SOI 6 INCIDENT

The Controller (HQ somewhere in Sydney Australia)

Walking slowly into the transmission control room, with arthritis pain attacking both his legs, Hermes Boris aka ‘The Controller’ thinks he might be giving a hunchback image to his fellow agents. Four vital missions are going on, but only one, his, is going awry. He’s the Australian mission controller on the Thailand end game. True, the other missions are just beginning – Beirut, Lebanon; Port-Au- Prince, Haiti; and Brussels, Belgium. Under his direction, Pattaya, Thailand, is a huge mess at the moment. Actually, the mission started in South China. The Controller thought all was lost, but his agent in the field was a lot tougher than he realized.

Somehow ‘The Lizard’ had broken out of the Ministry of State security prison in China and traveled to Siam. Now the operative was caught up in the red-light district in Pattaya, Thailand, with two bullets in him. From our night vision cameras, Soi 6 is a chaotic bunch of beer bars, brothels, men’s clubs, and massage parlors. Disorderly would be the word for those streets. The Lizard must have called in a favor. He is stashed away in a ‘Yakuza’ safe house. One of the ‘Gokudo’ gangsters got in touch with the Agency and reported that the Chinese cell there had quietly cordoned off both sides of Soi 6. They’re letting most traffic go in and out, but there’s no way ‘The Lizard’ can camouflage without being spotted. A house-by-house search is being conducted at present for the person of interest. Our Yakuza people will try to hold them off as much as they can, but time is of the essence. The Lizard is expendable but not the mission.

The Lizard

I was worn down and laying on the bed in a fetal position - feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. Shifting just a tiny bit on my bed, I saw through the room mirror a haunting reflection of myself. Well, that was to be expected. I finally realized this Mission probably was my last hurrah. At this point, there weren’t any misgivings on my part. In fact, this might be the perfect answer. I was already given a death sentence in that New York City hospital the Agency had sent me to. “Prostate cancer”, the doctors had said, “metastasized to your bones.” A death sentence to be sure. My medical doctors had wanted to keep me in the hospital and do tests - experimental treatments in nature. But I told them to fuck off. I wasn’t a laboratory rat for them to do their stupid, goofy experiments on. ”Put me back in the field”, I told The Controller. “Give me a do-or-die mission.” Usually, the Agency wouldn’t have done that, but I was one of their best agents. My tolerance to torture was legendary - the Chinese were shocked at my endurance. I seemed to be immune to pain. Their mistake was to put me on the ground floor in that little gray room. Being an S&M enthusiast at a very young age, my mother, a professional slave driver, found out her son was a magnet for pain. With my thick electronic glasses sliding back and forth on the bridge of my nose, I wondered if this old Jew, code name ‘The Croaker’, the Agency was sending to my aid, would actually take me out and finish the mission or carry me over the finish line. That wouldn’t be such a bad ending I thought.

The Croaker

I loved living in Pattaya, Thailand. The kind of life for us elderly foreigners was pleasurable and comfortable. A nice alternative to the horrible ‘old age’ homes back in the USA. Problem was not too many Jews settled here. But the other old expats seem to be a bunch of nice men. I felt no prejudice against me, just some off-color remarks here and there, but nothing counting as antisemitic. Then the Agency called me in. Well, you make a pact with the devil, and this is what you get. My long holiday was over. Time to get back to being who I was. They didn’t explain the situation. They never do. Everything was going by too fast - too fast for me. I didn’t understand the intricate details of the situation. Of course, it was only on a ‘need to know’ basis. This was a strange assignment. Here I am - this elderly American Jew working for an Australian espionage agency – in itself bizarre. What was an agent doing in Soi Six, getting a ‘blow job’ with a young lady? Enough of my own bullshit thoughts. The assignment came first. I was there to locate a fellow agent, The Lizard! Locate him, assess his physical and mental health and give him just enough pain medicine to take care of his injuries. Then report by phone to the organization.

He found his man-purse and off he traveled via motorbike to Soi 6.

The Controller

Now that the Lizard’s location was found, time was of the essence. I believe the Croaker will cut through the Chinese web without further jeopardizing the mission’s outcome. He alone will not be sufficient to finish the assignment. So, we sent in two other agents - one of whom is the decoy to keep the opposition busy, the other is the best professional killer that the Agency trained. Two more oddballs to pursue our goal. No one uses a real name in our Agency. Everyone has a code name. ‘Metalhead’ wasn’t his original nickname, but it is now. He survived an improvised explosive device attack in Libya. Some of our top agents in the organization believed that after the onslaught, our representative received government-type enhancements in our special hospital. But the truth is, just the opposite. Our boys in white had to cut part of his brain away so he couldn’t feel pain anymore. He would have been in agony for the rest of his life if they hadn’t done that procedure. He lost his tongue plus his nose from the explosion - a miracle that his anatomy suffered no bodily harm. Our scientists provided and installed a ‘Porky Pig’ nose taken from an ugly hog named Hogwash. We also gave him an engineered head mask. He’s still mean with that gun of his. Yes, Metalhead is the diversion. Of course, he was eager to sign his life away and finish the mission. Another do-or-die agent. I just hope he doesn’t get carried away with too much collateral damage!

The Lizard

The pain – intense as it is – focuses me on my breathing. Trying to do the diaphragmatic technique but the bullet wounds in my arm and shoulder are getting in the way - controlling my body. I think I hear knocking at the door. Going to take a chance - getting up from the bed now is shockingly hard. I slowly crawl to the door. The pain is unbelievable now. Even my mother’s experiments on me don’t compare. I have a pair of scissors in my good hand for defense but that’s a joke. In seconds they could wrestle that away from me. I slowly open the door. In agony now, ready to faint. At this moment, a huge man is standing in the doorway. Not the Chinese, but a Yakuza gangster. Mole is what he’s called. Then I lose all consciousness - blacking out.

The Croaker

Oh my. He fainted. Did he buy the farm? The big Japanese fellow just looks at The Lizard’s body and says, “Not dead yet. I’ll put him back on the bed. Old man, get him well or kill him! We don’t have much time.” He picked him up like a rag doll and put him on the bed so fast, as if the body weighed nothing. He then said, “Okay I go now.” Turning toward The Croaker, he has one last thought. “Make a decision.” And off he went, closing the door behind him lightly.

Metalhead (in Agency’s secret hospital in Tokyo, Japan)

Horst Witterstein is my real name. I was once code named ‘the horse.’ Now I am known as ‘Metalhead’. I much prefer the alias ‘horse’ and I don’t care for the face mask I am currently wearing. Always so itchy. I was happy today because of the call. The Mission was on a need-to-know basis, but at first the Agency wasn’t sure I understood the details. So, they came to my door and I told them through this artificial voice (created from my voice box tied to my brain waves), that my tongue was gone, not my ears. I heard just fine. I was recovering in a part rehab, part mental institution. Most of the operatives here were still messed up, but not me. I wanted to die for service and country. I recognized I had brain damage, but not enough so that I should want to kill the innocent. Just the bad guys. The people who came to give me my assignment still didn’t understand me. Damn it, they didn’t know sign language. But I was smart enough to write it down so that they would finally understand that I realized the gravity of the mission I was given. I was ready –all six feet of me. I put my all into rehab so my muscles were bulging. I was ready to kill or be killed. This is what I lived for. My bizarre demeanor rattled the people that were escorting me. I could feel the fear of those other agents that were accompanying me to the special Westland Lynch helicopter. They said they would get me to Pattaya, Thailand very fast. Once there, I could get to my mission.

The Controller

Everything was falling into place, or so The Mission looked like to Hermes Boris. Except for the last piece. The quarterback of the mission was on her way. A very tested, ruthless agent. A natural born killer - a ‘Zelig’ who usually goes unnoticed. If this operative gets there in time, the mission stands a chance to be successful. He looked in the mirror in the command post. The reflection showed a very tired and worn-out old man.

“Mirrors should be forbidden in these chambers”, he thought. “I don’t feel well - must be the GIRD returning. I now always expect acid reflux to follow me in these vital missions. Not a good way to test my longevity. Still hoping to pull this off.”

In character he belched and off he went, leaving his workstation behind.

Enter the Chameleon

Very quietly I walked right to the entrance of Soi Six. Almost right away I had identified three of the opposition agents. A lot of young sex workers were going back and forth through the populated streets. The Twilight hour was upon them - the sun slowly exiting. All the artificial luminescence from the many brothels, bars and clubs took over. The streets seemed lit up and teaming more than ever with revelers. Definitely not to my liking. Acceptance of the situation came to me as I went over immediately to a jittery enemy agent.”

”Sir,” I said, “Don’t you want a sweet girl like me to spend the night with you?” He muttered something in Mandarin - probably a good curse word. But before he could finish his sentence, I shot him with a poisoned pellet from my tiny gun. I kissed the expiring agent and moved him during a fake compassionate embrace. To outsiders we looked like lovers. He wasn’t exactly dead yet, but he was getting there. The problem was during the next few seconds. One of the opposition operatives had started to notice something was awry. I felt that he was beyond my reach with my tiny dart gun. Just maybe I could use the almost dead body of the rival foe as a shield to get closer for an opportune kill shot. I had to eliminate this conflicting adversary quietly and efficiently, otherwise the whole operation could be blown.”

The Chameleon was about to make her move when she heard shots ring out.

Metalhead

This could be it! The helicopter was about to land on the rooftop of one of the corner bar hotels right near Soi Six. There was no permission given to the Thai authorities, especially this mission. Doesn’t matter. I know what must be done. The assignment comes first. I’m ready to die. I got out and was directed to where I had to go. Down, down I climbed on the spiral stairways. The place smelled like dog piss. Nevertheless, I got to the street. Not too much daylight was left, but with all the artificial light I could see the situation quite clearly. I recognized my fellow agent right away. We had met once before at an emergency briefing by our organization. Looks can be deceiving. She looked like an innocent young girl, but I could actually feel this fellow agent’s deadly karma. She was no girl, that lady boy was lethal. Now here we were - on a life-threatening mission. I took aim. The Chinese agent went down, liberating The Chameleon to make her next move. But of course, all attention was now on me and sure as hell rapid gunfire was approaching my way. I was wearing the best Kevlar bulletproof armor that the world market could buy or protect from IEDs (improvised explosive devices). The USA naturally produces the best protective gear. Well, those chaps in America are the most violent people in the world, so it makes sense that they would have the best safeguarding body wear as developed prior to The Taliban’s assault. Even if the bullets weren’t going through me, the impact was still very painful but I was ready for the imminent fusillade. I already killed three Chinese agents, freeing up The Chameleon to carry on with our mission. Thank God for the morphine I thought to bring - as artillery just kept barraging my way.

The Current Situation

The fog lifted from him abruptly. He was back to consciousness but felt no pain. There was an elderly man above him. The old man smiled at him and said, “I see you’re coming out of your clouds, hopefully feeling no pain. Do you think you can move?” The Lizard felt he must be dying because there was no more agony. Usually when that happens the professional instructors in his organization say that means that you are close to dying. This must be death’s narcotic hallucinations having a grip on him. He kept on seeing a beautiful young girl next to the old doctor. The sweet young lady persisted in requesting, “do you have the encoded device?”

He felt some type of self-consciousness. He was coming out of murkiness. The elderly man above him said, “I gave you a shot - just enough narcotics so you would not feel the pain.” After what he felt was a little time passing, he finally recognized the youthful woman. Except she wasn’t a woman at all. The trans assassin! Wow! What a beautiful Chameleon, the most ruthless killer of the Organization. They had met before on a brief mission. That ‘transfemme’ who looked so girlish - was actually a deadly killing machine. The female looking Liquidator repeated the question, ”do you have the implements?” “Yes I have it,” The Lizard replied. “My right eyebrow has recently been cut - under the scab is a micro dot - that’s what you want.” The Croaker calmly said, “yes we can transfer the micro dot onto my special scope. Just give me a minute more to do the procedure. You won’t feel any pain.” He brought out a tiny metallic device and brought it up to The Lizard’s sore eyebrow. A pinch - that’s all The Lizard will feel. “It’s done”, the old man said. “Good”, Chameleon nodded. “Now go. I have to take care of The Lizard.”

The Croaker

The retired old doctor, reluctantly and slowly left the chamber. He wondered – “what now is going to happen to The Lizard and the mission?” But he had got what was needed. He really didn’t want to know the end game for The Lizard anyway. Although they had been on many missions together, he went down the stairs without trepidation. He grabbed a young chunky Thai woman and told her he will pay her 1,000 baht just to escort him down the block out of Soi Six. The fresh-faced country girl looked surprised, but then she just nodded her head yes. As they proceeded down the street, he held on to her like he was very old and sickly - passing the enemy agents like he was the Invisible Man. Traveling another half a block on Beach Road, he gave his escort the money he promised her. He climbed on a motorbike taxi and just like that he was gone.

Metalhead

So far - so good. No fatal shot. But even with the best protective bulletproof vest in the world, he started feeling like a pin cushion. Thank God for the morphine, but the pain killing drug also slowed down his body and his senses. Finally, he got to his objective - the building where The Lizard was staying. Before he arrived there, he noticed the old man- the Croaker leaving with a young woman, that only meant to him the mission was a success. But at the same time what about The Lizard and The Chameleon? And there was one more difficulty he had - the Yakuza safe house cover was blown!

The Chameleon

Chameleon had her deadly weapon out. The small but death dealing gun was pointed at The Lizard. But then something incredible happened. Hesitation came into the situation. Never had The Chameleon killed a fellow agent before. Not protocol. The Lizard yelled at her, “what are you waiting for! Kill me bitch!” Just then the door slammed open. A thin Chinese-looking man with a Silencer Beretta M9A3 aimed and fired point blank range at The Lizard and The Chameleon. Both lay dead within each other’s arms. Before the Chinese agent could turn around something loud had exploded into his ears and within a flash he laid dead too. Metalhead had got there too late!

Metalhead

The mission was over. Metalhead started hearing the wail of the Thai authorities’ sirens. The police were called and arrived. Metalhead was deeply depressed. He was alive – a man who really didn’t want to be breathing anymore. He just didn’t get it. He walked out of the blown Yakuza sanctuary. There was pandemonium on the streets of Soi Six everywhere. There was no sign of the Japanese gangsters. Young women and ladyboys were screaming hysterically everywhere. There were plenty of dead bodies on the streets - blood and guts spilling out of the corpses everywhere - mostly of the Chinese cell that he had killed but unfortunately some innocent sex workers too. He just didn’t give a damn. A green and yellow taxicab pulled over. A heavy-set Thai driver who spoke English said to him, “Sir if you are hurt, I am ordered to take you to a private medical facility to help you with any of your wounds that you might have encountered. Nevertheless, it’s time for your extraction.” Metalhead muttered some words that the cab driver didn’t follow. But he got into the cab with no violence to the driver. He shut the door and off they went.

The Controller

The humming and the electronic noise turned quiet in that particular control room. Hermes Boris was beyond exhaustion. The organization would give him anywhere from 3 to 4 weeks of rest between missions, which is usually what it would take for controllers of vital missions to get the edge back on. He had lost two very good operatives and the Agency would have to throw a cash balloon to the Thai government to keep this Mission under wraps.

He looked at himself in the mirror that was in the chamber. Again, he thought why the placement of a mirror there. He was red in the face. To his credit this Mission would be marked accomplished. But two good agents died under his watch. That meant it would be harder to get field agents to work for him on upcoming missions. This has always been a hazard of being a director in the Agency.

He felt too exhausted to go home. There was a comfortable sofa bed in the room. He just wanted to sleep - the natural opium of the body healing. In the morning, he would gradually leave the building and have breakfast and go to his flat to review what he could have done better for this past mishandled, haphazard mission.

END