Hotel Ercilla
Bilbao, Spain
D
awson’s phone vibrated in his hand and as he checked the message, he noticed everyone else’s phone had done the same. He smiled at the footage showing the professors being led at gunpoint to the door, then the Bible being handed over. “Well, if that doesn’t clear their names, I don’t know what will.”
Niner pointed at the television. “Turn that up.”
Kane, master of the remote, unmuted CNN International, a breaking news alert appearing.
“—breaking news on the terrorist attack last night. CNN has obtained new footage that appears to prove the innocence of Professors James Acton and Laura Palmer. It suggests they were coerced into taking the Bible, and are likely under the direction of the terrorists truly responsible. CNN is—”
Kane muted the television as high fives were exchanged around the room. “Let’s hope that spreads far and wide so nobody ends up popping a cap in their asses. Now we just need to figure out where the hell they are.”
“Let’s hope the boys and girls at Langley can figure it out soon,” said Niner. “I’m getting sick of seeing the inside of these walls.”
Atlas rolled his eyes. “I’m getting sick of seeing your face.”
“You’re sick of seeing my face?”
“Yeah, you heard me.”
“Then fine!” Niner dropped trou and mooned Atlas. “Is this better?”
“As a matter of fact, it is.” Atlas reached over with a meaty palm and smacked Niner on the ass.
Niner cooed. “That was actually kind of nice. Do that again.”
Atlas booted him in the ass, sending him flying into the wall, his pants and underwear falling to his ankles, leaving him in a heap of cheeks and crevices. Niner picked himself up and pulled his pants up, the others gripping their stomachs in laughter.
“When we get back to Bragg, I’m filing a report. That’s sexual harassment.”
Atlas flipped him the bird. “That wasn’t sexual harassment. That was sexual abuse. Of me! I shouldn’t be forced to look at that narrow little ass of yours.”
Niner patted him on the cheek. “You like it and you know it.” He headed for the bathroom. “Now I have to see if you’ve scuffed up my perfect ass-skin.”
Spock motioned toward Niner as he exposed his cheek in front of the bathroom mirror. “I don’t know if he scuffed it up, but I see a size fourteen imprint on your ass.”
Niner tried to get a better view, scurrying in a circle like a dog chasing its tail. “Really? I didn’t think it was big enough to fit a fourteen.”
