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. 🙂
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Nemesis Chapter 8
Shannon, dressed in a red pantsuit with a matching red headband, was sitting on a park bench waiting for the informant to arrive. She looked at her watch and crossed and recrossed her legs impatiently.
"Settle down, Shannon," Nicholas crooned through the partially open window, watching her from the car just a few yards away. "He'll be here soon."
Shannon smiled at her friend's calming words, then her smile faded slightly and her body tensed. "Gray suit, ten o'clock," she whispered.
The team had decided it was best for Shannon to wear a microphone - one of Grant's inventions, disguised as a button on her blazer - deducing that Nicholas needed to hear what was going on and it would be too difficult to rely solely on the communicator. Plus, there was always that chance that Shannon would be searched.
So, Shannon had left her communicator back at headquarters, and Nicholas held the wireless receiver that monitored her microphone. From his post, Jim could not receive information from Shannon, so he relied on Nicholas using his communicator to keep in touch.
Shannon tensed further as the thirty-something man in the gray suit drew closer.
"Miss Seville?" he asked tentatively.
"Carla, please," Shannon replied, using the name of the reporter he'd been scheduled to meet. She stood up and reaching her right hand out in a gesture of greeting.
But instead of taking her hand, the man in the gray suit cocked a shiny silver pistol with lightning speed and shoved it into Shannon's left side. "Not here," the man said, his voice low. "Let's go somewhere more secure."
The man nodded his head toward a black four-door sedan with tinted windows. Shannon walked over to it and climbed in.
Nicholas, from his vantage point, tensed when he saw the gun. As the black car pulled out, Nicholas followed behind, at a safe enough distance that he wouldn't be spotted. He keyed his communicator.
"Jim."
"Yes, Nicholas?"
"The informant pulled a gun on Shannon and forced her into a black car. I'm following her now."
Jim felt a touch of nerves, though he knew his team was more than capable of taking care of themselves. Too, they weren't entirely unprepared for this turn of events.
"Okay, keep her in sight but don't get too close," Jim replied, knowing the words were superfluous. "Max and Grant are being taken somewhere on the East Coast by helicopter after supplies. Hopefully they can find out more about how Garcia is planning on packaging this cocaine."
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Jim had barely broken the connection with Nicholas when he heard a signal indicating further communication. At first, he thought it was Nicholas again, but then he realized that the signal was coming from Grant's earring transmitter.
Jim snapped to attention as he began to hear faint noises, barely picked up by Grant 's transmitter. It sounded like a scuffle. He keyed the mic tensely.
"Grant?" he asked.
There was no answer.
"Grant," he tried again, "what's going on?"
A few more silent moments went by, with Jim growing more and more anxious with each second. Finally, he heard Grant's voice, but it wasn't at all reassuring.
"Jim! The chopper's crashing!"
"Grant!" Jim called frantically. "Grant, can you hear me?"
There was nothing but silence on the other end.
Jim tried again for several more frantic seconds, then he sighed heavily, his heart in his throat.
Something had gone horribly wrong.
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(c) 2016
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