Survival Reflex

“Yes, sir. We came straight back,” Sutter replied. “I didn’t want to phone it in.”

“Straight back from where? The city dump?”

“Almost.”

“Explain yourself.”

“You ordered us to keep an eye on Cooper, sir, and follow him if he left the hotel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my memory, Sutter.”

“No, sir. Anyway, he did leave the hotel, and we trailed him. Making it obvious, just like you said. He saw us, all right, started boxing the block to make sure, then he led us downtown. Parked on the outskirts of the red-light district.”

“Window shopping?” Downey asked.

“That’s what we thought,” Sutter replied. “We figured if he tried to score a little action, we could break it up and spoil his evening for him.”

“Fair enough. How does that bring us to your tragic choice of aftershave?”

“We followed him a couple blocks from where he parked, and then he ducked into an alley.”

“And?”

“We went in after him.”

“Of course you did.”

“First thing, I thought we’d lost him somehow. Maybe he ducked through a door we didn’t see or something. Then, before you know it, he’s behind us.”

Downey saw where this was going, but he let the flow of words continue.

“Anyway,” Sutter continued, “we had words.”

“Such as?”

“He challenged us,” Sutter said.

“Challenged us,” Jones echoed, speaking for the first time since he’d entered Downey’s office. “Right.”

“Who made the first move?” Downey asked.

“Well…”

That answered it.

Downey refused to let the two incompetents provoke a raging outburst, though the pair of them deserved no better. He preferred to take his time, dissect them with a surgeon’s skill, enjoying every slice.

For all the good that it would do him now.

“I see,” he said. “The target challenged you, and one or both of you attacked him. Did I order you to rough him up, Sutter?”

“You didn’t say—”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a no. The two of you exceeded your instructions and then, what? He kicked your asses, I suppose?”

Jones fidgeted with eyes downcast. Sutter was fuming, anger radiating from his body like the stench of garbage that surrounded him, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Right,” Downey continued. “So, he kicked your asses for you. Knocked you both unconscious, I presume, since your report is hours late. And from the way you stink, I’d guess he dropped you down a manhole. Were you floating in the sewer all this time, ladies?”

Nothing.

“I can’t hear you.”

The crunching sound from Sutter had to be grinding teeth. His face was red enough to fit a stroke victim. Beside him, Jones reluctantly answered, “A garbage Dumpster, sir.”

“How’s that?”

“He put us in a Dumpster, sir, not down a manhole.”

“I’m relieved,” Downey said. “I don’t think that I could stand another load of shit from either one of you.”

“No, sir,” Jones answered.

“Will you shut up!” Sutter hissed.

“I’m gravely disappointed in the pair of you,” Downey announced. “You’ve turned a simple job into a screwup that’s left the Company exposed on levels you don’t even understand. You wouldn’t catch me lighting any candles if the mark had bled you out instead of marinating you in garbage. Are we clear?”

Apparently, since neither of the smelly two replied.

“My choices, broadly speaking, are to can your asses on the spot or to send you back to Langley for retraining and potential reassignment. That’s if I report your sorry asses for the mess you’ve made.”

“And if you don’t? Sir?” There was something close to hope in Sutter’s surly voice.

“You must redeem yourselves,” Downey said.

“How can we do that?”

“Begin by thinking for a change. What do you think might change my mood, right now?”

“Locate the mark!” Jones said, pleased with himself despite his reek.

“And…?”

“And…trace him to his contact?” Sutter asked.

“At which time,” Downey prodded, “you would…?”

That one stumped them for a moment, until Sutter hit upon the obvious. “We take ’em out,” he said. “Use locals if we can. No comebacks on the Company.”