Chapter 1 On a rainy, chilly Saturday morning, FBI agent Jackson William Strode returned home, slightly hung over. He had had quite a night at a bachelor party for his younger brother, Mike. As he struggled to get his key into the lock of his apartment door, a slight hint of fear circulated through his body. Jack always had a knack for when there was trouble but decided to shake his worries off this time. "That is the last time I drink anything out of anyone’s shoe," he thought.
As Jack opened his door and turned the light on, he looked around. His twelfth floor apartment had been ransacked, papers and computer disks strewn everywhere. Even his old comic books and posters from when he was a child were thrown around his room. Jack felt that familiar surge of fear run through his body once more and, instinctively, he hurried from his apartment to the nearest public area, a street below. Jack knew that if whoever did this was still in his apartment, they wouldn’t be happy that he foiled their plans.
Still in a slight state of panic, Jack ran to a telephone booth as searched his pockets for some spare change. He dialed the number of his friend and partner, FBI Agent Samantha Christine Myers. As the phone rang, Jack looked up at his twelfth floor apartment, hoping that no one was looking back at him through the window.
After the ninth ring, as Jack was about to hang up, Samantha finally answered the phone.
"Hello?" she yawned.
"Sam, you’ve got to help me," exclaimed Jack, "I can’t speak to you over your own phone—you’ve got to meet me."
"Jack, its 3:30 in the morning..."
"I know, I’m sorry. Someone has been in my apartment—I need you to meet me somewhere..."
"Where, Jack? What’s going on—are you all right?"
"I can’t explain. Just meet me at the coffee shop on the corner of Main and 43rd street."
Chapter 2 Samantha, a tall, beautiful woman with deep, green eyes and long, brown hair drove up to Creedon’s, the little coffee shop Jack had mentioned. It wasn’t your typical coffee shop with a dark setting and people reading poetry. It was more like a diner, well-lit, with waitresses and a juke box playing old Elvis and Buddy Holly hits. Creedon’s was probably the only place open at 4:00 AM in all of Long Island.
As she closed her umbrella and opened the door, Samantha’s eyes searched for Jack, a good-looking guy with a medium build and dark brown hair and eyes. Jack was never a very popular guy, though he was handsome and charming with his words. Women usually stayed away from someone who always spoke of conspiracy and government plots.
Samantha moved towards a corner of the out-of-place coffee shop, where Jack sat, staring out a window, with his back towards a wall. She sat down, blocking his view and hopefully breaking his trance.
"Jack..."
He didn’t reply, as he stared forth and sipped his coffee.
"Jack!"
"What?!" he coughed, spilling some of his drink, "don’t sneak up on me like that! You know I’m jittery, right now..."
"Jack, you’re always jittery. So, what was so important that you felt you had to wake me up at 3:30?"
"I told you, someone was in my apartment... The whole thing was ransacked and I think I walked in on them."
"Do you think it was a burglary? Did you see who it was or call the police?"
"No, I didn't call the police..We are the police.. I wasn’t thinking so I called you."
"Thanks."
"That’s not what I meant. Anyway, I’m doubtful that it was a simple burglary. Why would a robber go through all of my things? Besides..."
"Besides?"
"Besides, I think I may be in trouble. I found out some things I wasn’t supposed to," he whispered, looking around, making sure no one was listening. "some big things."
"Such as?"
"Let’s go somewhere a little more private."
Reluctant and disbelieving, Samantha followed Jack out of the coffee shop. They decided to sit in her car and continue their conversation.
"OK. What big things, Jack?"
"Something about a new chemical the government is working on—a chemical set aside for the Serbs if war breaks out."
"Wait, hold on. First of all, this is big. What are your sources?"
"I...I uh, was sending the report I made about the drug bust on Wade St. through E-mail and..."
"And????"
"I decided to take a peak at Ericson’s messages. I couldn’t help it, I hate agent Ericson—He’s so arrogant! Besides, his passwords are obvious—it’s like he wanted someone to do it."
"Jesus, Jack, that could get you fired! What did you find?"
"Messages, encrypted messages from Agent Loomis, Agent Jefferson, you name it. It seems like everyone in the FBI, besides us, is on in it" he paused to get his breath, "Anyway, I decoded the messages to find out what was going on."
"Of course."
"I think they traced everything back to me. They made my apartment look like ground zero, trying to find out exactly how much I know. They weren’t expecting me to come home so early in the morning—I think I walked in while they were still there."
"They didn’t expect you home? Where were you?"
"Uh.. Visiting my mother."
As Jack and Samantha spoke, a police officer shined his flashlight into one of the car windows, startling them both. As the officer knocked, Sam rolled down her window.
"Is there a problem, officer?"
"Ma’am, might you be able to explain to me what the two of you are doing in this car so early in the morning?"
"Talking."
"Uh huh. Well, if you’re going to ‘talk,’ drive at the same time. You may give people the wrong impression otherwise," said the officer, suspiciously, as he walked away.
Samantha rolled up her window and drove off, taking a turn towards the highway.
Chapter 3 "I don’t think its safe for me to go home," said Jack, still frightened.
"Probably not. Tell me what you learned about this, this ‘chemical.’"
"Well, you know the Serbs are threatening to send missiles to the States.."
"Yes.."
"This chemical is intended for them. The thing is, the government wants to try it out first, so, in case it doesn’t work out as well as they think, they won’t look like fools. What better place to try it out than in an unsuspecting town? From what I read, they’re planning to place these things, these balls the size of ping pong balls in the center of a small town in Colorado. Apparently, these ‘ping pong balls’ release a purple haze, part of an extremely toxic gas. This gas from the balls is very potent, as I said, and can travel up to twelve miles in every direction, killing everything in it’s path. Apparently, there’s an antidote that will be administered through the same method as the gas, to reduce the death toll and to make things seem a little less suspicious. However, it will only be administered in small amounts after the government sees the effects the gas had on those who died."
"Jack, this sounds like science fiction.. Anyway, do you know the name of the town?"
"It’s been given a code name, ‘fire bird.’ From what I read, the gas is supposed to induce unconsciousness, first. Then, as the victim sleeps, the walls of the bronchioles in the lungs deteriorate, allowing blood to fill up the alveoli. Apparently, the victim drowns in his own blood."
"Ew. So, what do we do? If we find the town, great. If we warn the people, wonderful! How do we stop it?"
"I don’t know. We have to do something, Sam."
"Listen, we’ll talk about this after we get home. You can sleep on my couch for as long as you feel it necessary."
"You still don’t believe me, do you?"
"I’m trying, Jack. I just don’t believe in all of this conspiracy stuff."
Samantha drove to her apartment as she tried to sort things out in her mind.
Chapter 4 Samantha and Jack took the elevator up to her apartment on the second floor. Her building was a lot nicer than Jacks but, then again, Jack never really paid that much attention to where he lived. As Samantha searched for the right key, fear circulated through Jack once more.
"I don’t feel right about this. They may be in your apartment too, let me open the door." Jack held his breath as he opened the door and turned on the light. The apartment was fine, nothing had been touched. "They may have bugged your apartment."
"Jack, I doubt it. If they did, they would have searched it, too, to see if you gave me any papers or information," she reassured him, "do you want any breakfast?," she said as she looked through the refrigerator.
"Do you have an atlas?"
"Uh, yeah... I’ll get it," Samantha said as she closed the frige and walked towards the hall closet. "Here you go."
Jack quickly flipped to the pages with the Colorado map, "fire bird.. What the Hell did they mean by ‘fire bird?’"
"My grandmother was from Colorado. She lived in a town called Holt—it was part of a whole group of towns. Do you see any town named Phoenix on the map?"
"Uh.. Yeah.. right here," Jack said, pointing to a small area on the map. "Why?"
"A phoenix is a mythical bird. According to legend, it would reincarnate by combusting. From the ashes of the fire, a new phoenix would emerge."
"Hence, ‘fire bird?’ You’re a genius!" he smiled.
"OK, we have the place. Do you know when they’re planning to use the gas?"
"Three days. I just don’t know how they’ll do it. They want to be inconspicuous, so they’ll disguise themselves somehow, maybe even get kids to do it."
"Three days? The safest way to go is by driving. If we take a flight, there’s more of a chance of the FBI finding out I’m with you. I’ve got a week’s vacation—there’s just the problem of them knowing where you are."
"Damn. Well, they’re looking for me, to kill me. They probably think, with me being me, that I will be running around, telling the newspapers."
"We don’t have much time. If they find out you’re with me, there’s not much we can do about it. Let’s just try to get the job done before they catch us."
"Sam that’s a suicide mssion"
"We don’t have much choice."
Chapter 5 The two companions set out on their journey. They took turns driving for the next three days, stopping only for gas, food, and the occasional shower. They arrived in the small town of Phoenix Colorado on Monday afternoon, hoping they weren’t too late. All they could do now was look around and wander through the middle of the town.
"What do we do now, Jack?"
"Look like tourists, keep an eye out for anything strange."
"Tourists? We’ve been wearing the same clothes for the past three days."
It was about 8 o’clock now and most of the public had gone home. Jack and Samantha walked through the park, taking a fourth look around. In the corner of Jack’s eye, he saw a caretaker in the park, picking up litter. This wasn’t an unusual site since people often leave soda cans and sandwich wrappers all over parks. Still as jack watched, he saw the caretaker pick up some trash in front of a bush and press a button on a small white ball as he placed it behind one of branches..
"Sam, look over there."
"Oh my God.."
"Shh.. the timers on those things count down twelve hours—enough time for the FBI to get their agents and their families the hell out of here. Let’s go get a motel room and come back later, when everyone’s gone."
"What if someone sees? The ball will be missing, and they’ll go after us."
"Don’t worry. I picked this up at one of the gas stations we stopped at," he pulled an actual ping pong ball from his pocket, "I got it from the truck stop/gas station. They’ve got everything. We can pretend we’re married and play around near the bush. I can pretend to fall down and switch the balls while doing so."
"Good thinking, but.. Do you think that’s the only ball he planted?"
"They’re very potent. One is more than enough. Besides, the reports didn’t say anything about the amount. They just referred to this thing as ‘the ping pong ball.’"
Chapter 6 It was 10 PM. Jack and Samantha returned to the park, hoping no one else would be there. They returned to the bush where the ball was hidden.
"Here it is," said Samantha.
The two ran around and played as though they were in love. The act was convincing and seemed to be successful. Just as Jack made the switch, the sound of a gun loading scared him into dropping it. He held his breath as it fell, though no damage was done.
"Be quiet, put the ball where you found it, and get up," whispered the masked man with the gun. He forced them down a nature trail towards a black car. "Get in." As he got into the driver’s seat, the man took of his jacket and threw it towards the back.
Jack and Samantha got into the back seat of the car, rather frightened. "Who are you?" asked Jack.
"Who do you think, Einstein? The FBI."
As the car drove off through a small, wooded area Jack nudged Samantha gently. Without moving, he looked at her, and, with his eyes, pointed to his pocket. Samantha reached down, feeling the ball which lay inside. Jack had done it, he got the ball! Instinctively, she quietly took it out of his pocket and placed it into the pocket of the masked man’s jacket.
"Quit movin’ around back there!," exclaimed the masked man. He pulled into a secluded area in the middle of the woods. He forced Jack and Samantha out of the car.
"No!" Samantha screamed "Somebody, Anybody, Listen!"
"Shut up! No one out here will hear you anyway," he laughed.
The man pointed towards a pathway, and instructed the two to walk through there. "There’s a helicopter waiting for you."
Samantha started walking, and as she did so, the man pulled his trigger sending a bullet into the back of her head.
"No!!!!!," yelled Jack, stunned to the point of being unable to move.
The masked man slowly walked up to Jack and, at close range, shot him in the head. In his last moments, Jack thought "at least this son of a bitch will die and not those innocent people.."
The man put the gun in Jack’s hand, making the entire situation look like a murder suicide. He wiped his car keys clean and placed them in Jack’s front pocket. The car, of course, was registered to Jack, as well. It was amazing—the situation was perfect. The morning newspapers would read "In a jealous rage, man commits murder suicide with his girlfriend."
The masked man took his jacket from the back seat, and headed down the trail towards another black car. It had been three hours since the button on the "ping pong ball" was pressed, and a long trip was still ahead. In the car, waited three other FBI agents, including the caretaker who placed the ball behind the bush. They fled the scene, quickly, hoping to make a quick exit.
The car drove for hours. It was early the next morning and four men were driving through one of the great wheat fields of the mid-west. Suddenly, they heard a faint buzz. The ball began to release it’s noxious gas, forcing everyone in the car to fall into a deep sleep. The car sped out of control, hitting one of the only thing in sight, a telephone pole. Houses in this small farming community were several miles apart and no one found the wreck until the next day. Newspapers read "Drunk Driving accident in the small farming community of Lumbar—4 dead."
Chapter 7 On that same beautiful Tuesday morning, the sun shone beyond the light, puffy clouds in Phoenix. Children laughed and played in the park as they did every day. The weatherman predicted the entire week to be mild with no precipitation, around 63°F and, for once, he seemed to be right.
An older man, recently retired, sat, looking up at the clouds from his tiny park bench. He was in a pair of comfortable, old, brown trousers and a soft, navy blue sweater. For once in his life he was away from all of the sublunary tasks that everyone seemed to vainly perform each day, like robots. He was finally away from all of that—away from his job. He was no longer the proverbial worker bee, but, rather, he was able to enjoy his old age, for once.
As he stared up at the sky, describing cloud formations as "fire trucks," or "ice cream cones" in his mind like when he was a child, a feeling of sleep overwhelmed him. Still staring at the clouds as he began to doze off, he noticed a purple haze flowing through the sky. He thought nothing of it, and, even if he did, he was just too relaxed to want to move. In an instant, he was in a serene and comfortable sleep.
On a rainy, chilly Saturday morning, FBI agent Jackson William Strode returned home, slightly hung over. He had had quite a night at a bachelor party for his younger brother, Mike. As he struggled to get his key into the lock of his apartment door, a slight hint of fear circulated through his body. Jack always had a knack for when there was trouble but decided to shake his worries off this time. "That is the last time I drink anything out of anyone’s shoe," he thought.
