Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Ten

I was pretty sure that my legs had gotten the worst of that thorn bush, but my arms had to be next in line. Some cuts were deeper than others, but thankfully, most of them were just a little pink and puffed. Others were surrounded by crusted up blood, already starting to scab over. I used Will’s washcloth to clean them, noticing that it smelled faintly of vanilla. “Part of the job,” I assured him.

Will didn’t look all that convinced.  Next to him, Bill would wince when I winced.“Did you at least get any information?” Will asked.

“Something, yeah,” I said.  “I’m just not sure what.”

“Well,” Bill said, throwing his shoes up onto the table with a clunk and tossing a handful of Whoppers into his mouth. “On with it then.”

And so I told them all of it, knowing that debriefing was just as, if not more important that the mission itself. I told them about the call to Russia and the way Subject X had sounded. How there’d been worry in his tone. And anger. Both. How he’d wanted autopsy records. I listed all of the uses I could think of, by my list wasn’t all that extensive. I told them that he was probably CIA and that he was investigating the death of Natasha Azarov, a name that neither of the boys knew. “That’s all you heard?” Will asked when I finished. I nodded.

 "That’s all I got. Right up until he entered the dining room.”

The two of them seemed to process this information, maybe trying to connect it all into something that made sense. I could see their brains working as they plotted the data in their heads, but it didn’t look like any conclusions had been made when Will finally said, “Alright, Cap. Nice Work. We need you to write up a report.”

“Sure thing,” I said, fully expecting it. This was an op, after all. A MockOp, sure, but an op nonetheless and ops had paperwork.

I was already standing, off to grab the computer that Will had brought with us, but then both of them stood too, meeting me like a wall in my path. They glanced at each other like they were supposed to be surprised, but had long since grown accustomed to the idea of being on the same page. As I looked up to the two of them, I realized that, for the first time ever, I was on the wrong side of the Will and Bill dream team. “Not so fast, Cap,” Bill scolded, looking back to me.

“Go take a shower first,” Will ordered. “Or a bubble bath. Or whatever it is that girls take.”

“Umm… what?” I said. I resisted the urge to smell my armpits. Did I reek?

“Cap,” Bill said, a sigh in his voice.

“You look exhausted, you’ve got dirt all over you, and your forehead’s been bleedin’ for the past twenty minutes."

I reached my hand up to my forehead, feeling around for the stickiness. Sure enough, there it was, oozing over my right temple. Figured. Temples always bled for an outrageous amount of time. It always looked worse that it really was.

But it didn’t matter how much blood was oozing from my head or how cut up I was.  There was a mission afoot.  Reports to be written, debriefings to be had—death investigations to be, well, investigated.  I’d shower when that was good and done.  When my job here was over, which, let me tell you, it was not. The most important part of any op is the paperwork.

I took another step forward, but Will blocked me. He may have been the weaker of the two, but he still had a good amount of muscle on me. “Sorry, Cap. Team morale. Can’t have you getting grumpy on me.”

“I’m not going to get grumpy,” I said, this time blocked by Bill as I took another step. I shuffled back and forth between the two of them and together they were too fast for me. “Look, if I can just get the report—guys, stop can I just—okay, really?” I was vaguely aware of the heat rushing to my ears, but I didn't really feel it until someone started yelling. Until I started yelling. “I do not need a shower, okay?”