Kevin & Gabriel: Training

[x-velocidad.livejournal.com]

Kevin continues to train Gabriel in the ways of espionage. Results are mixed.

"Gabriel. How are you enjoying your courier duties?" Kevin said from his desk as Gabe dropped off the latest local intelligence packet. Over the last several month, Sydney had been providing him with the responsibility of making several pick-ups a week; low level stuff but a good place to start his official training. Once the 'packages' - usually flash drives - got back to the office, Kevin would extract the materials and walk through the process of analyzing and categorizing the data. Most of it was boring; corporate and financial transactions, pictures of shipments and boats being loaded, flight records and custom forms. Slowly, he was being taught how to assemble a larger picture with the data and use it to see patterns and variances.

"Am I supposed to be enjoying them?" A wet Gabriel stood on the other side of Kevin's desk, his eyebrow raised as his hair dripped onto the carpet. "Did you know that if you happen to interpret today's code incorrectly, and, say, switch east and west, you end up searching for clues in the pool of one of New York's more moneyed institutions?" He glanced around the office for anything resembling a towel. "Because if you didn't know that, and I'm betting you did, let me be the one to tell you."

"Yeah, I'll give you a hint. Rarely, if ever, do we hide electronics in water. It's just asking for someone to blunder in and accidentally ruin it while splashing around." Kevin replied, with just a hint of enjoyment. "There's a roll of paper towels by the coffee machine."

"Yeah. Well." Gabriel pivoted on his heel, the paper towels and returning to Kevin's deck in a split-second, roll in hand. "Lesson learned." He ripped two sheets off the roll and started blotting his hair. "Not one of your most enjoyable challenges, but hey, consider me enlightened, boss." He crumpled the paper towels in a soggy ball and tossed them toward the nearest trash can. "What's on the thing?"

"Not sure. We'll open it in a minute. Before we do, I want you to tell me anything you've seen in the last month while collecting that may have been out of place or potentially suspicious. Just in case we need to take additional security steps."

"Hm. Well." Gabriel warped back over to the coffee pot, then appeared in the nearest chair, mug in hand. "Remember that hot Russian guy I was all proud of ignoring the first time we did this? I saw him again last week, and then I swear to god, he was outside the athletic club too, which — ugh, and he was with this other woman who was, like, platinum blonde and — well, hold on." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. "Here," he said after swiping through some photos. "Friend of yours?" He tossed the phone to Kevin.

"Good catch. He's not mine though. That's is our contact's security guy." Kevin slid the phone back and pulled out his own. "What you missed was that you were intent on looking for a who, instead of looking at whats, meaning telltales of being followed."

Each shot was date and time stamped from his pickups, and each was a shot of the back of his head, taken from close distance. "Each time, I followed you from start to finish in a different face. You remember the Hispanic punk guy you winked at on the subway? That was me."

Gabriel groaned. "Of course it was." He sighed before taking a sip from his cup. "Damn it. I almost gave you my number." He reached for Kevin's phone without really asking, swiping through a few of the photos. "I noticed two of these people." He looked back up, a defeated smile on his face. "You're good."

"Lots of practice. But it's an important lesson. Good agencies will use multiple agents with cutouts to make it more difficult to detect. So you aren't just looking for the face. You're looking for how they move as well."

"Huh." Gabriel handed the phone back. "I would have been shot by a Russian by now, is what you're saying."

"If it was 1973, yes. The modern FSB isn't a patch on the old KGB." Kevin said. "But you also wouldn't be anywhere close to being in the field yet if this was the old CIA. The main thing about working in the field is that you will develop a different way of looking at the world. It's not just about noticing things around you. It's about understanding what are natural patterns and what aren't. It is building a set of habits so that you are always prepared to go from normal to a situation with a blink. That takes time and practice."

"Right." Gabriel shifted in his seat and took a sip from his mug. "So, like, I have to learn how to look? Or do I just become constantly vigilant, super-paranoid people who does that thing where you're, like, in a conversation with someone but the whole time you're just looking around and paying no attention."

"There's part of that. You will end up looking for specific things, everywhere. You'll take seats that offer you the best vantage point for the least exposure. It isn't something that you can turn off once you learn it."

"Right." Gabriel nodded, then stared at Kevin somewhat blankly for a few seconds. "How am I doing though?" He raised an eyebrow. "Like, overall? Am I any good at this or should I throw in the towel?"

"You're doing fine, Gabriel. Like I mentioned, these are learned reactions. They take months, years to develop. You've learned lesson A. How to notice that a person is following you. Now, we build on that to notice you're being followed in general. To start breaking up your dress, habits, and routes to your drops. And, we're going to start looking at the information you're collecting. You need to start learning not just how we acquire intelligence, but how we sort through it later to find what we need."

"Gotcha. Intelligence for dummies." He didn't even try to crack a smile; the joke was beneath him. "Sounds thrilling."

"It's as boring as whale shit. 99% of the time. And the 1% that gets really exciting is what you spend the 99% trying to avoid. I still have never been issued a cool sports car for a mission."

"Wait, really?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow in jest. "You know that's, like, 52% of the reason I even wanted to do this."

"Nope. You don't even get a laser pen. However, I do have a collection of handy garrotes if you want."

"I'm proud to say I don't really know what a garrote is."

"It is a thin piece of material used to choke someone to death. Some people like wire, some people like nylon. Personally, I like one that I discovered in the Middle East. It is kite string that has been coated with crushed glass. Cuts the fuck out of someone's hands if they try and pull it off. Although, with your speed, I bet you can nearly decapitate someone from velocity alone."

"Lovely," Gabriel said in a tone that suggested he thought it was anything but. "I'll have to keep a deadly kite in my pocket at all times in case I'm being chased by the Stasi."

"Trust me, Gabe, at some point in this job, you'll get dropped into the shit up to your nose. When it happens, you won't have the option of being squeamish if you want to stay alive."

"Yeah, I know." Gabriel cast his eyes downward. He shrugged as he kicked his sneakers off and pulled slightly wet socks off his feet. "But survival instinct will take over. Till then, trying not to think about it too much."

"That's a dangerous assumption. Look, I'm not suggesting that you sign up for Parris Island combat training, but knowing how to handle yourself is worth the time. There's about 8000 guys at the mansion who seem able to give you some tips."

"Ugh, point taken, but hard pass. I mean, I know some things." It was a weak defense. "I don't really want to spend my very limited amount of free time having Wade or Rogue or one of the untouchables kicking my ass. I actually bruise."

"Well, I can't force you... but it's a bad decision. At some point, you're not going to be able to run away from a situation."

"Yeah," Gabriel said, because he felt like he needed to say something, "I'll think about it." He looked at Kevin for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow. "This isn't, like, one more thing I need to watch out for, is it? That you're going to ambush me disguised as god-knows-what with an army of street fighters?"

"No, I'm a lover, not a fighter. But I can be a fighter if need be. It's worth having the opinion."

"Well." Gabriel's other eyebrow lifted. He couldn't help but think about the matter-of-fact way Kevin had fired two bullets into another man's face months earlier. "Taken under advisement, chief." He gave Kevin a mock salute and smiled. "Enough talk. Let's get dirty with some data."