Episode Six

- Oh, yes. (upbeat music)

- Simon, are you still here?

“You're also here in this schoole-flashback,”

just in the middle of the night. And then, I hope that it stands. - Paul, no, I'm not here. This is my safe space. - Hmm, do you think that's all right?

- Yeah, exactly. This is the story of the story that you understand. The story of the studio, the job, or the music. - It stands. - Cross, I don't feel like I'm standing there.

- I'm not standing there. - Save. - What do you mean by this story? (dramatic music) - This is a world.

(dramatic music) - In the middle of the night. (dramatic music)

- A book in Baysal-Aufblut.

(dramatic music) - A book in Baysal-Aufblut. (dramatic music) - This world is built in Great Britain. (dramatic music)

- In the middle of the night, (dramatic music) (dramatic music) (dramatic music) (dramatic music)

- Trip at Waiser.de Shrekstrich, Gross Britannian. (dramatic music)

“- I set out for my apartment to meet Casey.”

My half-brother begged me to look after her. I wasn't happy about doing it. I couldn't afford any extra exposure, especially after taking out that cleaner

at Louis Armstrong Airport.

If I was gonna be able to keep my daughter safe, I needed Robert Brickshaw's help. The price for FBI protection looking after Casey. I had no idea at the time how valuable an asset she was. I came across the park to cut a path between Casey

and her pursuer. I was holding a brown paper bag snatched from a garbage can to conceal my suppressed P40 automatic. I moved in from my position between Casey and the operative coming toward the bench.

It was at that instant that our eyes met. I recognized Zoe from an apartment worked on together two years ago in Prague. Zoe raised her weapon. I did the same.

I put one into Zoe's chest, dead center. She got off her own shot. Zoe reeled backwards. I put another shot into Zoe and she went down. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

I ran over to Casey, lying on the ground. She was clutching her side. Blood seeped out between her fingers. She struggled to get on our feet. I got you.

I scooped her up and near dragged her out of the park. I loaded her into my car. And he brought the move. How bad is it? Crystal rip in and out, I think.

You better have your news. Somebody open your package. Shit. She needs a doctor. How bad?

I'd be fine if you didn't drag me through all that bullshit to get me back here. She's out fine. Sprung a leak that needs fixing. Shut up before it gets worse.

How can't it get any worse? Hotel a fridge over the river. Bit floor is a safe house with a medical suite. I've got the dock on call. Use the free elevator in the back.

Code to get past the fourth floor. Use 7179 on the fire operator's pad. Be there in 20. We'll get you stitched out. That woman in the park.

How do you know she was coming for me? I recognized her. You're a field operative. Just like her. You're CIA.

Some days, not today. You local? Yeah. So you might have gotten the call instead of her. You're on the redboard.

So technically, I already did it. Am I really going to an FBI safe house? Did that woman in the park shoot me? Or did you do it? And now you want to keep me calm, and I don't make it past the river.

Now, today. I don't know. Don't worry.

“If I think there's a reason or you step out of line, you won't see a comment.”

I don't want to see a comment. The hotel of Frisch was a working motel on Franklin Avenue with one small difference. Of the five stories that made up the 1940 Stonefront Hotel, only the bottom four were

The fifth floor could only be accessed using a special key code in the elevator.

“That floor had everything you might find in a well-funded hospital, including diagnostic equipment”

and a fully appointed operating suite. Some of the walls had been removed to create common spaces, and had a full pantry and kitchen. There was a communications area, a few guest rooms, a secure armory, even a laundry. Almost there. I helped Casey out of the car.

We entered the hotel, passing the front desk, the side of a woman clutching her blood soaked side would normally drive us, especially the hotel lookers, but this staff was paid not to notice those kinds of things. Following brick shots and instructions, I took Casey to the freight elevator in the back. 7-1-7-9.

The staff agent who oversaw the space greeted us. Within minutes, Casey was lying on the table with a surge in cleaning her world.

Since number station 46 in New Orleans had been taken off the board, the closest one to the

big easy was station 8 in Galveston, Texas. A data officer, someone much like Casey Net out, relayed a message to the deputy director of national intelligence that the rendition had failed.

“While Jackie Morehouse waited on details from the cleaner, she made another call.”

"Where are we talking?" Lucent's in New Orleans. "We're still on time." Was there a change of plan I was not aware of? "Explaring."

My operation at the airport, Congressman Elliott in the attorney, someone intervened. The NOPD is holding a dead operative, one of my operatives, and the FBI is all over it. "Are you cleaning my cleaners?" "Not in this instance."

Your people have a long history of doing that when it suits them. "As I said, not in this instance. What happened to station 46?" "Dumb luck." "Your data officer got away."

I put her on the board. She's a novice. We'll find her.

“A whistle blow in the wind is a bad combination.”

Do I have the right person on this? "How, yes, you do." "This guardian angel, and the we aren't strong. Who is it?" "We are working on it."

"A professional?" Very likely. "Our next conversation will be very different. Let's hope it's more pleasant." The implied finality of that statement was not lost on Jackie Morehouse.

As deputy director of national intelligence, when Jackie wanted surveillance footage pulled, it reached her computer in minutes. She examined footage from the park, and then footage from the airport. The guardian angel who saved Julian T. Gardin and Congressman Elliott is the same man from the park.

She ran images through the NSA's facial recognition software, but came up blank. Jackie knew they could still use the image of my face to pinpoint my location. Zoe approached the van, she had set up to wait for her in KC. The driver, another district-five cleaner, gave a concerned look when Zoe arrived alone.

"Go." "Oh, got to him it." "What was a brand new best, too?" "It was just a matter of call in." "Well, someone's all at common."

"And we didn't get the target." "You should have been. Not what I wanted to hear Zoe." "Not for lack of try-in. I took two in the chest.

I'm lucky he didn't go for a headshot."

"It's third shot, what have been?

What happened?" "I shot the target. He took her." "I shot her." "Wounded.

I accident." "You were supposed to grab her." "I know." "So you're telling me. He's all you're coming.

What's about to do? And a better shot. And he took my rendition. Did you get his card? I could use good people like that."

"I don't know his name, but I recognize him from an opportunity two years ago in Prague."

"There were three cleaners on that job.

Me, Zoe, and a third guy who's dead.

“I know he's dead because I took him out.”

Now, it was my turn." AC was getting stitched up by the resident off-book doctor. I poked through the kitchen to find her something to eat. I found a pint of takeout gumbo and gave it a sniff to confirm it hadn't gone bad. The doctor finished up as I walked into a room with a container.

Here. Eat something. "What is it?" "To the matter." "Thanks.

It's great." "What's next?" "Don't tear the stitches."

"I mean, what's next for me?"

"Take it up with Brickshaw." "If I'm on the red board, and you knew I was on the board, why did you bring me here?" "I mean, why didn't you?" "Would you like me to rethink it?" "No."

"What about a name? I'm Casey. What do I call you?" "You don't." I left Casey's room and found a place to sit and wait for Robert Brickshaw.

When I got home after the airport shooting attempt, there was a tall man with broad shoulders and a suit waiting in front of my apartment.

“"Joey and T.Gard, with lacks, will you look special agent Robert Brickshaw?”

We need to talk." "Yeah. We sure as hell do." "In my car."

Do you have any idea why someone would want to kill Congressmen Elliott?

"Well, he was about to launch a congressional investigation into an unauthorized vaccine trial. That got his attention. I failed him in about the Margaret Sims case, and how all of the case files got wiped off my server.

I told him about the video showing victims of this bad vaccine and the attempt to cover it up. And I told him why I met with Congressmen Elliott. The one other person alive who saw that video. I told him everything on you.

"Well, except one thing," I said nothing about Alton. I didn't even know his last name, this man who bothered me. He also saved my life. But then I witnessed him kill someone and called blood and simply walk away. Agent Brickshaw pulled up to a low rent hotel called LaFresh.

What are we doing here? Top floor is a secure FBS safe house.

“You need to stay here until we sort out who was trying to take out the Congressmen."”

"That's okay. I'd rather take my chances at home." He got out of the car and came around to my side. I said, "Take me home." You coming inside and you're going to stay here until it does settles.

"You can't make me." The airports of federal jurisdiction, you are a material witness to an attempted assassination of a member of Congress in my jurisdiction. You stay in here. Or it's a hard bench in a detention cell on Lyon C. Simon Street for just as long.

Makes no difference to me. We took the freight elevator to the fifth floor, then checked in with the agent on duty. Down the hall, I spotted Alton. I wasn't the only one. "How's Casey?"

She'll be fine. She got lucky. I wouldn't call getting shot lucky. I asked you to protect her Alton. Maybe you're not as good as you say you are.

"I'd tell you. Keeping people alive isn't not my specialty. Jolene didn't seem happy to see me." "Alton, what are you doing here?" "Family reunion."

"Excuse me." "Never mind." "Your friend is forcing me to stay here." "Trust me. It's for the best."

"Why would I ever trust you?" "All right. I got your girl here without getting shot. Meanwhile, my assets depreciating the other room. So we're square now.

There's a killer out on both of them."

"You've had quite the morning."

"All I ever wanted to do was clock in.

“Do my eight hours for Uncle Sam and clock out.”

I didn't sign up for this shit. All my co-workers are dead." "You have the thumb drive? Good girl." "Your buddies are real, Charmer."

"You may not be like a bull-body's more than capable." "So this is the last time I'm going to get shot." "You're in an FBI safe house." "I'm not going to feel safe anywhere." "Let's see what's on the drive."

Casey pulled her laptop out of her go back.

She brought it despite instructions and not to.

Lucky for us, she wasn't willing to leave her computer behind. A moment later, the USB stick was plugged into Casey's computer. But her screen showed seemingly random letters and numbers. "Hi. This is all encrypted."

"Of course it is." "What am I supposed to do with this?

“I thought you'd be bringing the encryption software with you."”

"I did." "But I don't have a code to unlock it." "I've got one." I showed Casey the DNI code "Burge" gave me for Station 46. "It's working."

"It's working."

"Decrpted text" "Straim passed."

"Can you tell me who gave the kill orders?" "That's a lot to support through." "It's going to take some time." "I'll come back tomorrow." Robert, Agent Pricshaw.

I know it's a secure facility and all that. But I'd feel a lot better if I had a weapon. "I've refired a gun." "I qualified. I'm a pretty good shot at the range at least."

"I'll see what I can do." Bricshaw visited the facility's small armory. There were dozens of firearms available and none had serial numbers. He selected a six-hour P236 small grip pistol and brought it back to Casey along with two full clips.

"Thanks."

“"Try not to shoot me one unless you have to.”

But if you do." "What's that?" "Don't fucking miss." "I found Joe Leane sitting alone in the lounge. I'm going now."

She wouldn't look at me. Whatever you do, don't leave this place. You're just as much a target as the congressman. Patrick Hawkins, you killed him, didn't you? "I worked for the government and followed the orders I received.

My job isn't to question, but to act." That excuse has been used before. To kill millions. When I was in the fourth grade, we had "bring your dad to school day." Susie Collins' dad was a brain surgeon.

After he left, she wouldn't stop talking about him. "All the other kids thought it was so cool. I punched her in the mouth. Almost got expelled." I listened to the other fathers talk about what they did for a living and thought, "Well,

my dad must be doing something so special that he doesn't have time to see me." I wish I could go back to when my dad was just some mystery man mom wouldn't talk about. At least then I could imagine that my father was a good man. That could deeper than I'd ever expect. I got out of there as soon as I could.

As I walked toward the freight elevator, Casey intercepted me. "Alton, I heard the woman in the lounge call you that earlier. Going through the data, I noticed a kill loader on her. Quebec3.56 alpha." That's you, isn't it?

"What if it is?" "Why'd you go rogue?" I keep asking myself the same question. "Don't run me in circles. Who is that woman to you?"

She's my daughter. Whatever she expected me to say, it certainly wasn't that. Casey stood there dumbfounded as I stepped into the freight elevator. "I'll be back in the morning."

Despite the fact that building which provided cover for number station 46 had blown up,

“the pre-recorded broadcast and operations traffic flipped to a regional listening post.”

The building was a smoldering ruin, cordoned off by crime scene tape. "This one's for all you Beethoven fans out there."

The op-spirner phone vibrated on the side table next to my bed.

Oscar, Telfin, Sand dollar, Ocelot Juliette 7 Delta, Quebec3.56 alpha.

“Bravo Delta Tango, number 413 acknowledged.”

Most assignments the dead drop was in the same place, the postal to go in my neighborhood.

This time the coded location was different. It was located on the south shore of Lake Pantutrain, 40 minutes drive from the French Quarter. It wasn't business as usual to do a dead drop out here in the sticks, but I had to act like it was. The coordinates I'd been given led me to a paid shop and spitting distance of the lake. As I crossed the porch, passing at the where-of-alligators sign, I did not see the two cleaners waiting for me to step inside.

The cleaner is a production of Voyage Media. The series is produced by an Atmondale out of Prince and dead bettermore, executive produced by Jeff Cowen and Wesley Miller. Based on the book series, The Intrigance, available to you on 226 at Leading Book Retailers. When links are available, we will include them in the show notes. Written and directed by Adam Prince, story by Jeff Cowen, Wesley Miller, and Adam Prince.

Starring Kia June, as Alton, and Annie Abrams, as Joeline, additional cast credits available in show notes. Edited, sound designed, and mixed by Joel Lippman, original music by Duelis Gonzalez. If you're enjoying the show, please leave us a five star review on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or anywhere you listen to podcasts.

“Team 9, 8, 8, Apple, what's up? Have Nutella vergessen?”

Me too, Ernst. It's a shame that we've been waiting for this month, but Nutella is Nutella.