Once in a Blue Moon - A Jonathan Smythe Adventure

CHAPTER 1: Early Reconnaissance

CHAPTER 1: Early Reconnaissance

“What do you know about Vladimir Petrov?”

The name stung in Smythe’s head as he stared out the window, watching the clouds rush by in a quick blur of sunset orange and purple. The question still hung in the stale air of the helicopter cabin, with only the beating of the rotor blades breaking the tense silence. Smythe turned back from the window to face his superior sitting across from him, impatiently waiting for a response. Michael Truman was a man raised with a ‘by the book’ state-of-mind. He wanted things done in an orderly, efficient, manner, and despised even the passing thought of improvisation. In his mind, a secret service agent should be obedient and trustworthy, one that doesn’t question orders or break the mission protocol. Everything he believed a first-tier Echo Echelon agent stood for disappeared as soon as he laid his eyes on Jonathan Smythe.

“Vladimir Petrov,” Smythe finally repeated as he turned back to face Truman. “Ex-Russian general, exiled because of his militaristic ideals. He was bent on world domination and driven by power. In a word: ruthless.”

“That was over twenty years ago,” Truman shot back, as a three-dimensional holographic image of Petrov appeared in-between them. Smythe studied the image in front of him as it began rotating to reveal all the features of Petrov’s profile.  Although he looked like he was approaching his late forties, his hair and mustache were peppered with grey. His face was wrinkled and war-torn, with a distinct scar running down his left cheek. The look of his face tilted on the fine line between diplomatic gentleman and insane psychopath. Smythe squinted across the helicopter cabin through the transparent image of the ex-general and noticed that his superior’s expression had not changed at all. Truman pressed a switch on the panel beside his chair and the holographic image disappeared before Smythe’s eyes.

“Of course,” Smythe added, “after his embarrassment during the Cold War, he vowed to clean up his act, so to speak. He is now working for the Russian government as an international ambassador for the world disarmament movement. It’s almost ironic.”

“But,” Truman interrupted, “if the information you received during that fiasco with the Soviet ocean-liner off of the Atlantic last week is correct, he’s involved himself in some sort of weapons-smuggling deal.”

“Or worse,” Smythe added, as he spoke under his breath, “I have a feeling it’s much more than that.”

“Which is why it is critical that we find out exactly what he has obtained and what he’s planning to do with it.”

Smythe ran his hand through his carefully-parted hair, jet-black with just a hint of grey. He looked his age, a man in his late thirties, in the prime of his life, forced to carry out the orders given to him. His heart was cold and pined for romance, but his soul reluctantly served his country and strived to prevent war and terrorism across the globe. He glanced over his shoulder through the window again and watched dusk set in over the city of Paris. The streaks of October sunset slowly faded into dark blue as the night crept closer. Smythe’s vision refocused on his superior, who was typing furiously into the console beside him. His dark blonde hair was slicked back in a no-nonsense style, clashing with his navy blue business suit.

“…And the mission parameters?” Smythe asked slyly, “Capture the villain… rescue the girl… save the world?”

“Hardly that easy,” Truman said in annoyance. Once again, a hologram image appeared in front of Smythe, this time what looked like the schematics of a three-storey building. The image rotated and highlighted all possible points of entry: one on the roof, another near the back, and the last one through the main door.