Hal Brognola arrived at the communications room in much the same manner he employed to bust down doors of Mafia kingpins. "I got your message," he barked at April. "What happened? What's so goddamn urgent?" April's face was ghostly pale, whiter than he had ever seen it before. "What is it, April?" Hal Brognola said, softly now.
April took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, forcing her body to resume its professional stance. Her voice was crisp and steady. "Update reports on the preliminary investigation into the Zwilling Horde kidnappings. It seems NATO and the CIA teamed up on this one and sent a couple of agents undercover. A man-and-woman team."
"What did they find out?"
"No one knows."
"They haven't checked in yet?"
She shook her head slowly and handed him a page just torn from the printer. As Brognola read, she could see his face change into an expression of disgust. When he was finished, he lifted his eyes to meet hers and shook his head resignedly.
"They discovered the bodies this afternoon, or at least what was left of them," April said. She was fighting against a quaver in her voice, determined to maintain her military demeanor. ""As the report states, there is sufficient evidence to indicate severe torture, including castration of the man and rape of the woman. A sharp knife or razor was used on both, particularly around the face. Fortunately they were both dead before some of the other atrocities were committed, including the gouging of the eyes. Unfortunately, they were alive for the rest".
Brognola crumpled up the report in his hands and tossed it savagely into a corner of the operations room.
"Well, some men don't scare that easily," he said.
"You mean Mack doesn't," said April, the sadness in her voice an almost tangible thing. "You mean that Mack will ignore the demented actions of animals because the mission calls for nothing less. Hal, sometimes we ask Mack to go against every natural law there is."
"April, listen to me," said Brognola, attending to some of the paperwork that lay before him on top of the low computer cabinet, his head bent with a stubborn concentration on other matters. "Striker has had plenty of practice breaking the law these past ten years. Let's pray he can bend a few natural ones now that the circumstances require it. Enough said. Now back to our duties. I cannot bear to dwell on things that neither you nor I can bend at all."
April looked at her superior with impatient acceptance. Pray was right. Pray for a sane world and a job that did not lick at the salt of death. Such a world, such a job, could happen at any time. Just as soon as hell froze.
Let us pray, she said in silence, for flames of ice and an end to war everlasting.
Could be that hell hath no fury like this woman's prayer...