Splinter Cell: Traitor

Chapter 8 SCT

Abigail

BACK OF THE OSPREY

                “Maya, can you pass me my OPSAT?” I asked her.  She passed it over to me and I took it in my right hand.

                “Screen is shot to shit, I don’t think it works anymore,” Maya said.

                “It still works just fine.  The explosion just caused the screen to fracture, it still works.  I traced Hansen’s distress signal with it.” I told her and began flipping through the photos I had taken with it over the years.  I was on the body recovery and evidence recovery in Italy after Fisher had killed the operatives.  I noticed something in the one photo, the copy of the autopsy report in Italian.  The screen was compromised so I couldn’t do much about it.  But we had hard copies of the report in a vault in Third Echelon HQ.

                “I need to get a look at that evidence again.” I muttered.  I leaned my head back and knew that, while I had walked on, there was no way I was walking on.  Ames, Nathan, Hansen, and Kimberly were sitting scattered across the Osprey which was in a transport configuration.  The cargo hold was full of seats, thirty seats total, set up in six rows of five.  There were two unidentified people sitting in the very front.  Nobody had introduced themselves and Moreau was sitting alone in the very back, next to the cargo door.

                “Evidence?” Maya asked.

                “The stuff we collected from the Italian authorities.  The Splinter Cells that Fisher killed.  Yeah, the original Delta Sly.  Grim decided to bring the project back online.  I need to look at it again.” I said and groaned.  The plane had hit turbulence and the jerking had started a throbbing agony in my side where I had been stabbed.  She pulled out a bottle of pain killers. “Don’t, I don’t need them.  Fisher used them to keep me subdued.  I don’t need the pain killers.”

                “Okay,” she said.  She put the bottle away and I leaned my head back.  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and swallowed the pain down.

                “I am sorry about this,” I said and smiled.

                “About what?”

                “You having to sit here and keep me company, listen to my constant babbling about Fisher.” I said.

                “Actually, nobody is forcing me to sit here, I decided to on my own.  I need your opinion on something.”

                “Ames is a jackass.  Hansen is cute, but is clearly more focused on his work then women.  Nathan is a sweetheart with a gun.” I said without opening my eyes.

                “What?  No, completely different direction, where did you even get that directionality?  Don’t answer that.  How do I excel in this line of work?  How do I get men to realize I am not a pair of boobs with a gun?”

                “But you are a pair of boobs with a gun, a pair of very large boobs with a gun.  The way to get people to realize you mean business is to prove to them that you mean business.”

                “How do you do that?” Maya asked.

                “Spend enough time around me, you will figure it out.” I said.

                “That helps me,” she groaned.

                “If I pull my cards right, I can get placed on this team.  I know more about Fisher than his file lets on.  How I do is above your pay grade.  I can track down Fisher and know his next move ahead of him.”