The Intern -- Chapter 6

After nearly three days, Courtney finally heard from Morris. He overnighted a new burner phone. She scrubbed her internet use the way he taught her and removed the sim card from her old phone before pitching it into the back of a garbage truck. Everything would be fine now... At least that was what she hoped.

It was her day off, and she was hanging out in the laundry room, helping Helen get the linens done for the overnighters and weekend visitors. Helen was as old as her grandparents and still going strong for her age. She didn't really need any help, but as the two were becoming friends and Courtney had free time, she found her working and offered to help. As the two were folding sheets and pillowcases to put on a cart the maid pushed around to the rooms, Courtney was smiling wide for someone folding laundry.

Helen finally asked her, "What is it that's changed about you since you checked in to my little slice of heaven?"

Courtney looked up at Helen, not really sure what to say to the old gal. It would have been nice to tell her the truth. Since Morris hid the body of the hunter she killed there'd been no sign of trouble on the horizon. For the first time since Chicago, she was feeling safe.

"It seems like you've been more relaxed since your friend visited," Helen commented.

"Friend?"

"The older gentleman that sort of snuck into town and then left fairly quickly," Helen answered. "Since then, you seem more at peace."

How did she know about Morris, wondered Courtney? Helen was a very observant woman for her age but Morris was a professional at getting in and out of places without being noticed. Then, like it was right in front of her the entire time, she realized that if Helen noticed Morris being there days ago and hadn't asked until now, she had a reason. Maybe Helen knew more than she was letting on or maybe she was more observant than Courtney had given her credit for. Either way, it meant that she could trust Helen. She could have pointed Morris's visit out when Deputy McNally came looking for information about any new visitors in town.

"Helen," asked Courtney, "can I tell you something in confidence?"

"Sure, kid. You can tell me anything."

Courtney hesitated, nervous about opening up to someone outside of the little circle that was her and Morris's secret world. She couldn't talk to Morris every day. It just wasn't feasible. They had to maintain secrecy about their whereabouts if they wanted to stay off the group's radar. There were still hunters out there, somewhere, and they were combing the country looking to silence Morris and Courtney.

"Morris was my mentor. I spent a year working with him while I considered going to work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the F.B.I."

Helen smiled, putting her sheet down. "Dear, I really thought there was more to the story than that. I thought maybe he was something else to you."

Courtney blushed, the idea sounding crazy to her. Morris couldn't be a love interest. Sure, she loved him, and would always appreciate all he'd done for her, but he was more like a father. She chuckled at the idea, Helen looking at her with an embarrassed look on her face.

"Oh, god no."

"Not that I'd judge. I know a lot of younger women that gravitate to older men. Younger men today are too engrossed in the games they play, less apt to settle down, and don't know how to treat a young lady."

"Helen, he's like a father. Cooler than a father, but more like a father than I imagined someone could be," explained Courtney.

"So, what did he come to visit for?"

"To make sure I was alright," sighed Courtney, a giant weight lifting off of her as she made the statement aloud to someone.

For the first time since Chicago, after the hardest weeks of her life, Courtney had finally opened up to someone other than Morris, a US Attorney, or one of the Martials in the WITSEC program. She fought back the tear that was forming in her right eye. It felt good, better than she imagined, to unburden herself of the secret.

"Until about six weeks ago I was in witness protection. When I was working with Morris I started looking into some questionable practices that I didn't understand. I still don't entirely, if I'm telling the truth. Someone got wind of what I was looking at and it all fell apart. The next thing I knew, I was in the Office Of Professional Standards and Accountability. The Department Of Justice got involved and then someone blew up an escort vehicle thinking that I was inside," Courtney broke down and started crying.

"Oh my," said Helen, going over to the sobbing girl and putting her arm around her. "You poor dear, what did they do?"

"I spent a year in witness protection before Morris requested a meet in Chicago. We were ambushed and someone shot him. I've been on the run since then," Courtney cried.

Helen told Courtney to leave the clothes and with her arm around Courtney took her to the main office. She sat Courtney down and retrieved a bottle of bourbon from behind her desk. Putting two crystal glasses in front of the desk, she sat down in the second chair and poured them each a glass of golden brown liquor. Helen dropped a couple of ice cubes in each glass and handed one to Courtney.

"From the sounds of it, you deserve this," she told Courtney, smiling comfortingly at her young friend.

Helen raised her glass, clinking hers with Courtneys. The two ladies each took a drink of the oaky liquor.

Courtney smiled, choking the harsh booze down her gullet. She wasn't much of a drinker but certainly wouldn't turn down an expensive pour of Helen's finest after-hours booze. Courtney felt the warm and comforting effect of the drink as it warmed its' way down her throat and to her stomach, soothing every bit of her as it trickled to its' destination.

"That's good," Courtney told Helen, fanning her free hand in her face, the warmth of the effect more pronounced than she normally felt from drinking.

"It was my husbands' favorite," said Helen. "I never understood until after he was gone. I had a drink with him after he was gone and then like he was still speaking to me, I finally got what he always saw in this dreaded stuff."

"It must have been a nice life," said Courtney.

"It really was," she admitted. "He'd have liked you, I think. He liked tough women, and after what you've just said, you're a tough one for being so young."

"Thanks," sighed Courtney. "I just wish I felt tougher."

Courtney settled in and told Helen the story about her time with Agent Morris and their adventures. When she began to recount the hidden division of the F.B.I. she discovered, and how that revelation put a target on her back, it shocked Helen as much as she imagined it would. Pandora's box was open now and there was no going back.

"So, you stumbled onto a black operations unit within the bureau," said Helen. "Why not just go to the press? You'd be safer that way. There's no way they could retaliate and people not know."

"Morris was trying to tell me what to do when we were in Chicago. They shot him trying to silence me."

"I see," Helen sighed. "So you're going along with hiding until the feds finish their investigation and take people in front of..."

"Congress," admitted Courtney. "There will be a congressional subcommittee hearing. They'll determine who's guilty of running the unit, what crimes the unit has committed, and hopefully lock up the responsible parties. Only then will I get my life back."

Helen hugged Courtney, cringing at the thought such a young girl could have her life upended this way. With a soothing pat on the back and a wide yet wrinkled old smile, Helen assured her it would all be alright.

"Thanks," said Courtney, "It's nice to be able to talk to someone about it, someone other than Morris. He tries, but we have to keep hidden so it's safer for him to stay close to where he lives."

"That's probably smart. In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you like. It's nice to have another girl around to share a drink and some girl talk with..."

Courtney smiled, hugged Helen tight like she was seeing a long-lost grandparent, and then finished folding the linens before running off to grab her bag. She tucked her computer in the bag along with a notebook, a pen, and a nine-millimeter Glock. Courtney needed to do something to keep her mind off her worries so she planned on using her evening off to do some research. She still had questions about the F.B.I.'s secret division, the money trail funding the operation, and Manfred Powell.

A knock at the door preceded Manfred Powell yelling to enter. Manfred was preparing for a meeting with the group. Things had not gone well as Aleister and the hunters failed to find the witness. He had not managed to get Agent Morris to cooperate. Manfred was watching the lifetime of work, the legacy he built, start to slip from his grasp.

"Sir, the members are assembling below," his assistant told him.

"Thank you, I'll be there shortly," Manfred replied, waving his hand and excusing his employee from the room.

"Are you certain, sir?" asked Marco, his security chief.

Manfred had a plan to cure him of the risk the group now posed to his plans. Presenting it to the group was an entirely different matter altogether. He stood up, fastened his jacket button, and proudly lead the way down to the main meeting chamber.

The main chamber had a full table of members assembled. Manfred took his spot, standing as they all waited for him to acknowledge why they had been convened.

"What is this about, Manfred? Have we silenced the witness?"

"I'll get to that, senator," he answered. "Ladies, gentlemen, I thank you for coming. This chamber has been around for a very long time. Through our association with the right bodies of government and industry, we've amassed great fortunes and untold power."

Manfred walked around the room, recounting how he came to the table, inheriting the seat from his father. How his family helped to create the council, how the family fortune helped them build an empire for them to wield. How he had come to the conclusion that there was only one real solution to their current problems.

"What's that?" asked Muammar.

"Well, I was just getting to that. I've spoken with my assistant, Marco, and Aleister. We're in agreeance that the solution is really quite simple," announced Manfred.

As Manfred turned, standing opposite Aleister, the rest of the group looked confused. Marco stepped up, revealing the three were evenly dispersed around the group. As Aleister stood up, pulling out a silenced pistol, the whisper of his gun firing was barely audible but the spray of blood coming from the intelligence director's head as his body slumped over the table was noticeable. Marco pulled his gun out and put one bullet through the senator's head, sending her head against the table. Muammar looked on in shock.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Muammar.

"You've created quite a mess, a mess that could cost me millions. This is us fixing that problem," explained Manfred.

"You'll never get away with this. Think about this Manfred, this is only one arm of the organization," Muammar pled.

Manfred, Aleister, and Marco looked at each other as the latter two waited for him to pull the trigger. Manfred looked at Muammar, a smile wrapping across his face. He reminded the chairman of the group that change was called for when leadership failed to have any forethought. Muammar was lacking vision when he funneled the operational funding through the F.B.I. Now, thanks to Muammar's failure to plan things in a more functional way, they were all facing potential indictments.

"Sorry my friend, it's time for new leadership..."

"Bang, Bang, Bang" echoed the sound of the pistol in Manfred's hand as he shot his long-time friend and associate. He stared at the blank eyes and the shocked expression of the now-dead chairman of the group. He continued to stare at Muammars dead eyes until the sound of applause broke his trance-like state.

"I've been waiting to do that for a very long time," said Manfred, turning to a clapping Aleister and taking a bow as if he'd just an award.

"What do we do now, sir?" asked Marco.

Aleister and Manfred looked at the former muscle for the tycoon, laughing at the man's formality. They were all equals now, the new members of the chamber. Manfred would ascend to the head of the table now that Muammar was out of his way. Aleister would become the vice-chair of the group and Marco would be the Sgt. At Arms. It was a fitting title for Marco, who was someone that proficiently could handle any weapons thrown in front of him and didn't have any hesitation when it came to pulling the trigger.

"You're one of us now, Marco. You can dispense with the sir my friend. When the group learns that three members were assassinated, they'll assign three new members. Until then, we find Morris and his young protege', and we make sure that neither of them ever gets a chance to testify," he explained.

"What do we do with them?"

"We transport them to the Marina. We'll use the boat. We can make it look like they were meeting in secret, without a full table," said Manfred. "We'll rig the scene to look like someone snuck aboard and assassinated the three of them. Then, we wait until the Coast Guard finds the boat and reports the murders."

"Then what?" wondered Marco.

Then, thought Manfred, they could be the isolated members for once. Finally, after years as a member of the group, he could fulfill the mission it was founded on and not have to worry about lawyers, the department of justice, or the rest of the world. Manfred could enjoy the spoils that membership promised without having to worry about spending the rest of his life on the run; or worse, his body being dumped in the sea.

"Get them loaded up," said Manfred. "I'll call the airport and have the plane ready."

Aleister looked on puzzled. Marco wanted to know the same thing. Where were they going?

"West, gentlemen. We're heading west," he acknowledged.

"How do you know they're hiding in the west?" asked Marco.

Manfred laughed. "Because I know Morris better than Morris knows himself. Wherever she is, he headed west to throw us off the trail. Oh, and we'll need another team of hunters."

"I have just the group in mind," said Aleister. "They just landed in New York a few hours ago."

"Good, then offer them top dollar. We need to find the girl, and we need to find her before they anoint the three new members. We'll only get away with this once," said Manfred, looking at the lifeless face of their victims.