Daria in 'True Cynicism'

Daria (and associated characters and locations) is copyright © 1997-2001 MTV Networks

This story is copyright © 2001 Mystik Slacker (mystik_slacker@hotmail.com) and has been written for personal enjoyment. No infringement of the above rights is intended.

Written: March 2001.


CHAPTER 5 - Executive Disorder

Daria ran to the curb, as a nondescript dark brown van screeched to a halt, and a door swung open on its side. She jumped in, followed by Alexei, Jane, and the Marine Major, who closed the door as the van took off. A solid wall, with a sliding door, cut off the front of the van, and the back was quite crowded. In addition to the four of them, and a large collection of communications and computer equipment, a thirty-ish, balding, man in a wheelchair occupied much of the space. The wheels were held in place by clamps, preventing the chair from moving as the van lurched. He was wearing headphones, and gave the impression of intent concentration, but looked up as the door closed.

"Good to see you again, Fingers." Said Daria. "Who's driving?"

The man slid his headphones off, and reached over to shake her hand.

"Welcome aboard. Glasscutter's at the wheel, and the backup team will be following shortly, as soon as they check on the agent who was with the President in the lounge."

He looked past her at the others, and raised an eyebrow eloquently. Daria turned, and realized that he had no way of knowing who the others were.

"Introduction time, but no names. This is Fingers, my communications specialist. I'm Cynic while we're here." She faced Fingers again, and gestured behind her, to the other three. "The guy in the tux is Ivan, Russian Secret Service." Major Stewart started, and edged slightly away from Alexei at that revelation. "The Marine is Major Stewart, from the President's security detachment, and...hmm." She turned to Jane, "You need a codename."

"Call me Artist." Jane said.

"Artist it is."

She turned back to Fingers.

"Do you have any clothing more suitable for running about than evening wear?" She asked.

"There are some black coveralls in the cabinet, and some boots, but I don't know if they'll fit you."

Daria dug through the cabinet, pulling out two sets of clothing that looked to be the right sizes. The boots were on the large side, but the cabinet contained wool socks, and a couple of pairs provided an acceptable fit. The Major in his uniform and Alexei, already wearing a black tuxedo, didn't need to change. The men turned their backs on Jane and Daria as they dressed in the dark clothing, while Fingers went back to monitoring his instruments. As the two changed, the van lurched several times, taking corners or changing lanes at high speed. Fingers occasionally gave terse directions to the driver over his radio. Finally, Daria transferred her radio and gun from her purse to her belt and stuffed her new dress and purse unceremoniously into the cabinet. Hopefully it wouldn't wrinkle too badly, but there were more important concerns on her mind at the moment.

"I'm going to go up front and talk to our driver. The rest of you see if you can figure out what we're going to do when we catch up with the terrorists."

She squeezed past the others, and slipped through the door into the front. As she slid into the passengers seat, she looked over at the driver.

"Hi Glasscutter, nice to meet..." She stopped abruptly.

"Hi Daria," Brittany squeaked, as she threw the van around a slow-moving sedan, "so you're Cynic, huh? Nice name. It suits you."

Daria just stared, her brain refusing to process the information it was taking in. It was clearly Brittany, already wearing a coverall like hers, driving the van. Brittany, the airheaded cheerleader, who was marginally less stupid than her boyfriend Kevin. Not that that was saying much. Daria suspected there were houseplants less stupid than Kevin.

"Brittany," she finally said, "you're Glasscutter? The cat burglar?"

"That's me. Surprised?"

"You could say so, although that word doesn't begin to do justice to what I'm feeling. How long have you been doing this?"

"Oh, a couple of years now. Ever since Ms. Li caught me breaking into the school office to fix Kevin's grades so he wouldn't be thrown off the team."

"I see. I always wondered how he managed to stay on the team."

Daria grabbed the dash, as Brittany braked suddenly to avoid ramming a car that stopped at a yellow light, and swerved around it with inches to spare.

"So, what exactly does Ms. Li need a cat burglar for, anyway? I was in Ops when you almost got caught leaving the German Embassy last week. Is that what you do?"

"Well, mostly it's breaking into the homes of suspected foreign agents to plant bugs. As a cheerleader I have a perfect excuse to travel to towns all over the state for part of the year. I don't break into well-protected places like the Embassy very often; I always seem to nearly get caught when I do." Brittany responded with a pensive look. "But this time was important. The Germans had some information about a shipment of NATO weapons that had been stolen, and for some reason they wouldn't share it."

Daria considered Brittany. Clearly, she was more intelligent than she normally let on at school. Daria debated asking her why she acted like a dunce, but decided that there was no tactful way to phrase such a question. She turned her thoughts instead to Brittany's comment about the weapons.

"That's odd. We're allies, and both part of NATO, I wonder why they would keep something like that secret from us."

"Yeah," Brittany answered, "and it's not like they were modern weapons either, or even usable ones."

"What do you mean?" Daria asked, puzzled; NATO troops didn't always have cutting-edge weapons, but they were hardly armed with World War II relics.

"Well, I read a couple of the papers before I took them, and they were talking about broken arrows. I didn't know soldiers still used bows."

Daria mentally revised her estimate of Brittany's intelligence downwards, as her blood ran cold.

"Brittany, 'broken arrow' is code for a missing nuclear weapon."

"Eep!" was Brittany's reply.

The two sat silently for several minutes, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Then a voice cracked in Daria's earphone.

"Cynic, can you come back here? We've got some ideas, but we need to do some planning."

"Roger Fingers, I'll be right there." She stood up to make her way back, with a final comment to Brittany. "Jane's in the back. She's not one of us, so she shouldn't know you're here. Try to keep out of sight, and only talk on the radio so she won't hear your voice directly."

"Good idea, Daria. I'll be careful."

Daria slid the door open, and stepped through, not at all reassured.

*

A short time later, the van pulled up behind an unremarkable block of buildings, the back side of a strip mall. This late, the stores were closed, and the area was characterized by the desolation that only an abandoned suburban shopping center possesses. The side door of the van opened, and the team climbed out, leaving Jane and Fingers in the van. After Daria slid the door closed, the front door opened, and Brittany joined the others.

"Okay, folks," Daria said, "Fingers says our quarry's in that building. Lets take a look."

"We really should wait for my squad to arrive," said the Major.

"If there's any evidence that there's more than the small group that left the reception with him, we will, but we're better off recovering the President quickly if we have the opportunity. For all we know, there may be a large force on the way in a helicopter. We can't give them time to follow whatever plan they have, we need to take the initiative."

"I can't argue with your tactics. I'm just worried that four people with pistols may be outgunned by a handful of terrorists with automatic weapons."

"I'm worried about that too, but it's a risk we need to take." With that, Daria headed for the building, followed by the others.

Back in the van, Jane turned to Fingers as the door closed, irritation plain on her face.

"Dammit, where does she get off telling me to wait here? I want to help."

"You said yourself you didn't know how to use a pistol, and you have no training for a fight. The best way to help is by staying out of the way and letting them get on with their jobs. Why do you think I'm sitting on my butt in here?"

"Because it's difficult to dive through a doorway with guns blazing in a wheelchair?" Jane snapped, and instantly regretted her words. "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Sure you did," Fingers said, grinning, "and it's true. I'd just be in the way for this kind of work. I'm much more useful here with my equipment. There are other times when my wheels don't get in the way and I can play a more active part. There'll be other times for you, too."

Jane sat on the edge of the communications console, and examined him more closely. Before she'd just seen the wheelchair, and hadn't noticed the person in it particularly. He was younger than he'd seemed at first glance, probably late twenties. He looked older because his sandy hair had begun to recede, and he wore a conservative shirt with a button-down collar. His arms were heavily muscled, and he wore fingerless leather gloves on his hands, apparently for propelling the chair. Both legs ended abruptly just above where his knees should have been.

"You seem at home in that chair," She said, at last, "have you always been...?" She trailed off, not knowing how to end the question.

Her embarrassment elicited another grin from Fingers. "What, legless? No, I lost them to impatience, stupidity and a youthful conviction of my own immortality. During the Gulf War I took a shortcut through an empty lot rather than walk around it on the road like other people. Turned out there was a reason they were avoiding it. But I was fresh off the plane and too dumb to know we'd just moved into that area and hadn't yet had a chance to sweep everywhere for landmines."

"Ouch." Said Jane, looking sick.

"Yeah. Fortunately there was an aid station right there, and they saved my life. I didn't think they'd done me any favors at the time. I'd been a soccer star during high school, and suddenly being immobile seemed like the end of my life. I went through a few bad years, before I accepted things. But I have a decent job installing security systems for businesses now, and I moonlight for these folks when they need me. I've even competed in a couple of small marathons. It's not the same as running, but it is athletic, and it beats the hell out of sitting at home feeling sorry for myself." He paused, briefly. "So, what do you do?"

"You mean when I'm not chasing Presidential kidnappers?" Jane asked, with a touch of her usual humor. "I'm an artist. Mainly paint, some sculpture. Nothing commercial, yet, but hopefully once I'm out of high school I'll be able to change that. I'm also a runner, although I've never been serious enough about it to train for a marathon. That would seem too much like work to me."

"Yeah, it's a lot of work. But crossing that finish line, even though I was way back in the pack, was quite a rush. I'm going to do it again, as soon as I can."

"Can't argue with that. Any word from them yet?"

"No, not since they entered the building, but I expected that. They're going to keep quiet to avoid giving themselves away."

*

After Brittany picked the lock on a back door, the Major and Alexei jumped in, darting to each side and looking around. Daria followed quickly after them, and Brittany came last and closed the door.

They stood in a dark room, lit mainly by the red exit sign above the door they'd just entered through. Light leaked under a door at the far side of the room, and metal shelving occupied by boxes was between them and the door. Daria moved quietly around the shelves and up to the door, and the others followed. At the door, she listened with her ear against it for several minutes, before turning to the others.

"I hear two voices, speaking Russian. Alexei, see if you can figure out what they're talking about."

Alexei moved up and listened. Brittany pulled Daria aside and whispered into her ear.

"Da..., I mean Cynic, I have a fiberscope for looking under doors that we can use to check out the room."

"Great, why didn't you mention it sooner?"

"Well, it wouldn't work on the back door, there wasn't a gap large enough."

"Okay, get it out and lets see what we've got."

Brittany unzipped a pouch on her belt and pulled out a small LCD screen wired to a metal cable about two feet long. Uncoiling it, she turned the screen on, and fed the end of the cable under the door. The screen lit with an image of a large room, apparently a showroom for a stereo store.

Brittany manipulated a pair of handles and the image shifted from side to side as the cable moved like a snake. Then a couch came into view. Seated on it was the President, with two men standing next to him. One man held a submachine gun, while the other appeared unarmed. The President's hands and ankles were taped together, but he was unharmed.

Alexei stepped back from the door and spoke quietly to the Major and Daria.

"They're waiting for someone to come with a car, and they're nervous. One of them said something about being out of the country before Tuesday night."

The Major spoke. "The door doesn't have a lock, and there are only two of them. I suggest we go in, take out the armed one but keep the other for questioning, and get the President the hell out of here."

Daria nodded. "Good plan. You and I will go through first. You take the armed one, and I'll cover the other."

Alexei objected, "Let me handle him. Unless I miss my guess you've never had to shoot someone, and you might hesitate if you need to. I don't have that problem."

Daria considered this.

"Okay. That's reasonable, and this is no time to take a chance."

"I must object," Said the Major, "this man is a foreign agent. We can't let him near the President with a gun."

"I'll be right behind him with my gun, and if he doesn't do the right thing, I will shoot him. Maybe I'll freeze up, but it's less of a risk than depending on me to kill an unarmed man who makes the wrong move." She met the Major's eyes, unblinking, until he looked away.

"I really don't like this, but all right," He turned to Alexei, "but one wrong move and I'll kill you myself."

"It's a pleasure working with you, too." Said Alexei, with a sardonic twist to his mouth.

The three stood ready, with Brittany crouched by the floor beside the door, keeping the camera trained on the couch. The Major grabbed the doorknob, and with a glance at the others, turned it and shoved the door open, stepping through and to the left. Alexei followed, jumping to the right.

The major shot, twice, and the armed terrorist dropped. The other turned, with a panicked look, and grabbed for a gun in his waistband. Alexei calmly shot him in the shoulder and he fell back against the couch. Before he could recover from the shock of being hit, Alexei had crossed the room, and pulled him onto the floor, covering him with his pistol.

The Major dashed to the president, and began to untie him, speaking to him in a low voice. At the same time, Daria joined Alexei, and quickly bound the terrorist using the same roll of tape the terrorists had used on the president. She also tore a strip from his jacket, and taped it over the wound in his shoulder as a crude bandage to stop the bleeding.

Daria kept a close eye on Alexei, but as soon as the terrorist was restrained he moved to the archway leading into the main part of the store to watch for any others, waving an "all clear" back to her after he'd looked around. Reassured, she gestured the Major back towards the door. The President, helped by the Major, walked stiffly, his feet apparently numb from reduced circulation while they were taped. Alexei returned to Daria, holstering his gun.

After the other two had left the room, Alexei spoke to Daria in a low voice. "I think this is where we part ways. I'd hate to give your people the temptation of questioning a Russian agent, and with your President safe, my mission's done."

"Good idea." Daria hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words.

Alexei smiled, and leaned forward, kissing her briefly on the cheek.

"Dosvedanya. It's been a pleasure working with you, Daria. Take care. Maybe we'll meet again some time. It's a smaller world than you'd think."

With that, he turned and made for the front of the store. Daria smiled bemusedly after him for a short time, then grabbed the injured terrorist by the collar, and pushing him ahead of her, hurried after the Major.

*

Outside the building, the Major was helping the President into the van. Brittany was already out of sight in the front of the vehicle. Daria pushed the injured terrorist into the van, climbed in herself, and closed the door behind her.

"Let's get the hell out of here before anyone else shows up." She turned to the Major. "Back to the Kennedy Center, or would you rather go somewhere else?"

"My troops are on their way to join us, we can rendezvous with them and transfer the President to a more secure vehicle than this. Then we'll return to the White House."

Unexpectedly, the President spoke up. His voice was calm and controlled, too controlled. There was an echo of the night's stress in the precision with which he selected and pronounced his words. Regardless, they were clear and unequivocal. The words of someone with no doubt that his orders will be followed.

"No. Not the White House. My captors said that they had kidnapped me to get me away from the city because I was in danger there. They claimed that there was going to be a bombing sometime in the next several days and I would be in danger as long as I remained in the city. Take me to Andrews Air Force Base. I will work from Air Force One until we resolve this situation."

"Yes sir!" The Major said, bracing to attention.

The President turned his attention to Daria.

"Young lady, Major Stewart tells me you are an FBI agent. You seem a trifle on the young side for that, but in any case I want to thank you for your role in getting me out of there. That was well done."

Daria was surprised by her reaction. She had a tendency to dislike authority figures simply because they were authority figures. But the President's approval meant something to her. Maybe it was simply his skill in public speaking, or maybe she was more of a patriot than she would have thought, but at his words her heart beat a little faster, and she stood a little straighter as she looked at him.

"Thank you sir, but we were only doing our jobs. And we aren't actually FBI; we're from another agency that would prefer not to mention its name, in the present company." She said, looking aside at the terrorist as she did so.

The President nodded. "Understood. Tell your Colonel 'hello' from me, and that I will come visit her some time when things are less hectic. Also, ask her to look into this terrorist threat and report to me as soon as possible what form it could take."

"Yes, sir. I'll pass your message along immediately."

The van came to a stop, and Fingers looked up from his equipment.

"We're at the rendezvous, Major. Your men are waiting." He said.

The Major opened the door, and stepped out, exchanging a recognition sign with another Marine, who was flanked by several people in dark suits, presumably the President's Secret Service bodyguards. He helped the President down, as the others came over to escort him to a waiting limousine, and before he departed himself, he spoke briefly to Daria and the others.

"Cynic, Fingers, Artist, thank you, and pass my thanks to the rest of your team. As the President said, that was very well done. I hope we meet again, under more pleasant circumstances."

He turned, and jogged over to the waiting limousine and its escort of dark sedans. Daria closed the door.

"Fingers, ask Glasscutter to take us back to the party. Maybe we can sneak back in so nobody will know we disappeared. And call Ops with the Presidents request. Ask the Colonel if it might be related to Glasscutter's German operation earlier this week."

Fingers spoke to Brittany via radio, and the van began to move. Then he slid off his headphones, and turned to Daria.

"Off we go. By the way, while you were inside Ops called back with an answer to your question about the reception. The location was chosen by a steering committee for the model congress program, and it was paid for by donations from several of the committee members. The principle contributor, and the man who appears to have suggested the location, was the chairman of the committee. The Colonel said you knew him: Angier Sloane."

Fingers put his headphones back on and began to talk to Ops. Daria exchanged glances with Jane. Angier was the father of Daria's boyfriend, Tom. Tom had formerly been Jane's boyfriend, and both of them knew Tom's family fairly well. Angier was a respected businessman, and it was unlikely that he'd be involved in any terrorist plot. But he was their only lead at present, and they were going to have to check him out. This could get complicated.

THE END (of Chapter 5)

Next week: Chapter 6, A Small Town in Maryland: In which Daria returns home, and learns that 'heredity or environment' isn't just an academic question, and that appearances can be deceiving indeed.

Authors Notes:

I haven't included any notes since Chapter 1, so it's about time I tied up some loose details.

Publication Schedule:

My goal is to put one chapter out per week, each weekend. So far I've been hitting this, usually by 23:59 Sunday night, U.S. Eastern time (GMT -5 right now, -4 in April), although it may be later if fanfiction.net is less responsive than usual. New chapters are announced on the Announcements message board of the Paperpusher's site as soon as they are posted.

Title origins:

Most of these titles draw somehow from other books/films involving espionage, terrorism, or something related. A few come from nowhere in particular. In any case the contents of the chapter rarely has much to do with the original inspiration of the title, but I try to use titles that relate to the chapter somehow.

Chapter 1: Satellite Transmission Jammer - as previously noted, this comes from a brief comment by Ms. Li in Fizz Ed about the cost of such a device. In the chapter, Daria becomes suspicious of the behavior of a satellite dish antenna on the school roof.

Chapter 2: A View to a Spill - Derives from the title of the James Bond film, A View to a Kill. Kevin falls in a fountain at the end of the chapter. Okay, it's weak, I admit it. But I liked the title.

Chapter 3: Mission Implausible - Obviously derives from Mission: Impossible. And what could be more implausible than a high school girl saving the President from an assassin?

Chapter 4: Last Tango in Washington - The title is a variation on Last Tango in Paris. In the episode, Daria dances the tango with Alex, a scene inspired by the two tango scenes in True Lies.

Chapter 5: Executive Disorder - An Executive Order is a directive signed by the President. The Chief Executive being kidnapped is fairly disorderly. See the connection?

Chapter 6: A Small Town in Maryland - From the John LeCarre novel, A Small Town in Germany. The town is Lawndale, of course, since this is the chapter where Daria returns home from Washington. For purposes of this story I'm presuming Lawndale is in Maryland, one of the places that's been suggested as a possible location. Before anyone notes all the reasons Lawndale can't be in Maryland, I'll just point out that this story would make much less sense if it were in California, Texas, or New England.

Presidential Security:

The Secret Service is responsible for protecting the president, among other duties. The Marine Corp provides security for some government facilities, including foreign embassies. Having the Marines provide perimeter security at the reception may have been a bit of a stretch, but I didn't have time to research who really would be responsible for such and still hit my self-imposed weekly deadline. I've presumed that various groups are used based on their skills. The Secret Service is trained for personal security (bodyguard duty), the Marines provide a visible deterrent and are trained for diplomatic guard duty, and various other groups, such as the FBI, would probably be handling counter-terrorism and similar duties, which is why the Major bought Daria's cover so easily.

End of Authors Notes