Jetfuel, A Sunday Story – Chapter 10

Posted bySuzette BenjaminPosted inPoetry
Jetfuel

Chapter 10

Brushing off the soft, fresh Toronto snowfall from her double-breasted coat and the temporary malaise that had ensconced her mind, Neroot (aka Jetfuel) formulated her next steps cautiously.

She fumbled through her mind’s eye for a contact that she knew she could trust implicitly. This friend owed her many favors. She planned to call in those favors all at once, tonight.

Neroot darted from behind the Simcoe Street dumpster, grateful that the increasing snowfall covered her footprints as she slipped into the darkness and lurked around shady corners.

Twenty minutes later…walking Northeast to her destination…

Neroot slipped out of the shadows…

Having backtracked several times, she was satisfied.

…Satisfied that she had not brought a tail to her friend’s doors, Neroot walked across the street and said to one of the four Navy Seals, pretending to be “Security Guards.”

“I am here to see my cousin, The Hierophant (aka H).”

Straightening to attention, the “Security Guard,” recognizing Neroot’s coded statement, replied:

“Welcome, cousin. And what card is at the bottom of the deck?”

Neroot replied with the expected response: “The Ace of Pentacles.”

Wasting no time the “Security Guard” called over his other three colleagues on duty outside the gates to the United States Embassy in Toronto.

The four, “Security Guards” formed a human chain behind Neroot as she walked through the doors of the outer walls of the embassy into its main sanctum.

Then the “Security Guards” resealed the bullet-proof glass doors (opened automatically from inside) with their respective keyfobs, and returned to their post.

Immediately, Neroot was greeted by a familiar sight.

“Hey my friend, long time no see. I saw you on the cameras. What can we do for you?”

Said an elderly gentleman, code name: The Heirophant (or just “H”) rushing in in his house coat, a laptop held tightly under his left arm. He waved Neroot forward:

“I see you have upped your security. Are you on high alert or something, “H”? It is not usual for you to have Navy Seals (alluding to their very distinctive stance of which she was very familiar) pretending to be your Embassy’s front door gatekeepers, my old friend.”

Neroot asked, knowing her friend of many years now, could not answer her inquiry.

“No comment, cousin…you still in the dog house back at Section”O”?”

“Yes, I am currently back in the field and in the wind. Any news about my status from your listening post(s) would help. And if I may ask, I could benefit from your backup team’s assistance with your permission, of course.”

“Hell of a thing… they did to you, stripping you of your command of Section “O” and demoting you…hell of a thing…Come, come, this way.. cousin..”H” replied.

“Are you still calling yourself, “Head of Security” these days, “H”?”

“Well in our business we have to pretend to be many things eh, Neroot?”

“H” (his classified title: Spymaster, North 49th Parallel, CIA) chuckled as he led Neroot through a door into a modest suite.

“Here,” he said, “you will find clothes hopefully something will fit. I wasn’t expecting you, so I did not shop for your size at Harrods online.”

“And,” “H” continued, “if you wish, you can use the facilities as needed, including a fully stocked kitchenette. I will need until daylight to locate my people. In the meantime, you can read up on what our listening posts have discovered that might interest you.”

As he said that “H” retrieved the laptop he had pressed tightly under his left arm. He unlocked it with his palm print as he handed it to Neroot.

“I will see you in the morning, Neroot. Get some rest if you can…” said “H” as he departed, closing the door gently behind him.

Neroot plopped herself on the tiny sofa, its back was covered by an oversized Toronto Maple Leaf sherpa throw blanket, her mind raced…

She did not miss her old friend H‘s warning!

She had until before first light after which, “H” had to report her presence on “U.S. soil” (The Embassy’s premises so classified under international law) which meant that other agencies like her own employer, Section “O” whose listening posts are also in the city, would know her exact location.

Meanwhile

…the shooter, a former Bhutan monk turned Navy Seal and now Footman, was in his early forties and a supremely skilled long-range shooter. He goes by the name “Sangje,” but that is not his real name. In fact, no one in Section “O” knows his real name.

Sangje rolled up the camo print cloak and the yoga mat he used to shield his body from the frozen snow and concrete atop the roof across from the Shangri-la, Toronto Hotel. Swiftly, he lept from the rooftop, scampering down the window ledges, using no ropes.

His strong fingers’ solid grip and his nimble feet were his only supports as he jumped from handhold to handhold down the office building’s rear wall— with his “guitar case” and rolled-up yoga mat hoisted high on his shoulders.

Landing softly on the falling snow. He put on his phone’s wireless earpiece. He tapped its receiver, and voice-activated a call to someone in his contacts. He said:

“Call His Grace!”

Neroot’s ex-husband responded on the first ring:

“Well…?”

“I sort of missed, Your Grace. Your snitch, Bobby got in the way. He’s dead. What do you want me to do?”

“You bloody people (meaning The Footman team) are supposed to be elite, but all I’ve found is you are all a bunch of incompetent…”

Sangje interrupted Neroot’s ex-husband politely…

“Your Grace, there’s no need for name-calling. I can fix this. Give me twenty-four hours and you shall have what you want.”

“Oh very well…proceed Footman. Stay in touch, please.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Sangje ended the call and started walking in the shadows. He chuckled to himself, confident that neither Section “O” his employer nor Neroot’s ex-husband, Lord Glasston-Mountbatten knew that his rogue loyalties lay elsewhere…

He whispered to himself, his tone, like he had ice in his veins;

“Oh, Your Grace, you have NO idea how “incompetent” I can be…deception is the original disinfectant!”

***To Be Continued Next Sunday ***

_____

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Published by Suzette Benjamin

Positive thinker, inspirational, writer, faith

127 thoughts on “Jetfuel, A Sunday Story – Chapter 10”

  6. 🧥Brushing off the soft, fresh Toronto snowfall from her double-breasted coat and the temporary malaise that had ensconced her mind, Neroot (aka Jetfuel) formulated her next steps cautiously.🧥

    Oh she was kitted out in a coat when closed chapter 9

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

      6. “best seller” wow, you are most generous. I am humbled by your kind words. I try to write what comes to mind. So glad that it has value in the reading of it. Thank you for your lovely responses and inquiries into the threads of the storyline.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. 🧥Satisfied that she had not brought a tail to her friend’s doors, Neroot walked across the street and said to one of the four Navy Seals, pretending to be “Security Guards.”🧥

    Navy Seals and the Marines
    Interesting

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  8. 🧥”Welcome, cousin. And what card is at the bottom of the deck?”

    Neroot replied with the expected response: “The Ace of Pentacles.”🧥

    A minor Arcana
    Coins and Money

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  9. 🧥The four, “Security Guards” formed a human chain behind Neroot as she walked through the doors of the outer walls of the embassy into its main sanctum.🧥

    And the Embassy

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  10. 🧥The Heirophant (or just “H”) rushing in in his house coat, a laptop held tightly under his left arm. He waved Neroot forward:🧥

    I count wait to meet the High Priestess, fascinating characters and elements in this chapter

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  13. 🧥H” (his classified title: Spymaster, North 49th Parallel, CIA) chuckled as he led Neroot through a door into a modest suite.🧥

    I wonder what that classification of the covet investigator entails

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  14. 🧥Here,” he said, “you will find clothes hopefully something will fit. I wasn’t expecting you, so I did not shop for your size at Harrods online.”🧥

    But surely the H must keep something in the top tier drawer

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  17. 🧥had until before first light after which, “H” had to report her presence on “U.S. soil” (The Embassy’s premises so classified under international law) which meant that other agencies like her own employer, Section “O” whose listening posts are also in the city, would know her exact location.🧥

    Oh now you have to jog my memory, Neroot, her nationality?

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  18. 🧥the shooter, a former Bhutan monk turned Navy Seal and now Footman, was in his early forties and a supremely skilled long-range shooter. He goes by the name “Sangje,” but that is not his real name. In fact, no one in Section “O” knows his real name.🧥

    A MONK!!!! AMONK!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  19. 🧥His strong fingers’ solid grip and his nimble feet were his only supports as he jumped from handhold to handhold down the office building’s rear wall— with his “guitar case” and rolled-up yoga mat hoisted high on his shoulders.🧥

    And the British covet agent is set to reel this one in !!!
    Wow

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  21. 🧥You bloody people (meaning The Footman team) are supposed to be elite, but all I’ve found is you are all a bunch of incompetent…”🧥

    That’s a spanking

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  22. 🧥Sangje ended the call and started walking in the shadows. He chuckled to himself, confident that neither Section “O” his employer nor Neroot’s ex-husband, Lord Glasston-Mountbatten knew that his rogue loyalties lay elsewhere…🧥

    Ouch!!!
    Doppelgemoppelt
    Double Agent

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  23. 🧥Oh, Your Grace, you have NO idea how “incompetent” I can be…deception is the original disinfectant!”🧥

    Ah i love that line
    Deception is the original disinfectant.

    I could literally feel the labour of love in this chapter
    👏 Bravo 👏

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Glad you enjoyed that line.
      Thank you for your always deep extracting of the nuances of the plot and character moods. Always a pleasure to read your comments.
      Sunday Blessings and much joy to you. Cheers.

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

      1. You are most welcome.
        Always a thrill to pick up your Sunday Chapter.
        Major shifts in this one.

        Thank you and much Blessings and joy to you Author.
        Cheers

        Liked by 1 person

  27. Pingback: Jetfuel, A Sunday Story – Chapter 11 – Suzette B's Blog
  28. Pingback: Jetfuel, A Sunday Story – Chapter 12 – Suzette B's Blog
  29. Pingback: Jetfuel, A Sunday Story – Chapter 13 (Part 1) – Suzette B's Blog

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