Art Of Power

Power is an interesting concept. Too much causes oppression, too little, and forced submission. The power bestowed upon those that can handle it makes for a greater world. When the wrong men chance upon it, catastrophe ensues. The lucky few with power change the world. 

Two such lucky people are Faith Collins and Julian King. Fresh out of their eighteen-month training, dressed in crisp, pressed suits, they walked out of the elevator into the main offices, soon to be gifted with this very power. This is the CIA. 

On their first day as official recruits of the CIA, they met their team. Special agents Amir Sadat and Leah Evans, led by the highly regarded supervising agent Adam Perez. Each had its designated role in the team. The first response was Evans and King, Sadat was the muscle and Collins was the tech genius. The morning passed quickly. The afternoon of 25th August brought their assignment. Their first mission. 

They were seated in the expansive briefing room that was built to hold more than the five present. Here, visible, but not audible, to those outside the glass walls, was where the details of the mission were charted. Under the cover of rich college students on vacation overseas, they were to gather intelligence and prepare reports to send to the FBI, who would then plan a raid. A drug cartel. That was their mission. Do not engage. Do not contact. Simply scout. Julian was excited, enthralled by the clean procedure. On his first mission, he was going with his best friend. Nothing could be better. 

The first rays of the sun on the 27th of August 2021 marked the official beginning of their first mission together. Excitement would be an understatement. Julian was ecstatic, his childhood dream that had permeated into his adult life was becoming true. He was going to be a spy.

 Julian's appearance had changed, his hair dyed white blonde, contact lenses changing his eyes to a bright green. Clothes that showed off his “wealth.” The rest of the team was similarly different. Hair, eyes, and clothes changed before his eyes as the newly acquainted team shed their physical identities for new ones. Fluid, ever-changing identities.

They arrived at their destination in the midst of heavy rains. The night warped the day, bringing with it the arrival of the five agents. The base was set up, they were ready to start.

“Are your reports ready, King?” came the booming voice of Adam Pérez, startling Julian awake. The latter promptly fell out of bed, eliciting the laughter of both Adam and Faith, who had walked in right after. Grumbling at being woken up, Julian staggered upright, stumbling across the room to the desk where the reports of the past week were neatly stacked date-wise. Gathering them, Julian thrust them into the waiting arms of Adam, ready to be sent to the FBI.

This summarized the two weeks that had passed. Scout, note, write out. They took turns compiling the data. It was, however, getting admittedly frustrating, without any action. Two weeks of just intel. Julian had joined with the notion of being the 21st century American James Bond, not stuck writing long reports of inactivity. Little did he know, the team was soon going to be entangled in a web that would require all their wit and courage to escape from.

Three days and three nights had passed. Julian's frustration was only increasing. The long waits coupled with slight home sicknesses made him snap at the smallest of happenings. On the third night, nine chimes from the church bell signalled the change of guard at the cartel's stronghold. Julian, along with Faith, had reached the designated spot to meet with Adam and Amir, when cracks resounded, breaking the silence of the still night. Immediately on alert, the duo ran in the direction of the sound, hands flying to the belt and holder on their waist, palms enclosing the handle of their guns. Julian held a finger to his lips as he saw Faith opening her mouth, signalling her to be silent. Their feet made no sound as they rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with the very people who they were trying to find information about. 

Meanwhile, Leah Evans was working on an improbable lead she had unearthed the previous day. Even though it had been dismissed by Adam, she was stubborn. And she was free. Skid marks. All over the concrete pavement that lined the roads. Usually, it would have been an important clue, but there was no other evidence. No other damage, not a tree or a wall. There was no debris either. What was worse, there was no noise. 'Skid marks that deep should have been heard. I was there, Sadat was there. One of us would have heard something,' her thoughts echoed inside her head as every possible solution raced through her mind. Until one clicked. 'Oh.' 

Leah Evans was sure her conclusion was correct. So she did what came to her mind, call Julian. “ King, listen, there is a very critical piece of information I have to share with you. They know, the cartel knows we are here, spying on them, that’s why the skid marks were there, it’s a trap! Get out of there, tell the other to, too.” His panicked voice on the other side, coupled with the gunshots, however, rendered her speechless. It had happened. 

Julian was adamant that Leah shouldn't come to the scene. All while trying to dodge bullets and keep himself alive. He could see Faith in his peripheral, she seemed to be holding her own. Sheathing his cell, he continued, dodging and weaving as the quartet tried to avoid getting killed. When the rain of bullets took a pause, Adam turned to Julian. “You need to get in there, grab the RED ledger, then get out of here. Take Faith with you.” Julian resolutely stood next to him, shaking his head sideways. Adam, now getting frustrated, barked, “I'm not asking. It's an order. Go.” Julian knew he had to, so, along with Faith, slipped into the house. The order broke their team. 

It was sparsely guarded, with the few getting shot down by the frazzled agents. Moving into the main hall, Julian and Faith holstered their guns, turning the room upside down before finding the ledger. “Look, there's a flash drive here as well.” Julian saw Faith holding up a small drive. He nodded affirmatively before they slipped out as quietly as they had come in. More gunshots were heard in the distance, so the duo knew that they would have to check up, in case their team required help. Their hesitation proved to be costly

Bodies. There were bodies strewn haphazardly on the road. Three, five, seven, ten. Blood pooled on the tar, fresh, shimmering under the waning yet bright moon. Among the fallen were the bodies of Adam Perez and Amir Sadat. Julian and Faith ran up to their colleagues, grasping at arms and neck, trying their best to find a pulse. “Pulse! A strong pulse,” yelled Faith's relieved voice, kneeling next to Amir. “N-Nothing here.” Julian's voice shook as his fingers desperately tried to find proof of life. Faith's relieved smile faded as she ran up to the duo, sliding to her knees as she too attempted to find a pulse. Faint, very faint. “We-we need an ambulance. Right now.” Julian, however, sat still, numbly staring. “Snap out of it, Julian! Panic later, call the ambulance!” Faith's stern, sharp voice made Julian shakily reach for his phone, dialling and coordinating the arrival of the ambulance. Just as he put it away, it rang, loud and bright. Too cheery for the scene.

“Evans is coming soon, any updates?” Julian's question was answered by a blank stare and a despondent expression. Of course, there wasn't any, one was battling for his life, and the other was still unconscious. That was all they had been told. The white hospital walls blinded him as he rested his head against the offending material. The ticking sound of a distant clock is the only indication of the passing of time. Wait, keep waiting. They didn't have to wait long. Soon after Leah's arrival came the news. Time of death, 10:35 pm. Sadat's revival did little to lift the spirits of the team. Their leader was, after all, dead. 10 minutes earlier and I could have saved him. The doctor's words echoed in their heads. The body was to be sent back to his family. Going back 'home' was an ordeal in itself. They saw Adam everywhere, from the neat tables to the organized shoes. The team was broken.

Not long after, the team opened the ledger that had led to the untimely death of their fearless leader. The ledger seemed to contain the names and shipment details of their clients, obviously incriminating the cartel. Julian quickly wrote up a report, blinking back tears at the memory from merely three nights ago. Then they opened the flash drive. There was only one voice recording on it. The team turned to Sadat, who was next in line for a leader. Upon getting the approval, Leah pressed play. The shock of their lifetime was waiting for them. 

“This is directly addressing the director of the FBI. If you have received this drive, Adam Perez is dead. We have done what we were paid to do. The rest of the money is to be transferred to the account previously discussed. We hope you keep up your end of the deal, and grant us civilian rights in the United States of America, along with immunity from getting arrested. You do not want to get on our wrong side.” came a monotonous disembodied voice, evidently modified. 

The team was struck dumb. The FBI had orchestrated the death of their leader, his blood was on their hands. But why? Why would they do that? What was the point? “Did Adam have a diary?' Julian's question went unanswered. “Sadat, Evans, did Adam have a diary?” They leapt up and went to his room, uncovering a diary under Adam's bed. There, the last entry, dated the previous day. It told them all they needed to know. 

“So, let's get this straight. Adam found out that the FBI's director was in liaison with the cartel. But instead of telling us, he spoke directly with the director, leading to him getting killed. He knew if he dragged any of us into this, we would also be targeted. So he painted a target on his own back so that we could live. The ledger was probably immaterial. We need to tell someone, anyone!” exclaimed Faith, unable to sit still. “We can't. We cannot trust anyone. Not even each other.” came the quiet voice of Amir Sadat from behind them. Turning around with questioning glances, their eyes widened with surprise. 

Amir had a gun pointed at them, a smirk flitting across his lips. “A- Amir?” stammered Leah, tears springing to her eyes. “Sorry, but I cannot spare the witnesses. Collateral damage, I deeply regret it.” The other three pulled out their guns as well. Three shots rang out, as the streetlight right outside went out, signalling the very end.

The world operates on two levels. First is the one that we all see every day; school, work, home, family, and friends. The second level works beyond the eyes of man. It consists of the darkness, the corners that even the omnipresent sun can't illuminate. For the sun sets even in paradise.