Poison Paradise - Damned of the 2/19th

Old Dark Codes

Major General Harlan Cartwright Wilson, Commander, CBRN Threat Analysis, sat at his desk, turned in his chair so he could see out the window, and stared at the parking lot of the Pentagon. He spun a pencil in his fingers, an idle habit without any real function beyond giving his fingers something to do. General Wilson was a tall man, rail thin, with hair out of regulation, a strong chin, and piercing brown eyes. He was dressed in his Class-A dress uniform, a standard for many officers in the Pentagon, his medal rack four high and surrounded by bits of metal and cloth to enhance it. An Expert Infantry Badge, Air Assault, Airborne, all gleamed in the light from his office.

Four days since Hawaiian Airlines Flight 382 had vanished. Its transponder had gone out and the plane had never arrived in Hawaii. Search and rescue had been unable to even find any debris.

General Wilson turned back to his desk looking over the single piece of paper in the middle of his desk. It was a summons by the Senate Armed Services Committee, demanding an update of the status of the dismantling of the Cold War MAD programs.

Since the Soviet Union had collapsed, leaving the United States as the sole nuclear superpower, the powers that be were scrapping the programs as fast as possible. Most of them had never seen the light of day and would now be politically inconvenient to show up now that it was a "kindlier, gentler world" without the USSR.

The sound of his door opening made him frown and look up, irritated that his secretary hadn't notified him of someone entering. What was even the use of having a secretary if she was just going to let someone walk in.

His eyebrows raised as a man just walked in without asking permission, announcing himself, or waiting to be acknowledged. The man just walked up and stood next to one of the comfortable chairs against the wall.

Short height, slim build, watery blue eyes behind rimless glasses, brown hair covered with a "2 Live Crew" hat on his head despite the custom of removing any headwear inside the Pentagon. He wore khaki cargo pants and a Nirvana shirt under an unbuttoned red and black checkered flannel shirt.

He looks like a fool, General Wilson thought to himself as he stared in shock and anger at the man who entered the room.

"Who the fuck are you?" Major General Wilson snapped, sitting up straight.

Another person entered as the small skinny man in the stupid looking outfit just stared at General Wilson. A tall Navy Commander, the insignia on his dress uniform silently proclaiming him to be a highly decorated SEAL.

Wilson frowned at the fact that the man's name tag was missing.

Finally a small woman, shorter even than the man, entered.  She wore a severe cut black suit, fingerless black leather gloves like the short man, and her hair was cut in a pixie cut. She had on sunglasses, even inside the Pentagon, with a round scar visible behind the sunglasses on the right side of her face and what looked like a scar on her upper lip from a badly repaired harelip.

Major General Wilson half stood up from his chair. "Who the hell do you three think you are entering my office without being announced and without clearance?" he snapped.

The woman in black shut the door and went to parade rest, just like the SEAL.

"She is Ms. Smith-8741," the slight man said. "The impressive looking gentleman is Mister Johnson, who has been on loan to me for quite some time," the man looked down at his hands, which were tugging on fingerless black leather gloves to cover his palms.

General Wilson felt his stomach clench as the small man fussily arranged the velcro straps on the back of the gloves to give them a snug fit.

"You may call me Senior Analyst Timmons or Mister Timmons," The slight man said. "I am the Assistant Deputy Director of the Department of Analysis, Global Threats Analysis Division, NBC Threat Analysis and Intelligence Section," his voice was cold and empty and General Wilson found himself shrinking back in his chair without remembering having sat back down. "You, Major General Harlan Wilson, will be explaining yourself to me."