Porter Island (standard:action, 1620 words) [1/3] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Updated: May 07 2024	Views/Reads: 151/70	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Agent Betty McCloud, alias Amanda Thornton, embarks on her most hazardous assignment yet, and she's not getting any younger.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story



Betty flexed her mighty arms at the thought. 

*** 

Betty drove her black Jeep into Guilder's Creek, turned into the
Whispering Pines parking lot, disembarked, and took a deep breath of 
the cool autumn air. A few other vehicles were dotted about the lot, 
mostly travelers, she assumed, Guilder's Creek being little more than 
two rows of half a dozen or so shops on either side of the highway. 

Inside the L-shaped diner, Betty's sharp eyesight took in Mike Anthony's
lean form as he emerged from a booth in the far-right corner, extending 
a hand for her to join him. 

“Mike, so ...” Betty shrugged out of her beige jacket as Anthony's eyes
all but popped out of their sockets. Smiling wryly and tossing her 
jacket onto the bench, she asked, “Something wrong, Mike?” 

“Nah ...” Anthony shook his head, and Betty felt his eyes running over
her figure. And, of course, her muscles, resplendent as ever and 
rippling in her short-sleeved T-shirt. 

Elbows on the table, Anthony clutched his hands together. “Magnificent,
stunning as ever. You never seem to change. 

“Quite some compliment.” Betty slid onto the bench opposite Anthony, a
slight smile on her flawless features. “Perhaps I'm just papering the 
cracks.” Betty leaned on the table and placed her fists beneath her 
chin, her biceps surging alarmingly, causing his adamant shake of the 
head. “Somehow, I think not.” 

Betty's smile faded. “Okay. Shall we get down to business ... like,
what's so dire that I'm required back in service?” 

“Easy ...” Anthony cast his eyes toward the counter. “Maybe we ought to
order something first. The waitress is shooting daggers.” Betty fired 
her own visual darts back at the waitress, dark and piercing. The fact 
was, she wasn't hungry, thirsty, or anything else, but nonetheless, 
regrettably, as things stood, she was an unpaying customer and thus 
obliged to order at least something. 

As if reading her mind, Anthony pushed a menu across to her. “Here. I
can tell you're starving,” he said with a smirk. 

Betty shot the same fiery visual darts she'd used on the waitress. 

“Cappuccino, and that's it.” She beckoned the waitress over, fired off
her one-word order, and glanced at Anthony. Anthony gave his order and 
turned to face that penetrating expression. “Okay, enough with the 
stalling.” Betty clasped his right hand with her left, tightened it 
into a fist, and saw him grimace. “I get the impression you're enjoying 
keeping me waiting.” 

Anthony's features contorted. “No more than you are attempting to bust
my hand,” he ground out. 

“Attempting?” Betty released her hold. I think you know it would've been
a done deal by now. Now spit.” 

Anthony sighed and leaned toward her, his voice low despite the
clientele being sparse. “Porter Island, ever hear of it?” Betty shook 
her head, long black curls brushing her cheeks and jaw. 

“Nope, should I?” 

“Not particularly,” Anthony said, clenching and unclenching his hand,
“but rumors abound.” 

“Such as?” Betty sat back as the waitress placed her coffee on the
table, a touch firmer than necessary, for which she received a 
withering glance. 

“You still have a way with people,” Anthony said, tongue in cheek, and
then keeping his hands well out of reach, “protection racket in full 
force, lawlessness, you name it. Contacts tell us the island's most 
influential people could be involved, hence the need to employ a 
one-woman army, and I'm looking at the only one of those right now. 
Betty nodded, accepting Anthony's words as fact. Because, in effect, 
that described her to a tee. Better employ her than have a whole bunch 
of agents sprawling all over the place. 

Betty leaned forward: “Question: In what guise do I act? Schoolteacher
again?” 

Anthony shook his head and drew back as the waitress unloaded a plate of
eggs, sausages, bacon, and pancakes before him. Betty sighed and rolled 
her eyes. “See you haven't lost your appetite. Guess I get to sit and 
watch you eat that lot.” 

Anthony shrugged. “Anyhow, you get to play the dutiful companion to a
middle-aged heiress, namely Shonda Stapleton ...” 

“Hold on, just hold on!” Betty's dark eyes flared. “Stapleton and I do
not get on. You know that! Anyone with an ounce of sense will fathom 
out as much, and I'm likely to have enough on my plate without having 
to act the part of her dutiful companion. Betty's mind hit on her 
long-time friend, currently back home visiting Corrisville for a while. 
“I have a friend, Debbie Langton, who is more than capable of playing 
the part. Anthony jabbed his fork into a jumbo sausage and held it out 
toward her. 

“Nice try, Betty. Except she's not going to have the credentials, nor
I'm thinking, is she a federal employee. Use of outside manpower — or 
should I say woman power is expressly forbidden. 

“Great, just great.” Betty huffed. “Hold on, Mike. I'm no longer a ...” 

“You're a special case, as you well know, and as such, can be reassigned
at any time.” 

Betty fixed Anthony with a venomous look, moderating it slightly at his
exaggeratedly innocent-looking stare. “Well, I guess I cleaned up 
Corrisville without a whole lot of help. When does the show commence?” 

“Soon as you've passed your reassessment,” Anthony mumbled through a
mouthful of bacon. “Then you'll be briefed along with Shonda and will 
leave for Porter Island and a residence in keeping with that of a 
wealthy heiress.” 

Betty nodded. “When do you want me at HQ?” 

“Tomorrow, nine am. There'll be an assessment, after which you'll be
leaving the following day.” 

“Fine.” Betty drained her cup and got to her feet. “I'll leave you to
finish your breakfast in peace, besides, it's painful watching the way 
you eat.” She turned to go, stopped, and swung around. “Just one thing 
...” 

“Which is?” 

“I take it that playing the heiress is going to be the limit of
Stapleton's involvement?” 

“Well, apart from liaising with HQ, yes, indeed. I'm sure you'll be
pleased about that.” 

Betty gave a curt nod, striding out and glancing at the waitress on the
way. Nodding toward Anthony, she said, “He'll pay for the coffee.” 
 


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