Day 2 (EePin)

Doc, if you’re reading this, I jumped leave and joined an assignment. Gotta take my mind off things you know? Don’t report me. I mean it. Still can’t fucking sleep.

Simple assignment today. We just had to protect a guy, a banker while he travelled from Tullamarine airport to the Treasury House in Melbourne. I was paired with Rayner this time round, our resident long-range expert. Sharp as a tack, and quite the talker too. Not the best guy to have at your back though, he... gets a little jittery if the going gets too tough. Word has it he’s a bit of a junkie, and I’ve seen him pop pills and all, but that’s another story. This one’s about a banker with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. We met him, took a Humvee (black for the classy look), and went on the freeway.

Rayner was quiet today, sulking most likely. Didn’t answer me when I asked why the Treasury House was still in use. It’s like 200 years old or something like that. I prodded him again. He bit. Told me of his latest argument with his girl, Connie.

I rolled my eyes at that. I always do. It’s a usual tale. I hear it every couple of days. Connie and Rayner, we hang out sometimes, and Christ do they argue. Bicker. Shout. Fucking annoying at times. But I didn’t tell him that. I listened. I made the right noises. I empathized, then drifted off. Thought about something else. Then, he said something odd.

‘You know, Command lost contact with Foxtrot?’

Lost contact?

‘Yeah, they dived into Fiji somewhere, sabotage mission against the junta or something like that. Two day mission, MIA for four. Brass is considering sending in another team. Hope it ain’t us.”

This bothers me. Foxtrot is Jon’s team. Jonathan Ho, the best guerrilla specialist around. And a fucking brilliant leader. While it’s not unheard of for a team to go quiet after a mission deadline, this is Jon’s team. He would have found a way. This isn’t good.

The banker chimed in then. Waved his hand and almost threw the briefcase at us. He told us of being in Fiji a couple of weeks before. It’s not a good place. The underground was abuzz with news of abductions. People disappeared regularly. The government denied everything, as they did. A source had told him of a secret location where special forces were being trained, or worked upon to be better.

Worked upon? I asked.

Steroids? The banker could only guess. As bankers did. But the rumour seemed legit. Perhaps that’s where this Foxtrot team was going to.

Of course, we realised we broke protocol by discussing mission parameters, but hey, I was on leave. We shut up after though. And made the usual small talk until the extract point. Left him there with his own security, and buggered out of there. Simple job. Took my mind off things. Added more stuff.

Back at base, when we were preparing to go our separate ways, I turned to Rayner.

They’ll check in soon. Jon always does.

Rayner shrugged, popped a couple of blue pills, and walked off.

They’ll check in soon.

But now, Doc, I’m not so sure.

Might try to sleep now. Doubt it will come.