Porter Island Chapter Three (standard:action, 1381 words) [3/3] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: May 07 2024	Views/Reads: 301/144	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Betty McCloud is coaxed out of retirement to deal with an island of unruly inhabitants. It's her biggest assignment yet, and she's not getting any younger.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

“Take your point.” Betty sat back and sighed. “Should have thought
before flying off the handle. Anyhow ... something I've been meaning to 
say ...” 

“Which is?” Anthony frowned, reading her expression. 

“Had a guy try to jump me back home this morning, got away in a black
BMW before I could get to grips with him. His pal drove up, and they 
sped off.” 

“You reported it?” 

“No, wouldn't be the first time some jerk tried to ambush me.” Betty
raked a hand through her long black hair. “Thing is, though, 
Corrisville is far from the hotbed of violence it once was ...” 

“Thanks to you ...” 

“Thanks to me, whatever ...” Betty waved the compliment off, “but it
struck me that this could've been deliberate, singling me out, in 
effect. And I just wonder if this could have any bearings on the 
operation ... like somebody here has prior knowledge and a vested 
interest in ...” 

“Whoa ...” Anthony shook his head, frown etching deeper into his
forehead. 

“This has top security clearance, Betty. It's inconceivable that your
details have been leaked. You're still a mighty attractive woman, 
Betty, if I might say so. And I always thought the woods around your 
place were a haven for someone trying their luck.” 

Betty gave a grim smile. “There's trying your luck, Mike, and trying to
throttle the life outta ya. This one sure came in the latter category. 
Maybe there's no connection, but I thought you oughta know. Now,” Betty 
flexed her muscles and flashed Anthony a mischievous smile. “I guess 
the tests are about to start. I'm ready for whatever you can throw at 
me.” Mike Anthony smiled, ushered Betty through a doorway where an 
official waited, and closed the door behind him. He pushed a hand 
through his thinning brown hair and turned to face the window, his face 
clouding in thought. 

*** Betty suppressed a scowl at Shonda Stapleton's statuesque appearance
in Mike Anthony's office for their final briefing before their 
departure to Porter Island the following morning. Betty, having passed 
the aptitude and physical tests with 100% results, bristled at 
Stapleton's smirk. 

“If looks could kill ...” Stapleton stared back at Betty, who'd
stiffened in her chair. The tall, elegant woman slipped into the vacant 
chair opposite Mike Anthony's desk. “Do cheer up. I don't want you 
glowering in the mirror when you drive me to Porter Island. It's enough 
...” 

“Betty won't be driving.” Interlocking his fingers, Anthony leaned
across the desk. “You'll both occupy the rear seats of a limousine 
suitable for a wealthy heiress and her companion.” Sighing, he 
continued, “And may I remind you both that I expect your relationship 
to be harmonious. This is imperative for the smooth running of the 
operation. 

“Now that Shonda has finally arrived, I'll run through the mission's
essentials once more so you're both fully aware of what is expected of 
you.” Anthony proceeded to define their respective roles and the key 
fundamentals of their assignment for the next thirty minutes or so 
before wishing the reluctant companions a successful journey. Betty 
merely nodded at Anthony and Stapleton before taking her leave. 

As relayed by Anthony, they would be leaving at eight-thirty the
following morning en route to Porter Island, a journey of approximately 
four hours, marking the beginning of a stay of unknown duration with 
the obnoxious Stapleton, doubly unbearable no doubt in her role as 
heiress. Their driver throughout was to be Ted Hands, appropriately 
named as Betty had found out some years back when she demonstrated to 
him that she was quite capable of breaking his fingers and willing to 
do so if he tried it on with her again, which to his good common sense, 
he hadn't. Anthony had told them that Hands would be based in the 
chauffeur's cottage, effectively the gatehouse to the premises. There 
was a housekeeper, Janet Jacobs, from Virginia, fully vetted as an FBI 
employee, who had taken up her position a couple of weeks beforehand, 
plus a groundsman, Tom McNichol, similarly vetted, and a cook, Wilma 
Freeman, a long-serving FBI employee. 

“Any questions,” Anthony asked when he'd finished, but Betty shook her
head. The office, though air-conditioned, was unusually stuffy, and she 
needed out before Stapleton took the opportunity to take center stage. 
“If you'll excuse me, I'll rest up before the journey tomorrow,” Betty 
had said, ending with a sigh as she departed the room, very much 
doubting that Anthony had bought her reasoning but needing to be free 
of Stapleton's presence, if only until tomorrow.  


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