Welcome to my online cyber thriller, The Phisherman. If you'd like to learn more about the story and meet the three main characters, click HERE. If you’d like to start at Chapter 1, click HERE.
As the fog gently lifted from Nick’s mind, he realized he was not in the tunnel. He doubted he was in Syria. Or Iraq, where he was based. The bed was too comfortable. The smell was too clean. And most of all, the sweet sound of a young woman’s whispering voice had a distinctly British accent.
Slowly, painfully, Nick opened his eyes. As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he groaned. Being stuck in a hospital was bad enough. The bandaging that covered most of his body made his predicament instantly clear.
I’ve stuffed up big time.
He had insufficient time to take in the blonde nurse buzzing around him before a familiar voice called out, ‘Hey, Nick, you’re awake, buddy. Welcome back.’
On his right, Jaime sat in one of those semi-comfortable hospital chairs designed to make people uncomfortable after sitting in them for an hour.
‘Hey, Buzz, what happened?’ Nick asked uncertainly.
‘Nick, you aren’t going to believe it. That sick mother was wearing a suicide vest. You’re lucky you’re still alive. When we found you, you were in terrible shape. We all thought you were a goner. And not just from the bomb. We got you out just before the whole damn thing caved in. Unfortunately, we couldn’t rescue Jackson before it all blew sky high.’
Nick quietly cursed under his breath. He knew nothing about the young soldier who’d lost his life because of Nick’s unquenchable bloodlust. At the same time, it had been for a just cause – Baghdadi was dead. Jackson had died a hero’s death. In some ways, Jackson’s family should be grateful. The soldier had died doing what he’d pledged his life to. However, the ball-breakers would investigate his untimely death. Nick’s reckless actions would have consequences this time. He hoped it wouldn’t cost too much. He couldn’t cope with being sent back to Langley to work as a desk jockey.
Pushing his concerns aside, Nick asked, ‘So how long has it been since?’
‘Four days, buddy. You were so messed up, the docs put you into an induced coma. They reckon you’ll pull through, though you’ll have a mean scar on your face forever.’
What’s another scar?
Before Nick could ask any more questions, Jaime stood up.
‘Sorry, Nick, but I’ve gotta let Casey know you’re awake. Management is so pissed off over this one.’
Nick closed his eyes and sighed. He expected he would pay the price for how he’d run the mission. Casey had made it clear. Capturing Baghdadi was their focus. However, that had never been Nick’s goal. He’d wanted an excuse to take the terrorist’s life.
Nick suspected Jaime was calling Casey back in the States to tell her he was awake. He was surprised to hear the no-nonsense staccato clatter of her Louis heels entering his room within seconds. He opened his eyes to see her thin, trim frame only a foot away, glaring at him with those intense blue eyes.
Since she had been appointed as the SOG unit’s manager, they’d fought over every mission Nick oversaw. He knew he would disregard her officious yet naïve opinions from the first assignment she charged him with in Syria. Yet, he had achieved more than the Agency had hoped for at that time, gaining valuable intel about the Russian mercenaries while destroying several significant Syrian assets. Her eyes were unusually dark when she was required to commend Nick for his success in front of the unit. He suspected that she despised him and considered him a has-been.
In her eyes, the twenty-first century belongs to brains, not brawn.
‘What the hell do you think you were doing, Davies?’
Nick stirred from his thoughts and stared at Casey, then tuned out as she ranted and raved in her thin, whiny voice that set him on edge, going at him for his ‘selfish stupidity.’ He heard something about his reckless carelessness endangering the lives of others, but he was too fascinated at the way her blonde hair bounced as she yelled.
I’m sure that’s not her natural color. I bet the carpet doesn’t match the drapes.
She eventually got his attention when she coldly stated …
‘… so you’ll be having a full psych assessment before you’re assigned to whatever the hell duty you should be on after this stunt. And let me tell you, if I can ship you off to DC, that’s where you’re going. Don’t think you’re so damn amazing that the Counter-Terrorism Team can’t survive without the great and mighty Nick Davies. I’ve been waiting for you to give me the opportunity to show management that we can. So, I guess I should thank you for being you, though I’m disgusted that it cost another three good men their lives to get here.’
As she stormed off, Nick closed his eyes and exhaled.
That went well.
And then it hit him.
Three good men? Who was the third?
When Jaime nervously sidled back into the room as Casey’s heels frantically clicked down the hallway, Nick commanded his friend to tell him the truth. ‘Hey, Buzz, the bitch just told me Baghdadi’s mongrels nailed three of our guys. I know of Jones and Jackson. Who’s the third?’
When Jaime looked away, Nick’s stomach lurched. Buzz was one of the hardest nuts he knew. If Jaime couldn’t look Nick in the eye, it would hurt.
‘Who is it, Buzz? Tell me,’ Nick demanded.
When Jaime looked at Nick, his eyes were moist. Nick knew the legendary scout never cried. Jaime had taken multiple bullets before and hardly whimpered. Yet, whoever was gone mattered to Buzz. And that meant the loss would be personal to Nick.
‘I’m sorry, Nick. One of Baghdadi’s goons got Johnny in the head.’
Nick’s head dropped at the devastating news. He ignored Jaime’s soft words, ‘At least it was instant,’ as his mind filled with memories of the little Irishman from Chicago.
For five years, Johnny had journeyed with Nick through some of the most challenging years of their lives. They’d trained together. They’d completed their first mission together. And it was the little Irish gambler that helped Nick cope with many dark moments as they served their country in various cesspools of humanity. No matter what their team were charged with doing, Johnny would always have a deck of cards on hand. If the chance presented itself, he would whip the pack out, and it was on. Sometimes it was blackjack. At other times, poker or maverick was the go. And if it was not the time or location for cards, the Australian passion called Two-up was always an option.
Occasionally, it would result in physical conflict when someone felt aggrieved by a fellow gambler. Nick even had an altercation with Johnny one night after the Irishman suggested Nick’s good run was more than luck. When Johnny escalated things, Nick’s superior physical skills resolved the issue in seconds. Thankfully, most of their time together was filled with jokes and laughter. It created a bond that made them feel normal amid the lunacy of their life.
Reflecting on his past with Johnny, Nick’s mind filled with guilt at his friend’s death. He didn’t notice a spindly man in his forties with close-cropped brown hair enter the room.
‘Good afternoon, Nick,’ the beady-eyed stranger said in a thin voice as he held out a pale, bony hand. ‘I’m Doctor Alfred Portman.’
Nick ignored the man. Johnny’s death was all that mattered.
Withdrawing his hand and sitting down next to Jaime, Doctor Alfred continued.
‘I don’t know if your boss told you I would be coming to see you, Nick. But, so you know, I’m a psychiatrist stationed with GCHQ1. Your superiors have requested me to have a little chat with you about what happened.’
Nick glared at the slight man with the supercilious tone. However, the look was wasted. The doctor had turned to Jaime and politely demanded, ‘I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave us. I need to talk with Nick in private.’
Jaime rose as he almost spat, ‘I’ve got your back, Nick. Be careful of this little rat.’
As Jaime strode away, Nick continued glowering at the doctor with contempt.
Alfred gently responded, ‘It’s okay if you’re not up for this right now, Nick. We can chat another time. However, you and I will discuss what happened on your mission, no matter what you or your friend think.’
Nick’s eyes bored into the young psychiatrist’s as he retorted, ‘Then let’s get this over with, Alfie. I’m sure we’ve both got places we’d rather be.’
Alfred’s eyes briefly hardened at Nick’s tone before assuming the fake compassion Nick had seen on the face of every head-shrinker he’d been required to ‘have a little chat’ with.
And then Alfie was into it, asking an endless list of questions in a tone that tried to convince Nick the doctor was on his side. However, Nick was certain Casey had unofficially requested Alf to fail him for active duty.
After ten minutes, Nick had endured enough of Portman’s condescending tone.
Ah, to hell with it. I can’t keep going like this. I couldn’t live with myself if Jaime died because of me. But I’m not going to let the bitch have it her way. I haven’t had a break for over a decade. It’s time to cut the head of this snake while I can.
‘Hey, Alfie,’ Nick said, speaking over another meaningless question. ‘You can stop now. I want to take a break, not just from you but from all of it. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to put in for six weeks’ leave to chill with my sister back in DC. I haven’t seen her in over a decade. I think that’s what I need after I’ve healed enough to get out of here.’
Nick was pleasantly surprised when Doctor Alfie sat up and said in his weaselly voice, ‘That’s a stellar idea, Nicholas. And I’m going to endorse that heartily.’
Nick was disappointed when Alfred didn’t end his sentence with ‘you jolly good chap’ or something of the sort. However, he was rapt with the doc’s response. Nick would be back in DC on his terms.
Pondering it over, the more he relished the thought of seeing Lucy again. It had been far too long. They’d been close growing up in New York City before his parents were killed. Neither he nor Lucy had been the same since, though that was understandable. They were only teenagers at the time. She’d turned to drugs and wild living; Nick had focused on getting revenge. Sadly, as their paths diverged, they disconnected over time. That had been the easier way for both of them.
Maybe, after fifteen years apart, we can recover something those dicks stole from us all those years ago.
The following day, Nick was rapt to discover Casey had approved his time off, though it came with a caveat: ‘You’ll be assessed at Langley when you report for duty to see where your future fits.’
Nick suspected Casey would push to keep him at Langley in a desk job. He didn’t care. He was too valuable in the field.
She’s the new kid on the block, not me.
However, he would deal with that when the time came. That was how he always handled things. That had always made him a winner.
And he knew he would keep winning.
Hopefully, Nick’s egotistical character hasn’t annoyed you too much yet (sadly, he’s modelled on several old acquaintances) & you enjoyed the chapter enough to click the heart-shaped LIKE button below. And if you have any suggestions to help make the story better or want to encourage me as a storyteller (either would be nice), please leave a comment.Government Communications Headquarters is the UK’s chief security organisation for digital intelligence. GCHQ works closely with MI5 (security services within the UK), not to be confused with MI6 (UK’s international security services of James Bond notoriety). For more information, refer to GCHQ Overview