Porter Island Chapter Two (standard:action, 1522 words) [2/3] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Mar 12 2024	Views/Reads: 124/45	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An agent faces her toughest assignment yet, taming an unruly island, but she worries the years are catching up with her.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

someone in the process of an attempted break-in; either that or they 
were lying in wait for her.  Betty's gut feeling was the latter. 
Corrisville's crime was at an all-time low since her intervention and 
the subsequent installation of an efficient team of law enforcers. The 
incident should be reported, Betty knew as much. Except the belief that 
this was personal was growing. She'd had plenty of such incidents over 
the years here in Corrisville. The town's cleaning up could mostly be 
attributed to her, as big-headed as that sounded. But after all, it was 
the reason the FBI despatched her here in the first place. In the 
process, any number of apprehended criminals might have twisted reasons 
to get even with her, were they able to get hold of her details. And 
over time, some had, and she'd dealt with those assailants herself, 
hadn't hidden behind the town's law enforcement. 

*** 

Thus, Betty decided against involving the town's law department. The
following morning, needing to be on her way and sure that the incident 
posed no threat to the wider community, she showered, grabbed her bags, 
and set off for the FBI headquarters. The question continuing to bug 
her was that of who her assailant/assailants were. Could their motive 
have been to deter her from making the assignment or, worse, 
eliminating her entirely? The job may have been afforded a top-security 
bracket, but that didn't completely rule out insider knowledge. Insider 
knowledge with a vested interest in seeing the mission derailed from 
the start. These questions continued to govern Betty's thoughts as she 
arrived at the FBI's Washington headquarters close to dusk on a rainy 
weekday evening, to the extent that she'd decided on mentioning it to 
Mike Anthony. 

Betty surmised she wouldn't get the chance that evening and was proved
correct. After passing through the security check and being advised 
that Anthony had left for the day, she was shown to a comfortable suite 
within the FBI's sweeping complex. 

Less than thirty minutes later, an assertive knock came on the door.
“Perhaps Mike hasn't left after all,” Betty mumbled, heading across the 
spacious lounge to answer it. 

“I trust you'll hurry yourself up a bit when you're my maid,” Shonda
Stapleton uttered stonily as the tall, slim blonde, dressed in a 
pristine white trouser suit, marched through. 

“Companion,” Betty retorted just as coldly while holding the door open.
“I'm detailed to be your companion, not your maid. And hello to you, 
too. I hope this assignment hasn't gone to your head,” Betty said, 
turning away, “Not that there's much room for it to grow bigger.” 
Stapleton sighed loudly, throwing herself onto the couch without 
invitation. 

“Anyway,” Betty began, sitting opposite, leaning forward and clenching
her palms together so her biceps rose in her short-sleeved T-shirt, 
“how did you get to know I'd arrived.” 

“That's for me to know,” Stapleton replied flatly, her blue eyes fixing
on Betty's arms. “At least with those muscles, you'll come in handy 
heaving my luggage about.” 

Betty gritted her teeth and bit back a retort; she should have known
that any attempted intimidation would bounce off Shonda Stapleton. This 
was going to be one excruciating assignment. 

Betty met Stapleton's blue-eyed stare, struggling to keep her
equilibrium but managing it barely. With a forced smile giving every 
indication it was precisely that, Betty asked, “Shonda, would you 
please get to the point of your unexpected visit? 

Stapleton's eyebrows rose high in her ultra-smooth forehead as though
the question was so obvious it hardly warranted an answer. 

“Can a colleague not call on someone she'll be spending the foreseeable
future with?” Stapleton brushed her trousers down, almost luminescent 
in the suite's low light. “It's only right that I reassure myself that 
you're in sufficient condition to support me in this assignment.” 

Betty's dark eyes burned with indignation. She'd show the high and
mighty Shonda Stapleton what condition she was in if this kept up. And 
support her—what was that all about? 

Betty couldn't hold back. “I think you'll find that you're the support
in this operation, so don't go elevating yourself higher than your 
assumed role as heiress.” Betty flashed white teeth in total contrast 
to her eyes. “That is where it stops.” 

Stapleton smirked, rose to her feet, and looked down on Betty. “You
appear to have been misinformed. I think you'll find my ‘role' as you 
call it, reflects my status in this assignment. Until tomorrow, adios.” 
Betty watched Stapleton stroll haughtily from the suite, her words 
rolling like thunder through her mind. 

You appear to have been misinformed ... 

Betty wanted to drag Stapleton back and then thump her into next week,
but her raw power wouldn't help things here. She drew the expansive 
lounge curtains and readied herself for bed, preparing for the coming 
day and a talk with Mike Anthony. 

Just what was going on here?  


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