LOT drained the three agents, even with the short layover in Warsaw.  The blue of the Mediterranean as the jet made its final approach helped soothed them, but getting into the bustle of the crowd was jarring.  After fighting to retrieve luggage, waiting in line at customs, and answering the customs agents questions, they three agents were exhausted.  They grabbed a cab to go directly to their hotel and crashed.

Nadia was the first to wake up the next morning.  After a quick shower, she put on her customary black t-shirt and jeans, then left her room in search of coffee.  The hunt led her out of the hotel and down the street to a small café.  Nadia entered and ordered a blintz with a café Americano, then sat down to enjoy her breakfast.

As she ate, Nadia watched the other customers in the café.  None set off her sense of magic, allowing her to relax a little.  She caught snippets of conversations, some in English, some in Hebrew, some in languages she didn't recognize.  The coffee wasn't to her taste, but she wasn't expecting the quality found in truck stops back home.  The blintz, though, was divine.  She savoured every bit of the $pastry.

Figuring her teammates should be up and about, Nadia finished coffee and returned to the hotel.  The sun beat down on the city, warming her up.  Back at the hotel, she knocked on the doors of her fellow agents, first Ian, then Demona.  Demona opened her door first, peering out with bleary eyes.  Ian opened his a few seconds later, more awake than Demona.  "Good morning," Nadia said.

"When did you become cheery?" Demona asked.  She wiped her eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them.

"What time is it?" Ian asked.

Nadia checked her watch.  "Just after eight."

"And you're awake?"  Demona leaned against her doorjamb.  "How?"

"I slept on both flights."

"Nadia can sleep almost anywhere."  Ian stifled a yawn.  "I once found her sleeping backstage at a concert."

"That doesn't count," Nadia said.  "It wasn't loud enough."

"Can I go back to bed?" Demaon asked.

"No.  We should get started.  The supernatural won't wait for us to be ready."

Demona groaned.  "We don't know what we're looking for."

"You read the file."

"We need coffee, Nadia," Ian said.  "After that, we can figure out what to do."

"There's a café down the back.  The coffee isn't to my taste--"

"It's good?" Demona said.

Nadia gave Demona a hard glare.  "As I was saying, it's not to my taste but the blintzes, /oy gevalt/, you have to try them."

"We haven't been in Israel for even a day and you're sounding more like Mel Brooks."  Demona gave her head a shake.  "It's too early to deal with this."

"Go get dressed, both of you.  It's a sunny day.  We'll spend today just getting a feel for the city and figuring out what's going on."

-**-

Really, the blintz was amazing.  They'll be gone if those two delay too long.

Nadia was cheerful.  This can't be good.

One more hour of sleep, that's all I want.  And whoever replaced the grouchy Nadia with the cheerful one can keep the old Nadia.



-**-

When Ian and Demona returned from breakfast, Nadia ushered them into her room.  Demona dashed out briefly to retrieve the envelope with the mission's details.  The three agents read through the briefing, with Demona pointing out all the areas where details were sparse or absent.  The disappearances occured along the coast of the Mediterranean, from southern Turkey and around to Egypt past Alexandria.  Demona booted up her laptop to start making notes of all the missing persons and where they were last seen.

The room's phone rang, blaring loudly.  Nadia jumped up to grab it.  "Hello?  Oh, sure, we'll be right down."  She put the receiver back in its cradle.  "Someone from the head office is here to see us.  Mostly me and Ian, but I want you down there, too, Demona."

"Me?"  Demona pointed at herself.

"You're a part of the team, too."  Nadia slid her feet into the hotel's complimentary slippers.  "Its probably nothing, just the local office checking on us to make sure we don't do anything stupid."

"I see."  Demona stood up and stretched.

Ian shrugged.  "It happens."  He got up from his chair.  "We shouldn't keep our guest waiting."

The three agents made their way downstairs, taking the elevator down to the lobby.  Nadia walked over to the reception desk.  The desk clerk pointed her to a tall man in a grey suit sitting on a couch in the lobby.  Nadia waved her teammates over, then approached her visitor.  "Are you looking for Nadia Wallach?"

The man in the grey suit got to his feet.  "Yes."  He pulled a business card from his inside jacket pocket.  "Uri Sorkin," he said, passing the card to Nadia.

Nadia read the business card, then passed it along to Ian.  "I'm Wallach.  These are Ian Markowitz and Demona Bell."

Sorkin arched an eyebrow.  "I wasn't aware there was a third person working with you."

"She's a recent addition."

"I see."  Sorkin appraised Demona.  "And she's aware of what we do?"

"I am, yes."  Demona gave Sorkin an innocent smile.

"The Section Chief wants to see you and your team, Wallach."

"I'd be happy to meet him.  Or her."  Nadia made a show of looking down at her feet.  "I probably should get a proper pair of shoes.  Mind waiting?"

Sorkin looked at the white slippers on Nadia's feet.  With a sigh, he said, "I'll be here."

"Great!"  Nadia dashed back to the elevators.

Ian stood beside Sorkan, able to look him in the eye without having to bend his neck.  "We really weren't expecting anyone."

"Your reputation precedes you."

-**-

The low office block sat on the edge between urban and suburban Tel Aviv.  The drive from the hotel took forty-five minutes of winding through traffic.  Sorkin's Toyota SUV was cramped with not just Nadia, Demona, and Ian, but also the camera crew and their gear crammed into the vehicle.  When the SUV rolled to a stop outside the office building, the two women and the camera crew were happy to get out and stretch.

Sorkin led the group into the office building and up to the Agency's office on the fifth floor.  The receptionist buzzed the agents through.  Their final destination was the Section Chief's office.  It was set up much like the Chief's in Chicago, down to the three doctor's office surplus chairs, the heavy desk with brass lamp and widescreen monitor on the corner, and grey filing cabinet in the corner.  The only difference was the woman in her late forties sitting behind the desk; even then, she shared a similar sense of fashion style as the Chief.  The Section Chief raised her head from the report on her desk.  "Thank you, Mr. Sorkin."  The tall man left, closing the door behind him.  "Please, sit."

Nadia sat down on one of the chairs.  "Thanks."  Demona perched on the edge of another chair.  Ian stood behind her, placing his hands on the chair's back.

"Miss Wallach, your reputation precedes you," the Section Chief said.  "I trust there won't be any incidents while you're here?"

Nadia put on an innocent expression.  "Incidents, Chief?"

The Section Chief reached under her desk, retrieving a large red binder stuffed with papers.  She dropped the binder on her desk with a /thump/, then brought a second binder the same size but blue.  "Incidents, Miss Wallach."

Demona turned to face Nadia.  "Just what have you done?"

"Hey, hang on a minute."  Nadia waved her hands.

"Are you denying that you weren't responsible for a /Daesh/ cell destroying a culturally important site in Kuwait the last time you were in the area?"  The Section Chief fixed her stare at Nadia.

Nadia blinked  "What?  Of course not!  They were going to destroy it anyway."  She pointed at the binders.  "That can't be all from my last time here."

"We have extensive files on you and Mr. Markowitz, Miss Wallach."  The Section Chief patted the red binder.  "This covers just the last three months."

Ian laughed.  "That's a lot of paperwork."

"Indeed."  The Section Chief turned her attention to Demona.  "I don't have much on you."  She opened her desk drawer to bring out a thin green binder, already three-quarters full.

"That much already?"  Ian stared at the green binder.  "Demona's only been on three missions."

"Two," Demona corrected.  "Des Moines and Las Vegas.  I was working at the library in Iowa City."

"Okay, Chief, just how much do you have on Demona already?" Nadia asked.

"Miss Bell is very good at writing reports."

Demona preened.  "I got used to writing essays and papers while getting my Master's."

Under her breath, Nadia muttered, "/Tuches lecker/."

"Be that as it may," the Section Chief said, "I want to make sure that certain ground rules are adhered to."  She pointed at the camera crew.  "Obviously, secrecy is out the window here."

"Talk to our Chief," Nadia said.  "It was his idea."

"I am aware."  The Section Chief moved the binders aside.  "Still, no drawing undue attention to yourselves.  I saw the footage from Las Vegas."

"With all due respect, Chief, no one could have predicted a necromancer attacking Las Vegas with an army of dead dressed like Elvis Presley."  Nadia gave a half-shrug.  "We could only do clean up."

The Section Chief nodded at Demona.  "And is that why Miss Bell was leading the dead in a peculiar dance, the clean up?"

"It was the best solution that came up.  Team One One Seven's alchemist managed to hack the necromancer's control device."

Demona's cheeks flushed red.  "Did that video of me dancing get on the news?"

"Relax, Miss Bell.  It's been debunked as fake already."  The Section Chief took a breath to get back on track.  "Miss Wallach, you are also forbidden from driving anything other than a bicycle while you're here."

Nadia's brows furrowed.  "What?  Come on, I'm a safe driver!"  Demona coughed discretely[sp?].  Ian couldn't look in Nadia's direction.  "Guys, come on, a little help?"  Nadia crossed her arms.  "When was the last time I hit something while driving?"

"There was that red cap in Upper New York," Ian said.

Nadia rolled her eyes.  "That was on purpose.  You told me that they were vulnerable to cold iron."

"My car is made of composites."

"You never told me that.  Anyway, that doesn't count."

The Section Chief cleared her throat.  "None of you are driving while in Tel Aviv.  I'll arrange for bicycles for you while you're in the city.  $Valeria has passes for public transit for you."

"Buses?"  Nadia's jaw dropped.  "We have to take buses?"

"Your mission right now is investigative.  If this changes, let my office know and upgrades will be provided.  Which brings me to the next issue.  Weapons.  No."

Ian stood up straight.  "No?  None at all?"

"Not even a knife?" Nadia added.

"This is Israel.  Armed foreigners aren't appreciated.  Even if they are armed with just a knife.  If you do get weapons through other channels, the Agency will not step in if there are legal entanglements.  Quite frankly, the Israeli Defense Force is a little trigger happy right now thanks to other problems.  I don't want to add to their headache."

Nadia sighed.  "Fine, no weapons, for now.  If things change later, will we be able to request them like we can request a vehicle?"

"Of course.  And, finally, expenses.  The Agency had some concerns about what was expensed on your last mission.  As a result, no room service charges will be reimbursed.  Nor will vehicle rentals.  Try to remember that the Agency doesn't have a bottomless pit filled with money."

"What about meals?" Ian asked.

"Standard reimbursement rates are in effect."  The Section Chief leaned forward over her desk.  "Now, how far have you gotten in your investigation."

Demona raised her hand.  "If I may?"  She waited until both the Section Chief and Nadia nodded.  "I did find some time to research the sort of disappearances that have been happening.  They're all along the coast with no bodies found.  There could be more than what has been reported.  Right now, it's all based on the missing's loved ones putting in a report.  First thing I checked was the mundane.  Sharks exist, but they don't attack as often as movies and television would suggest.  Barracuda are another possibility, but they attack as often as the sharks, which is rarely.  Pirates came to mind but I'll have to do more research on them to see how close to shore they get."

"Pirates?"  Nadia arched an eyebrow.  "Really?  Pirates?"

"I'm using Occam's Razor here."  Demona shrugged.  "I haven't started looking into the more supernatural possibilities yet.  For all I know, some water bender is summoning waterspouts to pick up sharks to attack people she feels have wronged her."

Nadia just stared at Demona.  Ian guffawed.  "I didn't know you watched those movies, too."

"The kids were talking about it, so I had to find out what it was.  I may have spent too much time thinking about them.  I mean, how do the sharks survive being picked up by a tornado?"  Demona shook her head sadly.

Nadia buried her face into her palms.  "Just keep brainstorming.  Please.  And don't encourage her, Ian."

Ian bent down to speak in a low tone in Demona's ear.  "We'll talk back at the hotel."

The Section Chief made a rolling motion with her hand.  "Please, Miss Bell, continue."

"That's all I have, really.  I'd like to spend some time today just researching local myths and legends, and I am aware that there is religious significance, which means widening my search."

"I'll have Mr. Sorkin take you back to your hotel."  The Section Chief sat up straight in her chair.  "Remember, keep your work low key.  Miss Wallach, do you understand?"

Nadia pointed at herself.  "I understand.  No driving.  No starting World War Three.  No turning /Daesh/ into frogs."  She stood up.  "Investigate, not exterminate."

"Nadia," Ian began.  "We'll keep things on the down low, Chief."

-**-

I don't believe this.  I never did anything unusual here.  The Section Chief can't blame me because some terrorist morons decided to take out a cursed relic.  Saved me from having to do it, really.  And not allowed to drive at all?  I've driven in New York City!  There's no way traffic here is worse than the bridges during rush hour.

Well, that was different.  The Chief here is a lot more concerned about how we do our work than the Chief back in Chicago.  I guess the possibility of starting a religious war is more likely here, especially if Nadia does her usual "bull in a china shop" approach.

I would never have taken Demona as a fan of bad movies.  I mean, I enjoy them just for their audacity.  Spiders made of lava?  Giant sharks attacking jet liners?  Genetically altered creature fighting each other?  Give me more!  Hmm?  Oh, yeah, Nadia.  Nadia is going to have to tone down a bit.  I'd try to stay out of her way for a bit.


-**-

After Sorkin dropped the three agents at the hotel, Nadia stormed inside.  Demona hurried to keep up with her, with Ian taking his time.  Nadia ducked into the hotel's restaurant and strolled up to the bar.  She put in her order for a draft beer just as Demona caught up.  "You are not getting drunk again," Demona said.

"I am not getting drunk again."

"Wait, did I just use a Jedi mind trick on you?  I was expecting more of a fight."

"I want a beer, that's all.  Then I'm going for a walk to pretend I'm a tourist while you do your research."

"Are you feeling okay?"  Demona reached for Nadia's forehead.

"Stop that."  Nadia knocked away Demona's hand.  "I can be a reasonable person.  Besides, I should take a look around now before the situation blows up in our faces."

Demona sat down on a bar stool.  "I guess."

Ian arrived at the bar.  "What's the plan?" he asked.

"I'm having a beer then exploring the city.  Demona's doing research.  You can do whatever you want, given our restrictions."

"You're not salty about what the Section Chief said, are you?"

"Can I help it that we get into situations that result in swaths of destruction?  I mean, look at what happened in Iowa City.  And that wasn't our fault."

"Wasn't mine, either," Demona said.

"Not my point, Demona.  Anyway, that's what we do, we come in after the shit has hit the fan, not before.  I can't help the political situation wherever we go.  That's management's job, not ours."

Ian leaned against the bar.  "I do have a question.  Why us?  Why are we doing the investigation here?  Shouldn't that be on one of the local teams?"

Demona frowned.  "You don't think that they went missing to, do you?"

The bartender returned with Nadia's beer and left with Ian's request for a whiskey, neat, and Demona's for a white wine.  Once she felt the bartender was out of hearing range, Nadia said, "I hadn't thought of that, but maybe?  I mean, we're coming in with no information at all.  People are missing.  That's for the police, not us."

"I'll work out where everyone's gone missing this evening," Demona said.  "It'll give us a start and maybe I'll find a pattern."

Ian grimaced.  "Do you think the Agency is turning us into another team?  I thought we were done with all that."

"No offense Demona, but no rookie agent ever gets assigned to troubleshooters."  Nadia took a long draught of her beer.  "Don't worry about it tonight, Ian.  We're here to do a job and we'll do it well."