Missions of the Retrieval Team - The Girl with the Silvery Smile

[davedove]

Opening Scene

The Caribbean Sea, just south of Cuba

We were drifting just within the territorial waters of Cuba, aboard the Bird’s Nest, our private yacht. Our client had hired us to retrieve an item he had dumped overboard to keep it from being confiscated by the Cubans. Apparently, he had been working for the C.I.A. and didn’t want his work to fall into their hands. When he was caught and boarded, he was able to maintain his cover as a lost pleasure boater sailing from Jamaica.

The U.S. government of course couldn’t officially come back to retrieve the item, so we had been hired to do so. Our client was ‘officially’ a wealthy businessman who simply wanted his gear back. A little research from Ms. Swan had uncovered the C.I.A. link.

However, they didn’t have to know that we knew.

We were using much the same cover. I was the rich playboy taking my yacht out with my lady friends. In keeping with that cover, our clothes were all swimsuits and beachwear.

Two of my associates, Ms. Starling and Ms. Hawk, were underwater, using scuba gear to dive to our target. We had taken our client’s last position and factored in the prevailing water currents to determine the target’s probable location. Unfortunately, water currents can be notoriously fickle and we had been at it for over an hour.

Ms. Falcon was seated in the helmsman’s chair, scanning the horizon with high-powered binoculars.

“Do you see anything yet?” I asked her.

“Not yet,” she replied, “but it probably won’t be long now.”

She was scanning for the Cuban authorities. We all knew it was only a matter of time before they came to check us out. If necessary, we would use our cover story, but we didn’t really want to be here when the Cubans arrived.

Ms. Raven and I were seated near the stern, waiting for our associates to surface. My other associates, Ms. Thrush, Ms. Stork, Ms. Swan, and Ms. Wren, were all on the top deck, sunbathing. Of course, they were also scanning the water for boats.

“I’ve got a boat,” Ms. Falcon called out.

“Where?” I asked.

“The port bow,” she answered.

“I assume it’s Cuban.”

“I can’t quite make it out for certain, just a minute.” She set down the binoculars and turned the viewing scope near her in that direction. She peered through it a few seconds, adjusting the focus. “I can just make out the flag. It’s Cuban.”

“Right, everyone get ready. We may need to do some fast talking.” At this point I could make out the patrol boat without need of binoculars. “They’re coming in fast. They definitely know we’re here.”

At that moment, a woman in scuba gear broke through the water behind us, followed shortly by another woman towing a large metal cylinder supported by balloon floats.

“They’ve got it,” called out Ms. Raven.

“Get ready to move out,” I called to Ms. Falcon, who immediately began to start up the yacht’s engines.

I moved to the stern to assist Ms. Raven as she helped my two associates back on board. Ms. Starling handed us the cylinder and then let Ms. Raven pull her aboard. Ms. Hawk followed close behind and I helped pull her aboard.

“We’ve got them, go!” I called to Ms. Falcon.

She eased the throttle forward and the yacht began to move through the water.

We quickly helped the ladies out of their gear and took it and the cylinder down to the hold. Ms. Raven quickly opened a secret panel and we shoved the cylinder and gear inside.

When we got back on deck, I saw that all my associates had joined Ms. Falcon, so we moved to do the same. I noticed that the Cubans were getting closer.

“We’re going to have to move faster,” I told Ms. Falcon.

She slid open a panel, which revealed more controls. I motioned for my associates to take seats and buckle in.

Just then, a small spout of water sprung up near us.

“They’ve opened fire!” called out Ms. Hawk.

I saw that all my associates had secured themselves, so I called to Ms. Falcon. “Do it now!”

“Okay,” she answered. “Ya’ll hold on now.”

She flipped a switch and suddenly the yacht leapt forward. Not long ago we had installed special engines for just this occasion. We couldn’t outrun some of the fastest ships, but we would have no problem outrunning the Cubans.

I turned around and noticed we were losing the Cubans. They were still shooting, but the shells were falling farther behind us.

“Good job ladies,” I called out over the wind. “Ms. Falcon, take us to Puerto Rico.”

[davedove]

Title Sequence

Explosions fill the screen

Displayed against the background of explosions are the words:

Missions of the Retrieval Team

The scene changes.

Inside a well appointed home

A large bearded man wearing a kilt is pacing about an office. He is speaking into a cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Mr. Dove

Leader

The scene changes.

A laboratory

An attractive, dark-haired woman is examining something under a microscope. She stops to answer her cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Starling

Investigative Specialist

The scene changes.

A shooting range

A tall red-haired woman is firing a large handgun. The scene quickly changes to show her shots forming a very small group on the target. The scene changes back. The woman stops shooting, removes her hearing protection, and answers her cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Hawk

Combat Specialist

The scene changes.

A ballroom

A beautiful woman with golden blond hair, wearing an evening gown, is dancing with an attractive man. She stops the dance, pulls a cell phone out of her purse, and answers it.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Thrush

Undercover Specialist

The scene changes.

A race track

A racecar pulls in to a stop. The driver climbs out of the window. She removes her helmet to reveal dark blond hair. One of her pit crew hands her a cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Falcon

Transport Specialist

The scene changes.

A quiet workroom, filled with tools

A young African American woman is working on a small box, trying to open it. The top pops open. She reaches for her cell phone to answer it.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Raven

Security Specialist

The scene changes.

An Internet café

A cute young woman of oriental background is working at one of the computers. She answers her cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Swan

Computer Information Retrieval Specialist

The scene changes.

A library

An attractive woman of Hispanic or Native American ancestry is bent over a table, intensely reading a book. She rises up to answer her cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Stork

Research Specialist

The scene changes.

Outside a courthouse

An attractive, dark-haired woman wearing a sharp suit walks out of the door. She stops to answer her cell phone.

Words are displayed across the scene.

Ms. Wren

Legal Specialist

The scene changes.

A hallway

All of the team members are walking down the hallway towards the audience, led by the man.

The scene fades and the title is displayed.

The Girl with the Silvery Smile

[davedove]

Scene 1

The Caribbean Sea, just off the southern coast of Puerto Rico

We relaxed on the yacht as we waited for Mr. Smith to arrive. ‘Mr. Smith,’ just how unoriginal can the government types be? He was supposed to arrive in the same boat we had met him in earlier to arrange the mission.

It wasn’t long until Ms. Starling spotted the boat from her lookout position on the sun deck. As we waited for the boat to approach alongside the yacht, Ms. Hawk kept her assault rifle out of sight, but easily available. I stood at the rail and watched the boat draw near.

“Ahoy, the Bird’s Nest!” called out a man from the boat.

Recognizing our client I called back. “Welcome back, Mr. Smith.”

“Hello, Mr. Dove. Permission to secure my vessel and come aboard?”

“Permission granted. Throw us a line and we’ll secure your boat.”

Mr. Smith threw us his rope and Ms. Raven quickly secured it to the yacht. In the distance, I happened to notice a helicopter flying a pattern nearby. It never passed too close to us, but it was never far away either. Obviously, Mr. Smith had some partners keeping watch, as we had suspected he would.

I lowered the ladder over the side and extended a hand to help Mr. Smith come aboard. As he stepped on deck and shook my hand, he couldn’t help but admire my associates, each dressed in a swimsuit.

“I must say I appreciate your choice of associates, Mr. Dove,” he said.

“Hey, just because they are skilled professionals doesn’t mean they can’t look nice.”

“Of course, so you have my package?”

“Certainly, has our fee been transferred?”

I looked over at Ms. Swan, who was looking at her laptop. She looked up at me. “Deposited this morning,” she said.

“Perfect,” I responded. “Mr. Smith, if you would follow me?”

We descended to the deck below, where the cylinder we had retrieved was being kept. Ms. Stork was sitting nearby, reading a book. Mr. Smith didn’t notice the pistol she had hidden beneath her sarong. We normally remain armed during meetings like this, as some clients think they can steal back their packages without paying the fee once we have done the hard part. I didn’t expect any such actions from Mr. Smith though.

I picked up the cylinder and handed it to him. “Here you go, mission accomplished.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dove. Your services are greatly appreciated.”

“It really wasn’t much trouble, although we did have to have a short race with a Cuban patrol boat.”

“No serious problems though?”

“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Can I offer you a drink while you’re here? I’m sure the ladies wouldn’t mind a little company other than me.”

I could tell he was tempted by the look in his eyes, especially since Ms. Thrush had come into the room to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She was wearing a bikini that could just barely be called legal. His eyes were following her as she walked across the room.

“I’m sorry, but no. I have a schedule to keep.”

I almost couldn’t keep from laughing. “Too bad, well it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Call us again if you need anything.”

“I will, and thank you again.”

I walked him back to the ladder and waited for him to reach his boat. Ms. Raven tossed him back the line. He went to the helm of his boat and started it up. We watched as he pulled away. I noticed that the helicopter headed back to the island as well.

I called to our own helm. “Ms. Falcon, take us to the island roost.” That is what we called our villa on St. John’s.

The yacht started to move out and Ms. Swan called me over. “We’ve got an email.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked.

“It’s Mike from the League. It looks like an invitation.”

I moved over to read the message.

Mr. Dove and the Members of the Retrieval Team,

You are invited to attend a formal dinner at the Great Hall of X
marks the Scot to celebrate the recovery of our esteemed members,
Riverkilt, Graham, and Hamish. Please proceed directly to the Charleston
Airport where ground transportation has been arranged.

Mike1

“Well,” I said, “it looks like we have a party to attend.”

[davedove]

Scene 2

A private jet en route to South Carolina

We had packed our formal outfits and were on our way to South Carolina. Although the rest of the team was relaxing, I noticed that Ms. Raven and Ms. Swan were working on something at the small office on board.

I worked over to them. “What are you doing?” I asked them.

Ms. Raven answered. “We’ve been thinking about the security screen around the Great Hall and I believe there must be some way to defeat or at least bypass it.”

Ms. Swan continued. “I believe that if we can isolate the energy frequencies involved, we should be able to attune a signal that will penetrate the field.”

“Interesting theory,” I replied. “Just don’t forget that they’re on our side. And besides, we’re going to attend a celebration.”

“Yeah, we know,” answered Ms. Swan, “but this is just something we’re doing in our spare time. Don’t worry, we won’t get in trouble.”

I had to chuckle at that comment. Getting into trouble was part of our job. “Okay,” I said, “just remember to have fun at the party.”

[davedove]

Scene 3


Infirmary, Great Hall of X Marks the Scot


We were met at the airport and taken to the Hall in the shielded car. Once there, the Heralds showed us to rooms in the guest wing, so that we could rest and change before dinner.

Ms. Wren, known to the members as Dirka Skene, wanted to check on her husband, who was still in the infirmary. I went with her, as I was also concerned about his condition.

The Chaplain, Prestor John, was making his rounds when we entered. He approached us and took Dirka’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her. “His condition is still the same, but you can go on in.”

He went with us as we entered the room of Celtic Menace. He was still unconscious.

“Why is he still unconscious?” asked Dirka. “The others we brought back have recovered.”

“Not completely,” said the Chaplain, “and only those who were taken later. We assume that the later ones were not subjected to as severe a treatment. The earlier victims are all still unconscious. We believe that they were earlier test subjects and have been subjected to more and stronger drugs while they developed the process. The doctors are doing all they can.”

“I know they are,” it’s just so heartbreaking to see him lying there like that. I noticed that tears had filled her eyes. Unfortunately for Dirka, this celebration wouldn’t be as happy for her.

[Splash_4]

OOh OOh, Time to get the popcorn again

[davedove]

OOh OOh, Time to get the popcorn again

Yeah, but this one isn't coming to me as quickly. The first one just seemed to come rolling out of me.

[starbkjrus]

Yeah, but this one isn't coming to me as quickly. The first one just seemed to come rolling out of me.

Thats ok, I've got LOTS of popcorn just waiting to hit the microwave. Take your time. :food-smiley-002:

[davedove]

Scene 4


Grand Dining Room, Great Hall of X Marks the Scot


My team gathered in the hallway outside of our rooms. I had chosen to wear a kilt and fly plaid in the blue and green hues of the newly designed Dove tartan*. When my associates came out of their rooms, I saw that each of them had worked the same tartan into their outfits. I’ll admit I was a bit touched by this gesture. Most of them had opted for sashes or wraps, but I noticed that Ms. Hawk had a full hostess skirt made up in the tartan. I didn’t ask, but I would have wagered a large sum that she had a pistol under that skirt, even here in the safety of the Hall.

We had found instructions in the room that the event would call for the wear of decorations, so I had pinned my medals on the front of my jacket. My associates, although they were not wearing jackets, placed their decorations appropriately. Ms. Wren wore the Wreath of Distinguished Service on a ribbon around her neck.

We made our way to the entrance of the Grand Dining Room. The Heralds of the League, Dee and McMurdo were stationed at the top of the stairs leading down into the Dining Room.

Dee introduced us to McMurdo and he shook each of our hands. “Later, you’ll have to tell me your version of the events up north,” I told him.

“Certainly,” he responded. “Just grab me anytime after the main ceremonies are over and I will be glad to do so.”

In truly splendid style, Dee called out each of our names, introducing us to the gathering as we descended the stairs.

I noticed that many people had already gathered, mainly the Moderators and their significant others. Each of the men was wearing a kilt in the X Marks the Scot tartan and the women had the tartan worked into their outfits. This group was stationed at the bottom of the stairs, where they all greeted each arrival.

As I made my way down the line, I arrived where Panache was standing, along with his flame-haired wife. I vigorously shook his hand then placed a gentlemanly kiss on his wife’s hand. So that he didn’t feel too put out, each of my associates gave him a quick peck on the cheek at he greeted them.

Just past Panache were three gentlemen dressed in the maroon kilts of the Saltire’s security force. Each of them was wearing the League’s highest honor, the Order of the Dandelion, around their necks. I realized that these men must be the decorated heroes of the Acryli-beast expedition.

“You gentlemen must be Mr. Splash, Mr. BEEDEE, and Mr. Mender. It’s a pleasure to meet such outstanding members.”

I shook each of their hands.

“It’s a pleasure,” said Mr. Splash.

“To make the acquaintance,” said Mr. BEEDEE.

“Of you and your team, as well,” said Mr. Mender.

“You’ll have to tell us,” said Mr. Splash.

“Of your adventures,” said Mr. BEEDEE.

“Against the forces of Globo-Fashion,” said Mr. Mender.

“Of course,” I replied. It would take a little while to get used to their strange manner of speaking.

After we had met everyone in the receiving line, my team dispersed to mingle with the other guests. Ms. Falcon remained with me, as it was her turn to be my escort for the evening.

The Heralds continued to introduce other members as they entered the Dining Room.

“From Missouri, Cactus Jack.”

“From Washington, Kilted John Sporrano.”

“From Arizona, Arizona Scot.”

“From California, James MacMillan, Coemgen, Crusty, Ozman1944, and Rigged.”

When the members from California began to descend the stairs, all conversation in the room stopped as everyone noticed what they were wearing.

Although each of the California members was wearing a perfectly normal formal kilted outfit, they were all also wearing an Elizabethan style cap with a large pink ostrich feather.

* Shameless plug for my newly designed tartan
Introducing the New Dove Tartan

[davedove]

Commercial Break


Inside an office


We see a man sitting at a desk talking on a phone. He speaks harshly into the receiver, “I don’t care what it takes, just get it done.” He slams down the receiver. Sitting back in his chair, he clutches his stomach and grimaces in pain.

We hear the narrator.

“This is Mike, the Executive Officer of the League of Moderators. The stress of his position can cause him to suffer from heartburn and upset stomach.”

The man reaches into a cabinet under his desk and pulls out a bottle filled with a pick liquid.

“When this happens, Mike always uses Formula X, from the fine folks at X Marks the Scot.”

The man opens the bottle and takes a big drink.

“It’s patented formula works fast to coat his stomach and brings fast relief.”

The man puts the lid back on the bottle and again sits back in his chair, with a look of relief on his face.

“In no time at all, its fast acting formula will have him back to his old self.”

The phone rings and the man angrily answers it. “What is it? What? You’re kidding me! Well get it working! I don’t have time for this nonsense!”

The scene changes to a close-up of a bottle of Formula X.

“Formula X, fast relief when you need it.”