If I die, the CIA killed me

She got off the red two towered British bus that brought her to London Heathrow Airport. She hadn’t been in public in a really long time, and the brightness of the sun felt like a spotlight pointing out her presence. Catherine Sybery clung to her secrets like her fake last name. This was about survival. And she was going to survive. How had it felt to learn they were after you? Did the word agent flicker a butterfly around your heart? And when did it go all wrong?

She spent the morning begging England’s passport office to give the passport back that she had included in her recent application for a new one. Even though she’d been doing this a long time, something inside of her still thought it would be flagged for being fake. And she was risking the opportunity to extend her visa in England. But that’s where they knew she was. And she was about to disappear.

As she went through the sliding doors, she spotted the ticket counter and made her way over to it. The pandemic had stopped the flow of people that normally filled Heathrow to the point of breaking, and there was only one flight listed on the screen. London Heathrow to New Orleans, Louisiana. It was exactly what she needed. And she knew what that meant. They ‘helped’ her without words, dictating where she went and who she saw.

“How can I help you?” the British airlines representative asked out of habit.

“Um, one ticket on the flight to New Orleans,” Catherine said.

“Are you Catherine Sybery?” the representative asked, and she nodded her head. “I have your ticket right here. I’ll just need to see your passport.”

Minutes later, she headed to gate 4G, wondering who else was going to be on this flight. Protocol told her it would be other agents, plucked out of their positions to escape the pandemic in a foreign country. They’d all pretend they didn’t know, though. Like a hundred strangers all wanted to fly from London to New Orleans on a random Tuesday in a global emergency. All the stores were closed and not a single person waited for another flight.

When she got to the gate, she put her headphones in. Recent events had made her a bit jumpy and paranoid, and she didn’t want to look at the others like she knew who they were. They wouldn’t have much to say anyway. CIA agents were trained to be this way. Each of them dedicated a hundred percent to their assigned case, and only they could know the details of that case. It was why it was so hard to have a personal life. It’s easier to live without someone else rather than lie and hide from them every day. Catherine knew what it meant. She had experienced it herself- losing someone. Do not think about that. She tried to focus on the words coming through the headphones. A detailed book she’d been instructed to read. But her focus was waning, and something else caught her attention.

Suddenly, a group of men dressed in black suits moved in a circle formation to the gate. They were moving fast and with purpose. Catherine took out a headphone to listen to them. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to them because this was obvious, and it obviously served some purpose. As they got closer, she realized that there was someone in the middle of the circle. Someone they must be protecting. It wasn’t until they moved into the secure area, waved in by the flight attendants, that the mystery person came into view. They were in a disguise. An obvious one. A cheap brown wig flowed down the front of a man wearing blue jeans and a ratty t-shirt, and he had two tattoos on his face right under his eyes. Without warning, he looked up and met Catherine’s eyes and as recognition flared, he tapped a guard on the shoulder, and they surrounded him again. Then the flight attendants rushed them onto the plane.

Catherine made her way to her first-class seat. They may not always agree with her, but they did take care of her. But not always in the important ways. Cramming into an economy seat would be more than okay if she could have a vacation that didn’t include surveillance. The blonde flight attendant passed her seat and beamed at her while mouthing ‘it’s okay’. She was probably an agent, too. And Catherine hadn’t worried that it wasn’t.

She decided to go to sleep after they were airborne. She never saw the man get on the plane, and disinterest settled in her waking brain but her sleeping brain had different ideas. She dreamt that the man was in front of her dressed in the disguise she’d seen him in. They just stared at each other, but words weren’t exchanged. And then he began to melt. His features slid down his face in a beige paste and Catherine tried to identify who he was. But she started to hear a clinking and before she could, she opened her eyes to the flight attendant.

“Well, hello, sleeping beauty,” she said. Catherine smiled.

“Sorry,” she said sitting up.

“Would you like the steak dinner or the chicken dinner?” the flight attendant asked.

“Um, chicken, please,” Catherine ordered.

When Catherine stepped away, Selga touched her screen to look through the entertainment options. She was just about to choose a movie about a panda bear rescued from the wildlife trade when words flashed on the screen.

Do not speak.

Catherine gaped and looked around. All the other screens said the same. The plane was silent, and everyone looked at their own screens.

You have all been moved to a new mission that will take place in New Orleans.

Silence.

It is a red status. A top tier confidential stamp.

Silence.

Your new assignment is to protect an agent named Catherine Sybery. Seat 4A.

Silence.

Please wait for further instructions.

And then the screen went black, flashing back to normal. Now, this had Catherine’s heart beating. They knew her secret. And they were on the defense, not the offense. No one even looked at her. They were agents. They knew better. The flight attendant brought her the chicken dinner like it had not happened. She was going to home to New Orleans. And they were all going with her.

Formation must have taken place on the plane because when she got off, she knew they were following her. It wasn’t like visiting New Orleans meant seeing her real family, but she still had hoped for some privacy. There was no way she was going to get away, now. She suddenly realized that these agents may have known about the new mission. What about the man with the real, obvious protection? Shouldn’t they be watching him? She dragged her suitcase off the rotating belt and kept her eyes down as she went outside.

The smell of New Orleans was something out of a childhood dream. It wasn’t too cold in December, but she watched the locals bundled and huddled together at the stops. She found her meeting point and right away, she saw the mustard yellow car that Garren drove waiting for her. He didn’t notice her wave and was startled when she opened the passenger side door.

“Jesus,” he said jumping.

“Hello to you, too,” Catherine says.

“Shut that door, it’s freezing out there,” he shoots, and Catherine shut the door.

A paused silence brought the unspoken awkwardness they normally had unless they were working. Catherine only knew that part of him, but for most agents, that was all there was. And then there was protocol. They couldn’t speak about work in public like this. So, they rode in silence.

“Do you want a burger?” Garren asks her as they passed Burger King.

“Sure,” Catherine says.

There was no eating in Garren’s car, and they sat at a sticky booth in again, silence. She was eager to talk to him. And Lucille. Lucille was a different story. They were close, and they knew each other like a real family. She probably got the Christmas tree out and wrapped a bunch of presents like Catherine was still a child. Catherine didn’t find it weird that Lucille and Garren weren’t actually in a relationship. It was all she’d ever known. But she’d always laughed when they had to hold hands or kiss in public.

Catherine caught the black car following behind them and so did Garren. He looked at her trying to decide if they were in danger or not. She barely just shook her head and his eyes turned forward. The energy in the car changed and Garren’s already serious demeanor heightened. What had happened? Why did they need protection? What did Catherine know?

Help came in the form of Lucille as they pulled up to the house and she stood out front. The black car kept going forward and even Lucille noticed its presence. She waved with both hands and Catherine nearly jumped out of the car as Garren brought it to a stop. They embraced, and in that moment, Catherine realized this is what she needed. A Christmas at home with her work family to fill the lonely hole of her year and a half long mission. Work would come, but for now, she was off the clock.

“I got all of your favorites,” Lucille says over her shoulder.

Catherine walked into the kitchen to find the counter covered in every snack she may have mentioned she liked ever. This brought her to tears, and she choked back the words bubbling in her throat. Garren came in and threw his keys on the counter before going to his permanent seat in the living room. Lucille looked over at her.

“What is this all about, sweetheart?” she asked Catherine. “Have you been assigned to a new mission?”

Catherine immediately shook her head. She hadn’t told anyone about what had happened. Who she left behind. What it meant. Her entire team was missing, but she made it out. What was the difference? Why had they left her? She was a message. A martyr. She gestured toward the basement door and Lucille went to grab Garren. She walked down the basement steps to the door that looked like a vault. She knew the code, and by the time Lucille and Garren had reached her, it was open. The three of them grouped together and locked the door. Catherine turned to them.

“Something happened on the mission,” she says.

“What’s that, honey?” Lucille asks.

The words were like stone in her mouth. How did she explain? They’d be looped in when she did. They’d become part of the mission, and then they’d be in danger, too. She started to explain the mission first.

“Well, you’ve been added to the mission, so, I can tell you what it’s about,” she says. “We were investigating the illuminati. Hundreds of us placed all over the world. The CIA found out that not only does the illuminati control the world by putting their leaders into certain jobs, but their recruitment process violates the rights of citizens in almost every country. We’ve had to tell world leaders across the globe about the situation, and just as we were moving in, something happened.”

“What?” Lucille asked.

“The agents investigating the sect in the United States of America have been taken. And I was able to get close to the sect in England and weasel them into sending me to meet the American sect. They think I’m a blossoming member. And now I need to get our agents back,” Catherine says.

Lucille looked stunned, but Garren seemed to burst into action.

“And how are they violating the citizens rights?” he asks.

“They watch them. They use cameras and surveillance to monitor possible members and then hack their phones to contact them that way. So, illegal monitoring and surveillance plus hacking.”

“And how did we find this out?” Garren asks.

“They use our system. Our cameras. Our technology. That way, it won’t fall back on them. And now we’re at risk for taking the fall,” she says.

“What do we need to do?” Lucille asks.

“We think the missing agents are being held in New Orleans. We must get them back,” Catherine says.

The three of them came into complete unison and began to work. The computers held new files that they needed for the case. They began going through them. Selga printed out pictures of the missing agents and pinned them to a board, labeling them with their identity’s name. She didn’t even know their real names. A knock at the random door to the right alerted them to other agents. When they opened it, they began to file in. This block was the CIA’s block. The New Orleans counterparts. They had tunnels that connected them under the streets, and they were always being used to work to some degree. You could call it their secret headquarters.

Everyone was being updated more and more. Information was funneling through the tunnels. And every agent was awake to make this happen. She also knew there was another team protecting them above. The meeting was going to happen tomorrow, and they had hours to be prepared. Honestly, Catherine sat in an office chair just receiving information from agent after agent. Soon, she’d have to get ready and head out. That’s when she saw Sam. He had been her boyfriend all of high school and when she was promoted to bigger and bigger missions, he stayed in New Orleans. It just tore them apart.

“Hey,” he said to her.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Crazy stuff,” he says, “You being in charge.”

She just smiled at him knowingly.

“What do you have for me?” she asks.

“I have a few photographs,” he says handing them to her. “Suspected leaders of the illuminati.”

She was taken off guard by the first photograph- a young boy in his 20’s with tattoos on his face. How was he possibly a leader? Didn’t you have to work up to that? But as she flipped through the other photographs, she realized there were more leaders that young. Most were older, though, and most were famously known. She looked for the photograph of the man she was meeting but it wasn’t there.

“What about Mica Burbell?” she asks Sam.

“Nope,” he says. “He’s believed to be under the rest. I think it all has something to do with money.”

“Anything about the sect in New Orleans?” Catherine asks but he shakes his head.

“That’s all I got,” he says.

“Thanks,” she says looking away and he leaves as another steps up. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go get ready. I’ll hear from the rest of you later.”

Hours later, she approached the church that she was supposed to meet Mica at. The skilled agents following her couldn’t be seen, and she felt confident she’d get answers soon. A camera moved from the corner of the roof and directed its eyes right at her. She simply waved. Minutes later, Mica, the man she was meant to meet, opened the door.

“Hello, Catherine, follow me this way,” he said.

The church was enormous and beautiful all at once. At the altar, a golden angle replaced Jesus. When Mica brought her into a large room at the back, she saw the faces of the leaders from the photographs. Why were they here? Her eye caught the attention of that face tatted man, and she realizes he was the one in disguise on the plane. His eyes darted away from her.

“Catherine, welcome to the illuminati,” Mica says.

They all clapped.

To be continued…