Episode Eight

Mama, how do you feel the great love of me?

Hmm. Is that so? And so creamy. Hey, how can Papa Kremey be? Nutella.

Or from Mama and dad. No Nutella is Nutella.

“But what I want to tell you is not the most important student.”

The semester-by-day lab taught her soft Hindi internet.

And so master's really great. Ah, you can say that you can cook it. Yeah, do you have a story behind it, huh? But I don't know. Egal.

Zauberwort for lust contract. Make it just like this story. And when they then work, he says, "Catchin'. That's right. Save.

Like this story. Hold it, then go back. Now we're going to try it out.

“Cruising in Sun Synchronous Lower Thorbit 450 miles above the planet.”

The all-one satellite looked like the cylindrical handle of a lightsaber. The two short spatulas sticking out the side made up its solar panel array. Originally commissioned by Noah, it ran out of its useful life as part of the defunct above Earth Supervisory in Oceanographic Program and had been decommissioned seven years ago.

But unlike other Decom satellites, all-one never retired with a fiery charge into the atmosphere.

At the time, the director of National Intelligence commented, "Now an impotent half-ton of metal and polymers. It completed another taskless orbit of the globe, in less than four hours. Its daytime optical sensors and synthetic aperture radar imaging systems were dark. Although its infrared cameras were still viable, any operational communication systems

had ceased long ago.

“As it was used for image storage and processing, all-one was loaded with high-performance”

processors and the massive amount of data storage. Dell-one still had a pulse deep within, a heartbeat ticked, on a small display panel of L1, an uncatalog day eye called Sentinel held a conversation with itself. The satellite arcs around the globe waiting for a particular message to arrive. The call comes in from a satellite phone.

The eye converted the vocal signature of my mentor, the former director of National Intelligence into code. Thanks to a quick thinking shop owner with an alligator gun, I managed to survive my last album. Unfortunately, my luck ran out when camera footage from a gas station across the hotel

of the fridge caught me limping out of the car and going into the side entrance. Facial recognition software flagged that head. And had that intel on Jackie Morehouse's desk not long after. Gotcha. She didn't know my name, but she had my face.

And as I soon found out, I figured out where I was. Jackie knew that a field operative like me didn't go rogue without a push or a mentor. Whoever the hell you are, I can guess who put the bug in your ear.

first light tomorrow and get some quiet eyes on the hotel a fridge, put some infrared

on it.

“I want it narrow to a floor or best case a room and get me a current location on former”

D&I "Jetric James Birch." Star Echo Tango Eal Hold for live transfer. Unknowledge it to meet in the salt team at the so-called dry dock on first street and grab out tonight at 2300 hours.

Target since supporting intel will be at your dead drop, take down that first light. Looking forward to it. Your own point, see that it's done right this time, in the meantime, I have something else. Something else? I need you to take out some trash.

Thank Bernardine of CNS respiratory convalescent, center in old memory room 11, natural causes. Nice, you're quiet, acknowledged. I ain't dead yet. At St. Bernardine of CNS, Jed Birch had just finished sending his message through a sat phone up to Owl 1.

He looked up to see an attractive Asian nurse with spiky blonde hair entered and walked up to his IV line.

He'd never seen her before, which got Birch thinking, then he saw the syringe in her hand

and he knew. This time for your medicine Mr. Birch. "As that how it is, what took you bastard so long?" So was that, give me the phone.

“What is this, next interval, what happens in 24 hours?”

Pizza delivery, you know, I'm glad they didn't send an ugly one. If you were here to kill me, I'd be grabbing your ass. The phone, what's it mean? Wake up, call. For you?

No, darling, for you and the people who you work for.

Cause sooner or later, some just like you is going to come for you.

I condones us to your family. See you in hell, gorgeous. Special Asian in charge, Robert Brigshaw, arrived at Hotel La Friege to check on his witness. My half-brother was motivated to keep up appearances because Jolene T. Garden wasn't just his niece.

She was also a witness in a federal investigation into the attempted assassination of a congressman at the airport in New Orleans. He glanced down at the bandage on my farm. What happened to you? Nothing.

Is this safe house listed?

“You mean registered through a DNI's office to the whole goddamn intel community?”

You think I'd bring Casey here? No, it's hours alone. It's not even listed with a bureau. And we should get out of here. I've got my own safe house. I need Jolene local, and I still want names from Casey.

I've been looking through more of the data. This is bigger than just what's going on with us or what's happening here in New Orleans. What did you find? Using the DNI codes, Altingame, I've been able to tap into a few other number stations. There's been off-book activity in all of them.

Civilian hits, kidnappings, industrial sabotage, coordinated robberies. The operation to pull that off would be massive. I need names. I'm not going to happen. I've got everything I'm going to get here with the laptop and slow connection.

What do you need? Not much. An antenna array, multi-band receivers, signal and frequency analyzers. Oh, and it's happened to satellite communications when hurt. Oh, yeah, on a data center.

A big one. How do I find them? Buy a few pegs and throw a party. Not helpful. What Casey means is, if we can tap station comms, we can direct assets wherever we want.

You know, that's a damn good idea, but we need you all to live long enough to set up the invitations.

You need to stay put. I'm putting T-Garden in front of a grand jury. Screw that. Think T-4 hours, then do what you want. As soon as Brickshaw left, I gathered Casey and Jolyne to discuss their options and told

them about the place I've been keeping in the Ozarks just in case. I'm supposed to appear before a grand jury tomorrow.

“What happens when you step out of the car in front of the courthouse?”

You've got 150 feet to go up the stairs, to make it inside, any cleaner worth their salt could take you out with a rifle. But Agent Brickshaw, he's using you like he's using Casey for his own ends. I'm with Alton. I think we're better off in the mountains, but how do we get out past the agents at the

doors? I'm not contained by the FBI agents because I'm not one of Brickshaw's assets. With your field experience, they wouldn't view you as a risk. Fine, that's you. What about us?

I've scoped out the place, including the roof. How does the roof help? There's nothing even close enough for us to jump to. But there's a construction shoot. For dropping debris, five stories.

This one is designed for egress from the top of the building.

Agent Brickshaw never mentioned it.

Funny, right? I'll swap vehicles tonight. Then we head out to town first thing in the morning. I don't know.

“I mean, you can go, but I have a duty to be in court.”

And I don't want to drop the sins case. You aren't getting it, are you? Excuse me. I'm going to read the fridge while you work things out. I didn't have any experience in father-daughter talks or talks in general.

Jolene, we are where we are, and we have what we have. Like it or not. Don't speak to me in riddles. Ha, all right. You want to straight, you, me, Casey, we're all on the redboard.

What's that supposed to mean? The people coming for us will not stop. We've been lucky to last this long. Lucky? How the hell do you call this luck?

If a lane hadn't been sick and died when she did, I wouldn't have known you're my daughter. So... So...

This is the first time I haven't completed a mission.

So, you had orders to kill Hawkins and me. I had a life. At life, you knew it's over. I can't accept that. It's not coming back for now.

You need to focus on one thing. Staying alive. I'm still not going anywhere with you. You stay, you die. You can't know that.

If my options are the Bureau's top agent in New Orleans and some loner on the run, that's an easy choice. I'd heard enough. Jolene had no idea the size of the shitstorm that was coming for us.

Where are you going now? Swapping cars. Miss T-Garden? Jolene, please. I'm not that much older than you.

“OK, so I can tell you, I think you're being an idiot.”

Be my guest. I'm telling you. You will not survive that trip to court. What if I stay here? Maybe I could tell a conference with the grand jury

if they're set up for it. Plus, I've been wearing these same clothes for it. I don't know how long. It doesn't matter. We need to go.

If they find out we're here, they'll take out the whole goddamn building to get us. Trust me. Why? We've got the protection of the FBI's SAC for New Orleans.

I've known Robert for a while, and I had no reason to doubt him, but now I'm not so sure. Why would you say that? It goes back to something he once said to me. Everyone is an asset to be used.

And he's using us. Robert Brickshaw, provided himself

on being the first agent in the building every morning.

5.30 in a two-a-two area cone. Someone's up early. SAC Brickshaw. DD and I'm more house. This is a courtesy call.

What about? A road operative in your area. We're hitting his last known position. A place called, hang on. The fridge, hotel.

One. imminent. steer clear until we call back. Understood. Understood.

Robert Brickshaw and I shared the same father and both bore our mother's making names. But that was not public knowledge.

was still safe as far as he knew. But I sure as hell wasn't.

“And come back to the hotel late that night.”

After everyone was asleep and sacked out of the lounge. What is it? I just talked to the DD and I, just sending a strike team to the hotel and take you out. I looked out the window, down a street level.

An armored personnel carrier pulled up in front of the hotel, meant in tactical gear, an automatic weapon, streamed out of it, into the hotel. Looks like the parties are to get started. If you stay there, you're all dead.

I've got no intention of staying. There's a shoe on the roof. Yeah, I found it already. You could have mentioned that before.

At the sound of the first volley,

Casey came flying out of her room. I had my weapon out, and she carried her loner as well. We have to go now. Oh, shit. Where's Jolene?

Across the hall. Jolene, we're leaving now. What? To the stairs. Let's go.

What is it? I told you they'd come. Grab your things. I'm wearing them. Roof stairs, move.

“The onsite FBI agents engage Zoe's strike team in the stairwell,”

an entry to the fifth floor. They were outnumbered and outgunned.

I didn't wait to find out what happened to them.

I let her and Jolene up the dedicated stairwell. It ran only from the fifth floor to the roof. We crossed the tar paper roof to the escape shoe at the other end. I'll go first. In case anyone's waiting for us, who's next?

I'll go. The shoe is curved to slow you down. But when you land in the dumpster Casey, move aside to make room for. Jolene, even three seconds, then go.

The shoot led to an empty 20-foot steel roll-away dumpster. It was two-thirds filled with packing peanuts and chunks of memory foam to soften the landing and had a pair swinging doors on one end. Casey came next, then Jolene.

I peered out between the doors, but didn't see her here anyone lying in wait. Too quiet. Can we get out of here? Just wait.

We should have drawn fire in the shoot.

“Whoever was waiting for us to come out got impatient”

and threw a grenade into the dumpster. Move! I pushed Jolene to Casey out of the container ahead of me. I'm close to Jolene, I guess. But before I could latch them shut...

Casey took a hard hit from one of the doors and the blast threw all three of us onto the asphalt. The blast disoriented me. I sprawled onto my back, trying to catch my breath. I could see Zoey moving down the container.

Her HK submachine gun raided a lead loose as we came into view. I tried to raise my weapon, but I was too slow. A spray of blood burst out of Zoey's head before her body dropped. But it wasn't me who shot her. My pistol tracked the line of the shot further up the alley.

And I saw Robert Brickshaw coming towards us. Yeah. Come on, girls. You okay? Door copy. Pretty hard. I'll be okay.

For once, you're in the right place at the right time to do something useful. You fucking welcome. That there's... there's blood on me. Casey, you need to come with me. Who's... who's blood is on me?

The women were standing by the dumpster. My ears were ringing like church bells. Blood soaked through the bandage on my forearm and was running down my hand. I knelt down and searched Zoey for anything that might help identify who was involved in setting up the attack.

We're leaving. You saw what happened here today. You think you can do this on your own? How do you think they found this place, Markai? They tracked you.

You need my help. You know it, but you two stubborn ask. I can protect you. I pointed to the top of the hotel. That's you protecting us.

I pulled a sad phone out of Zoey's pocket. I'd seen that phone before. That didn't bug well for Brickshaw. I was pretty banged up and needed time to think. The girls weren't shocked.

We needed to go. They're coming no more. This is crazy. I'm not going anywhere with you. Don't be stupid.

If it wasn't for Alton, we'd be dead twice over. Come with me. I can protect you. Casey scooped up Zoey's weapon.

I held out my blood and dirt smeared hand to Jolene.

But she recoiled. I dropped it just as quick. I don't know what I thought would happen. I certainly didn't deserve her, but for whatever reason, maybe ego, maybe hope, maybe both.

I really thought she'd stay with me. We barely knew each other. But it hurt like I'd known her my whole life.

“You want to put your life into this asshole's hands?”

That's your choice. She made a bad choice. But the choice was hers.

We left Brickshaw and Jolene standing over Zoey's corpse.

And by the time the rest of the strike team figured out how we escaped the building, we were blocks away. Twelve hours later, Birch's daily, "I ain't dead yet" message did not get sent to the satellite. Four hundred and fifteen miles above the earth.

The all-one satellite say I spoke to itself. Great Sentinel initiation in 0-0, 0-0, 0-3 seconds, 0-2, 0-1. I'd be incapable of spying. Flat life, I-A-D-Y-N-O-C. I'd be terminal, all-buffers clear.

Sentinel command separate, learning Sentinel program first stands up.

“Sentinel execute, learning first stands up.”

Before we met her run for my cabin in the mountains, we stopped off at my place. Casey gathered the equipment we needed for my bedroom closet.

I never had people over at my place, and it made my skin crawl.

But I wasn't planning on ever coming back. And she was done. Casey found me in the kitchen, and she spotted the tank in the past through. You have fish? Not exactly. What's that in the tank?

A great fish. I've never seen one like that. I've north where I'm from, they're like a grayish red. Shares from Lake Potshire Train. She's amazing.

What a beautiful blue. And I love her name.

“That's what I used to call Jellaine's mother.”

What is all this? Casey walks over to the court board where I'd posted all the obituary of people survive by Lazarus' name. Poor these people. People like me.

Thank you, how? These people are all dead. They're field operatives. Someone's been systematically eliminating them. Why do you do this, Alton?

In part, because what's on the other side of that board? Those five blanks. My father, Jellaine's grandfather, was taken out just like those others. I was ten. Oh God, so you?

Over the years, I've determined that five people were involved in the operation. But I'm still looking for the names. I was tapping the number station down the block until, well, I don't need to explain that to you. Okay, so what now?

We bug out, rest up. My place in the Ozarks wild, everything we need to lay low for a while. Then what? We are going to throw a party, a surprise party, and you'll send out the invites when we're ready.

As I see Brickshaw sent two agents to a company need to my apartment. I've been wearing the same clothes for a couple of days as it was. Wherever I was going, I wanted to change out of them. I gave my key to one of the agents. He drew his gun and entered my apartment to make sure we didn't have any unwanted company.

After a minute, he stuck his head out the door and called down to me in the other agent. All clear. I went straight into my bedroom, hold out my suitcase and started feeling it as fast as possible. Little did I know that the moment the agent opened my front door.

That triggered a switch which notified the cleaners watching my building. Once everyone was inside, they flipped another switch. It sent an odorless gas into the air ducts of my apartment. I heard the two agents hit the floor in the other room. What was was happening?

The sound came from the phone, Birch gave me a text with a URL which I clicked.

“Just then, Jeb Birch's face appeared on the phone screen.”

If you're seeing this, it's quite big. I'm already dead. Big fucking surprise. I knew someone was cleaning the cleaners long before you told me about it. Welcome to my insurance plan.

You're going to learn about an apparatus that is complex, lethal, and the largest conspiracy this country has ever known. And then, if you've got the guts for it, I'm going to give you the intel to take it apart once and for all. You wanted to know who was involved in your father's death.

Well, my boy, the first guy on your dance card is general right at Woodmorehouse retired.

That name sounds familiar. More to come, stay tuned. And with that, the video ended.

“I walked over to the board and filled out one of the five blank names.”

General Edward Morehouse. I know that name. Father of Jackie Morehouse, my handler. She's the deputy director of National Intelligence. What is it?

The gotter. What? They were waiting at a police in Doker. Robert, know this. If she dies, you die.

What, what is it? Jolene, she's been renditioned. Oh no, what are we going to do? We, it wasn't used to that. Casey had spunk.

“She'd been through everything Jolene had and was ready to dive right back in.”

I had to admit it. I was starting to like having her around. I hope she'd be able to stick around. Do you know what a burn note is? A paper issued to all intelligence departments disavowing an agent.

A burn note is means we're cut off. No support, no protection, officially disavowed. It also means the agency thinks I'm a threat they can manage from a distance. But they took my daughter. That wasn't a security decision.

That was personal. And now, so is my response. I'm not coming back for being statement. I'm not sending warnings. I'm going to dismantle the network that signed off on this.

One handler, one asset, one executive at a time. Not loudly, not publicly, just gone. So when I see them, I will ask each of them. If they could buy to their families.

Because they'll never see them again.

So what's next for us? Carve them meet from their bones and burn it all to ash. Where am I? Who are you people? What do you want for me?

What do you want? The cleaner is a production of Voyage Media. The series is produced by Naughtman Dahl, Adam Prince and Dave Venomor. Executive produced by Jeff Cowen and Wesley Miller. Based on the book series, The Intragance.

Available Q1226 and leading book retailers. When links are available, we will include them in the Shonots. Written and directed by Adam Prince. Story by Jeff Cowen, Wesley Miller, and Adam Prince. Starting here June is Alten and any Abrams has Jolyne.

Additional cast credits available in the Shonots. Edited, sound designed, and mixed by Joel Lipman. Original music by Carlos Gonzalez.

Spotify or anywhere you listen about a cast.