Noel braced herself for the emotional turbulence ahead. A slow exhale steadied her, though the dampness clinging to her cheek reminded her that the battle had already begun. With quick, restless movements, she sifted through the clutter on her desk—pens rolling aimlessly, scattered documents slipping beneath her fingers. Then, at last, her hand closed around the object she sought.
A sharp smile flickered across her lips—not of amusement, but of something colder. "Ah-ha. There it is." Her eyes lifted to Nolan, studying him. "You know, the sad part about you?" Her voice was measured, deliberate. "You don’t even realize what you are—a monster. Completely ignorant of the system you operate within. Or perhaps you do know… and you’re just too vile to care."
With practiced precision, she inserted the device into her terminal. The screen hummed to life, the dull glow illuminating the tension between them. "I’ve got something for you to hear," she continued, the weight of her words hanging between them. "See, we know everything—about you, about your entire unit."
A few keystrokes later, the file was transferred to Nolan’s local drive. Her final instruction was simple: "Give it a listen."
Then, the recording began.
A static hiss crackled through the air—a sound aged by time, frayed at the edges. Footsteps rang out against an empty floor, deliberate but cautious. Then, a voice: soft, measured, almost too welcoming.
"Yes, come right in, Captain. Have a seat."
The reply was deeper, hollow with exhaustion. "Of course, Colonel."
A faint scraping of metal against tile, then a breath—the clearing of a throat.
"I trust you know why you’re here?" The meek voice was vibrant, carrying an unsettling eagerness.
The response came slower, the weight behind it undeniable. "I know what I’ve been told."
A lick of silence. Then, a sharp prompt. "Which is—?"
"I was told," the deeper voice rasped, another throat-clearing interrupting the thought, "this was a debriefing."
"So then, what else do you think is going on?" The shift in tone was subtle, but unmistakably accusatory.
A pause. Then, a measured reply. "I think you all want to know why I didn’t wipe his memory." A chair creaked, someone adjusting—a tell, barely perceptible. "I think you believe this is some clever ploy to determine whether your precious mission can continue as planned. That’s what I think, anyway."
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken tension. Then, the meek voice broke it. "Well, uh—for the sake of the recording, state your service ID."
"7X4-HF-X4750."
"State the operation and the location of the theater."
"Operation: DoDo. Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia."
"Please state your name for the record."
"Alexander Duane Belle."
"And your rank?"
A slow inhale, the frustration beneath it barely restrained. "Captain. Caliber Security Services."
"Thank you." A shuffle of papers. A breath. Then, the meek voice pressed forward. "I’ll begin my inquiry now. Yes, here we go. Can you walk me through your trip to Santa Cruz de la Sierra? It seemed hasty—I know you weren’t originally assigned orders for Bolivia. Were you truly ready to undertake such an important mission on such short notice?"
A lull, brief, weighted. Then, with quiet resignation, the deeper voice began his account.
#
The trip to Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia took me several days, but I was still not sure I was fully prepared to carry out the mission, not mentally. In other retrieval missions, tedious tasks like tracking down leads and stakeouts seemed to drone on forever, but for this mission it felt like the first lead I followed led me to El Jaguar Negro and Manuel Suarez, a local bar owner who seemed more than eager to be rid of a new customer, troubling his business. Manuel was concerned that this fellow, a person matching Lt. Joy’s description to a ‘T’, was scaring off his regular patrons, and it didn’t take much to get him riled up. This didn’t do much to assuage me, even though I had the entire drive from La Paz to Santa Cruz to contemplate what was to come, I was uninterested in dramatic bar fights or gunplay of any kind.
At this point, Lt. Joy was missing for three months, checking in after the encounter with the final rebel officer and then vanishing. It took him six months to track down the last 20 members of the rebel group; Joy stayed in the area following the raid, helping to establish the new candidate, and spent six months in the country prior to the attack planning the operation with the rebels and COA. In total, that’s over 16 months or so that he was out there, away from the CSS. Who could know where his mind was at this point? What did he see? What did he know? But more than those questions, why were we unable to track him using the usual methods?
It didn’t really occur to me until after the fact, but I sat in the car for 15 or 20 minutes before I realized where I was and what I was potentially about to do. The time was about 23:30. I took a few moments to compose myself, adjusting my uniform and carefully placing my sidearm in the glovebox. If it was to come to that, it would not be inside this establishment. The manual said this guy had been showing up every night for a month, maybe a month and a half; starting fights but had never drawn any weapons.
It felt like I blinked and found myself standing inside the doors of the bar; they were double doors, but one was sealed off, hiding the bouncer’s podium. The building appeared to be renovated from a restaurant; there were large windows that were blacked out, and the bar itself, located towards the rear, centered, seemed to lead to a kitchen, bustling with life and precision. I met eyes with the bartender and he seemed to know who I was. Maybe it was my ethnicity, or my crisp military uniform, but when we met eyes, it was like he saw god. He motioned subtly to his left and my eyes met the gaze of another man.
Lt. Joy sat slumped in a booth facing the door. Before him, a dozen or so beer bottles sat empty, scattered across the table, in no particular pattern. I acknowledged the barkeep, approaching Joy and sitting before he had a chance to offer the seat to me. My intention was to get the drop on him, but to my surprise, two unopened beers sat before me, and I knew he was anticipating my arrival. It seemed like he wanted to let that marinate before he spoke, but if he had only known, in that moment, I wasn’t really prepared to talk.
Lt. Joy was like a son to me, not to evoke classic clichés. I want it to be stated, for the record, that I hold him in high regard as a soldier. It was difficult for me, in that moment, to reconcile that I was potentially about to kill someone very near to me if this situation went sour. I will admit the first time I felt the slightest tension ease within me was when he began to speak. He took that time to debrief me on his mission, and I could tell he was deeply troubled.
Lieutenant Joy couldn’t wait to fill me in. “Major Kallari is dead. I am sure you got the memo, Captain.” Joy took one of the beers from before me, popped the top, and took a swig. “The entire rebel group has been eliminated. Morales has everything going in his favor. Operation DoDo is a success… Why are you still haunting me…?”
I didn’t know how to address him. In the car, I made it a point that I would not drink, but tensions remounted, and I, too, popped the top on the remaining beer and took a deep, stinging gulp. My attention returned back, my eyes watering, rewatching his; his gaze cold and calculated.
The lieutenant spoke slowly, “What was disturbing most to me was how the raid seemed to have disappeared from my memory entirely. It was not until I encountered the Major that I was reminded of that night. I remember planning the operation, I remember meeting the night before, and I remember my next assignment in the days that followed, but it wasn’t until Major Kallari reminded me of my role that night that I was troubled.” Joy took a long drink and motioned for two more from Manuel.
“I recall what the mission was supposed to be. We were to arrive at the staging area just outside of La Paz just after dark. From there, we were to infiltrate the compound planting explosive charges in key locations, detonating them in a particular order to throw authorities off our trail. Afterward, we would hide out with the rebels and prepare their candidate for election… But that is not what actually happened.” Joy’s gaze was almost impossible to endure, and I found myself focused on the table.
There was a long pause, remarkably uncomfortable, which prompted me to break my silence. I was certain of his growing frustrations, so I decided to finally give my attention back to Joy. “What did Kallari tell you, lieutenant?” I had never spoken harder words. There were only a handful of word combinations that could send an entity like Joy off the deep end like this. I expected all the words at once, but Joy has always been good at weaving tales.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I tracked Kallari to a hideout in Madidi. He was hiding deep in the forest, in an old canopy base, high above the ground. None of the other officers were willing to give me his location. They died taking it to their grave. When I ran out of people, I had to rely on other methods. I investigated every hideout, bunker, and stronghold, and then I found the canopy. When I arrived, I found the Major was waiting for me, just like I was waiting for you.“
I took that as a joke, forcing laughter, but I know it came out nervous. He confirmed my suspicions, and I shot a quick glance to the bartender as Joy continued.
“He was very relaxed, all things considered. His guard, sentries, security - whatever you want to call them - were all gone. It was just him. All the other officers were hiding with friends and families when I found them. They were trying to rebuild. The mission sent me to the four corners of this country, such a beautiful place. Such a rich and vibrant culture and history…” Joy’s voice trailed off, as if he lost his train of thought. Manuel slid two beers across the table, and receded into the shadows.
“Hmmm. It wasn’t until I talked to Kallari that I became aware of these gaps in my history, and not just this mission. Not just here. My entire life, sir.” He finished his beer and opened one of the new ones. “These gaps span my entire life.”
Now I was the one who was losing patience. I had a strong idea of what the boy was going to say. He had given me enough time to formulate my thoughts and words, and now I was ready to get back to work. This one mission was bigger than Joy. Hell, it was bigger than me. We were small cogs in a massive wheel, and it seemed to me that Joy had a new understanding of what that meant, and he was not liking it. I sat forward and reposed my question. “What did Kallari tell you? Lieutenant, do not make me ask again.” My voice was a soft bark, so as not to bring too much attention to myself, but Joy decided to take it up a notch, slamming the table with his fist before barking back at me.
“The truth, Captain Belle! The man told me the truth!” The tension between us could be cut by the blunt side of a spoon, and Joy did not back down. He met me center table face to face, and in that moment, without words, he confirmed my beliefs.
Joy sank back in his seat and stared into the light above the table. It was one of those multicolored chandeliers, the kind you would find in a tacky dive bar. His voice was more relaxed this time as he spoke just above a whisper, “He made a deathbed confession to me. So I know it’s the truth.”
There was a pause, and Joy continued somberly. “He asked me what I remembered about the night of the raid, and if I was aware of what he saw, and I couldn’t answer him. He was the only one that I gave a chance to speak, and I am not sure why I did it but I remained silent, and just listened. It took way more control than it should have, but something deep inside of me told me to hear him out. So I did.
“What he told me, about the night of the raid, about the COA and…” Joy reached for his beer, his eyes still on the light. “ about myself won’t leave my mind, no matter how hard I try to forget it. He told me the first sign things were off, to him, was when we met up that night before the raid. He remembered me telling him that the plans were changing; new intel suggested a different direction should be taken, and that there were strong indications that they were walking into an ambush. I don’t remember any of that.” Joy took a drink, and sat up, fixed now on the table, his eyes slowly shifting between the bottles.
“Kallari told me he really didn’t think much of it at the time, only really reflecting after everything was over, but there were more subtle changes too. Our uniforms were different, the weapons we had were now the same as theirs, and the explosives… we upgraded from improvised pipe bombs to Semtex… …and I didn’t remember any of it…”
“Then Kallari told me about when we set off the charges. It didn’t occur to him until much later, but apparently our uniforms now were so close in resemblance to theirs that he lost track of the COA. He asked me if I was the one that gave the order to begin the executions, or if there was someone else in charge? Again… …I couldn’t answer.
“Kallari recalled the detonations and then the gunshots and screams, and how we executed - how I executed - their former leader in front of him. Kallari tried to stop me by stabbing me in the chest, and I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to. I have to believe every word he said.”
Joy confirmed several beliefs of mine at that moment. The device that tracks Joy’s GPS location has several wires that run through the chest cavity, and I also assumed other major components were damaged at that time too. I was noticeably more relaxed, but the hardest question was still to come, and so I tried to steel myself as best I could. I could tell Joy was trying to prepare himself as well.
He threw his beer back and stared at me hard. “Kallari wept, not for himself, but for his people. The civilians lost…women and children, and his men. He died on his feet. I looked him in the face as I repaid his favor, and I couldn’t recall a single moment of it. Before he died, he asked me to open my shirt, and I did. “ I didn’t notice, but Joy had already unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and exposed his wound, a deep hole with assorted wires protruding. “I couldn’t explain what this was when he asked me, so maybe you can tell me what you know about it.” Joy didn’t look down, as if he was studying my reaction, and there was nothing I could do to hide my lack of shock.
We know, usually, when units become aware, typically they break psychologically, and the consequences in the past have varied between benign and catastrophic. Without knowing the extent of the damage, I wasn’t sure what I could say that was correct. I took a long drink, opting to stall for time, and Joy continued.
“I have chosen not to eat or sleep. Sleep. To be honest, these”, his arms spread over the assortment of bottles, “do nothing for me. I think, since I haven’t been sleeping, I remember everything the Major said. “Don’t make me ask again, Captain. I have made a few more discoveries I can show you to get the answers I seek.”
I finished my beer, waving at the bartender knowing now was not the time to take my eyes off of Joy. It was time to talk shop. There were only so many times his model could be wiped before the conscious memory returns, and at that time we were not sure what kind of state he would be in, as far as operational capacity.
I wanted to level with him. In this moment, Joy wasn’t just an elite weapon. He was a man having an identity crisis, and I related to him. Are you familiar with “Operation: Maracas”? It was one that I cut my teeth on, as a young operator. The bartender slid two beers across the table as I told him about the time I was tasked with assassinating a former war buddy of mine and his wife and abducting their children. The trusting look on my friend’s face haunts me to this day, but it was nothing personal. His wife was not home at the time, but I was able to take the boys. Before I was able to incapacitate them, one of them bit me hard, and that’s when I knew, too. The boy exposed wires similarly to what Joy showed me. I showed him, Joy, my scar, it seemed to relieve the tensions a bit.
Joy sat back, I could see he was taking it all in. Certainly he knew, or could understand, that there were just certain words I couldn’t utter in that place because it would have meant a death sentence for everyone. His eyes began to gloss over and he shielded his face with his hands, as if the light he was staring at not 5 minutes ago, was now too bright; his elbows planted firmly on the table. His fingers combed through his hair, sighing heavily, before asking another question. I could see his eyes were scanning the bottles again. “…What am I, sir…?”
I saw this as an opportunity to change the subject a bit, in an attempt to move this whole ordeal along. “Hopefully, you will agree to be Caliber Securities’ new UN Representative.” My shadow eclipsed several bottles as I drew my face towards his. “All your questions have answers, I assure you. They are not located here in this bar, though. You’ve earned yourself a promotion and an accommodation for all your work here. What you are is not as important as who you are going to be.” I thought this would have been a mic drop moment, not sure why or what I expected, but opening another beer and taking a smug gulp was not the correct action on my part.
Joy slammed the table again, this time rattling several bottles. I noticed his chest swell; I suspect it was with rage. “I asked you a direct question, do not make me ask you again, not after what I’ve seen and done! Who did this to me? Was I always like this? Whose memories do I have?! What am I?!“
In a gruff bark, a little louder than a whisper, I asserted that he knew what he was and what he wasn’t. I told him that I didn’t have all the answers he was looking for; at times, I too was not certain if my memories were really mine or not, either. I am a soldier, just like he is, playing my part and following orders. I didn’t know if he would get his questions answered, and even when I posed my own, I was not sure if I believed those answers. We sat quietly for a while after that, and I decided to smooth things over, this time with tough love. I told him to get himself together, pay this tab, and meet me at the car if he wanted answers. There was nothing more that we could talk about in the bar, and I am sure the bartender was ready to see Joy gone.
I walked briskly back to the car, stopping on the passenger side to grab my sidearm, situating it on my hip beneath my uniform. Then I recalled positioning myself directly in front of the bar so that Joy didn’t have to look very hard to find me. It didn’t take long for Joy to make his way to the parking lot. He was a little disoriented, and I was more assured he probably wouldn’t try anything funny on the way back to La Paz. I led him to the car and we began the journey.
After navigating the small city, we found ourselves on a long stretch of highway. I found myself lost in thought, startled when Joy finally broke the silence. “Tell me about the U.N.”
I was more than prepared to respond to this question, stealing a glance of him as I studied the passenger mirror as I changed lanes; his eyes were fixed on the passenger side window. “Caliber is moving forward with the next phase of operations. We have favorable political sway globally. Our involvement in countries like this serves a greater purpose. We operate as a private military internationally. Soon, I foresee a partnership with the leaders of this nation. The leaders that are currently aligned with us have requested that we have a seat at the table when it comes to addressing global matters. I too have been given a promotion, serving as your co-representative. Caliber needs us to be the eyes and ears of the organization.“ Joy didn’t seem to express any obvious emotions regarding this information, so I assumed he was mulling it over.
Joy and I did not speak for the rest of the trip. We arrived in La Paz around 16:00. I drove straight back to the airport and turned the car in. The rooms that were assigned to us were located across the street from the terminal. I sent repair services to his suite to perform maintenance, but I did not wipe his memory this time. I felt like he earned them. We returned on separate flights the next morning. Will that be all, Colonel?
#
The recording ended abruptly. There was no hiss or crackle. Only the sound of the room, thick with tension.
