Special Agent Harold Rathbone was no
stranger to high risk situations. It also wasn’t the first time someone he
watched wouldn’t heed advice. The Senator wanted to go to a magic show with his
son. Security was going to be a nightmare, but the Senator had promised his son
the outing. No matter what Agent Rathbone had to say, they were going.
Agent Rathbone briefed his team on
the concert hall and best exits to take depending on where a threat might come
from. The concert hall had no cameras and far too many ways in and out for the
comfort of any agent. If it weren’t part of a historic district, the place
would have been torn down years ago. Still, with intense preparation, they
loaded into the limousine and SUV’s to go to the show.
To Rathbone’s chagrin, the concert
hall was packed. He and his team had to push an opening into the crowd to get
the Senator and his son to their seats up in the balconies. A crowd like this
set his teeth on edge. He scanned the crowds for anyone who might be staring up
at them. Then he looked across at other balconies to make sure that no one
seemed to be hiding or acting strangely. All he saw were smiles and laughter. The
smile on the face of the Senator’s boy was almost comforting in light of it
all.
His earpiece radio crackled to life
with his team checking in from various positions. Twenty men were watching from
various angles throughout the hall. Agent Rathbone went through the paces of
hearing from each of them. As the crowd quieted for the show, it almost seemed
like all would be well.
The magician took the stage and
Rathbone couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone who looked like such a
slob. Maybe it was part of the act and he was supposed to be some kind of clown
or hobo. The magician wore a top hat with tuxedo, but his shirt was dirty and
his pants were ragged. His assistant was beautiful, however, with a shiny
outfit, tuxedo coat, and fishnet stockings. Her rainbow colored bowler hat was
a bit distracting, yet somehow familiar. For his looks, the magician wowed the
audience time and again with his tricks. Birds flew from scarves, cards
appeared from his fingertips, and orbs of flame floated around him like old
friends.
After several tricks and check-ins
his ear radio crackled.
“Sir, I have something near the
stage exit you need to see,” came the voice of one of his men.
“I’m on my way,” Agent Rathbone
nodded to another man in the balcony who moved forward to take watch.
Rathbone moved quickly down the
corridors and stairs to get to the point he was called to. He would have to go
across the main floor, through the crowd, and to a back stair for the stage. He
pushed his way through standing patrons to get into the main seating area and
walked down the wide aisle.
“And now for my most famous trick of
all!” the bearded magician shouted, “I’m going to blow myself to smithereens!”
There wasn’t even time for the words
to sink in as the blast rocked the concert hall and filled it with smoke and
screaming. Agent Rathbone hit the floor
hard from the concussive force and scrambled to move. If he didn’t get to his
feet fast, he would be trampled by panicked patrons.
“Get them out of here!” Rathbone
shouted into the microphone on his collar as he ran through the smoke. No one
could see more than a foot or so in the dense choking clouds and Rathbone
pushed past several people who were going for the door. He had to meet up with the Senator and get
the two charges to safety. Once he was sure he made it back into a corridor, he
turned right and shoved his way through the surge of bodies. He stumbled over
steps and ran as best he could. All the while he barked orders over the
microphone and could hear his men struggling to comply. He thought he heard
that the Senator was on the move. He turned again in the smoke, thinking he
found his way to the balcony, but as he stepped through, the smoke cleared. He
drew his weapon and kept aim ready. He was standing on the center of the stage.
Through the dissipating smoke, he
could see that the seats were empty and a few bodies were lifeless or severely
injured on the floor. A single sound of hands clapping distracted him to look
up at the balconies.
“Bravo! Good show!” the man shouted
from the same balcony the Senator once sat in. He stood tall with black hair
and a black diamond shape painted over his right eye. He was sharp dressed and
Rathbone now knew why the girl had seemed familiar. He read reports about the
Carnival of Fear and how they took down targets under these guises and shows.
He cursed himself for missing it earlier.
The man stepped out of sight from
the edge of the balcony and came out from behind the curtain on the left side
of the stage. Rathbone kept his weapon trained on the one called Showmaster who
still clapped his hands a couple of times as he stepped into view.
“Great show indeed, Special Agent
Rathbone,” Showmaster said with a distinct English accent.
Rathbone’s mic crackled again, the Senator
was clear and on the way home. They wondered where he was, but they couldn’t
get back in through the crowd.
“You failed,” Rathbone said, “We got
the Senator and his son out.”
“The Senator?” Showmaster said, “His
son? Who said we were after them?”
Rathbone stared in confusion, “Me?
Why would anyone target me?”
“Oh, you’ve thwarted one too many
assassination attempts in your career, Special Agent. One could say, you’ve
gotten too good.”
The magician, known as Mage, stepped
into view and held out a hand. Rathbone’s gun flew to the magician’s grasp.
“And your men, won’t make it back in
time, I’m afraid. My girl has the crowd in such a panic they’ll be busy for far
too long. But it really was a good show, wasn’t it?”
Showmaster brought up a sub-machine
gun weapon and it was the last thing Rathbone ever saw.
No comments:
Post a Comment