Assignment - Part 4:

Heart to Heart 

“Panther, what’s your position?”

Justin turned around, his eyes locking on a tall, slim figure in the entrance of the gallery.  Dressed in a black sleeveless shirt and black tightly fitting pants, Brian closely resembled the animal that was his code name.  And just like a predator, Brian scanned the room for his prey.  

“Entering the gallery now,” Justin heard the other man reply in the communication device.

Giving the other agent a slight nod, Justin turned his attention to their target that evening - Andre Odilon, the owner of the gallery, who was currently surrounded by a horde of beautiful women dressed in expensive gowns and jewelry. 

Justin scanned the crowd, locking eyes with Brian who was now standing mere feet away from the gallery owner.  The brunet nodded.

Taking his cue, Justin moved through the crowd toward the Frenchman, purposely walking right into him.  “Pardon,” Justin said, smiling apologetically at Odilon.

Meanwhile, Brian, who stood right next to the Frenchman, dropped what looked like a penny on the floor right next to Odilon’s left shoe. 

Justin glanced down.  The tracking device, which was what Brian had dropped on the floor, was gone, which meant that it was now glued to the bottom of Odilon’s shoe.  Smiling once more, Justin walked away, getting lost in the crowd.

“We’re tracking him,” he heard Daphne say in his earpiece. 

~~~***~~~***~~~

Four hours later the two agents were sitting in an apartment across from Odilon’s residence, tracking the man’s every move. 

Aside from being a gallery owner and a major player in the French art trade, the man was also known to smuggle drugs, jewelry, and arms to and from Asia.  The reason the CIA was after him, though, was a certain database on one of his servers located in his home in Paris. 

“I don’t understand why Stockwell would need to use a middleman,” Justin said as Brian walked past him and settled down on one of the overstuffed chairs by the window. 

Brian shrugged.  “Doesn’t want to get his hands dirty?”

Justin shook his head.  And Brian had to agree.  From everything he knew about Stockwell, it just didn’t seem like the thing the man would do. 

“No, it has to be something else,” Justin said.  “Odilon sounds like a fucking sleaze.  There has to be a reason why Stockwell would go to him instead of selling directly to the buyers.”

“He might be a sleaze, but he knows people, has contacts.  Besides, this way, the only person that has any connection to Stockwell is Odilon himself.  Nobody else can be tracked back to him,” Brian rationalized.

Justin nodded and turned his attention back to the computer screen.  Brian looked out the window. 

Stakeouts.  He hated those more than anything.  The waiting was not for him.  He liked action.  Getting things done.  But in his line of work, one had to train his patience as well.  And all they could do now was wait until the Frenchman would leave his house.

He looked back at Justin, studying each line, each curve of the blond’s face.  The way his long bangs covered his forehead, the arches of his lips that he could still remember feeling on his dick.  Despite his best efforts, Brian felt his cock stirring inside his pants. 

Justin looked up from the computer screen and met his eyes, holding his gaze for a few seconds.  “He’s still on the second floor?” Brian asked him.

Nodding, Justin pressed a small button on the computer.  “Base Camp, this is Picasso.”

“Picasso, this is Base Camp,” Daphne’s voice broke through the static.

“How sure are we on the intell?” he asked. 

“His flight was delayed for two hours,” Daphne responded.

“Copy that,” Justin replied. 

Letting out a loud sigh, Brian leaned back in the chair.  Two more fucking hours of just sitting there and waiting.  He felt a pair of eyes burning into his head, so he looked up, meeting Justin’s gaze.  “Picasso’s a weird code name.”

Justin smiled.  It was obviously not the first time he’d heard that.  “I know.”

“How did you get it?”

“The Farm,” Justin responded.

Brian snickered.  “What, they were all out of Monets and Renoirs?”

“No,” Justin shot him a warning look.  “Before I joined the agency, I was a student at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts.”

“No shit,” Brian said, incredulously.  “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard that one.”  Not many CIA recruits happened to know how draw a vase in oil paints. 

Justin shrugged.  “Yeah.  It kinda stayed with me since then.”

“How did you end up in the CIA anyway?” Brian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while watching Justin intently. 

“Lindsay,” Justin simply said.

The other man’s eyebrow arched, a quizzical look shown on his face. 

“I had just finished my sophomore year at PIFA,” Justin began to explain.  “This major art dealer from New York contacted me.  He wanted to show some of my pieces in his gallery in Manhattan.  Of course, I jumped at the opportunity.  He said that if they sold, he’d even consider giving me my own show.” 

There was a pause in which a tiny smile briefly crossed Justin’s face.  It was fleeting, but nonetheless Brian noticed it, wondering what the other man was remembering at that moment.

“The pieces sold fairly quickly and I got my own show.  By the end of that summer I had requests for paintings coming out of my ass.”  He looked up and met Brian’s confused eyes. 

“And that’s why you decided to risk your life every fucking day and lie to your family?” Brian asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“No,” Justin shook his head.  Inhaling sharply, he continued.  “For a while it was great.  People liking my art.  People buying my art.  It’s every artist’s dream.”  His gaze dropped to his hands.  “But I just got…disillusioned with the whole thing.”

“Why?”

The blond shrugged.  “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.  It was glamorous and exciting and completely fake.  Everything…driven by how much money you can make instead of what you create.  I didn’t want that.”

“So, you decided that risking your life three hundred sixty-five times a year is more your forte?” While he couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living, Brian knew all too well the hardships of being in this profession and he wouldn’t wish it on anybody.

Justin only rolled his eyes at him and continued with the story.  “Anyway, since I didn’t know what else to do, I went back to the Pitts to finish my education.  That’s when I met Lindsay.  She was my guidance counselor.  Or at least, I thought she was.”

Something about this bothered Brian, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.  One thing he did know was that Lindsay never did anything without a reason.  And there had to be a very big reason for her to recruit Justin.

“So, she said they were interested in recruiting me.  Told me to think it over.  And here I am,” Justin finished his story.

“Here you are,” Brian repeated, his mind going full speed on trying to figure out what it was that made Justin special enough for Lindsay to go after him like that. 

The blond smiled and Brian couldn’t help but return the emotion. 

“So, what about you?” Justin asked.

Of course, Brian expected the question.  It always happened when you started rehashing your past with someone else.  Which was why Brian never did it.  Until now.  “Lindsay,” he simply said.

Noticing a curious expression on Justin’s face, he resigned himself to the fact that he was going to share a part of his past with the other man as well. 

“We were at Penn State together,” Brian began.  “On graduation day she comes over to me and tells me that she’s joining the CIA and she wants me to come with her.  I, of course, laughed in her face.”  Brian chuckled, remembering that day.  “She went off to the Farm while I got a job as an associate ad executive at some local agency.  About a year later Linds shows up at my doorstep and starts telling me all about how exciting and great life as a spy is.  And somehow her very impressive pitch and a half a dozen bottles of beer convinced me.”

Justin laughed softly.  “You made your decision to join the Central Intelligence Agency over a half a dozen bottles of beer?”

“And a couple of joints.”

Justin snorted.  “Well, that was definitely an educated decision.”

Brian grinned.  “In my experience, those decisions are the best ones I’ve ever made.”

The blond nodded, a big smile still on his face.  “So, I guess we have something in common.”

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

“We were both brought into the agency by Lindsay.”

Brian pressed his lips together, thinking about it for a moment.  “Yeah, guess we do,” he finally said, his eyes locked on a pair of blue ones.  He let his gaze linger on the other man’s face, not hiding the fact that being alone with Justin in Paris made him horny as hell. 

It seemed that Justin had the same idea, though.  Slowly rising from his chair, Justin crossed the room and walked toward him.  Keeping his eyes on Brian’s, Justin lowered himself down on the floor between Brian’s legs. 

“What are you doing?” Brian asked, his voice husky with anticipation.

Justin’s fingers were already unzipping the front of his pants.  The blond looked up, a mischievous smile on his face.  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Brian tried to hang on to one last logical thought dancing around in his head.  “We’re on a mission,” he reminded the other agent.

“We have two hours,” Justin argued.  Dipping his head down and covering Brian’s throbbing cock with his warm, wet mouth, he quickly wiped any objections from Brian’s head.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Justin rolled on his side and looked at the clock.  It was now a little after 4am Paris time.  Odilon should be leaving soon. 

Shifting into a sitting position, Justin reached for his underwear and his pants. 

Just as he was pulling a sweater over his head, Daphne’s voice came on.

“Picasso, this is Base Camp.  Come in.”

Justin walked over to the desk and pressed the button on the computer.  “Go ahead, Base Camp.”

“Odilon is leaving the building now,” Daphne replied.

“Ten four,” Justin said. 

Turning around he found that Brian was already dressed and setting up for the mission.

Without another word, Justin finished getting dressed and prepped for the mission while Brian got set up at the desk in front of the computer.  There was no need for words now.  They both knew the protocol, both knew what was required of them, what they needed to do to successfully complete the mission.

Justin placed a small, barely visible communication device in his ear and turned around.  “Ready.”

Brian looked up from the computer screen.  “The satellite image shows four guards.”

“Only four?” Justin teased.  “And here I thought it was going to be hard.”  Winking at the other man, Justin walked out of the apartment and down the staircase.

“Remember, we don’t want them to know we were there,” Brian’s voice reminded him.

Justin looked out of the entrance into the building, making sure both sides of the street were clear before crossing it toward the other building. 

Unlocking the front door was a piece of cake and Justin quickly proceeded inside. 

“There are three guards downstairs and one on the second floor,” Brian informed him.

Taking out a gun filled with darts containing sedative, Justin moved toward the staircase.  He heard voices coming from the living room.  Hiding behind a wall, he carefully peeked in.  Two men were sitting at a table, playing cards.  The other one was standing near the television, smoking. 

Coming out from his hide out, Justin quickly had all three of the guards sleeping peacefully.  That left one more.

Satisfied that he had not been spotted, Justin quickly ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. 

“The office is the second room on your left,” he heard Brian say. 

Of course, Justin didn’t need to be told that the last remaining guard would be sitting right in front of it.  Justin double-checked the gun before shooting the dart into the man’s neck. 

Ten seconds later Justin watched as the guard slumped over in the chair. 

“You got two minutes,” Brian informed him.

Justin quickly made his way inside the office and found the server without any problems.  Taking a transmission device out of his pocket, Justin placed it on top of the computer. 

“Transmitting,” he told Brian.

He watched as the status bar slowly moved across the bottom of the screen. 

“One minute thirty seconds,” Brian said. 

When the transmission of the database passed the 50% mark, Justin pulled a CD out of another pocket and slid it into the CD drive, choosing a ‘Copy’ option from the menu.

“One minute remaining,” he heard Brian say.

Justin watched the screen closely.  The first transmission was nearly complete.  Now all he had to do was wait for the database to get transferred onto the disk. 

“I got it,” Brian told him.  “Get out of there.  The guards will be waking up soon.”

Justin removed the transmission device and placed it back into the same pocket it came from.  “Come on,” he whispered, as he watched the status bar slowly drag across the screen.

“Justin, get out of there,” Brian warned him again.  “You have less than thirty seconds.”

Justin let out a loud sigh when he received ‘Transfer Completed Successfully’ message.  Quickly taking out the CD and placing it back in the side pocket of his pants, Justin closed the database, making sure to erase any sign that he was ever there. 

He started to move toward the door when he heard the guard outside grumble.  He was all out of darts. The only option left was using his gun.  Gripping it firmly in his hands, he took the safety off.  Slowly, he neared the door and peeked his head outside.  The guard was still out. 

Slipping out of the office, Justin stayed against the wall as he moved toward the staircase. 

Less than two minutes later he was back up in the apartment with Brian. 

”What the fuck took you so long?” the brunet asked as soon as Justin locked the door behind him. 

When Justin didn’t respond, Brian stood up and moved away from the desk.  “We have to go.  The plane leaves in forty-five minutes.”

“Did you transfer data to Daphne?” Justin asked.

Brian paused and looked at him.  “It was booby trapped.  When I started to decode it, it erased everything.”

The man turned away to resume packing away all the equipment, while Justin watched him, trying to see whether Brian was lying. 

“Well,” Justin finally said, moving from his spot.  “It’s a good thing I made a copy then.”  He pulled the disk out of his pocket and held it up for Brian to see. 

Justin waited for the reaction on the other agent’s face.  What he found there was the same emotionless expression he was used to seeing on Brian’s face whenever they were on a mission. 

“Good,” was Brian’s only response.

~~~***~~~***~~~

“So, what do you think?” Justin asked Daphne who was running another check on the computer Brian had used in Paris during the mission.

As soon as the two got back from their trip, Justin went directly to Daphne’s office and sat through the entire process. 

“There definitely was another program attached to the database,” Daphne responded.

“So you think it was a booby trap?”

Daphne turned to look at him.  “Could have been.  Could also have been a game of Solitaire for all we know.”

“So it’s possible that Brian just deleted everything himself.”  If that were the case, it would have been Justin’s first real proof that Brian was indeed working for Stockwell.  Why else would he erase the database that would link Stockwell to an arms dealer?  That was the reason why Justin had a back up disk.  And as much as he hoped he wouldn’t need to use it, he did.  And now he needed answers.

Daphne’s face showed understanding.  “Is this what this is all about?  You’re spying on Brian?”

Justin looked away. 

“Justin, this is dangerous.”

He looked back at her.  “And everything else I do is just a walk in the park,” he replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean, asshole.  This is a different kind of dangerous.  You’re too close to…”

“Daphne,” he cut in, his voice carrying a warning.  “I know how to do my job.”

The woman sighed loudly.  “I hope so.”

He understood she was worried and why.  And maybe she was right, but the fact was, he had a job to do.

“Just tell me.  Do you think he deleted it?” he asked.

Daphne looked at the computer screen, then back at him.  “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Justin swore silently.  He was back to square one.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Brian knocked on the door.  Before Lindsay could answer, he opened the door and walked into her office.

The woman was working at her desk.  Looking up, she greeted him with a smile.  “Brian,” she exclaimed.

“Lindsay,” Brian said mockingly.

“I heard you had some problems in Paris.”

“Yeah,” the man replied.  “But Justin saved the day.”  He walked over to the bookshelf, running his finger along the edge. 

“I told you he was a great agent,” she said proudly. 

“I guess you would know.”  Brian turned to face her.  “Tell me something, since when does the Agency recruit art students?”

Lindsay’s face dropped as she held Brian’s gaze for a few seconds before looking away.  “We use many different venues while searching for potential agents,” she replied, rising from her chair and walking around the desk.

Brian nodded.  “And what exactly made you look in the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts?”

“Justin’s scores were off the charts,” Lindsay replied.  “He excelled in more than one area, scoring high in Liberal Arts as well as Math and Science, which is what we look for in potential recruits.  He’s multi-talented.  By the time he joined the agency he spoke four languages fluently.  We knew he would be an asset to this organization.”

Brian listened to Lindsay’s explanation, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I’ve heard the company line, Linds,” he said.  He walked over to the desk, stopping less than a foot away from her.  “Now how about the truth?”

To Lindsay’s credit, if she was intimidated or fazed by Brian’s questions, she didn’t give it away.  “I believed he would make a good agent.  And I was right.  Just like I was right about you.”

Brian grimaced.  “You shouldn’t have brought him into this.”

“Why not?  He fit all the requirements.  He excelled in every single task thrown at him.  He…”

“He doesn’t belong here,” Brian snapped

 “You and him have been getting awfully close lately,” Lindsay shot back.

Brian’s head snapped up at the meaning behind her words.  Giving her a warning look, Brian walked over to the door and opened it. 

“I’ll find out the truth, I promise you that,” he said, tossing one last glance over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

Go to Part 5

HOME