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SNAFU Part 42

by Angharad

This is a work of fiction any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is unintentional.

*****

Cassie led me down a series of plush carpeted corridors. She was still shaking her head, “You’re not gonna believe this,” she said; “we’ve just talked for an hour, and I can’t recall a darned thing. What did you freakin’ do to me?”

“Who said I did anything?” I replied playing the innocent.

“Come off it Jamie, it had to be you; no one else has been in my office.”

“That you can remember,” I said and watched her sense of confusion grow.

“Am I crackin’ up girl?” she asked looking at me strangely.

“No you’re as sane as any other American I’ve ever met,” I said waiting for the penny to drop.

“Well thank you ma’am,” she said, then a moment later added, “Hey you, are you implyin’ we’re all crazy?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said looking very interestedly at a piece of wallpaper. “If you want real barking, then you need a royal family who over centuries of intermarriage and breeding, produce pedigree loonies.”

“Honey, back in Kentucky, incest is the game all the family plays; if you take ma meaning.”

“Is this to do with poor television reception?” I enquired.

“Honey, they got cable with over a thousand channels; but then did ya hear about the Kentucky woman who phoned a computer helpline?” I shook my head in reply, “She couldn’t get nothin’ on her screen. The helpline assistant went through the checklist, turned out it wasn’t plugged in to the electric.”

I laughed politely, I’d heard this one before.

“So the assistant asks her if she still has the box, and the woman says, yeah. The assistant tells her to put everything back in the boxes in which they came. The woman asks what next, the assistant tells her to send it back to the shop. Is it faulty, asked the woman, the assistant told her no, she was too darned stupid to have a computer.”

“So which part of Kentucky did you say you were from?” I asked trying to keep a straight face.

“Hey you,” she shrieked laughing, “You are the cheekiest sonofabitch, I ever did meet.”

“I used to be a son of a bitch, but then I had a sex change,” I said.

“Jamie Curtis, you are one funny lady,” she patted me on the shoulder, “It’s just up here.” She led me to an area which opened into a large hall, there were armed soldiers at strategic points. Once more, I didn’t know if I felt safer or more frightened by all this hardware. What I needed was to locate the bomb, and so far I was nowhere near it.

Cassie bid me wait while she went to speak to one of the guards, he was a sergeant by the stripes on his sleeve. She obviously knew him well as her body language was very flirtatious. A moment later she called me over and introduced me to her friend, he seemed nice enough as I scanned his energies, although there was something a bit niggling at the back of my mind. However, he let us into the presidential suite, shutting the door behind us. I threw a flaming pentagram at the door to keep out unwanteds.

“So what’ya think?” asked Cassie, oblivious of our previous conversation.

“It’s really lovely,” I said and meant it. The room was furnished in a style that could only be described as opulent, but not in any sense vulgar. The Adam fireplace and polished wood floors with Chinese rugs showed how much had been spent on this room. The desk was pure mahogany with a grandfather clock that seemed nearly half as big as Big Ben. I walked up to it. I was trying to scan the room but something was blocking me, the energy suddenly began to feel hostile. I turned around to speak to Cassie and she was slumped in the arms of the sergeant.

I started, almost jumping out of my skin, he was pointing what looked like a Colt pistol at me. “Seen enough, darlin’?”

“What have you done to her?” I asked feeling a now very hostile energy in the room. It felt almost as if the walls were radiating hatred at me, trying to crush me or make me feel ill. I was beginning to feel the latter. I tried to put a cordon of my own energy around myself, but it was very difficult.

“She’s expendable, so are you girly. Huh, send a babe in arms to do a man’s job eh?” I saw his thumb move as he drew back the hammer on the gun. I swallowed hard.

“I’m not alone,” I croaked, my mouth feeling as dry as sandpaper.

“Tough.”

“If you kill me, someone will take my place,” I said trying to sound braver than I felt.

“I’ll kill them as well,” the answer was scowled back at me.

“I really don’t think I like you,” I said.

“Look, girly, I don’t freakin’ care. I’m gonna kill you anyway.”

“In which case, I certainly don’t like you,” I said playing for time. The sun shone through the huge French windows and was beginning to reach my feet.

“As if I care,” he threw back at me.

“Do you realise I am going to die a virgin?” I said to him coquettishly.

“Tough,” was his response. The sun reached my leg and I felt its warmth, then I felt its power. I had delayed enough. In a matter of milliseconds, perhaps less than that, I simultaneously morphed into a certain Egyptian goddess look-a-like, and threw a bolt of light at him. At the same instant,t he pulled on the trigger of his gun. The bullet absorbed some of the energy from the light and melted, then vaporised. A fraction later, he was bowled backwards his face blackened and scorched and his head burst open as his brain, which is mainly fatty tissue, boiled.

I rushed to the fallen woman agent, she was lying on a sculpted rug. I felt for signs of life, there were none. She had been dead for barely a minute, I was tempted to start CPR, instead, I laid a hand on her chest and commanded her body to live again.
A moment later I felt her heart begin to beat again, and I knew she would be okay. So, I’d be getting Sekhmet a bad name, I did try to remember she was also a goddess of healing, and if she didn’t trust me with her powers, she’d have to lump it. Gods and goddesses don’t make mistakes, erring is a purely human accomplishment I told myself; trying to avoid a charge of hubris.

While Cassie recovered, I stuffed the smouldering remains of her would-be assassin inside the clock, made sure the CCTV and other surveillance equipment was suitably ignorant. There was a bit of a smell, but it would pass in a week or two.

The door opened and one of the domestic staff came in, “My God, what happened here?” he practically screamed at me, “And who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t just throw a hissy-fit you overpaid wanker,” I said to him, my interpersonal skills are legendary. “Get your dainty arse over here and help me with the lady, I think she MI’ed.”

“She what? He sniffed the air, “What is that smell?”

“Cardiac arrested, and I thought it came in with you.”

“Look lady, I don’t know who you are but don’t fuck with me I’m….” he paused in his comment as I helped him with his identity crisis, “Mickey Mouse,” he squeaked in a very high pitched voice. “I must go and find Pluto.” With that, he ignored me and left the room.

I almost called after him, ‘it’s out beyond Neptune’, but then Cassie started to come around. “What the freakin’ hell happened?”

“That would be telling,” I offered.

“I feel like shit,” she announced.

“Be thankful for small mercies, “I cautioned, “the other guy is shit.”

“What other gu….what is that smell?”

“That is the other guy, come on I think we might have outstayed our welcome.” I helped her to her shaky feet and we struggled back down the corridors to her office.
As we made our journey avoiding both staff and surveillance cameras, I did wonder if the eventual finding of the charred remains would instigate an alert and the President being moved to another safer place. And if it didn’t happen, I decided it would show the level of complicity in the plot. Mind you, it would take some time to get shot of the smell, let alone the body. I apologised in my thoughts to housekeeping and to the president, for a few marks on the wallpaper and possible damage by body fluids to the clock.

I didn’t want to go back into that room, especially at night. The sensation of nastiness or darkness was very strong and even goddesses can have limitations. If I went there again I might not leave it alive. I also had to reconcile having taken another human life. The sergeant wasn’t a thought form, he was real and perhaps under someone else’s control, but he had been prepared to kill. Effectively he had killed Cassie, but a bit of ancient magic had captured his escaping life force and given it to her. This wasn’t his soul, but his spirit, which is indestructible because it’s a pure energy form and not personalised like a soul. Catching it as it escapes and pushing it into another body, however, is quite a party trick. I thought I’d have to work on it before I did exhibitions.

“What happened back there?” asked a very pale looking Cassie.

“It would save you a lot of grief if you don’t know,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. Sadly, reassurance was not her highest priority.

“I wanna know.”

“You most definitely do not,” I said firmly.

“That smell, it was like burnt meat…it was horrible!” She shook her head as if trying to remove the smell from her nose.

“It was burnt meat. The prezzie invited us round for a burger and forgot she’d left them under the grill.”

“Very funny, Jamie, why do I feel like I just died?” She fixed me with a stern look.

“Okay, okay; I’ll come clean. You did.”

“I did what?” she asked.

“You died.”

“Very funny, lady. Now tell me what happened.”

“It’s true. You were attacked and the shock stopped your heart. I got rid of the assailant and managed to start your heart again. That’s what happened.”

“Oh yeah, look here buster; I saw my daddy in coronary care after he’d had an arrest, and he was real ill for days.”

“You’re younger, so you recovered quicker,” I replied almost absently because something wasn’t right, then it came to me. “Are there smoke detectors and sprinklers in all the rooms?”

“First you tell me that I died and now you’re asking about the safety equipment. What the hell are you on about?”

“I think I’ve just found another part of a jigsaw. However, which part has yet to be identified.”

“Do all you Brits talk in riddles?” she said quizzically.

“No, only those from Planet Oxford.”

“Ha ha,” she said, “You guys are weird.”

“I wondered if you’d notice,” I replied, “It’s the two heads, go on tell me that’s what gave me away.” I was joking with her but my mood was far from jocular. She laughed at me and I was pleased to see her colour returning, she was looking healthier by the minute.

“What’s with the fire extinguishers?” she asked, her head slightly tilted as she spoke.

“Sprinklers and smoke detectors,” I corrected her.

“No, extinguishers. In the Presidential suite we have powder sprays. The furniture in there is worth a fortune, the grandfather clock alone is worth half a million dollars.”

I felt myself blushing as I said, “Oops!”

“You didn’t do anything to it, did you?” she asked anxiously.

I wonder if James Bond gets this problem, I thought to myself.

“Who me?” I asked in a horrified tone.

I was getting better at acting by the moment, I’ve heard it pays better than nursing…..I could be a Bond Girl, the first from a transgen….. , wrong again, Caroline Cossey got there before me.

“Yes you, did you do anything to the clock?”

“Of course not, what sort of person do you think I am?” I felt myself blush a bit more, “I simply examined it’s…..ah bodywork, …..yes, that’s it, bodywork.”

Oh God, my lines are getting as corny as James Bond.

“Bodywork is for cars, clocks have cabinets.”

“Of course they do, I meant it was a nice body of work….” Was the room getting warmer or was it just me?

“You sure are one strange lady,” she said, “but, for some reason I like you and know I could trust you with my life.”

As she finished this sentence there was a rap at her door which made us both jump.

“Ladies, you are advised to stay here for the moment. Something bizarre has happened in the Presidential suite, so for your own safety, stay here; Okay?”

“What’s happened, Chuck?” asked Cassie.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and those friggin’ cameras ain’t working neither. We got one of the house staff walking around saying he’s Mickey Mouse ‘n’ a body which looks like it shoved its head in a microwave.”

“Good gracious,” I said, “how could he say he was Mickey Mouse if he’d micro-waved his head?”

“Look erm, Miss…”

“Curtis, Captain Curtis,” I offered, proffering my hand as I spoke.

Thinking; it doesn’t sound quite as good as, Bond, James Bond. Still; we all have our crosses to bear.

“Yeah, course,” he shook my hand. “You’re the Brit liaison person?”

“I am, although so far I’ve only liaised with Cassie and drunk lots of Earl Grey.”

“I’d liaise some more if I were you, the security staff are walking about with safety catches off; if you catch my drift.”

“In case they meet Mickey Mouse?” I asked with feigned innocence.

“Geez girl, no, it’s in case they meet Goofy. Now stay here.” He left pulling the door shut with a slam which made us both jump.

After we recovered, Cassie looked me straight in the eye and said, “ You wouldn’t just have something to do with all this would ya?”

“No I promised my mummy I wouldn’t talk to strange cartoon characters; why do you ask?”

“Because strange things seem to happen when you’re around,” she said with a sparkle in her eye, “don’t they?”

“That is an enormous generalisation from which I could be accused of the disappearance of the Marie Celeste or where Elvis really is.”

“No, we all know where Elvis is, but he only shows himself to true believers. I don’t know who Marie Celeste is.”

“It was a boat, found drifting in the Bermuda Triangle with the crew missing. It’s one of those unexplained mystery things which probably has a mundane answer, but keeping it a mystery sells more books.” I sat down opposite Cassie, “So when did you last see Elvis?”

“Last Thursday, shouldn’t we be trying to discover what happened? I mean micro-waving Mickey Mouse, is like, so anti-American.”

“I don’t know; I think he might be just a little dated, but if they do Donald Duck; I hope it’s in orange sauce,” I quipped, wondering how I might ask a much more pertinent question.

Cassie was laughing at my little joke, “That is so funny, Donald Duck a l’orange ….”

“Cass, do you have access to wiring diagrams and things?”

“What for?”

“Okay, I’ll confess, I’m a wiring fetishist, I get orgasms looking at pictures of wiring.”

“You are so funny Jamie, course I don’t, why would I?” She was almost giggling.

“Is there any way we could access them from your computer?”

“Why?” she stopped laughing, “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” I replied fixing her with a serious stare.

“Can’t help ya, sorry,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Is that simply because you don’t have access, I mean, they could be accessed?”

“Probably, but don’t ask me how,” she shrugged again.

I sat in front of her computer, and she watched me, muttering something about, “this should be good, you don’t have a password or code.” However, her jaw dropped when after a moment of laying my hands on the keyboard, I typed in at frantic speed and after screen after screen appeared, finally the one I wanted showed.

“How did you get in? I mean, whose password did you use?”

“George’s.”

“George who, like Washington?”

“Cassie, even a technophobe like me knows computers weren’t invented until Abraham Lincoln was on the throne.”

“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically, “very funny, now Missy, George who?”

“Bush, who else?”

“What as in Presi…?”

“Yes, well actually I tried that and it failed, so I used George Brush; that worked a treat.”

“Jeez girl, how did you break his code word?”

“I just tried, ‘woronterrer’ and it worked fine.”

“Hey, you implying he’s a bit stupid?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, over-egging the pudding is so passé.” She gave me a sharp look, then it softened into a smile.

After the nonsense, we poured over the plans. Sure enough, the smoke from my encounter with the unfortunate sergeant should have activated the alarms and we would have been showered with masses of fire-resistant powder; so why didn’t it. Obvious, someone must have switched it off. Now the key question is why, and what relevance does it have to my quest for an explosive device which will be detonated later tonight?

I didn’t know, neither did I know how successful my colleagues were in trying to locate and stop the aircraft or in getting some sort of aerial defence to back it up. I couldn’t phone them because any calls would be monitored and if I played with the system, it would affect my cell phone too.

For the moment I couldn’t do anything except sit tight and wait for an opportunity to play whatever hand I could deal myself. I felt I’d made some progress if only in confirming that there was ‘something rotten in the State of Denmark’. I still had to convince others except for Cassie without giving it away to my enemies. Some days it hurts like hell, others it’s just excruciating.