Christ, what a headache, Jimmy thought to himself as he slowly sat up.
The bed was warm and comfortable -- it better be for what he paid for it -- and quite empty, despite Jimmy's best efforts last night. That chick at the bar was really hot, and she would've been at his place by now, instead of waking up in her dorm room, had Jimmy not received that phone call last night at nine.
Jimmy couldn't even remember most of what Ellen had screamed at him when she called his cell number the first time. He could remember bits and pieces -- they had been ambushed or something at the Fusion Technologies headquarters in Longmont -- but the exact words weren't coming back to him. Although she'd do my family proud, he thought, remembering the impressive string of compound profanities that saturated her side of the conversation as she shouted at her satellite phone from the back of a janitorial/cleaning service van. Too bad she's not twenty years younger and eighty pounds lighter.
It was supposed to be an easy op: sneak into this research lab, hook up the computer to a phone line, and let the patron's people do their magic from long distance. Leave without traces, and voila, an easy $2500 each (and, of course, Jimmy's "broker's fee" of $1500). Unfortunately, someone else thought that last night was a good time to visit Fusion Technologies, and they weren't interested in sneaking around. From what Jimmy'd gathered, it was actually a lucky thing Ellen, Michael, and Martina were still breathing. After Ellen's call, Jimmy placed a few calls himself, and called in some markers. Apparently, someone brought in an ex-KGB hit team to take out the Fusion Technologies lab. He couldn't find out who, but he was sure he had it narrowed down to either Nippon Fusion in Japan or Energia in Russia.
Jimmy stretched his back, listening to his spine pop in several places, before he grabbed the remote. The 31" television on the opposite wall came to life as Jimmy quickly found the channel he wanted.
"Good afternoon. This is Bernard Tarnas for Headline News. Thank you for joining us.
"Our top story: Police in Longmont, Colorado, still are trying to piece together exactly what happened last night at the Fusion Technologies laboratory. They were called to the site around nine thirty local time from reports of gunfire and explosions. Upon arrival, police found the gate guard and several unidentified persons dead and part of the building on fire. The Longmont Fire Department was able to contain the fire before it destroyed the building, but, according to Fusion Technologies spokesman and majority shareholder Jonathon Smyth, the supercomputer used for developing the prototype fusion reactor was destroyed, causing at least a six month setback for this two-year-old company.
"For more on this story, we go to local reporter Anna Brzowski. Anna?"
"Yes, Bernard. I am at the site of the Fusion Technologies laboratory. Over my shoulder, you can see the front guard house, riddled with bullets. Police have removed the body of the guard, a Mr. Timothy Callum of Longmont, although you can still see the bloody stains where his body fell. According to anonymous sources within the Longmont Police, two of the other bodies were found by the north-east corner of the building, and one other was on the east side of the building, in a shattered window. This source also says that the police suspect that there were two groups of terrorists that just happened to arrive at the same time, prompting a confused fight.
"Joining me now is Carla Simons, head of the FBI Domestic Terrorism Office in Denver. Carla, thank you for agreeing to talk to us. Can you tell us what happened here?"
"Well, Anna, it's not easy to say this early in the investigation. The Longmont Police called us early this morning to request our assistance, and we've been going over the data they have and checking the site ourselves. What I can tell you is this: The bodies found near the building were not employees of Fusion Technologies. Furthermore, they were wearing black fatigues and had no identification. What worries us is that these people had been armed with illegal automatic weapons, but those weapons have disappeared. We've recovered several empty ammunition magazines and at least seventy empty shell casings -- these people were armed for war. We believe that another group of mercenary terrorists were on the site and ambushed this group. A security camera from a nearby parking lot may have captured some of the goings on, and we hope to have that tape by noon today."
"Thank you, Carla. That was Carla Simons of the local Domestic Terrorism Office. Longmont Police are also trying to find the employees of a local cleaning service. According to recovered security logs, three employees were on site around the time of the explosions. Police have not listed them as suspects yet..."
The screen went blank as Jimmy shut the television back off. Shit, I hope I paid those three enough to shut up. I knew that paying them to take the night off was a bad idea.
By the time Jimmy had returned from the bathroom, his satellite phone was ringing. "Jimmy 'the Fixer'."
"Yes, Mr. Fixer," the lightly-accented man's voice began. "We have had some additional discussions, and we have decided that we will agree to pay the $5000 completion fee to your employees. After watching the reports on your national news programs, we see that they were not indeed the only operatives trying to keep Fusion Technologies from completing the first prototype. Since you were so indiscreet as to tell them who hired them, we will have to pay the additional amount to keep them quiet. You, however, will not receive any percentage from this additional amount.
"Now, Mr. Fixer. We want you to understand something. Listen to us very carefully: When Fusionteknik hires agents to be discreet, we expect discretion. That goes for their 'brokers', too. Next time we use you as an intermediary for a job and you tell the employees who hired them, you are going to be the one running into ex-KGB freelancers. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Johann," Jimmy hoped that Johann didn't hear the quiver in his voice. "Perfectly clear. It will not happen again."
"Good. Good day, Mr. Fixer," the line went dead.
Jimmy managed to get some sweatpants pulled on. He was just starting to walk towards the kitchen when the phone rang again.
"Jimmy 'the Fixer'," he answered.
"Yes, umm, Jimmy? My name is Jonathan Smyth. I understand that you are a troubleshooter?"
"Well, Mr. Smyth, I am actually an agent. A broker, if you prefer. I am a go-between for people who have problems and people who fix problems. Now, is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes, actually. My business, Fusion Technologies, was attacked last night by terrorists. The police say several of them got away. I doubt that they're going to actually find anything, but I want those bastards to pay for what they did to my company. I probably am not going to get my patents awarded before someone else catches up with us. Can you help me?"
"You want me to hire some troubleshooters to track down the people who blew up your lab?"
"Yes. And terminate them with extreme prejudice. I believe that's the phrase people in your line of work use."
"Actually, Mr. Smyth, that line is what they use in movies. Most of the operatives I work with are far too professional to use fancy language to hide what they do for a living. I do have a team that could do the job for you. Their going rate is $6000 up front, with $6000 on completion and $1800 a day. I also get a 20% broker's fee on top of that."
"What? That is insane! I had no idea mercenaries cost that much!"
"Mr. Smyth, this is a dangerous world. If you expect people to endanger themselves, you had better expect to compensate them well. If you can't afford the cost of my services, I can give you one piece of free advice."
"What would that be?"
"The team that torched your building were foreign mercenaries. I don't know who hired them, but they were top-of-the-line ex-Soviet operators. They obviously didn't want you to get that prototype of yours ready this year. So much for your IPO, huh? Good day, Mr. Smyth." You moron, if you want to hire Big League players, you can't pay peanuts, he didn't finish as he hit the "End" button.
"One of these days, I have got to get an admin!" he grumbled as he went to the kitchen for breakfast.
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