The Cattle King (S1E7):                           Missing Scene

Disclaimer:  I do not own either of the Mission: Impossible series or any of the characters therein.  I receive no compensation or any other tangible benefit from this story.  I am just a fan who enjoys taking the team out for an adventure every now and then.  🙂

*****

Grant stood on the balcony of Doug Matthews’ penthouse suite, on the thirtieth floor of the Spinnaker building. Cautiously, he leaned over the railing to install the butane gas canister.   He gritted his teeth nervously as he looked downward. Dim lights illuminated several smaller buildings nearby.

The intersection was dotted with cars and people, who looked like tiny dots from Grant’s view. His stomach churned, and large beads of sweat appeared on the young agent’s forehead. He hastened to position himself safely on the other side of the railing.

Nicholas was just finishing up with the torch.

“And now for the elevator,” Grant commented, willing his stomach to settle,  as his teammate removed his safety glasses.

“I’ll set the surveillance camera in his bedroom,” Nicholas returned, as both men got to their feet to set about their respective tasks.

Meanwhile, Max was crouched at the base of the sliding glass door. He activated the small, black, rectangular device, and watched the silver wheel spin around before pushing it into place.   When the time was right, a simple press of a button would push the doors open, seemingly of their own accord. 

As he was completing his task, he caught a glimpse of Grant walking by him.   He turned slightly to glance toward his friend.

Suddenly, the young Black agent stopped in his tracks, grabbing the top of a nearby chair to steady himself. A wide line of perspiration washed down his back, clearly visible through his bright pink shirt.

Instantly concerned, Max got to his feet and rushed toward his teammate, laying a hand on his shoulder as he came up behind him.

“Grant,” he said softly, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Grant snapped dismissively, shrugging off Max’s touch. “I just got a little nauseous when I looked over the rail.”

Max ignored the hostility in his friend’s voice. “Why don’t you sit down and take it easy for a bit?” he suggested.

Grant shook his head. “No time,” he disagreed. “Matthews will be back here any moment. And we’ve still got things to do.”

He picked up the handheld projector and the compact video recorder and started back toward the balcony. Max stopped him, gently taking the items out of his hands.

“You just focus on the elevator,” he countered, in a voice that left no room for argument.  “Nicholas and I will take care of everything on the outside.”

Grant opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it again, knowing it was useless to argue.  Besides, he was more than a little bit relieved at the suggestion.  “Okay,” he relented. Then he managed a slight smile. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Max grinned, giving Grant a playful slap on the shoulder. Then Grant picked up the handheld controller and started toward the elevator, while Max headed back toward the balcony.

Nicholas, who had missed the exchange, was just exiting Matthews’ bedroom and hastened to offer Max his assistance.

*****

The next day, after receiving a call, Nicholas rushed off to meet Doug Matthews at the bank. Jim donned handcuffs and paused for a candid photograph with Max, who was disguised as a policeman, and then left headquarters to meet Casey at Matthews’ penthouse.

As soon as the door closed behind Jim, Grant looked up from his computer.

“Hey, Max.”

Max put down the gadget he was looking at and turned toward his friend. “Yeah, Grant?”

Grant sighed heavily. “Look,” he began, “about what happened back at Matthews’ penthouse.  There’s something I need to tell you.“

Max, sensing things were about to turn serious, came to sit next to Grant, giving his friend his undivided attention. “What is it, buddy?”

There was a lengthy pause before Grant finally got the words out. “The truth is, high places bother me a little,” he confessed quietly. “It’s been that way ever since I was a kid.”

Grant looked pointedly at his teammate, searching for any hint of contempt in his eyes and finding none. Instead, Max’s gaze was soft. “Thanks for telling me,” he said, his tone matching his eyes.

“I thought you’d make fun of me, if you knew,” Grant admitted.

But Max shook his head. “We’ve all got things that bother us, Grant,” he said reassuringly. “It’s nothing to joke about.”

Grant smiled faintly, then looked down at his feet. “Nobody else knows,” he disclosed. “Not even my father.”

“I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” Max promised. “Even though I’m sure the team would understand.”

Except for Jim, Grant thought grimly, sure that the elder agent would see this as a sign of weakness – something that would make him less valuable as an agent.  Unable to tolerate the thought hanging over his head, the Black agent gave voice to it.

“If Jim knew—“

“Jim doesn’t need to know anything,” Max interrupted gently.

“But suppose I…get nauseous again…in the middle of a mission.” Grant gazed at his teammate.  “What happens then?”

Max laid a comforting hand on Grant’s shoulder. “I’ve got your back, pal,” he smiled. “You can count on that.”

Grant reached out to squeeze Max’s bicep. “Thanks, buddy.” Then the conversation grew quiet as they heard Nicholas’ car pulling back into the driveway.

The End.

(c) 2022