The Kill License
“I provide managed IT services in San Francisco,” Mark answered the clerk in the basement of a nondescript Washington D.C. hotel. It was some national chain he couldn’t remember; the door to the basement was marked “closet”, the stairs hidden behind a false wall at the back covered in brooms.
“Yes, Mark from the city by the bay. Sign here.”
Only after he finished did he ask: “What was that?”
“Your license to kill,” replied the clerk, and pulled a card from a printer under the desk.
“License to kill…?”
“Mark! Glad you could make it!” A big man in a forgettable suit appeared from a door behind the clerk. “This way–you’ve received you’re license to kill? You’ll need that.” The man led Mark down a hallway with thick gray walls. He continued as they walked: “You haven’t been briefed, I’ll summarize: you’re going to be working with the CIA and NSA. You’ll be reporting to both, your clearance is Top Secret–tight lips, eh? We’d have saddled you with one agency, but there’re rogue elements in both. We need you to have crossover. Questions?”
“Um–”
“Good, now it’s time for you to meet The President.” The man put his palm against a reader, held his eye to a scanner, and a vault opened into an office replicating an oval one of some renown commonly associated with The White House.
Trump
President Trump spun around in a swivel chair and stood from behind a massive desk. “You’re the man with the plan from San Fran,” Trump extended his hand.
“Uh…I provide managed IT services in San Francisco…it’s an honor–”
“You gonna shake my hand?” Trump smirked.
Mark grabbed the proffered hand: “Of course–look, I voted for–”
“Did you? Good. Our country needs unity, especially in San Fran. Because of groups like Brother Corp, you get the poorest on the doorstep of the richest. It’s no good–and have you driven around the city? The roads! Sad.”
“Yes–”
“Now what’s your MSP do, Mark?”
“Oh, lots! OneClick Solutions Group specializes in:
• Flat-Fee Managed IT
• Business Continuity Planning
• Cloud and Hosted Services
• VoIP Solutions
…and much more–”
“All the stuff a young company needs for success,” Trump smiled. “Glad to have you aboard, Mark. I’m relying on you to crack open one of the largest cartels on the planet. There’s a meeting ahead, pay attention,” and a door opened from an adjacent wall. The man who introduced Mark led the way, Mark followed bewildered.
Spy Stuff
In the next room was a massive table with the highest level security members of the secret agencies, and one silent guy sitting on a chair in the back.
As the meeting wrapped and Mark was leaving, the man got up: “Mark, follow me.”
They went into another room full of weapons, gadgets, gizmos, and enough futuristic baubles to send James Bond into confused paroxysms. “What’s all this?” Mark asked.
“We’re going to ship it to you,” the little man replied. “Pick something for the road.”
Being a purveyor of managed IT services in San Francisco, Mark selected a small handgun.
He would have thought it was all a dream, except throughout his trip from D.C. to ‘Frisco, he couldn’t help but notice a strange man almost always at the edge of his vision, shadowing him.