Chapter 1

The boy shivered as the rain drenched his glistening dark hair and the howling winds slithered past his hunched body. Yet the rain, bearing down like frozen blades on his soggy jacket, did little to hinder his excitement. Standing before him stood a small council of men in dark head wraps.

"Stand up child, for today you have been tasked a very important duty, both to your brothers on Earth and to Allah," the central figure boomed in a bold, energetic voice. In spite of the darkness, his muscles still bulged in the dimmed streetlight. The boy, in spite of the cumbersome moisture, stood up proudly and beamed.

"I will not fail you," he replied, bowing his head in respect. The ritual was cut short by a clapping sound from the background as a hooded man with a trench coat emerged with a band of similarly adorned soldiers, much to the mild annoyance of the council.

"How touching, though the whole Allah thing gets a little old after the first fifty million times," he uttered sarcastically.

"Mister Chairman. What brings you here this lovely evening?" the leader inquired. "You wouldn't be backing out on our arrangements this close to the date would you?" The Chairman let out a blood curdling cackle in response.

"Oh goodness no," he replied. "If I really was that concerned about you, you would certainly be floating somewhere in the Potomac as we speak. I'm simply here to enjoy the show."

"Well there isn't much to see, in fact you pretty much missed most of it."

"I am well aware, Mr Assad. I'm only here to inspect our prodigious agent. Tell me, what is your name?" The Chairman inquired as he turned to the boy.

"Saleem, Saleem al Qusaibi," the boy chanted confidently.

"Well Saleem, I trust that you will be extremely useful to us all. But just to be sure..." The Chairman gave one of Assad's bodyguards a wary gaze. The guard fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, clearly intimidated by The Chairman's gaze. He signalled his soldiers, sending a volley of bullets tearing through the hapless guard's body. His remains slumped down with a bloody splash and the hooded man signalled his men to re-holster their suppressed weapons and return to formation. "Check his coat, it'll be riddled with bugs. You have an FBI agent in your presence, or rather what remains of him," he chuckled. Assad's men leaped onto the body and confirmed the hooded man's hunch.

"How did you..." Assad wondered aloud in astonishment.

"Because, I'm a people person. You can't hide a lie from me, at least not without living to hold it very long," the man beamed as he turned around to leave. He and his men crawled into a black tinted limo and sped off into the night, leaving only the bewildered council to contemplate their narrow survival.

The peaceful setting of the FBI headquarters did little to alleviate Laura Mason's incurable boredom. Her smooth, blond hair crimped itself in all directions as she reclined against the cubicle wall, desperately fighting her boredom with a game of solitaire while ignoring the mountain of paperwork to her right.

"Come on Laura, you can't goof off all day... one case report, just one..." she whispered to herself. Reluctantly, Laura crawled out of her slothful position and haphazardly jerked a file from her paper mountain, nearly collapsing it. She had barely started reading when she caught a hushed conversation being exchanged outside the cubicle walls.

"Hey did you hear from Ted at undercover? Nobody's heard or seen him in days..."

"Relax, it's probably just him being a loose cannon again, wouldn't be the first time he neglected to contact his handlers..."

"What? You think he turned or something?"

"Are you stupid? I think we both know that's going to happen the day after it snows in hell."

"Hey, might as well think of some explanation."

"You two! Back to work. And do you not remember Bureau policy on undercover agents?" a harsh, deep voice interrupted.

"Yyyyes sir..." the two gossipers returned in unison. Laura let out a sigh as she got back to her work.

"Figures the director's gonna cut something off whenever it gets interesting..." she mumbled.

"Oh is that so?" the same voice boomed directly behind Laura.

"Director! I was just uh," Laura stuttered as she bolted upright, causing a paper avalanche to unleash itself on her lap. "...filing some paperwork from the trafficking case from two days ago."

"I can see that...Anyways, meet me in my office, immediately."

"Yes... sir," Laura muttered dejectedly. The director walked away, leaving Laura to her own mess. "Just had to mutter all the stupid crap out loud didn't you Laura?" She bumped herself on the head.

"I'm not deaf you know," the director sang back. Laura simply bowed her head and whimpered in shame.

There was a soft knock on the door to the FBI Director's office.

"Come in Agent Mason." Laura, at six feet three inches, stood noticeably taller than her boss as she approached him.

"You asked to see me sir?" she asked in a flat, professional tone.

"Ah, sit down," he said, motioning for her to sit. "Well, I hope you're not too comfortable in your office space," he began, instantly unraveling her stolid demeanor.

"Wait... sir I know that maybe I don't exactly make employee of the month but... please let me prove that I can be an asset to this agency..." she stuttered in panic.

"I've seen enough... pack your things and get them into the office down the hall, I need to fill it sooner or later and your stuff isn't going to move itself." Laura was flabbergasted. Perhaps the five to ten minutes an hour she spent working had paid off.

"But... isn't that reserved for the Special Agent in Charge?" Laura asked, perplexed.

"What? Are you not satisfied with that title?"

"Oh no no no no... I am very honored that you would consider me for this..."

"Consider? I need you to get your stuff in there now! You hear me?"

"Yes sir!" she cheered as she jumped out of her seat. She then skipped cheerfully out of the office, leaving even the crusty old director with a slight grin on his face.

"We have much to do and far to go, but with your cooperation, I know that we can make our dreams a reality, God bless America!" the speakers in the entire hall boomed as the president finished his script. President Chamberlain gave one movie star wave to the crowd amid thunderous applause. Exhausted from his protracted acting, Chamberlain quickly retreated out of public view.

"That was a mighty fine speech sir," a built Secret Service agent praised The President as they were walking back down the hallway.

"Thank you Agent Daniels." They entered the President's waiting lounge, where a lone staffer was slumped down over his desk, irritating the bodyguard.

"Hey! Wake up!" Agent Daniels boomed in a stern voice. The President let out a soft chuckle in response.

"He's tired, we all are. I'd be sleeping too if I didn't have such a hectic schedule," he said as he shook the aide to wake him, only to knock his lifeless corpse onto the floor. Daniels reflexively shoved The President down while he and all the other agents in the room drew their guns and surveyed the room. One of the men put a hand on the staffer's throat.

"He's dead," the man reported.

"What?!" Chamberlain exhaled in an incredulous daze. The President was frantically evacuated from the room to a barricaded safe-room as the scene filled with armed police and Secret Service agents.

Laura had barely finished carting all of her belongings sans paper mountain into her new office when the phone rang. Picking up the phone, an anxious voice greeted her on the other end. within minutes, Laura's face changed from glee to concern.

"I really should have been careful in wishing for 'no dull moments'," she sighed to herself as she put a hand to her waist and leaped out the door.

"Pack your things, we got business to take care of," she blared out. The agents on the lower floor barely had time to register what Laura said before she was already out the door getting the cars ready.

"Hey! Who put you in charge?" one of the agents yelled.

"The director, who else? Now unless you want to take this up with him, I suggest you shut up and listen," Laura replied as she held out her upgraded badge. The protests quickly died down as a small troupe scuffled frantically after their new leader.

The ravishingly alluring young woman closed her eyes and reclined in her satin armchair as a band of maids massaged her smooth, comely face and brushed and shine her silky black hair. She extended her slender, pale hand for another maid to paint. A muscular man in a suit and sunglasses, a bodyguard, spontaneously burst into the room with a worried expression.

"Well?" she demanded. "Is there a problem with our plans?"

"Of course not Lady Alicia, the FBI is on their way to investigate as we speak," the man replied.

"And?"

"The lead agent of the case is one Laura Mason, just as you've requested ma'am. We are keeping a close eye on her at all times so there should be absolutely no reason for you to worry."

"Really? Then I suppose you've already found and snuffed out the assassination plot intended for our President, correct?"

"Uh..."

"As expected. I shouldn't have supposed that an idiot like you could stay on top of things. So tell me, what was it that you told me about my worries?"

"That... you should have had none..." the guard muttered nervously.

"Correct, and in light of my recent questions do you still stand by that statement?"

"No, ma'am..."

"Excuse me captain but, I'm confused. You've just given me too completely contradicting facts and I'm having trouble understanding you. Am I senile?"

"No! Of course not milady, it was just that..."

"That what? You're a liar?"

"Yes... ma'am," the guard now whimpered with his head bowed low.

"Correct, you're a liar. And do you remember what I do to liars?" Alicia lifted a hand and motioned her maids away briefly, slithering out of her seat in her thin robes and lifting the terrified guard by the neck with ease, in flexing her lean muscled arms.

"You... punish them?" he choked out.

"Yes, I do," Alicia hissed as she tightened her grip. Her cold green eyes gazed straight into the guard's as she scrutinized her prey. "Oh very well, since I am in a gentle mood I will show mercy." She hurled her victim hard against the nearest wall and chipped the smooth, vanilla paint. The guard crumpled in pain and groaned as he pulled himself upright. "Get my car, any mistakes and I will not hesitate to rescind my mercy." The man leaped into the air in spite of his bruises and sprinted out of the door, his face glazed in terror.