by thedoctor
"So, the mission was a success," said the man standing next to a large board covered with eight-by-ten photos. His face was carved with lines that ran deep. His eyes contained knowledge that most men could never imagine existed. The voice was deep and powerful. This, Wallace thought to himself, this is what it must feel like to talk to God Himself.
"Completely," Wallace finally responded to the elder man's statement. At thirty-five, he still felt like a child in the presence of the living legend that was Beau Pierce. "Primary and secondary targets were eliminated as well as the package. Nothing was left, sir. Nothing." Pierce simply looked at two of the photos on the board. The ones that held the images of the two men from the bridge bore a black slash across them from a magic marker. "And no casualties on this end, either. Everyone involved made it in and out without a scratch. Lieutenant Stevens gave both of the new men high marks in his report, especially the sniper."
"I wish we could have gotten a look inside that truck," Pierce commented. Wallace's words had found no home in the man's mind. It was preoccupied with thoughts, calculations, scenarios, and strategies. All of them came up with an answer that was favorable to his agency, all of them but one, and that hung around in his mind like a stray cat. It only took feeding it once, even the tiniest bit, and it would continue to come back and haunt his back door step. Pierce not only fed it, he brought it inside. The other answers were too easy. This one had to be the real thing.
"We were assured that the package was inside, sir." Wallace had set the file on Pierce's desk and moved over to the board. He turned on the light that hung from the wall and directed it at the pictures. Shadows leapt from the creases in Pierce's face.
"Just like we were assured of Dr. Williams showing up in London last week." The man's voice rang with sarcasm; this job had a way of bringing it out in everyone. The bass made it register its meaning without any room for misinterpretation. "There are still two men left who worked in that lab, and they could be anywhere."
"We're tracking them, sir. But, might I remind you that Williams was the only one who knew the entire process. Without him, there is no threat."
"That's assuming that our intel is correct, as it's proven to not be too often than not, lately." A bitter taste rose in Pierce's mouth as he thought of the consequences of what they were talking about. "Even if they don't know the full procedure, I'm still not satisfied that we've neutralized the threat. There is no proof that our package was in that truck."
He returned to his desk and began to flip through the file in an attempt to turn his mind elsewhere. "This sniper... Bell, huh? Dirk Bell."
"He came highly recommended."
"I'm sure he did, considering who his father is." Pierce could tell that Wallace had become lost with the recent change in conversation. "I served with his father in 'Nam. Best damn marksman I've ever seen. Used to tell us stories about how HIS father strapped a gun on him when he was only three. Couldn't even pull the trigger, but he learned to hold that heavy damn thing straight."
Wallace began to chuckle as if on cue. "Sounds like a family with some problems." Pierce shot him a look of disdain. Wallace stopped chuckling. He was way off cue.
"I will not have him or his family spoken of like that in this office. Not only do I owe him my life, but we all owe him for our current prosperity." The tone was now of a father scolding his child. "Jefferson Bell not only came up with the training program that this agency uses, but most of the field protocol as well. If he hadn't left when he did, you'd be answering to him now instead of me. It was only natural that his son came into the program, a kind of full circle. I'm pretty damn sure that Bell Senior was making three-year-old Dirk hold that same damn gun while Jefferson was here creating our training school. I swear, those Bells must be nursed with gun oil."
A rare sight occurred in that office that night. Wallace, for the first time in his six years as Pierce's assistant, saw the old man smile. Apparently, this Dirk Bell was about to become the newest permanent member of the agency.