#agent tango

xxxxx

Tango sits on the twin-sized bed tapping out the rhythm of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on his chest; impatiently waiting for Yankee to come back from a quick snack run. Well, what was supposed to be quick. Tango turns the clock that lay on the side table to face him and checks the time. The numbers on the clock face are large and red. He couldn’t have miss-read it even if he was a mile away.

8:36 PM

Tango sighs annoyed and turns the clock away.

Two hours. He’s been gone two whole bloody hours!! That’s way more than enough time to get some fucking KitKats.

He’s about to call Yank on the comm link and annoy the hell out of him when the door to the room swings open. In walks Yankee with bags galore and a massive smile on his face.

“What the fucking hell do you have to be smiling about ya twat?”

Yankee shrugs, Nothing, and throws a bag at Tango before setting the rest down on the table by the window.

“Oi! Don’t throw shite at me! That’s rude.”

Yankee rolls his eyes but doesn’t answer as he takes the snacks out of the bags. Tango looks at the bag and then looks at Yankee. He’s very suspicious but pulls the small box out of the plastic bag anyway.

“Why in the hell did you buy this?” he asks tone verging on angry.

Yankee turns around with an innocent look on his face; Buy what? I didn’t buy anything.

Tango holds up the box for Yankee to see. “This you damned lair! You went out and bought this!” He shakes it for emphasis.

I didn’t buy that, Yank says with a shake of his head.

“You fucking bought me a fidget cube!” Tango yells as he gets off the bed. “You! Of all people! Bought me one of those! Do I look like I need this?!” He quickly picks up the box and sets it back down. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

The angrier he gets the deeper his accent becomes and the more he waves his hands about.

“A fucking fidget cube! You really think I need and or want one of those? That’s to help people with ADHD or whatever the hell that other one is. I don’t have that shite. So I don’t need it. You’re the one who needs the help. Not me. Where the fucking hell did you even buy it? I thought they only sold ‘em on Kickstarter or some stupid shite like that.”

Yankee rolls his eyes and shoots Tango a look; Where do you think, asshole? The store.

“You bloody well better return it!”

Yankee shakes his head.

“I’m not fucking using that thing, Yank! Return it! Get the money back and… I don’t know! Use it for booze or hookers. Or both.”

Yankee raises a questioning eyebrow; Really?

“Oh my… Fucking hell. Yank. Return. It. Now. I…”

Yankee shakes his head to shut Tango up, then makes a circular motion with his hand; No. No. Go on. Let’s talk about the hookers some more.

The sarcasm in Yankee’s expression could light the way through a fog.

Tango sighs; clearly annoyed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and grabs the box. Yankee stood in front of him and put his hands together then turned them palm upward.

Open it.

Tango looks up at him and groans. “Are you seriously making me do this? Now? Of all the times and places you could’ve done this you choose now? When we’re doing something real important work here?”

Yank shrugs and Tango chuckles. “You are a real piece of work, ya know that?”

Yankee repeats the Open it gesture again. Faster this time and with an angry scowl to demonstrate his urgency.

“Ok! Ok!” Tango yells as he opens the box.

“A fidget cube. I can’t fucking believe this,” he mutters angrily.

With the box open he reaches inside and pulls out the small cube. It’s white and has multiple black knobs and buttons, of all different shapes and sizes, on each side.

So? You like it? reads Yank’s expectant smile.

“I haven’t even fucking tried it yet!” Pushing Yankee off the bed he yells; “Go eat something before you starve to death. Oi! And toss me a bag of crisps while you’re at it.”

As he walks to the collection of snack food Yankee turns around to see Tango playing with the cube. Even though all his attention was seemingly on the cube his left leg rapidly taps out a rhythm on the carpet.

And he catches the bag of chips with one hand when Yankee throws them.

xxxxx

Tango sat at the small wooden table in the cheap, dirty, and sticky hotel room. His right leg was rapidly bouncing up and down underneath it with a restless impatience. He had everything set up perfectly, he triple checked the recorder just to make sure it worked, and kept a headphone in one ear. Tango did not leave his comm in his other ear but instead it lay on the table in between the equipment and his gun. His right hand was lying ready on the table, close enough to the gun for a quick grab, while his left was poised above the record button.

Problem was there was nothing to record.

“Bollocks,” he muttered angrily under his breath. This is what he hated most of all. This was the one thing he couldn’t stand above all else.

Waiting.

He could handle the loneliness that came with this part of the job. He wasn’t alone per se at the moment as Yankee was in the room too; sitting cross legged on the bed. But, then again, being stuck in a room with someone who doesn’t speak is pretty much the same as being alone.

What the bloody hell is taking Charlie so long?

He took the headphone out of his ear and angrily got up from the table. As he began to pace the aroma of stale cigarette smoke and week old urine rose from the carpet to meet his nostrils. It was disgusting but he barely registered it in his blind fury as he tapped out a rhythm on his thigh. It started off as nothing special but turned into an instantly recognizable punk staple.

The Sex Pistols’ Anarchy in the U.K.

“He was supposed to get the bleeding bugged phone to that tossing arsehole an hour ago!! What the fuck is he doing?” He yelled, as he paced the room, waving his hands about in meaningless gesticulation.

“Drinking a pint with the man? That’s fine. If he’s doing only that… Or is he getting bloody well pissed and becoming best mates with him? Maybe fucking around just for shites and giggles? I mean he knows that everything's depending that fucking mobile in his damned hands! Doesn’t he? He fucking has to, right? Right?!”

Yankee naturally looked up in response to Tango’s ranting. His expression wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. What is it now? mixed with a bit of a smirk, and maybe a twinge of annoyance; but definitely not a drop of surprise.

“Aaah!!!” Tango screamed in frustration as he stopped pacing and pulled his hair. He couldn’t handle this anymore. I’ll go mad if something doesn’t happen soon, he thought. Tango felt Yankee’s eyes on him and turned to face the man. “What!? … Oh,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t you dare give me that fucking look, Yank.”

Yankee's facial expression was undeniably What look?

Tango pointed an angry finger at the other man and muttered through clenched teeth: “You know bloody well what look you’re giving me.”

All Yankee did was smile innocently in response.

“Don’t fucking test me, mate,” Tango warned; voice dripping venom and hand twitching with fury. “I will punch you in your fucking goddamn perfect teeth.” Yankee smiled and stretched out his arms: the universal sign for come at me. Tango shook his head, trying to clear the anger out, and walked back to the table; back to his equipment.

He plopped down in the chair with a sigh.

Yankee’s job was pretty much done; all he had to do was get the rest of the boys the paperwork to place them where they were at the moment. It all worked perfectly but the reason Yank stayed behind was in case he needed to hack the traffic lights, or CCTV cameras, or something or other. That’s why he sat cross legged on the bed with his sleek, all black, laptop open in front on him.

Tango looked over his shoulder to see Yankee hunched over the laptop. He watching something with the type of intensity only a hacker could have and was rapidly typing away. Tango shrugged and turned back to his equipment. Putting one of the headphones in his ear Tango grit his teeth when there was absolutely nothing on the other end.

Not even static.

Tango’s job, on the other hand, was just beginning. He successfully bugged a decoy mobile that looked just like the one the target owned. Yank hacked the real mobile so the fake included everything that was on the real one. Contacts, pictures, apps; everything right down to the bleeding cheesy pop tune the wanker set as his ringtone. Yank got it all. Impressive.

He just had to wait for Charlie to get a little friendly with him and switch the phones. And then wait again for the guy to call the person they needed him to call. Or better yet have a real life meeting. Their target was Chris Grayling. And the person he needed to call was Theresa May; England’ s current Prime Minister. She was the second female PM after Thatcher but wouldn’t be for long if they played their cards right.

So much fucking waiting.

Picking up his ear comm off the table he tapped it, turning it on, and inserted it into his ear. “Tango!” immediately through the comm link came Bravo’s annoyed yell.

“Shout my ear off, why don’t you? What’s going on?”

“Charlie and Grayling are on the move. They just left the bar, The Goat, Whiskey saw them walk out.” Tango rubbed his hands together in excitement; “Now, we’re getting somewhere. Where they headed?”

“North on Kensington High Street. Do you guys have visual?”

“Charlie switch the phones, yet?”

“Do you have visual on them or not?”

He looked over at Yankee who had the biggest and proudest smile on his face that Tango had ever seen. Yank turned the laptop around so Tango could see the footage he was receiving from multiple CCTV and traffic cameras. Around ten or twelve different angles of Charlie and Grayling walking down Kensington High Street; visibly plastered.

“Yeah, we have visual. Quite a few of ‘em actually.”

From the footage it at least looked like Charlie was pissed out of his mind. His pace was slow, stumbling when he walked, laughing at nothing. Classic signs of a drunk man. But there was no telling with Charlie; he was far too good at his job. He could convincingly pretend to be anyone or anything. To top it off he pretty much has.

Tango grimaced as they watched multiple lovely shots of Grayling being sick all over the sidewalk.

Just what I fucking needed.

Grayling was a strong Conservative so he most likely did not drink. And how Charlie managed to get Grayling that plastered was beyond Tango’s comprehension. The man was a magician sometimes. A fucking wizard. He could get anybody to give him whatever he wanted. Or do whatever he wanted.

“Good.” Bravo’s voice flowed through the comms again; “Maintain that surveillance while Whisk and I…”

“Oh my god! Am I everybody’s fucking mum or something?!”

Yankee snickered loudly.

“Oi! Shut the fuck up, Yank, or I swear I will smack the shite out of you.” Yankee responded by throwing a pillow at Tango’s face but he expertly blocked it with a hand. The pillow silently hit the floor.

“Look here, I need to know, alright! Did. Charlie. Switch. The fucking phones or not?!”

Bravo sighed loudly and the staticky feedback that came through the comm link annoyed Tango. It reminded him of white noise and he hated white noise. “Tango, buddy, all I’m trying to say is you should be focusing on surveillance right now.”

Yankee nodded in agreement with a smug smile on his face; That's what I said.

Tango scoffed; “Oh! Look here, Yank, there’s the fuck I give about your opinion. Oh. Hang on, where’s it going? It’s flying away… aaaannnddd it’s gone. Well,” he said with a shrug, “that was my last fuck.” Then he gave Yankee the finger.

“Tango. Stop it,” Bravo warned.

Yankee shot him a look that could only mean: Stop being an asshat.

“Oh, am I being an arsehat? And you don't like it? Well, since I only aim to please... tell me, what kind of hat would you like me to be, Yank? A fucking trilby? Maybe a porkpie? Or how about a top hat?”

“I’m serious. Stop it!” Bravo yelled but Tango wasn’t listening at all. He was on a roll and he wasn’t going to stop until he accidentally said something he’d regret later.

Yankee shrugged and shook his head; Be whatever. I don’t care.

“That’s just bloody great, innit? Just great. Nothing but a shrug from you. Shrug and shaking your head. That’s it. Wonder what I was expecting from somebody who refuses to speak... You listening to me? I know you are cos you sure are bloody stupid but you’re not deaf. REFUSES TO SPEAK! We all know you can talk, Yank. SO FUCKING TALK YA WANKING MUTE!!”

The comm link went as dead as the hotel room. Yankee looked at Tango with a dead blank stare. Tango immediately regretted saying that. He couldn’t believe he let himself say it but, then again, he also completely believed it. He had said things that were far worse in the past.

Fucking dammit!! Good going you stupid bleeding arsehead!! You grade A cock up!

Tango wiped his hands down his face in shame and disbelief. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean it. I’m a fucking arse and I’m sorry.” The apology, though, he fully meant. Yankee sighed and nodded; accepting the apology. Then he apologized too, in his own way.

“You guys done yet?” Bravo asked in Tango’s ear. Tango shook his head and looked over at Yankee; “Yeah. Sorry. We argue like an old married couple sometimes.”

Yankee scratched the back of his neck and made a face: Awkward.

“Yeah, we know," replied an annoyed Whiskey. "Speaking with only your eyes and all that… You always being the first to know exactly what Yank’s saying. I have to admit you two do seem like quite the pair. Maybe you two should make it official.” Tango could hear the smirk in Whiskey’s voice over the comm link.

“Oh har bloody fucking har,” Tango said as he began to tap out another tune on the wood table. This time it was London Calling by The Clash. “Only if Bravo and Charlie shack up first.”

Silence on the other end.

“Exactly. Point made. But... speaking of that goddamn prick, and you know I say that with all the love in my heart, did he switch the phones?”

“I don’t know,” came Bravo’s reply; truth ringing through his voice. He really had no idea.

Tango clicked his ear comm again, turning it off, and ripped it out of his ear. He grabbed the headphones and jammed them in. Then stretched his left arm over the recording equipment. All in one swift silent moment and the angry tapping of his foot.

Then he interlaced left hand with his right. Clasped tightly together he laid his hands on the table in front of him. Then tapped them on the wood surface. Then he brought his intertwined hands to his forehead and angrily hit them against it.

“Fucking wanker!” he screamed as loudly as humanly possible.

The cheap bed squeaked as Yankee rose from it. He crossed the short distance to where Tango sat. But his presence didn’t register to Tango who sat there shaking angrily. Yank reached out a hand; rested it on Tango’s shoulder and the shaking immediately stopped. He patted Tango’s shoulder and slightly rubbed; a reassuring gesture that Tango immediately understood.

But it wasn’t true. At least not yet.

He shrugged Yankee off with an angry jerk; “It won’t bloody be okay until I get what we need.” Yankee shrugged and walked back to the bed where his laptop lay.

“You better piss off with all that touchy feely nonsense.”

You know you love me read Yankee's expression.

Suddenly he heard a click and Charlie’s voice through the headphones; the bugged phone was activated. Tango punched the record button as fast as humanly possible. He did not want anything important to be missed.

“Well, this has been fun but, I better be off. See you later, yeah?” Charlie said in a fake British accent.

“Really? You can’t be leaving so soon, Thomas, we barely got to catch up.” Tango could hear the frown in the man’s voice. Charlie had him right where he wanted him and they all knew it. Well, everyone except, Grayling of course. Instead of messing with the man or anything like that he did exactly what he was supposed to do.

“Yeah, mate, I’m really sorry. I got work in the morning.” Then he went in for a goodbye hug and when Grayling embraced him Charlie slipped his hand into the man’s pocket. Quickly and expertly grabbed his phone and swapped it for the bugged one.

“See you around then, yeah?” he said with a nod and then walked away.