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SNAFU part 51

by Angharad

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

*****
It was nearly two hours later that I found myself back in Grosvenor Square and walking through the gates of the US Embassy. The holster attached to my thigh was beginning to chafe a little, presumably after all the excitement of Stratford and I still didn’t get to see the play. Oh well, at least I was alive so it could perhaps happen another day.

After showing my pass, I was summoned by Robert Storey, who’d been in the VIP cavalcade with his President while I struggled through the traffic chaos all that caused. In the end I parked at a station and got the train in then took a cab to the embassy, getting a receipt for the outlay on both expenses. Okay so they were paying me as captain instead of a student nurse, although that would now be a nurse because they passed me in my absence, I still had to pay off my car loan so was going to claim my expenses—sod them.

I was led through to Storey’s office, another opulent room with a large desk and computer. The escort I had knocked the door and on the command of enter opened the door for me. Robert Storey stood and walked to greet me, “Jamie, we meet again,” he held out his hand and I offered my fingers which he shook gently but warmly. This was the real McCoy or so his energies told me.

“I’m so glad you could come.”

“I’m quite glad I was able to come as well,” he’d probably not heard of the little fracas we’d had back stage.

“I’d like to say thank you for saving my life, earlier.”

I shrugged, he was one of the good guys so what else could I do? “You’re welcome.”

“And the President would like to thank you for preventing another attempt on her life this evening.”

“I was just doing my job,” I said blushing.

“Ya know, we thought we’d be able to do all the security work ourselves, but without your very special type of assistance we’d have been up shit creek. Just how can ya beat some energy form enemy without detonating a nooclear device on top of it?”

“That would probably work, so would a laser if you had one big enough.”

“We don’t, not to prodooce the amount of energy you seem able to muster. I mean, you welded that door in moments.”

I blushed, “Ah—um—it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It was, it saved your life and those of our security staff who were trying to kill you.”

“I trust they won’t be trying to do the same again?”

“Ah, no, the President herself sent out an all personnel memo stating that you were one of the good guys.”

I blushed again.
“Where is the President?”

“She’s resting, they told her about the attempted nerve gas attack and how you guys foiled it; and how you dealt with Oliver again—can’t you just zap him for good?”

“I could if we could find the group who are responsible for creating him.”

“What about the guy you shot, did ya have to kill him?”

“Unfortunately, I thought it was necessary as he might have been carrying some sort of device. Do we know how the girl was he used as a hostage?”

“Sorry, that’s for your team to deal with, my sole responsibility is the President.”

“And other Americans, I presume?”

“No, just the President, everyone else is expendable.”

“I’ll bear that in mind if we have any further attempts.”

“Hey, that includes my sorry ass too, ya know.”

“So what’s new intelligence wise?” I asked.

“They found your friendly neighbourhood Mossad agent.”

“Dr Wilson?”

“So ya knew what he was?”

“I was told, yes.”

“A friend of your father, isn’t he?”

“He was, not sure if my dad would want to know someone who supports another country. Was he alive?”

“Sure, he’s told us what he told you.”

“About the secret societies?”

“The same, we’ve hit two of them but all their stuff is encrypted, could take weeks to break. Anyways, we’ve arrested thirty so far.”

“Which groups did you hit?”

“Arlington and Gettysburgh Fallen Societies.”

“Wasn’t there a Robert E Lee restoration group as well?”

“Them, we haven’t been able to find.”

“So they could have agents working here?”

“They could, I mean it sounds like a historical research group.”

“Does it? If I came across a Jacobite restoration group, I think I’d be a little concerned.”

“Why? That was two hundred years ago.”

“Over two hundred and fifty, but restoration groups worry me, unless it’s to do with furniture or that sort of thing.”

“Okay, but Lee died in 1870, and it would appear there are some hotheads in the South who think the confederacy should be resurrected. How’s that possible, it was a hundred and fifty goddam years ago?”

“Perhaps they live a long time in the south?”

“Anyways, I’ve got some of my analysts checking through the personnel lists to see if anyone here has something they might like to tell us about.”

“Who organised the redecoration of the President’s suite?”

“Someone who, conveniently, isn’t here—he’s on vacation, supposedly in Virginia.”

“Isn’t that where all those weirdo societies are supposed to be?”

“Yeah, we thought it was quite a coincidence, too. Pity you couldn’t identify who tried to kill you in there?”

“Apart from the guy who died?”

“He was just doin’ his dooty, as he saw it, you were damaging US property after all.”

“I suppose I was, but if I hadn’t a bit more would have been damaged.”

“He didn’t know that.”

“I did try to tell him before he jumped on me.”

“I’m afraid when we’re all worked up like we’ve been this past couple a days, we tend not to listen to someone shooting holes in the wall.”

There was a knock at his door and a young man in uniform entered and handed him a sheaf of papers. “Okay, bring ’em in.” He looked at the list, “Alive, if you can.” The young man saluted and left.

“Interesting?” I asked.

“We’ve got three of your Robert E Lee restoration society in residence.”

“Oh, a lead at last, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. I’m gonna have to ask you to wait here while I deal with this.”

“If they’re like the previous lot, you might need my help.”

“I think we can deal with this ourselves. I’ll shout if we need you.”

“Please do.”

He rushed out through the door speaking briefly to a secretary outside who wandered in and asked if I’d like something to eat or drink?” She led me to a small dining room where a harassed woman served me a latte coffee and a blueberry muffin.

While I was seated in a corner on my own, I managed to get the holster off and by playing with the straps, was able to fix it round my waist—okay, it was a bit John Wayne, but I’m at last able to scratch my leg which was itching like mad. In the end I dabbed a bit of vinegar on the inflamed skin and it eventually eased without smelling too much like a portion of pickled onions.

Despite the coffee, I was warm and full and the room was quiet and I suspect I might have dropped off to sleep, just for a few moments of course. I was roused by a young soldier who shouted as he ran towards me and I jumped out of my skin, reaching for my gun on my thigh only to realise it wasn’t there. Of course it was at my waist.

“Captain Curtis, follow me, ma’am.”

I jumped up and started chasing after him.

I was thankful that I’d worn flat shoes as the young man wasn’t waiting. I followed down corridors and guessed I’d got to the spot when I was confronted by a group of security men and secret service all standing round looking agitated. Robert Storey emerged from the group. “It’s your friend, Oliver.”

“We’re nothing more than acquaintances, what’s he up to now?”

“He’s somehow got into the communications centre and is threatening to kill everyone in there.”

“Unless what?”

“Sorry, Jamie, unless we send you to him.”

“I see, so your reasoning is that everyone but the President is expendable, and the one person who can stop Oliver and thus protect your President, you’re going to throw to the wolves?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You might well be if ever I get out of this mess. Okay, let me see a plan of the room and speak to someone who can tell me what’s in there including the personnel.”

I was led off to a side room well aware of the screams from the people in the room. I don’t know what Oliver was doing but it was bloody noisy and distracting. Essentially, the room was filled with computers and telecommunications stuff, most of which had gone down—there’s a surprise. There were four people in there, three women and one man. I wondered how many were still alive. I don’t like hostage situations, it’s far too easy to hurt the hostage or get hurt trying to avoid hurting them.

I asked them to makeup as much chopped garlic and salt water as they could find, and also if someone had a pair of trousers I could borrow in a size twelve, UK size. It took twenty minutes for the garlic and water to arrive by which time I was redressed in US army fatigues including boots.

I suggested I went in by the front door while a pair of volunteers simultaneously entered from the back with headlights, the room was bound to be in darkness to stop me transforming, they were to throw the contents of the buckets over anything and everything, especially people or monsters, it didn’t matter—people are generally water resistant and similarly for garlic and salt, monsters, however aren’t.

I spent a few minutes blessing the water/salt/garlic mix and then drawing down light around myself. There were to be no guns, we wouldn’t need them and they’d only serve to kill or hurt others. In the background a woman screamed, it made me wince.

The object was for the hostages to be rescued while I offered a distraction, and the rescue would itself also form a distraction and possible weaken Oliver, to give me a chance to zap him. Okay, it was predictable, but the only way to deal with an energy form, which is what Oliver was is to fire so much energy at him, he disintegrates, which is what I’ve done previously, but it is a bit predictable.

I had two thunder flashes and ear plugs, the rescuers would act as soon as the second bang and flash occurred, I hoped the flash would be enough to enable me to transform—if it wasn’t, my last meal was a coffee and muffin—yeah, right.

“Good luck, Jamie,” Storey patted me on the back.

“NOW,” I shouted and the door was pulled open and I lobbed in the fireworks. There were two loud bangs and flashes but no one else was there. The other door opened and in dashed the volunteers who threw their buckets of water all over me and then stopped.

“Where is everyone?” asked one of them.

I tried to shake off the water which was trickling in all sorts of uncomfortable places. There was no Oliver or hostages. Where had he gone? I looked up—Jeezuz—he’d broken through into the floor above—and the Presidential suite is on that floor.

I dashed out and was nearly shot by a dozen guns—why they had them out, God knows, I’d told them they were useless against thought forms. “Upstairs, quickly.” Thankfully, someone heeded my command and led us up the stairs. He was in the Presidential suite.

“What ya gonna do this time, Jamie?”

“If I go in there with thunder flash grenades it’s going to blow the whole building, which is perhaps what he wants. Do me a check on Naseby Fallen Society.”

“What now?”

“No, next month will do—of course now.”

Someone wrote it down and dashed off then dashed back, “Um, the communications are down, Ma’am.”

“Got a tablet?”

He nodded.

“Use that then, I need names of anyone here or elsewhere who’s a member, I think it’s they who are controlling Oliver and we need them to stop them.”

“Evacuate the President and everybody else, just in case leave only those who are absolutely necessary.”

Storey gave the order, the President had left as soon as Oliver was discovered and others were being told to go and assemble out in the street as per a bomb drill. I waited while the lad with the iPad messed about with his wi-fi.

“Oh my,” he said.

“What?” said Storey.

“Mr Fox is a member.”

“Arrest him,” ordered Storey.

“There’s probably at least one other, Fox couldn’t run Oliver on his own, he wouldn’t have enough mental strength.”

“There’s another, oh no, it’s Darla Wakowski.” A couple of secret service men were sent to get her.

There was the sound of shooting and I sighed to Storey, “We needed them alive.”

“You shoulda said,” was his rejoinder.

I had hoped if we could have persuaded the two double agents to release the hostages, I’d have had more scope to zap Oliver again, but it wasn’t to be, they were off to have their hearts weighed against a feather so the crocodile should get a good feed tonight.

The evacuation was pretty well complete and I’d been found dry clothing, so I agreed with Storey to try and call Oliver out into the central courtyard rather than blow a huge hole in the building. It was all a bit High Noon, but I couldn’t think of anything better.

I had another thunder flash, but I really didn’t know what was going to happen this time, except I had to try and rescue the hostages—why, I didn’t know any of them—’cos, I’m one of the good guys.

I wandered out into the garden which forms a central courtyard. It was as big as some of the gardens in the Victorian squares. I shouted to Oliver to let the hostages go.

A window opened above and one of them was flung out landing heavily on a paved area. It was the man and it looked to my nurse’s eye as if he’d been dead for a little while.

“Have you killed them all?” I shouted at him.

“Why, d’you want me to leave some for you to kill?”

“Oliver, you’re a naughty thought form.”

His reply was a gratuitous laugh. It sounded positively demonic—um—can a demon sound positive? I didn’t let syntax obscure my task and demanded he come out and fight like a thought form? I invited him, nay challenged him to come and fight. He declined.

While I’d been distracting him the security folk had scanned the room and decided there were no live beings in there. I apologised to Rob Storey, lobbed a thunder flash in through the open window which Oliver threw back at me. He’s not playing by the rules. I turned away from the blast and the flash of light and immediately felt myself growing.

Oliver sprang onto me as I was transforming and tried to wrench the sun from my headdress. He was too slow, and although he hurt me, the light poured into him and he exploded like a bomb in a bag of slime. It went everywhere, but at least it didn’t destroy the Presidential suite like my original plan would have done. The bang from there would have produced enough energy to dissipate him, but he’d be back until we found his creators and stopped them.

That was the next job. I grabbed my belongings and was driven by embassy limo to our office where John and Don were waiting for me. “The President flies out tomorrow,” I said with relief.

“Yeah, but she’s vulnerable to all sorts of attack on the way to the plane and in it.”

“Not if we can find the rest of this group.” I explained how the Naseby Resurrectionists were in this up to their replica cavalier hat feathers.

“Who won?”

“I did of course,” I answered John’s query.

“Doh,” he sighed and rolled his eyes, “the Battle of Naseby?”

“Cromwell and Fairfax, why?”

“Who killed all the women?”

“What women?” I asked and John showed me a report of the slaughter of at least a hundred women by the Parliamentary forces. I gasped. They were camp followers and probably Welsh, they resisted the soldiers with what weapons they had. It seems the soldiers thought they were Irish because they didn’t speak English, but it would have been Welsh they were speaking.

“Could there be a Welsh connection?” I asked out loud to no one in particular.

“Why not, so far we’ve had Egyptian, American, Iraqi and English, why not Welsh?”

“I simply thought of where we might find these malefactors, that was all.”

“Special Branch have found a list of members—only it’s encrypted. That could take hours or weeks to decode, let’s go home and get some sleep.”

John’s idea sounded like a good one and we drove to his flat where I showered and changed into a rather nice nightdress. He was in bed reading when I slipped in beside him.

“Your room is over there,” he nodded at the door.

“I’m cold,” I complained.

“You can stay until you warm up, we both need to sleep.”

“Yes, Sergeant—hey, I know a great way to get warm...”

It would have been nice to have had longer to spend for our first time, but we were fighting an action and either or both could end up dead, so we made the best of it—and it was good—albeit a bit painful, which I hoped would improve with practice, and I intended as much of that as we could get.

It not only makes you warm it also induces sleep and we slept wrapped in each other’s arms like the two lovers we were. John ever the romantic, declared as he slipped into sleep, “Jamie, you are one hell of a shag.”

I smiled with pride as well as pleasure and fell asleep lying half across him. Of course this meant when we were woken by Don ringing the bell, we were both as stiff as starched collars.

We hurriedly washed and dressed as Don explained that MI5 had practically cracked the code and we were to go to Whitehall. As I sat in the car I was sure a bit of something dripped out of me into my panties and it made me smile. Don saw me and smirked but nothing was said.

At Whitehall, Col Bell asked us to enter a room where about thirty of the great and good were seated. “This ladies and gentlemen is our own pocket battleship and her two escort destroyers. So far they’ve managed to frustrate the enemy and thwart several attacks on our important visitor.”

The seated assembly applauded and I blushed as we sat together joining the group. Questions were asked as to how a young women barely out of gymslips had managed to stop the attacks and Bell replied, “I’m sorry, Sir, that’s classified.”

“What? In this group?”

“Yes, Sir, even to this group.” He gave me a wink as he sat down himself.

Ten minutes later as they served coffee a young man came dashing in. “We have them under surveillance.”

I took a mouthful of coffee and grabbed a couple of biscuits as we rushed from the room to one with a video screen. “You three go and sort it, but we want prisoners if we can.”

We nodded and ran off to a waiting Jaguar which drove with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing out towards the west, including Oxford.

“Where are we going?” I asked the male driver.

“Oxfordshire, Ma’am.”

“Eh?” I said and the other two laughed.

“Brize Norton Airfield, Ma’am.”

“Oh, if we get this over quickly, we could be home for dinner,” I smiled at the other two.

“If only,” smiled John back at me, and he squeezed my denim clad knee.

It appeared in less than half an hour’s time the Presidential cavalcade would be here and Airforce 1 would take her home. Then we read the data which came through on the in-car computer. It seemed that three of the Naseby mob were serving officers, and who had all gone for holidays to Egypt recently.

“I’ll bet it wasn’t Sharm el Sheikh,” declared John and I suspected we both agreed with him. “Oh look, he studied Egyptology before joining up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Egyptology,” I huffed.

“Are you going to study it, when all of this is over?” asked Don.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not, you’d have a flying start.”

“It could be embarrassing if I dug up my own grave,” I whispered back.

“Hadn’t thought of that,” he acknowledged.

We arrived at the aerodrome minutes ahead of the president’s group and the three officers who were under covert surveillance spotted me. They managed to slip past their shadows and into small room off the main concourse. I picked up on some sort of wickedness and headed towards it. We stopped outside the room and I sent in one of my lionesses, she retreated very quickly as she was on fire. I quenched the flames and healed her, Don was standing watching and going very pale for a black man.

I could hear voices chanting and I picked up the odd word, it was ancient Egyptian they were using. “My god, they’re invoking Set, if he gets here we’re in deep do do.”

John fired at the lock of the door and kicked it open, as I rushed in gun at the ready, one of the men threw a ladle of fluid over me, which burnt like it was napalm he also chanted something at me.

The other two were still chanting something when John launched himself at them. Don took down the one who’d thrown the fluid over me. I was rolling on the floor and screaming.

Don shoved his gun at the man’s temple and demanded to know what he’d done to me. The pain in my abdomen and especially my groin was awful. The man laughed, “I’ve just taken away your secret weapon, we’ve changed her sex—and we all know, her little friend needs a female vehicle. He laughed again and Don hit him, he went down spitting teeth and cursing.

I scrambled to get upright as Oliver appeared and threw John across the room as if he was a feather. He walked towards me. “Hello, Jamie, goodbye, Jamie.” He said and let out a laugh which they must have heard in Whitney.

I felt very strange and spent a moment trying to clear my head. What had they done to me? John shouted, “Run, Jamie,” and Don fired at the still growing thought form. He knocked him aside and faced me, I screamed and legged it.

I slammed the door behind me but Oliver smashed through it, and the next one. Then I was outside and scrambling over a recently tidied flower bed with Oliver in hot pursuit. Then a funny thing happened, the sun came out from behind the only cloud and I was momentarily dazzled. I stumbled and fell, feeling really very strange. I was aware of others shouting and rushing to help me as I staggered to my feet and then fell again.

Oliver lumbered towards me laughing how much he was going to enjoy zapping me. He was mistaken, however, as the sun, Re or Ra depending upon your preference shone down upon his ‘daughter’, he wasn’t going to let a mere mosquito like Oliver annoy her. His healing rays did something to me and as Oliver allowed me to rise to my feet, I began to grow very rapidly, so fast in fact, that when I did hit him with the built in laser I have in my headdress he had a look of astonishment on his face, but only for a moment then he exploded all over Oxfordshire for the second time.

If you read the official reports of what happened, you’ll see a rather different tale. In it three SIS officers overpowered three renegade RAF officers who were planning to put a bomb aboard Airforce 1. In the ensuing fight one of the men managed to trigger some sort of explosive device which explained why people heard a loud bang. Of course, we know different as did those who witnessed what happened and the apparent clap of thunder from an almost cloudless sky, which no meteorologist could explain.

Of course those who witnessed the event were all bound by the Official Secrets Act so couldn’t say anything anyway, but someone who did see it and was extremely grateful was a certain foreign lady who we were all trying to protect. She was a little staggered by the incident though I believe she now has no problem understanding Egyptian mythologies.

This was my last outing for the SIS, I was let go on special leave for up to a year. About ten months after the Set worshippers ring was broken up, with further arrests here and the US, I was summoned with John and Don back to the US embassy, only now I was Captain Jamie Anderson wife of Lieutenant John Anderson. In my arms I bore our baby daughter, Sarah, who the ambassador’s wife made a real fuss of until she was sick over her.

My parents were there too, all three of us ended up with extra metal on our uniforms, as the Ambassador draped the star shaped medal with its blue ribbon over my head. “On behalf of the President, you Captain Jamie Anderson are awarded the medal of honour, as you were attached to the US military at the time of the several actions where your personal intervention saved the President’s life. This medal is only given for conspicuous and outstanding intrepidity and gallantry.”

John and Don got distinguished service cross medals, not to be sneezed at by any stretch of the imagination.

So I hear you ask, how did a boy become pregnant—ah well, the spell which nearly did for me, when they threw that stuff over me—did what it said on the tin, it changed my biological sex, and it seems I must have ovulated as it happened because one of John little wiggly things swam up and hey presto, Bob’s your auntie or in Sarah’s case, Jamie’s your mum.

Since the baby was conceived and none of my doctors could believe it, I haven’t turned into you know who, so the secret intelligence service don’t seem too bothered with me anymore.

So as soon as I get out of this uniform I’m going to set a new career path as Mrs Jamie Anderson, wife and mother and I can’t wait.

The End.