GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra

Chapter Two

The file storage room smelled of dust and old paper. Row upon row of cardboard file boxes held thirty years’ worth of paper documents. There were several such storage rooms in the Pentagon, some less guarded than others. The door opened with a squeak and the fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating the long rectangular room.

The woman who had passed Hauser in the hallway earlier stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her. She tucked an identification card into her pocket and pursed her lips, looking around the room uncertainly. She walked across a few aisles to a row of large filing cabinets against the wall. She tried one of them, but they were all locked. Each cabinet had four drawers, secured by a lock on the upper right corner that would unlock all four drawers.

The woman knelt down and inserted a small plastic rod into the lock. She twisted the end and scurried away behind some rows of cardboard boxes. A few seconds later, the rod exploded with a muffled thump, blowing the lock apart with a burst of plastic and smoke. The top drawer slid open, smoke rising up from the rows of files within.

The woman flipped through the files, taking out a few folders jammed with blueprints and diagrams. She didn’t take the time to read them carefully. She went to the next cabinet and took another explosive pin from her pocket.

The door opened and she stood up straight, holding the folders flat against her chest. She turned around with a toss of her blonde hair, a friendly smile on her face.

A guard entered the room and looked around for a moment before walking towards her. He wore his full military uniform and had a pistol holstered at his hip. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said politely. “Can I see your identification, please?”

“Certainly,” she said, coming toward him. She reached into her pocket and held out the identification card.

The guard looked over her shoulder. “Do you smell smoke?” he asked.

The card slipped from her hand and fluttered to the floor. “Oh, gosh! I’m sorry,” she said, bending over to pick it up.

The guard bent over as well. “It’s okay, ma’am. I can –”

She jumped up and slammed her knee directly into the guard’s face, crushing his nose. He jerked backward, fumbling for his gun. The woman dropped the folders and swung her elbow at his face, grabbing his arm with her other hand. She hit him right in the temple and he staggered to the side. Grabbing his collar, she pivoted and spun him right into the wall. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, his pistol falling from the holster. She kicked it down the aisle and it slid under one of the metal bookshelves.

She took a deep breath and smoothed out the front of her blouse. Checking to make sure there was no blood on her knee from when she broke the guard’s nose, she quickly picked up the folders and returned to the filing cabinets. She only spent a few minutes searching them before she gave up. She left the room, turning the light off after her.

It took almost ten minutes before she made it out of the building. All the while she kept her breathing steady, casually holding the folders under her arm, covering the “Top Secret” markings with her sleeve. She nodded politely to people who passed her in the hall.

She walked out of the hallway to one of the large lobbies and headed for the exit. There were armed guards standing on duty, their green uniforms crisp and clean, their gold buttons shining in the daylight. The woman walked up to the doors and the guard politely held out his hand to stop her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “Can I see your identification?”

“Of course,” she replied with a cool smile, reaching into her pocket. She froze then, her eyes blinking wide for just a second, as she realized the ID card was not there. It was still on the floor in the storage room; she had forgotten to pick it up after incapacitating the guard.

“Oh dear,” she whispered. “I must have left it ...”

“Mrs. Carlisle,” came a loud voice from behind her.

She turned as a man in a General’s uniform approached her. He was tall and stocky, with a dark complexion, and a brown mustache and dark brown hair sticking out from under his hat. His black leather shoes were polished so much they shined. He smiled genially at the guard, who saluted.

The General returned the salute and touched the woman’s arm. “I decided to join you for lunch after all,” he said, a Western twang on the edge of his voice.

“I must have left my identification card on your desk,” she said sheepishly.

“Oh, well that’s no problem,” he said. “It’s okay, soldier. The young lady is with me.”

The guard stepped aside and let them pass. The General patted him on the shoulder and said, “Have a good day, son.”

“You too, sir. Thank you.”

The woman walked briskly through the doors and out into the bright afternoon, breathing a sigh of relief. The General came up beside her and they walked down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Don’t thank me,” the General said, his voice deeper than before, the Western accent gone. “Just doing my job.”

Together they walked to the parking lot and got into a nondescript brown sedan with tan-colored seats. The woman sat down in the passenger seat and began skimming the papers in the folders. The man in the General’s uniform got in the driver’s seat and wordlessly started the car, glancing briefly at the woman before returning his eyes to the road.

In midday Washington traffic, it took just over an hour to go ten miles. They switched cars in a supermarket parking lot and drove away in smaller blue car. Another hour later, they stopped at a small chemical supply company and walked around to the back of the building, where a sleek black helicopter was waiting for them. They were beyond the No Fly Zone around the Capitol now, and could safely take flight.

The rotors began spinning as soon as they approached the chopper. They stepped inside the helicopter and slid the door closed. Moments later, the helicopter lifted upwards and flew into the air. It angled forward and flew in a northeast direction.

About an hour and a half later, the helicopter slowed and lowered down to a fenced-off compound in upper New York state. There was a three-story building in the center of the compound, as large as a city block. Armed guards in black and red uniforms patrolled the perimeter, and the fences surrounding the area were topped with razor wire.

The helicopter dipped down and slowly settled on a large concrete patio behind the building. The rotors slowed down as the chopper shut down.

A blonde in a business suit and a General with a mustache had entered the helicopter, but they did not come out. Instead, a brunette woman wearing a tight-fitting black leather outfit stepped out of the chopper, her legs encased in thigh-high black boots with stiletto heels. Her long dark brown hair whipped around as the rotors slowed down, and her eyes were shielded with large black sunglasses. She glanced around and stalked off the concrete pad toward the building.

Behind her, a man stepped from the helicopter. He wore black boots, black leather pants with a red stripe down the side, and a sleeveless leather vest. Black fingerless gloves were on his hands. His exposed chest and abs were ripped with muscle, as were his arms. His head was shaved, and his eyes were concealed behind a pair of small red sunglasses. He carried a black satchel bag from the helicopter and walked away in another direction.

The woman entered the building and went straight down the long hallway. The interior was decorated entirely with black marble and red metal, and more armed guards stood ready inside the hallway, letting her pass without comment. She went to the elevator and up to the second floor.

She took a deep breath and removed her sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket. The carpeted floor kept her footsteps silent as she walked down the hall to a large office at the end. Before entering, she licked her lips nervously and then unzipped a few inches of her leather outfit to reveal a hint of cleavage.

The doors slid open as soon as she approached, activated by motion sensor. The office was huge and sprawling, with a red carpet and black walls. Black leather chairs and couches dotted the floor here and there, with a few shining black end tables. Windows lined one wide of the office, looking out across the rear of the compound.

The letters M.A.R.S. were on the far wall in huge red letters, right behind a wide desk without a single object on its shining surface. The woman stepped inside the office and waited patiently as the man standing by the windows acknowledged her presence.

He wore an expensive dark gray suit that seemed to shimmer, as if coated with silver dust. Tall and thin, the man nevertheless held a forceful posture, his arms crossed, one hand lifted up to absentmindedly rub his chin. He had thinning brown hair and lines of age across his forehead, but his dark eyes were quick and active, and his movements were sleek and lithe.

“Anastasia,” he said softly.

“Yes,” the woman said, licking her lips again.

He turned to study her, but his eyes never left her face. He folded his hands behind his back and walked slowly in her direction. “I take it your little mission was not successful,” he said, his voice soothing and harsh at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get anything. Just some old blueprints. Nothing we can use. Someone found me, and I had to knock him out, and I was afraid –”

“Shhh,” the man said softly, as he came to stand right in front of her. He reached out and set his hands on her arms, and then leaned forward and placed a very gentle kiss on her cheek. His eyes softened for the briefest moment.

“I was worried,” he said. “I’m glad you made it back okay.”

Relief poured from the woman in a wave. She managed a smile and then reached up to take the man’s hand, but he slipped away from her grasp and retreated farther into the office.

“I was hoping for some new information to sell,” he said casually. “But it’s okay. We’ll just have to work with what we already have.”

“When are you meeting with the new customer?” she asked, trying to keep with the conversation, afraid to stay silent.

“In a few hours. I must confess I have second thoughts about his sincerity, but he is certainly legitimate. Whether or not he can afford our services is another matter.”

The woman walked forward. “Would you like me to come with you?” she asked hopefully.

“But of course,” he said with a smile. “It’s very important that you come with me. You are very important,” he added. “I would not trust anyone else to stand by my side.”

The woman let out a breath and smiled awkwardly, her cheeks flushed. She folded her hands in front of her to keep from fidgeting. “Thank you, James,” she said softly.

The man stood in front of his desk and swept his hand along its flawless surface. Facing away from her, he smiled to himself. “Zartan returned with you, didn’t he? Is he still here?”

“No, I don’t think so. He probably left already.”

“It’s just as well. I’m sure he’ll be back later to receive his payment.”

“James,” the woman said. “You know that I ... I don’t really like Zartan that much. He makes me very uncomfortable. The way he looks at me, I mean.”

“Yes, he a bit antisocial, I suppose. But he is a valuable asset just the same. A man with his talents is a rare thing.”

“I guess so,” the woman admitted.

The man smiled and went up to her again, taking her hands this time. “I think it’s best we get ready. I would like to be there early if possible.”

“Of course.”

He looked into her eyes for another moment and then smiled once more. “Anastasia, would you please get my mask for me?”

<--Previous Chapter|Next Chapter-->