ACES HIGH

By Aaron Stanley

She was known by many names, as many people. She changed identities as much as needed, never being the same person for long.

She called herself Domino, and she was up against it tonight.

She’d been hired by a general to break into an AIM base, and take back an artefact. She was only given a description of the device. She wasn’t told what it could do, or why it was wanted. All she knew was he wanted it, and he paid in non-sequential, crisp 500 dollar bills, stacked fifteen to a stack, and 20 stacks to a briefcase. It was more than her usual fee, which is why she had dropped her other jobs to put this one first in line. That’s how she knew he had to be connected to the CIA. The US government didn’t pay cash, and they certainly didn’t knowingly sub-contract.

Breaking into the facility had been easy. With the jumpsuits AIM wore, it was a cinch to jump a foot soldier, and steal his footie pyjamas. She’d made it to the laboratory quickly, and located the device. She’d switched it for the fake, and was making her way out of the room, when someone stopped her. “Aren’t you supposed to be down in nuclear?” the soldier asked. He was raising his voice, and now the other scientists were starting to take notice.

“They sent me up here. I’ve been reassigned. I’m now the inter-departmental liaison. I figured I could come up here; see how you guys were doing. So, it seems like you guys are ok, so I’ll head back, file my report, and see you guys at the meeting. Okay, good talk,” Domino said. She hoped her old trick would work. She turned and left like she had a purpose.

By the time the man entered the hallway, Domino was in a flat run, and 50 feet away. She turned a corner, took the time to lose the suit, and made sure she had a round chambered. She didn’t want to have to rock and roll only to dry fire.

Taking her bearings, she set out at a quick jog. She figured the alarm would sound anyways, but if she could get to one of her three exit points before being found, she stood a good chance of getting out clean.

Domino found her first point of egress, and opened the ventilation shaft. She hated getting out like this, she always felt like she was on a bad TV show.

She neared the point at which she was out on the roof, and able to get down into the small boat she’d hired, and concealed along the river’s shore. She was nearing the grate, when bullets hammered through the small vent, narrowly missing her. She jumped back, and waited for the fire to die down. She crawled past the holes fast once the firing stop, and continued to move. She made it to the roof, which was when she realized she’d been hit. The bullet had gone into her stomach. Checking the wound quickly, she found it went into her stomach and out her back. She tore a strip off her shirt sleeve, and plugged the bullet hole. It hurt like she couldn’t believe, but it’d stop most of the bleeding.

She walked to the edge of the building overlooking the river, and spotted the boat she’d hired to pick her up. She waited until it was close, and she jumped into the water, and then pulled herself into the boat. “Al porticciolo ed il digiuno,” she said to the boat’s captain. Her Italian hadn’t been practiced for a long time, so she wasn’t sure she got it completely correct. When the man set the engine to its fastest speed and started moving up the river, she sunk down and laid against the rail. It’d be an hour to the marina, at least. She figured she’d catch some sleep, if she could. It wasn’t long before she was passed out in the back of the boat.

As the boat changed speed, Domino snapped her eyes open. They were at the marina. So much for her plan to only spend a few minutes sleeping. She gathered her bag with item she’d…”collected” from AIM. She stepped off the boat, and looked around. It was late, and there didn’t seem to be anyone there waiting for her, good or bad. She handed the man the other 100 dollars she said he’d be paid, and thanked him for the service. She headed out of the marina, to the motorcycle she’d left parked. Securing the bag, she put on the helmet, and took off towards Aviano Air Force Base, located near Pordenone. With the AIM base being not that far from the base, she’d decide that she’d use an old Air Force cover to get a ride back to the States, by way of Germany.

It took awhile for the gate guard to run her ID up the ladder, but eventually someone that owed her a few favours was called back in Washington, and he approved Domino’s ID. She was glad he’d even taken the call. At this time back home, he was usually about to step out of the office for a few drinks. Getting on base, she was told it’d be about two hours before her flight left. She decided to go to the mess hall, and get some food. She queued up, and made her way down the line. She didn’t see a lot she liked, so she got a salad and some water. As she moved to sit down, she felt a little light-headed. That’s when she remembered the bullet wound. She decided she’d better make her way to the medic after she ate. Figuring her faux bandage would hold, she took her time with her meal, and then made her way over to the hospital. She was checked out by a doctor, who cleaned the wound, and applied some bandages.

“You should rest up. That’s a bad area to have a gunshot wound, it can get septic quickly. Thankfully it didn’t hit anything vital, or you’d be in surgery right now,” the Doctor advised. He took off the gloves, and tossed them in the garbage. “Now, how did you come about this wound?”

“Oh. Some guy tried to mug me. I put up a fight, and he pulled out a piece. We fought for the gun, and it went off. He took off after that. Must not have figured that he’d have such a job on his hand,” Domino said. She put her shirt and jacket back on.

“A mugger shot you with a P-90?”

“Yes?” Domino said. She knew the doctor wouldn’t buy her story, but he wasn’t cleared, so it didn’t really matter if he believed her or not. Thanking the doctor, she got up and left the office. She checked her watch, and saw that the flight would be leaving within the next half hour. She headed over to the airstrip, and checked in with the loadmaster of that flight. The great thing about being in the Air Force is the free airfare she joked to herself. She took along a parachute, just in case she had to bail out for any reason. Until she handed off the item, she couldn’t count out AIM’s ability to come back on her and make themselves a nuisance.

She boarded the plane, and settled into the crash seat that was mounted on the side of the plane. As the C-40 rumbled down the airstrip, she put on some headphones, and turned on her iPod. She put on a random mix, and then leaned back. She was asleep before the Clipper reached its cruising altitude. As the plane touched down a few hours later, Domino undid the harness, and stood up, leaning hard against the deceleration. The plane would have to be unloaded, then loaded again. It’d be a few hours, so she figured she’d check in with an old contact, then return to catch the plane.

Walking out the gate, Domino caught a ride to nearby Kaiserslautern. Called K-Town by the Air Force personnel on permanent station, it was a city of close to 100,000, who enjoyed the money pumped into the economy by the NATO personnel at the base. That meant finding a bunch of cabbies by the gates of Ramstein was commonplace. She had the cab drop her off in a part of town that wasn’t normally visited by NATO troops. They’d been told to steer clear.

She found the pub she was looking for, and opened the door. She walked in and looked around. She went to the bar, and ordered a beer. She asked the bartender if he could find an old friend named Oleg Katler. She slid him a 50 Euro note, which made him set down the glasses he was “cleaning,” which meant wiping them out with a rag that looked like it hadn’t been washed this year.

It wasn’t long before the ‘tender returned and pointed her towards a booth in the back. ‘Figures he’d be with his back to the wall,’ Domino said to herself. She pushed through the crowd, and walked up to the table. Grabbing hold of the image inducer in her pocket, she turned it off, and showed her face. “Oleg, mind if I sit down?”

“I don’t. But you shouldn’t be here long. The bartender is already dialling the KSK,” Oleg said, waving towards the empty seat across from him.

“That I expected. I won’t be here for long. I just wanted to pick your brain for a minute. I know you say you’re retired, but we both know no spy ever really retires. And you were more plugged in then almost anybody back in the 80’s. Hell, you damn near showed me the ropes in the 90’s, and you were still one of the primary’s for contracts.”

“There might be something to that,” Oleg admitted. “What would you like to know?”

“Heard of someone named General Kazon Catsoff, USAF?” Domino asked.

“Don’t tell me you work for this man?”

“Just tell me,” Domino said.

“He made his career in the 70’s and 80’s, working for the CIA. He was one of their best target liquidation men.”

“So, he was their top assassin?”

“Ja, and more. If anyone in the CIA was going to be dubbed the worst of the worst, he’d be it. I know he participated in at least 15 false flag ops, two or three dozen liquidations, and more information pulls then I care to count. He’s how I got this,” Oleg said, raising his arm, and rolling up the sleeve. He had a scar that ran from elbow to wrist. “He tied me to a chair, and implanted a wire to the electrical in the house. I was there for weeks. He’s a butcher, and he enjoys it. I implore you to keep your distance.”

“I appreciate it. Any advice on what to do with something he wants, if you think I shouldn’t give it to him?” Domino asked.

“At this point, to not give it to him, you’d have to change your mutant power to invisible. He’ll take it upon himself to send all his “employees” after you. You’ll be on the run for the rest of your days, until he gets what he wants. Or…” Oleg began. He took a drink, and set the empty mug down. “No, I won’t suggest it.”

“What? Tell me, Fachlehrer,” Domino said. It was what Oleg had asked her to call him, back when he was teaching her the ropes.

“The only way to avoid giving him the item is to go on the offensive. Hit him, before he can put a team together and get a hit on you. And you have five minutes to leave.”

“Frig, Oleg. You’re asking me to put the crosshairs on a General, and the CIA director?”

“No. I’m saying to avoid running, or giving him the item, you could hit him, and pray he didn’t tell anyone his job with you. Knowing what I know about him, he most likely wouldn’t have.”

Domino took a pull from her drink, buying time to think. She had to figure it out before she left the pub, but she felt like the walls were closing in on her. She didn’t expect this job to become so complicated. But she figured that’s what she gets, being a bad girl and not just keeping her head down, doing the job.

“If I do go for your option, can I plan on your support? I can’t very well travel Air Force to go and tussle with a director.”

“I cannot. Two minutes.”

“You’re painting me into a corner here, Oleg. You knew what was going to have to happen as soon as I asked about the man. That means you’ve spent five minutes plotting. So tell me. Or I tell wife number 2 about mistress number three.”

“Cruelty does not become you. But I will help you. There is a woman who’s looking to make a name for herself as a mercenary. Hire her to do the hit. She goes to the US to bury the general. You go to Madripoor to keep your head down. Her name is Host, and she is currently in Paris, I believe. I can provide you with transportation there, but that is all I can do. I am retired, and people owing me favours are disappearing from the landscape.”

“That’s fine. Do this for me, and I’ll disappear from your life. But I need to leave town now. If I stay while you put together a flight plan, he catches up to me. Especially if he’s as smart as you say he is. He’ll know something is wrong when I don’t arrive in Washington. So how do I get to Paris quickly?”

“I have a second car; I was planning on giving it to my wife. Take it, and do as you say, disappear. I know you have enough money to get yourself to Madripoor.”

“Fine. Where is it?”

“In the lot by the Brauhaus am Markt. Here are the keys,” Oleg said, tossing them across the table. “It sticks a bit. It’s full of gas. Your time is up.”

Domino grabbed the keys, and headed towards the back. The door was locked. Hearing the KSK rush into the bar, and the bartender telling them she went out the back. She kicked open the door, and ran down the block. She headed up the block, and flagged a cab down. “Brauhaus am Markt,” she said.

Next Issue: Domino gets out of Germany, and meets up with Host.