Agent with a History

Two days went by in which we saw no one. On the third day our destination began to appear and before long we were coming inland toward the small jetty, where a drug runner lived, where I was supposed to help Flint steal a plane.

Moralities of justice were beginning to become skewed. Was it really so wrong to steal from a drug runner? Surely that was a permissible sin, if there was such a thing. Wincing, I grimly doubted it.

Flint was walking toward me and he had a very sheepish look about him and I watched him curiously as he drew closer. Something was crumpled up in his fist and I knew what it was. I had been waiting for this moment ever since I'd gotten on board. He looked very uncomfortable as he stood in front of me.

He wouldn't even meet my eyes, which was very unlike him. "We'll be there soon. These are pretty rough characters. They'll likely try to kill me just for sport, but when they see you they'll kill me just to have you. We have to kill or injure them first, if we plan to get out of here alive. They won't try to kill us right at first; Benito likes to talk too much for that. That will be our chance to take them out. The problem is that Benito will have one or two of his men off to the sides that I won't be able to take out and still deal with those of them that are in front of us. I need you to take the out runners out of play."

I nodded.

He swallowed hard and continued, "To help us pull this off a distraction could be useful. Now, just by yourself normally dressed you're a distraction, but…" He looked away like he didn't want to continue.

I reached out and took his hand and tugged on the fabric he held within it.

"It's all right, I'll do it."

He looked back at me, "No, it's not! You're a lady and I don't like making you appear to be a slut!"

I stood up. "You know I'm a lady. That's all that matters."

I tugged again and he let go and I walked down below decks. Time to face yet another fear.

Barefoot, I walked back up the stairs and turned around the wheelhouse to face Flint. His face was a studied mask of control, but the beat of the pulse in his neck was doing triple time. That rapid pulse gave me confidence and I smiled shyly, "I look pretty good don't I honey?"