The Mason Pierce blog contains brief episodes from Agent Mason Pierce's career as a US Air Force Special Forces operative before he joins the CIA and his early years with the Central Intelligence Agency. These precede the as of yet unpublished book Mason Pierce: Assassination.

Did you notice the Share on Facebook link in the sidebar?

Sample Chapter

Want to see more? Here's a chapter of Mason Pierce: Assassination for you enjoyment.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
Central Intelligence Agency agent Mason Pierce sat in a cold, metal chair, eyes transfixed on a large computer screen, monitoring both radio chatter and audio feed from a bug placed in a building less than two city blocks away. Even to the most astute eye, the building he was inside looked like nothing more than another business in a commercial district of the capital of Saudi Arabia. To any individuals privy to the knowledge of its interior, however, it was far more. It was a major black site set up in Riyadh after the September 11th terrorist attacks to monitor any and all actions of terrorist organizations with operatives in Riyadh. Numerous others had been set up in the Middle East, controversially kept a secret from the governments of the nations they were based in.
The agents located in the black site were currently monitoring a discussion taking place between two known Al Qaeda members: Asad Ibn-Gabir and Rashid Al-Karim. The CIA had been tracking their movements for years, and that had only increased when Ibn-Gabir met with a notorious bomb maker three weeks prior. The contents of the conversation were unknown, but one thing was certain: there would be a bomb, and many could die.
The tension and anticipation in the room became tangible. It was more sweltering and more oppressive than the Saudi sun. The computers let out a constant gust of hot air, as if mocking the air conditioner’s feeble efforts to keep the temperature beneath a cool ninety.
A bead of sweat trickled down Mason’s brow. He wiped it away. He was listening to an audio feed from a bug placed underneath a table. He could hear distant talking—Ibn-Gabir was talking on a cell phone.
Suddenly, an agent listening to the wiretapped phone line let out a short outburst.
“Hey. I’ve got something.” He made a circle in the air with his finger, signally for everybody to listen in.
Mason strained to make out the rapid Arabic as his audio feed was switched to the phone conversation. He was trained to pick up languages quickly, but having only had a few months of study, he was not entirely fluent.
“The device has been positioned successfully?” he heard Asad say.
“Yes, our man just left.” Mason could feel the tension rise to an audible hum. Another bead of sweat made its way down his forehead. He became aware of the lives whose futures rested upon the shoulders of the agents. Tens, maybe hundreds, of people whistling past the graveyard.
“And you are in position?” said Asad.
“Yes. I am directly across on Al-Idrisi, I will see everything,” the other voice was deep and menacing. Mason recognized it as an unknown man who had been working with Ibn-Gabir over the last month.
The whole black site shot into a panic at the mention of Al-Idrisi. It was the name of the street on which the United States Embassy was located. One man ran into the middle of the room and began barking orders.
“Bomb located in the north wing of the embassy! The detonator is held by an unidentified man in a white sedan on Al-Idrisi. Crown Prince Nayef Bin Abdul Aziz is currently in the building and has been informed that the embassy has gathered intel on an attack planned by suspected Al Qaeda members. The occupants are being slowly evacuated to the courtyard. Move! Move!”
Mason ran to a closet with an array of various disguises lain out. He and two other agents grabbed outfits in order to blend in with Saudi Arabian men. Mason threw a Saudi headdress, a Ghutrah, and fastened it before finally throwing on a traditional cloak, and rushing out of the black site down the steps which led into a deserted alleyway. Each step carried him closer to danger. He could feel the adrenaline beginning the course through his veins. The rush propelled him onwards—this was his element.
Mason and one of the other agents from the site began immediately dashing down the alley, while the other took a more leisurely jog. Should all not go as planned, he would bring in reinforcements
As they ran, Mason motioned with his hands to show the other agent the plan of action. The other agent would walk up a flight of stairs to the door, giving a predetermined greeting that had been previously intercepted. Mason, meanwhile, would scale the opposite wall and storm the room through a window. Every agent in the black site had poured over schematics and photographs of the apartment—they knew it just as well as the men inside.
After running the length of the two blocks that separated the two respective bases of operation, the agents slowed to a walk and went about their respective paths. As the other agent walked to the front door, Mason retrieved two climbing spikes from inside his Thawb. Each spike had a spring-loaded mechanism which would drive it into the wall when Mason smashed it against it. As soon as the agent reached the stairs, Mason began his ascent. He brought a spike into the wall. Within an instant, with a sleek, metallic sliding noise, the metal bolt blasted its way into the adobe, then expanded to lock itself in place.
It took most of his strength to haul himself up the vertical fa├žade, but it was only one story up and did not take long. Once he reached the top, he found that he had timed it perfectly—the other agent had just made it inside. Mason smashed one of the climbing spikes against the window. A latch inside clicked off and the spring slammed forwards into the window, cutting a fine whole and creating vein-like cracks which instantaneously spread to the window frame. A solid blow from his elbow shattered the window inwards. Mason leapt in, stowing the climbing spikes and drawing a Heckler & Koch USP35 pistol.
Across the alleyway, Adriana Bachavelli, agent for the Italian Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna, watched the scene unfold through a pair of binoculars with another AISE agent. She swore in Italian. She had been entrusted with keeping an eye on and possibly arresting Ibn-Gabir due to intelligence suggesting that he might perpetrate a bombing somewhere in western Europe—likely Italy. And now what was probably an American agent had gone charging in to arrest him himself—and Adriana could not afford for anything to go awry.
“Put your hands behind your head and face the wall!” Mason commanded in Arabic. He was not going to mess this up. Asad Ibn-Gabir had been responsible for the deaths of several of Mason’s comrades during his tenure with the Special Forces, and he was glad to be the one to put make the man’s arrest. To Mason’s delight, Asad agreed. Rashid, on the other hand, wheeled around on his heel and drew a pistol. Mason swerved his arm to fire, but just before he could pull the trigger, another body dashed into the room. He caught a quick glimpse—by the looks of her clothing and equipment, she was European—another spy.
The woman’s entrance had only thrown Mason off his guard for a second, but that was just enough for Al-Rashid to rattle off two shots into the wall behind him. The new agent retaliated by firing a warning shot between the two Saudi men. Now Asad had drawn a gun. He fired at the other CIA agent, who agilely dodged. Mason hollered a warning in Arabic, which only prompted both Al Qaeda members to direct their guns at him. Ducking to avoid a bullet he knew would be coming, Mason fired one shot, hitting Asad in the shoulder. Another bullet thudded into the floor as he rolled to dodge. There was a scream of pain as the other American agent took a bullet to the leg. He collapsed, tearing a strip from his cloak to tie a tourniquet.
Not wanting to kill the two Al Qaeda members, but realizing he needed to take action, Mason employed one of the tricks he had stashed up his sleeve. From the recesses of his cloak, he removed a small EPIC—an Electromagnetic Personnel Interdiction Control. The device was not too different from a handgun, but in place of a muzzle was a rectangular housing for what looked like the tip of a laser pointer. The wall-penetrating device could emit electromagnetic signals to disrupt stimuli which affect the target’s balance and induce dizziness—essentially causing them to vomit.
“Stand back!” Mason shouted towards Adriana, who was in the line of fire. He then pulled the trigger on the weapon just as Adriana began to dive out of its range. The effects were almost immediate. Asad vomited immediately before collapsing onto the ground. His head collided with the floor several more times as he attempted to shake the feeling of sickness and regain his footing. The stronger-stomached Rashid held out for only two additional seconds before disgorging much of the contents of his stomach and nearly falling into it. Both men rolled, clutching their heads in agony. Mason rushed to handcuff them both with plastic ties. Having done that, he turned to the Italian agent.
You almost got us all killed. I had everything under control, then you decided to fly in through the window and do everything yourself!” Mason spat. His words were like venom.
The Italian agent, however, had not completely escaped the EPIC’s range of influence and collapsed on the hard wooden floor. Mason stared down and shook his head as he walked out the door. Spinning the EPIC and re-holstering it.

© (Copyright) 2011 Derek Zeoli and Bram Osterhout

No comments:

Post a Comment