SG-1 and an Agent, part I
A/N: This is a sequel to “The League of Extraordinary Women”. It will make a lot more sense if you read that first.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. If you want details on ownership and all that jazz, you’ll want to read the appropriate intros in “The League of Extraordinary Women”.
A/N2: This is the sequel to ‘SG-1 and a Spy’.
Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers, NID Field Agent (Class IV), had an important meeting with Senator Robert Kinsey. So she spent over an hour driving around and waiting patiently, just looking for a really great parking spot. She had plans, and she wanted any opponents to have the opportunity to run with plans of their own. She finally found a nice little spot in the shade of the current big construction site in the area. They had the entire twenty-story framework up, and the concrete was being poured for some of the upper floors and some big ground-level thingie, while some pretty cute construction guys were doing framing and sheetrock on the lower floors. That meant lots of trucks moving in and out of the construction area, and lots of loud noises.
The usual plywood wall screening the sidewalk from the mess of construction even had some clear panels and some sliding fencework so you could get a really good look at a couple really muscular guys working away without shirts on. The only downside of that was they could see you too.
“Hey blondie! Lookin’ good!”
She gave him a smile.
“Do those legs go all the way up?”
Okay, she was wearing a really short skirt and high heels, because Senator Kinsey looked like the kind of guy who had an eye for the ladies, and his wife’s best feature was definitely her legs, so Liz was figuring the guy was a leg-man. She just kept walking.
A couple guys shouted things about her private parts or else about their sexual prowess, even if it was their alleged sexual prowess. In her experience, only insecure assholes needed to yell stuff like that. She flipped them off and kept walking.
She had to walk halfway around the construction site, down a block of upscale stores and restaurants, and past a government office building to get to the huge building where Senator Kinsey – and dozens of other Senators and Congressmen – had offices.
Going to Senator Kinsey’s office had a lot of downsides. The biggest one was that she couldn’t carry a gun or a knife and make it through the massive security just inside the front door. She had a girly valise over one shoulder, and she knew the security people would go through it like she’d stashed the Hope diamond in it. Nope, nothing but paper. And paper-ish stuff.
Sure enough, they pulled out the clipped-together stacks of papers and searched the valise like she was smuggling latinum in it. Willow would be so proud of her for doing a Star Trek joke.
She was counting on them going over her valise and just letting her go through the metal detector and the scanner. Just like she was counting on them inspecting her bracelets and her necklace, and checking the soles of her half-inch platform stilettos, and overlooking the not of the obvious.
And boy, did she get the once-over. A couple times. They had her walk through the metal detector, which went off, naturally, even after she’d taken all her jewelry off. So she got the metal-detector wand and the full-body passive scanner all so they could find out she was wearing an underwire bra.
They were definitely over-doing the security check. Either someone had checked her background and was worried about letting a known NID spook into the building, or else…
“Agent Summers? I’m Ken Porter, one of the senator’s interns. I’ll be escorting you to the senator’s office.”
She gave him a ditzy smile. “Oh swell! I’d probably get lost in this place.”
Kenny was a sincere-looking intern in a five hundred dollar suit and highly-polished oxfords. But he bought the whole Bimbo Buffy routine right off the bat, even if she was NID. And the guy kept trying not to ogle her legs, or at least he was trying not to get caught ogling her legs.
He led her to an expensive elevator and took her up to the third story. She could see in the polished steel of the elevator doors that the intern was checking out her butt and legs, just trying not to get caught by someone who might go Sydney Bristow on him.
Too bad he wasn’t trying hard enough not to get caught. Fortunately for him, she wanted to appear less than uberly competent, so she was pretending not to notice.
He led her down the hall, past a roomful of peons working away at computers, through a room with four receptionist and secretary types, and into a big, pompous, I-am-so-important office with a cherrywood desk that she estimated cost more than her car.
Senator Kinsey wasn’t a bad-looking guy. She’d looked him up, naturally, and he used to be pretty darn handsome, in a wholesome aw-shucks way that had no doubt played big with his constituents. But he was aging. And up close, he was showing more signs of age and stress than showed up on CSPAN cameras.
Did CSPAN cameras do the Vaseline-on-the-lens trick like aging Hollywood starlets used to insist on?
He gave her a big, friendly smile and even walked around his desk to shake her hand like he was a normal person. “Agent Summers. I’m so glad to meet you.”
So she shook his hand like a delicate flower and gave him her best Bimbo Buffy smile. “Oh Senator, just call me Buffy.” And she gave him her best Giggle Number 3.
He smiled into her eyes, instead of glomming onto her chest or checking out her legs. “I understand you have data that are a matter of national security.”
She nodded like a bobble-head. “Totally! I’ve been working for the NID for like four months now, and I thought they were so nice, but then I found this stuff, and I knew I had to do something, because… America!”
He nodded like he understood. “And what do you have to show me?”
She handed him the entire valise. He kept the politician’s smile in place, even as he got handed a girly purse-like thingie. She smiled, “I printed off copies and organized ‘em for you!”
He pulled the papers out and dropped the valise on the stupidly expensive wall-to-wall carpet. As he glanced through the sections, he carefully asked, “Have you told anyone else?”
She just held the smile on her face. But holy crap, she could not believe he really said that. Had he been taking lessons from villains on tv programs or something? She gave it as much naiveté as she thought she could get away with. “Why would I tell anyone except you and your committee?”
“Excellent. And do you have any other copies?”
She nodded like a happy puppy, so her earrings and tresses bounced seductively. Guys totally fell for that. “Yep! I have some extra copies for the other guys on your committee! Even that old guy with the combover who has the creepy-young wife.”
Kinsey carefully suppressed a huge smile. “I’m sure that Senator Jackson will appreciate your understanding nature.”
She gave him plenty of ditz and asked, “Do I need to get more files about bad stuff out of the NID systems? Because I probably can, even if they’re gonna catch me one of these times.”
He shook his head a little. “No Buffy, I’m sure this will be plenty for the committee. You just do what you’ve been doing, and don’t let any of your co-workers think anything is amiss.”
“I can do that!” she said in a peppy cheerleader voice.
Robert Kinsey waited until Porter got back from escorting Summers out of the building. “Well?”
Porter frowned, “She can’t really be that stupid. She was smart enough to realize what the NID was doing, and she was smart enough to get through the NID’s IT people.”
Kinsey scowled, “She came up with dirt on five different action cells. And she has extensive intel on all of them. None of this should have been accessible.”
Porter suddenly guessed, “Unless someone is just using her. Someone a lot more competent, who waved a few flags in front of her face and gave her enough hints to find all of this material. She could be a pawn for someone like Barrett or McLaughlin.”
Kinsey sighed, “We’ll have to deal with her. Make the call.”
Agent Liz Summers sashayed down the street and past the construction site. She was bouncing a little bit more than before, because she’d accessed one of her few hidden weapons. She wondered what it was about men that their brains turned to mush as soon as she smiled at them and asked them to call her Buffy. It was like it was a keyword that accessed secret files in the tiny hard drives that made up their brains. One hard drive for baseball statistics, one for-
“Step in there.”
She was suddenly surrounded by four guys with silenced .22’s. Nice little wetwork hardware. They were dressed a little too nicely for wetwork, but hey, it was their loss if they ruined a four hundred dollar suit with someone else’s blood and gore. “Do your wives know you’re wearing your good clothes for this?”
“Shut up and scoot your ass in there.” That guy even waved her into the construction site area with the barrel of his gun. Bad technique there.
“I can’t walk in there, I’ll ruin a brand new pair of Jimmy Choos!” She wasn’t about to tell them that she’d worn this pair of shoes on purpose. And that she’d been counting on them pulling the big kidnap routine right along here, where they could scoot her a mere ten feet and have her completely out of sight of anyone on the streets.
One of the guys behind her stepped forward and jabbed her in the kidney with his .22. Didn’t these dorks learn proper tradecraft before they got issued their Men-in-Black suits?
“Oww!” she whined. She’d been hurt a lot worse, but the weak little girl routine never seemed to fail. She staggered forward and let them push her through the opening into the construction area.
“Now fucking walk, bitch.”
The first guy at least seemed to understand that a handgun was a ranged weapon and you didn’t stand stupidly close to the person you were busy threatening, and you didn’t use it like a construction worker’s flag, and you didn’t use it to poke people. That made him the biggest threat. She complained to him, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
She tiptoed delicately across the ground, but it was all hard-packed dirt. She wasn’t going to be sinking her heels into this stuff. Not after trucks and bulldozers and concrete mixers had rolled over it a few hundred times.
The four guys bracketed her and pushed her around to the far side of the construction area, where a big concrete form in the ground was slowly being filled with concrete, and there was a conspicuous absence of construction guys.
Competent Gun Guy stopped and pointed his .22 at her heart. He growled, “Decision time, bitch. You can tell us where the other copies are, and you get to go in there dead. Otherwise, you get buried in concrete while you’re still breathing. Your call.”
She looked at him and batted her eyelashes at him. She calmly asked, “Are you sure? Because that’ll totally ruin my nails, and I just got a mani-pedi last week.”
She was wondering how long she was going to have to stall, but just then a construction worker walked out of a roughed-in doorframe. He was tall and dark and handsome, with shaggy hair under a yellow construction helmet. He was wearing a carpenter’s toolbelt and holding a big nailgun and a 2x4. “Hey, you guys aren’t supposed to be in here!”
Competent Gun Guy snapped, “Shut up, hick. This is government business, so make yourself scarce like your buddies and pretend you never saw us.”
Buffy flicked her eyes at Competent Gun Guy and also Quiet Guy who was still standing behind her. She managed not to smile at Xander’s ‘dopey harmless guy’ imitation.
Xander the Construction Worker casually raised his hands and said, “Okey-dokey. Whatever you…” He fired the nailgun, putting a big-ass nail in Competent Gun Guy’s head. His next shot went right into Quiet Guy’s eye. “Oops!”
Wave-y Gun Guy and Poke-y Gun Guy reacted. Wave-y Gun Guy spun to take a shot at Xander, so she kicked the gun out of his hand while he was too close and not aiming at anything he needed to shoot.
Poke-y Gun Guy was way too close to her back, so she just mule-kicked him. Stiletto heels made great weapons, and guys never thought about them unless they’d been stiletto’ed once or twice in their lives. He keeled over, holding onto his crotch and making a noise like a scared mouse.
Wave-y Gun Guy tried to grab her, so she used her next weapon. She blocked his grab, slid under his arm in a smooth aikido glide-step, and slid behind him. Her weapon of choice? The wiresaw that posed as an underwire in her specially-designed bra. She used her wiresaw as a garrote. The guy tried to twist out of the choke, which was a major mistake since it wasn’t a rope. It was a thin, high-tensile-strength wiresaw with a diamond dust coating, and the guy partially decapitated himself in the process. Which was pretty messy, but at least she was behind him
Finally, she picked up Poke-y Gun Guy’s .22 and put two rounds in him: one in his temple and one in his heart. She never trusted a .22 to do the job when the lightweight bullet might clip a rib and go flying off into some weird place like Upper Bowel Land, which was totally not as fun as Tomorrow Land.
“Damn!” she hissed, when she saw the amount of blood that Wave-y Gun Guy had managed to get all over the place, including on her good skirt. She looked up at Xander and complained, “This is dry-clean only!”