DISCLAIMERS/WARNING: I suppose there will be blood shed and violence and name calling. It is an adventure after all. The main characters are unusual for so many reasons but chief among them is age and infirmity. My goal is to explore a population most media want to ignore. This story is in no way meant to mock or ridicule aging and illness. Instead, it is, by design, a celebration of the reward for endurance, the only reward promised for good behavior in the Ten Commandments, the goal we all work toward but are terrified of achieving…long life.

ENJOYING THE STORY?: Then, for goodness' sake, let me know p.phair@comcast.net

SOMETHING OLD BECOMES NEW: My site got a make over for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice, and/or New Year. So let's celebrate something we have in common; our appreciation of stories for grown up at http://www.phair1.com/

FOR BOB, my own hero

# The Old Spies' Home

## by

## phair

Chapter 5

“Nessy! Nessy!” Brick shouted as he blasted through the double doors of the kitchen.

“Mutha fucker!” The chef cursed as he sliced his finger instead of chicken breast on the cutting board.

Brick grinned as he powered across the open space toward the dietician's office. “Cool it, Lo Mein. I gotta have a word with Dragon Lady.”

The chef, a very fit but short man in his fifties, frowned at the nickname but said nothing. He watched the wheelchair turn the corner to the office space. Once it was out of sight, he flipped up the middle finger of his left hand.

“My name is Mingli, asshole,” he hushed before heading for the sink to treat his cut.

A bang of racing metal crashing into a steel door followed by a woman's scream brought a smile to his face instead of a wince when the cold water flooded the cut.

“Mr. Rickman! I've told you a hundred times not to slam open my door like that. Somebody could have been standing behind it and gotten hurt.”

“Like who? That frumpy speech therapist who sentences all the gomers to puree and thicken water? She needs a good bang, if you ask me.”

The thin, pasty faced woman with flowing platinum blonde hair smirked. “True but nobody asked you.” She quickly lost any humor and asked, “What do you want? And, if it's crab legs again forget it. The colostomy crowd stinks up the entire building within twenty minutes of serving that meal. Nursing will screw me over at the budget meeting next Tuesday if I serve it.”

“So, you're waiting ‘til Wednesday to cook it up?” Her grin answered the question. “Good. Love me some crab legs. Now, let's get down to business, Toots. P Squad went off campus this morning.”

“What?” She screeched and spun her chair around to face the computer. The clacking of keys were pointedly angry as she spoke. “I checked at six am to see if there were any out of building escapades today. Nothing, nada, nil was scheduled.”

“What does it say now?”

“Those dirty old bitches! They are going for an overnight with Radio and Carlos.” She squinted at the screen then asked, “What happened to Shortstuff? He's listed in house still.”

“Sectioned.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Good.”

“So, are we going after them or not? You gonna let them reel in another completed mission?”

She drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought. “Any idea what their assignment is or where they're going or how long ago they left or how they are getting there?”

Brick rolled his eyes. “You would be so fuckin' lost without me. They are bringing in somebody from the cold. Don't know where they're headed but I got a tracker on them.”

“No way!” She interrupted. She gave an angry tug to her hound's tooth jacket as she swiveled back to face him. “Wolfe would never let you get close enough for that and Cobra is way to smart to get pinned.”

He looked at her with tremendous pity. “This is why you are riding a desk, baby cakes. You got to find a team's weakest point and attack there.”

“The retarded kid?”

“No, he's off limits. Wolfe and Cobra would kill anybody messing with him.”

She interrupted again, “And, he's too smart to get pinned by you.”

“Funny. I'll let it go so I can continue your education. I tagged fat boy. He's their weak spot but they need him to drive.”

“Good idea. How much of a head start do they have on us?”

“Nineteen minutes.”

“Okay, let's head to garage and get a ride.”

“That's a good girl, Nessy. Be decisive and take the lead,” he winked as he spewed the false compliment.

“Shut it. And, stop calling me that.”

He laughed as he powered up his chair. “What? You want me to call you Margaret Ann? Or maybe Miss Nessiralli? Or how ‘bout Agent Nessiralli?” He heard her hiss and knew he hit his mark. “Oh, sorry. I forgot Wolfe dashed your dreams for ever being given a field assignment. She's the only thing that stood between you and covert ops. Instead, you were handed the plum position of planning nutritious meals for failure to thrive retired agents.” He turned his head and saw the pain etched across her face. “And, the dangerous job of calculating TPN for the gutless gang.”

She looked at him with hazel eyes hardening to a dark green. “You know, Brick, you are a total asshole.” She walked out the into the kitchen area with her high heels clicking a determined path.

Brick licked his lips. “If I still had a dick it would be so hard by now.” His chair buzzed into action as he followed her lead.

Carlos hit the button on the arm rest next to him. He expected the door to the mini fridge, nestled between the seats in front of him, would pop open. Nothing happened. He hit the button again. Nothing happened again. One more hit yielded the same result.

“Any luck?” Radio thought he whispered the question but his hearing loss caused him to shout most of his conversations. Today would not be an exception.

“It is on a timer,” Robert announced from the front passenger seat.

“Damn it,” Carlos hissed.

Grandma chuckled at their shenanigans. But, Jude reached into her shoulder bag and began to dig around. After moment, she resorted to putting on her glasses which hung from a fashionable lanyard around her neck.

Robert turned his attention to the console and monitor mounted on the dashboard. He switched on the button labeled monitors and each of the four screens built into the head rests behind him flashed to life with snow.

“Boy, you gotta tune it some,” Radio offered.

Carlos stopped paying attention to the fridge long enough to add his thought. “Maybe it's a frequency jam. Try the alternating channel and see if you get a signal.”

“Please, don't let them get reception. Please, let this fail right now so I can turn this truck around. Please,” Scooter kept mumbling.

Robert ran his stubby fingers through his short brown hair and adjusted his glasses to gather his thought. He flipped another switch but the snow remained.

“Oh man,” he muttered.

Radio, Carlos, and Scooter all began to speak at once. Each offering their own solution to the situation. Cobra pulled a Power Bar out of her bag and turned around to hand it to Carlos. He took it but continued to jabber.

“Try the other frequency,” he urged.

“Just hit the tuner a few time.”

“Should I turn back? I think we should turn back. What do you say, Robert? It's a bust without orders, right? Let's give up,” Scooter sounded hopeful.

Grandma had enough. “STAND DOWN!” Silence instantly fell. “Robert, do your thing.”

Robert reached for the reset switch just as the signal cleared. The screens flipped and narrowed before coming in boldly beautiful. A lovely woman's head and shoulders filled the monitors. She was looking away from the camera and mumbling to herself.

“Oh man,” she spoke softly bringing a smile to Jude's lips.

“Honey bunch, we can see you,” Jude said causing the woman's head to snap up.

Her surprise gave way quickly to embarrassment. “Sorry, I bumped something with my fat ass when I sat down and knocked the power off.”

“Hi Mom,” Robert giggled and blushed.

Her expression softened to delight. “Hi Robert. Thanks for getting the team together and on the road so efficiently. It looks like you are ten minutes ahead of schedule.”

The team offered a small round of applause and then Grandma got down to business. “Rae, what's on the menu.”

“Right, all business. Good to see you, Wolfe.”

Grandma looked away before she answered, “It's good to see you to, Rae. How have you been holding up? I meant to call but,” the lie hung in the air between them until Jude spoke.

“Sweetie, it's great to see you and I think you look like you're getting a bit more rest. Is there anything you need?”

“Thanks Ma,” Rae replied with a small crack in her voice. “I'm doing well. Robert is making sure I take care of myself. Aren't you, Robert?”

The young man blushed brightly red and was unable to answer. Grandma reached forward and patted him on the shoulder.

“You're doing great, my boy. You're really doing great.”

“Alright then,” Rae said as she pulled out a file. “I saw the email about Shortstuff. I'm sorry, guys. If you like, we can assign another operative to the team. Mr. Stanisloffski is currently freelancing for us.”

Radio barked out a laugh. “Feeling up the CNA's is hardly freelancing.”

“We'll be fine with the new configuration, Rae,” Jude offered.

“Figured you say that but I have to ask. Okay, you are heading to NYC. The UN to be precise. You'll be bringing in a friendly, not an agent. It makes your job a little tougher because she's got no training at all. She's the wife of an ambassador or an assistant to an ambassador or some other grunt with diplomatic clearance.”

“Oh shit! This is gonna be an international incident! I'm gonna have to talk to Hilary Clinton and Bill. Shit!” Scooter blurted out.

Rae rolled her eyes. “Relax, you're the driver. Nobody is going to bother you while you wait curbside for the team.”

“I get to stay in the car?”

“Yes, for the whole time. You can even double park. Isn't that great?” Rae said with forced enthusiasm.

“Thank God,” Scooter sighed with relief. “Last time I got shot at and almost killed.”

“You did not!” Grandma lost her temper. “It was a champagne bottle I cracked open on the ride home. You couldn't have been safer if we sewed you back into your Mommy's womb.”

The group laughed. But, Scooter failed to see their humor.

“You could've put my eye out.”

Rae shook her head and continued. “Wolfe, Cobra, you'll meet the friendly somewhere inside the UN. The five of you will take the guided tour. She'll approach you.”

“Name, description,” Carlos said and prepared to jot it on a notepad.

“None. She'll pick you out. We've got no info on her other than she's a woman married to an somebody with credentials. She funnels intel to us on potential hot spots for Americans abroad. But, her info is so wide spread we can't pinpoint her country of origin.”

“When did she start relaying intel?” Radio asked.

“Shortly after 9/11. She began to slip notes into flower deliveries to a secretary in the lobby. Evie has no idea why she was picked and no clue who it might be.”

“Any chance this Evie person is involved with the woman's husband?” Jude asked.

“Checked and double checked. Evie's clean as the new driven snow.”

“How do we know it's a woman and not say, Bill Clinton?” Grandma quipped.

“The Profiler drew the conclusion based on the MO and the intel. We are getting solid leads but they are non-military and definitely not black ops. It is the kind of stuff that might be gossiped about over tea or at a dinner party.” Rae put her glasses on to read from a file on her desk. “The last communication which panned out for us warned about public markets or transportation in Russia or around the Caucasian Republic. It came week before two women blew themselves to bits in the Moscow train station.”

“That was a military operation,” Grandma noted.

Rae nodded but added, “But, the bad actors were women. Profile guy pointed out most of the intel involved women perps. He thought a plausible scenario might be a woman bomber warn her Mom away from danger with a vague, ‘don't go shopping there,' and the Mom warns her girlfriends and it travels across cooking pots and kitchen tables until it gets to a UN dinner party and a diplomat's bored wife mentions a rumor about trouble back home.”

“Sounds like a good theory to start with,” Jude said.

Grandma nodded agreement. “What's our itinerary, Rae?”

“Robert has all the details but you are guys are gonna love this run,” Rae grinned. “You're booked at the Casablanca.” An ‘ooo' went up from the group. “Ma, Grandma, and Robert you've got a mini suite adjoining rooms for Carlos, Radio, and Scooter .”

“Do I get my own bed? And, not one of those pull out things that fold back up,” Scooter started to complain.

“Yep, your own room too,” Rae chuckled.

Grandma was frowning when she asked, “Rae, it's a lovely hotel and I know you must have pulled some major strings to get it but shouldn't we keep a lower profile with our friendly in tow?”

“That's the best part, Grandma. You folks are taking her right to the airport. Charter flight to DC. She's only with you about two hours tops.”

“This is the easiest mission we've ever pulled,” Carlos said with a laugh.

Rae answered readily, “We at the agency, me in particular, can't thank you guys enough for all the runs you've made for us…,”

Grandma quickly interrupted, “Oh, here it comes! What's up, Rae? Are you decommissioning us? If that's what this is about…”

“Micah, don't you talk to her like that!” Jude scolded.

“No fighting,” Robert said quietly but only Scooter heard him.

Radio was struggling to adjust his hearing aides, “We going out to pasture? Shit! Might as well pick out Broda chairs for us all right now!”

“Don't you reprimand me, Cobra! I'm still your CO. This is company business and I'm her senior officer,” Grandma fumed.

“It's okay, kid,” Scooter reassured Robert but kept checking the rearview mirror for a fist fight. “They always work it out.”

“Hate fighting,” Robert muttered and looked out the window.

Jude glared at Micah, “It's about family first! You're Rae's CO but you're also her mother in law so start acting like both and I mean right now.”

Grandma was about to fire back a remark when Rae interrupted. “It's okay, Ma. I've known Micah's had reservations about me for a very long time. No surprise. And, Wolfe,” Rae chose to address Grandma by her operative name, “Phantom Squad is not being decommissioned. This mission and stay in NY is a direct order from the Oval Office.”

Grandma swallowed hard.

“The tensions between us were observed at our last gathering,” Rae's voice cracked even though she avoided saying the word funeral. “I've been directed to see to it the fractures are resolved and resolved this weekend.”

“What does that entail, Honey?” Jude asked.

“Radio, Carlos, Robert and Scooter are getting a full weekend R and R in the Big Apple. Theatre tickets, dinner reservation, I think a basketball game, and an expense account.”

“SWEET!” Carlos shouted and clapped his hands.

Grandma found her voice but it was subdued. “What about the remainder of the operatives?”

“You will be joined by,” Rae cleared her throat, “me. We're having a three day seminar on team building.”

“Oh fuck,” Jude groaned.

“Wait, wait,” Grandma was starting to sweat at the thought. “I'm sorry. We can have dinner. I'll pick up the check even. See, we can be nice to each other without a workshop. Really, we just need dinner and dessert.”

“Maybe some tea,” Jude offered with a bit of hope as she reached across the aisle to take Micah's hand.

“Nice try,” Rae quipped. “I tried it myself in the blue room. He wasn't buying it. And, he wasn't happy in the least.”

Grandma's brow drew into a deep grimace, “He's got no right to call you on the carpet. I don't care what the title on his door says, he's got no business interfering in a family matter. Let me call him…,”

The Hummer's passengers, driver, and Rae screamed, “NO!”

“What?” Grandma was stunned by their overly aggressive response.

“The last time you chatted up with the Chief, we almost got the firing squad,” Carlos warned.

Jude chimed in her support of Carlos' statement, “Really Wolfe, the last guy threatened deportation and we're all from here. Micah, just follow the order and sit through the seminar. Please?”

Grandma was about to argue when a small voice from the front seat begged, “Please?”

She caved instantly, “I'm sorry for being cranky, Robert. Of course, I follow orders.”

A ding sounded from the rear of the vehicle. The mini fridge's door popped open.

“Time for lunch,” Robert announced.

“Okay, I can take a hint. I'll sign out. See you in New York late tomorrow afternoon, guys,” Rae waved. “Love you, Robert. Take good care of your grandmothers for me.”

“Yep.” Robert agreed then whispered, “Love you too, Mom.”

TBC

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