InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ hello~goodbye ❯ The Call ( Chapter 1 )

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN INUYASHA

 

 

 

~Chapter 1~

The Call

 

 

 

It should've been an ordinary day like any other. She should have rose at exactly ten o'clock, flipped on the television to CNN and set about making her usual breakfast of blueberry pancakes with a side of eggs and generous helping of bacon, turkey to make up for the amazing amount of calories the meal consisted of. She should have plopped down in her very comfy overstuffed easy chair and enjoyed the delicious but very fattening meal while listening with mild interest and just a little skepticism to whatever the topic of the day was.

 

That should have been what her day was like.

 

However, Kagome knew as soon as she turned on the television that her usual Sunday schedule would be drastically altered.

 

“Shit,” she muttered, a deep frown darkening her expression. She dropped the remote on the scarred coffee table and sank into the easy chair, her attention focused squarely on the 27 inch flat-screen TV that was currently displaying a young, good-looking man sporting an expression of superior intelligence with just a hint of urgency.

 

“Search and rescue efforts continue this morning for the missing Air Force One aircraft carrying President Ledon, Vice President Sidell and Secretary of State Johnson. Authorities are keeping much of the details secret concerning the mysterious flight, only saying that the plane lost contact with Washington early this morning around 4:10. Here to give us an account of the mood in Washington is White House Correspondent Jean Whittaker…”

 

Kagome picked up the remote and pressed the OFF button. She sat there, as still as a statue. She knew that any minute now her phone would ring…

 

BRRNNGG! BRRNNGG!

 

Kagome quickly rose and walked briskly into the kitchen, grabbing the cordless phone from its wall mount. She held the phone to her ear, listening for that familiar command that was sure to follow the droning silence.

 

“Black Betty.”

 

“I'm on my way,” she said briskly. She hung up the phone and automatically went into crisis mode.

 

She was definitely going to miss the blueberry pancakes.

 

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Kagome flashed her badge to the desk clerk and returned his friendly smile.

 

“Good morning, Ms. Higurashi! Didn't expect to see you in today.”

 

“Good morning, Fred. Yeah, my supervisor called a big meeting this morning. How's the wife?” Kagome smiled politely as the old man went on about his wife's failing health. She was so used to the routine that she barely paid attention anymore. He never caught on, however, and continued giving her daily updates of his home life.

 

“So she finally agreed to see a doctor and he said it was just gas. Can you believe it?” Fred's face was indignant as he shook his head in mild disgust. “Hardly,” Kagome murmured, glancing down at her watch. “Well, I gotta go, Fred. My supervisor will have my head if I'm late!” She didn't give him a chance to ask questions as she quickly hurried to the elevators.

 

Since the “accounting firm” she worked for was private, Fred wouldn't find the hours that they kept odd. She stepped into an empty elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. Their floor was likely to be the only one occupied, seeing as it was a weekend. The other businesses that the building housed were mostly dental offices, graphic design offices and a couple of accounting offices, which is what the fifth floor supposedly held. A&B Accounting.

 

Simple and completely forgettable. Just what it was supposed to be.

 

The elevator slowed to a stop at her destination and she stepped out as soon as the doors slid open. She walked down the long hall and bypassed the glass doors with the name A&B Accounting painted on them in a formal black script.

 

Her black heels clicked noisily on the white tiled floor as she walked quickly toward the heavy metal door located at the far end of the hall. The illuminated sign above it said EXIT, and for all intents and purposes, it really did lead to the stairs in case of emergency, but there was also something else there that was invisible to the naked eye.

 

Kagome pushed the door open and stepped into the stairwell, the door making a low hissing sound as it swung shut. She turned to the right, facing an expanse of white wall with a single glass case holding a fire extinguisher and pressed her hand against the glass front of the glass case. A series of flashes appeared behind the glass and her handprint was illuminated by a green glow. After a few seconds, something behind the wall clicked and the wall suddenly shifted, moving slowly to the left to reveal a metal wall beneath with a door in the middle. Beside the door was an intercom. Kagome stepped closer to the intercom and said, “Black Betty.”

 

The door clicked open and Kagome hurried inside. Even as she heard the door close behind her and the false plaster wall slide back into place, she was already thinking ahead to what would be discussed in the meeting. Of course, the president's disappearance was the reason for the call, but she wasn't sure if they'd be informed they were on standby until further notice or if they would be briefed for an immediate mission.

 

Although the building itself was relatively quiet this Sunday morning, the fifth floor was a buzz of activity. People rushed past, talking quickly into headsets, expressions serious. No greetings were uttered, pleasantries made. This was not the kind of working environment that welcomed such things. Kagome turned quickly down a corridor, walked a short ways and then turned down another corridor. She stopped in front of a closed door and entered without knocking.

 

She scanned the room quickly, seeing all the familiar faces sitting around the oval table. She took her seat next to a dark-haired woman and whispered, “Did I miss anything?” The woman turned to her and shook her head. “Michael hasn't shown up yet. So what do you think? Standby or mission?”

 

Kagome glanced at the woman, still unsure as to what they would be ordered to do. She shrugged. “To tell you the truth, Sango, I'm still on the fence. This is worst case scenario and with the CIA all over it…” She let the sentence trail off. The dark-haired woman nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the whole situation is dicey. I mean, the authorities aren't giving anything up. Shouldn't we have known about this so we would at least be prepared or have a heads up? I mean, I know we're black ops and everything, but still, you know?”

 

Kagome frowned, sharing her friend's sentiments. It had seemed strange that they hadn't been told of the president's impending travel plans beforehand, unless Michael hadn't even known about the trip. That thought did nothing to ease Kagome's uneasiness.

 

Just as she banished the thought from her mind, a tall thin man with short, spiky blond hair walked into the room. The low chatter in the room ceased as all eyes turned to the young man who took a seat at the head of the table.

 

Kagome was surprised by how tired he looked. It was so unlike Michael, who was usually so cool and composed. His blue eyes looked weary and there were slight bags sagging beneath. Kagome exchanged a puzzled glance with Sango, knowing that this could only mean bad news.

 

Michael rubbed a hand over his eyes before facing the group. He heaved a heavy sigh and said, “I'm sure you've all heard about the president so there's no need to waste time with that. What you're all probably wondering is what to expect. Well, it's mission time, ladies and gentleman.”

 

He picked up a remote control and pressed a button. The wall behind him was illuminated in light from the projector mounted on the ceiling and a picture dissolved into focus.

 

“We were informed that it's been determined that Air Force One probably went down somewhere in the vicinity of Kiechlesburg, a small city north of St. Petersburg in Russia.” As Michael spoke, the map displayed on the wall zoomed in on Russia, then the name Kiechlesburg.

 

“It's not clear what the president was doing near this area or where he was headed, but we've been informed that possible terrorist ties are being considered.”

 

Kagome let out a breath that she hadn't even been aware of holding in. On some level, she had guessed that maybe terrorists were involved, but the president was surrounded by CIA at all times. She wasn't saying it was impossible to infiltrate the president's bodyguards, but it was damn near impossible. What had gone wrong?

 

“As of now, that's all that we've been told. As for the mission, I want three on communications and three on surveillance. This is strictly undercover work. Under no circumstances are you to break cover. The president, as well as the vice president and secretary of state, are top priority and we don't want to call undue attention to ourselves. Got it?” He eyed the six people gathered at the table and gave a sharp nod once he was satisfied that his message had gotten across.

 

“The mission specs with your background info are in your office. Look them over and meet back here in fifteen.” Michael rose and quietly left the room. Once he'd exited, the six people left behind were too deep in thought to talk about what they'd just heard.

 

Two things were clear to Kagome, however.

 

One, the CIA knew about as much as they did about the disappearance of Air Force One, which led to her second conclusion, which was baffling all on its own.

 

The president, along with the vice president and secretary of state, had taken an unplanned, secret flight out of the country. What or who on earth had forced them to do that?

 

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He was watching the news with a deep frown when his phone rang. He reached for it, already knowing in the back of his mind what the call was about.

 

“Hello?”

 

“The weather's rather frosty in Russia, don't you think?”

 

“Where and when?”

 

“JFK International Airport, flight 361 to St. Petersburg. Damien will be there waiting for you.”

 

The phone clicked in his ear and he replaced the receiver back in its holder. He grabbed the small cell phone on the glass coffee table and pressed a button. The phone rang exactly four times and he hung up. Rising slowly, his mind was already on his impending trip. In a matter of minutes, InuYasha would be there, summoned by their code of four rings and a hang up and they would be on their way.

 

Even as he headed for the bedroom, he got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew with unparalleled certainty that he was stepping into a hell of a lot of trouble.

 

But hey, it was his job.

 

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Kagome was sitting at her desk reading through the thick manila folder when a knock sounded at her office door. “Come in,” she said without looking up. Sango waltzed in, closing the door behind her. She took a seat in one of the black leather chairs facing the desk and gave Kagome a quizzical look.

 

“Are you as suspicious about this as I am?”

 

Kagome closed the folder and dropped it on the desk. “Hell yes,” she responded with a hint of concern. The folder was chock full of nothing. No reason why the president had taken off with the vice president and secretary of state in tow; no clues as to where the damn plane had gone down or even if the plane had taken a nose dive. The CIA was merely making assumptions because they'd lost contact with the plane. There was no evidence indicating anything had actually happened to the plane. And therein lay the problem.

 

“What if we go there and find nothing? What do we do then?” Sango's question mirrored Kagome's troubled thoughts and she had to smile. That was one reason she and Sango were such good friends; they were always on the same track.

 

“It seems like the CIA is almost certain we'll find something, some piece of wreckage or the entire plane itself. Awfully optimistic of them.” Kagome's tone held a fair amount of sarcasm. “Well,” Sango commented with a wry smile, “they can afford to be optimistic. They won't be the ones doing all the dirty work.”

 

Kagome nodded in agreement. They were black ops operatives, short for black operations, a branch of the CIA that technically didn't exist. They were the ones that got the most covert of missions, missions that weren't on the books and couldn't be traced back to the CIA. The black ops operatives were called in when the CIA didn't want to get their hands dirty.

 

“I'm still really bothered by the fact that nobody knew about the president's trip. I mean, the CIA is basically paid to know what goes on in and out of the White House and somehow the three most important men in the nation take off on some secret flight, on Air Force One no less, and virtually disappear into thin air.” Kagome shook her head, her jet-black waves cascading around her shoulders. “I don't buy it.”

 

Sango shrugged, gesturing toward the folder lying on Kagome's desk. “According to the mission specs, that's the way it is.” Kagome glanced at her watch. “Well, we'd better get back to the conference room. Maybe Michael can fill some of the holes in.”

 

They both rose and exited Kagome's office, walking briskly toward the conference room. When they entered, they noticed that they were the first ones back. Michael was sitting at the head of the table, looking down at some papers. When they entered, he glanced up at them.

 

“Early as usual,” he commented as they took their seats. Kagome gave him a small smile. “You know what they say: early bird catches the worm.” Or in this case, the president and his men. She suppressed the urge to smile at her own joke and coughed instead.

 

Sango glanced at her, a knowing gleam in her eye. She looked back at Michael and asked, “So what the hell is up with this mission?” Kagome saw Michael wince at Sango's abruptness. As many years as they'd all worked together, one would think he'd be used to that particular character trait of Sango's, but he never failed to be taken aback when she blurted things out.

 

“Clarify, please.” Michael replied, returning his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sango sighed. “I think you know what I mean, Michael. This case is fishy and I want to know what's going on.”

 

Michael continued reading over his papers, looking as if he hadn't heard Sango, but Kagome knew he had. And she knew that he wasn't going to answer. Now Kagome was really interested to know what the big secret was.

 

“You know something,” she said quickly, taking him by surprise. For just a moment, his impassive mask slipped and a flash of guilt crossed his steely cobalt eyes. Just as quickly, it was gone and he was all mysterious again, giving nothing away.

 

“All you need to know is in your mission specs,” he stated. Kagome exchanged a disbelieving glance with Sango, both knowing that was a lie. Why was Michael lying? What was he hiding? Before she could pursue the subject, the other group members started filing into the room and Kagome snapped her mouth shut. Something was definitely up and she was itching to find out what it was.

 

“Now that you're all here,” Michael said once everyone was assembled, “we can get down to business. You've all read your mission specs so you should be set with all the necessary paperwork: passports, licenses, business documents, background, etc. Kagome, Sango and Miroku will be on surveillance and Kendra, T.J. and Kouga will be communications.”

 

Kagome glanced at her two partners. There was no real deviation there; the three were usually teamed together on missions.

 

“The surveillance team will leave tonight on flight 361 from JFK International departing to St. Petersburg. The communications team will leave tomorrow morning on flight 747 from JFK to the same destination.”

 

As Michael went on about the mission, Kagome switched to autopilot. She took in everything Michael was saying, but her thoughts were on the mysterious circumstances surrounding the mission.

 

Nothing was adding up and Kagome didn't like that. When she was putting her life on the line for the good of the country, she liked to know that there no secrets, no hidden obstacles that could pop up and bite her on the ass.

 

There was something about this mission, something she couldn't put her finger on…