Logic of the Sidhe
by Kira S. (alpineowl at hotmail.com)
Major James Smith of the US Air Force Special Forces silently counted down
the seconds until the deadline hit. Calista had sent him a message changing
their meeting spot from 223A Baker Street to 3314A Nottinghill, and as per
an agreement he and Calista had made years ago, if the meeting place got
changed then the field worker could be late no more than ten minutes after
the appointed time. If they weren’t there, then the mission was aborted and
the other person walked away. Except, James noted, that it never worked out
that way. After all, he’d lost track of how many times he’d gone after the
intelligence agent when she was in a bind, and how many times had Calista
refused to leave him for dead? But something about this situation stunk to
high heaven and James knew it all came back to the note. The deadline came
and went and James started pulling out of the area. If he hadn’t seen
Calista here by now he wasn’t going to.
Unnoticed by the American pilot, a watcher from a nearby rooftop
watched his every move. Pulling a mirror from his pocket, the watcher
signaled his confederates. Not even a minute later, a small mob of
thugs descended on the major. James Smith didn’t even have a chance.
The watcher smiled, satisfied, and he pulled out an audio communicator.
"Sir, we have the First Knight."
"Very good, Alec. I want you to take over operations at Baker
Street now. Fenwick lacks the backbone to control the Manx Sidhe. The
fool let one of them just barge into Holmes’ flat, putting both him
and the Second Knight on alert."
Ain't I cheap? A part that didn't even take up half a
printed page... Soooo, suggestions? Criticisms? Flames to run my
TO BE CONTINUED
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