Call them Manny, Moe, and Jack. Call them anything for that matter, because those are not their real names, which should have been more than obvious to the individuals they encountered. But in this mad, mad world of theirs, only a few caught on. Scarcely a soul bothered to look beyond the screen of their cell phone. There was a change in the air, but people, being people, shrugged it off. It can’t happen here, not in my backyard, etc. 9/11 could never be repeated. And that was exactly what this trio of terrorists were counting on, the inability of Americans to see what was right in front of their eyes.

These interlopers didn’t hail from the Western Hemisphere and their real names, after any feeble attempt at an English translation, would consist of a long string of useless vowels with a maximum of two consonants. And even then, these names would be totally unpronounceable by the average Joe. Therefore, they had adopted the names of Manny, Moe, and Jack, and had gone largely unnoticed until security caught up with them.

Not one of the three had ever been celebrated for an iota of originality. And two of them weren’t tremendously different creatures, in looks, political beliefs, hairstyles, shoe size, or thought processes. One might call them somewhat cookie-cutter by US standards. Resembling a small, somewhat ruthless portion of political zealots, they were blunt, limited in English vocabulary, methodical in the extreme, and murderous to the point where they outright enjoyed and reveled in their line of work, which in fact, was just that—homicide. In the past, Manny and Moe had taken a great deal of pride in the sheer number of people they had eliminated, wherever they might have appeared. They enjoyed living the life of strong-armed thugs, the ultimate gangsters. Over the years they had appeared in quite a varied assortment of places, mostly in Europe. However, no previous operation resembled the massive scale of this current undertaking. Though, this US thing was a new ball of wax for them, and a way of life for which they had difficulty adjusting.

Jack? Well, Jack was not so much the killer. He was a bit of a poet, unpredictable. He’d been conscripted, and Group never fully trusted the draftees. There was no telling what they might do. Most of them were dreamers looking for a mild form of adventure and travel, or worse yet, something to write about. They were essentially bored with home life and had a burning desire to get the hell out of town. Group didn’t pressure those who did not want to serve in far-off lands. Jack was just looking for something different. He found it, but he wasn’t overly joyed with what he had found. He hadn’t fully understood the demands before signing on. Tragically, for Jack, there was no turning back now. Going home on his own was out of the question. Group had him in their clutches, and Group was going to hang on to him for as long as it took to get the job done. At this point, Jack understood that if he didn’t play along with Manny and Moe this could easily become a suicide mission.

The three had arrived in Atlantic City on a Tuesday afternoon in mid-July. They were on an operation that could have been accomplished by just one of them without much difficulty, but Group liked to have backup. “Always the friggin’ backup,” Moe would often grumble. He didn’t relish having others constantly looking over his shoulder. But much to his chagrin, he wasn’t in charge of this undertaking. And never would be.

Group was insistent on keeping records, detailed records, and had found that three renditions of any given event, or operation, provided the most thorough, reliable, and accurate reporting, leaving very little room for details to be accidentally overlooked, or worse, embellished upon. A practice for which Moe was notorious. When eradicating infestation, annihilating diseases, vanquishing enemies, detailed records of past failures proved to be very dependable roadmaps, scientifically. And at this point, failure was no longer an option. The timetable had been moved up. The clock was ticking, and ticking very quickly.

Interestingly, draftees, like Jack, often supplied more accurate and truthful interpretations of events. They were still somewhat innocent and drawn to the truth. Some at Group considered this a fault of over-exposure to liberal sensibilities, and the influence of Female intrusion into leadership positions. Manny and Moe tended to exaggerate, and Group was aware of this. They pictured themselves as heroes of a cause and believed they should be far more highly decorated than they had been. Nonetheless, they were efficient at what they did, despite their often-unorthodox methods. They were good foot soldiers and followed orders; not without question, but they followed directions to the letter.

Manny and Moe had been working together for so long that neither of them remembered what their first assignment had been. Their success ratio had been high, better than any other combo Group had sent out, and that’s exactly why they were finally handed this North American part of the operation, an assignment at which every other team had failed. Miserably. Group realized that this was no time to rely on the inefficiency of amateurs. Year in and year out there had been small gains, but nothing significant had been accomplished, and the opposition numbers had done nothing but expand and multiply, and at an alarming rate as of late, a trait for which diseases were notorious. This disease, these people, were basically a cancer in their eyes, and these operatives were in the US to eliminate that cancer before it spread further. Group had grown weary of these vermin[SZ1] , and it was time to bring this conflict to an end; it had gone on far too long. A meticulously developed solution had become available, and now was the time to put it to the test.

And time was running out on Group. Recent evidence indicated that this disease was beginning to branch out, looking for new territory to infest. Probes had been sent to unexplored realms. Like all cancers, it was masticating. If that continued, if it was allowed to set up operational bases Elsewhere, there would be a total collapse of any environment Manny, Moe, and Jack were familiar with. And they understood that all too well—this had now become a life-or-death situation.

Despite having never visited Atlantic City in the past, boredom set in quickly for the trio. The room was dull, on the sixth floor, with no ocean view; it simply looked down on a parking lot that was consistently vacant. The Ferraris and Lamborghinis parked Elsewhere. The walls of their room were decorated with faded watercolors of overweight cats with neon eyes. The one armchair was frayed with age, and with only a pair of queen-size beds, two of them were forced to sleep together on any given evening. They would flip a casino token every night to determine who the unlucky ones would be. Each preferred to sleep with no clothing, which became dicey at times, their bodies reacting unpredictably to the steamy setting.

The city itself was still the gambling mecca it had always been, but people had become so inured to losing their life savings that even the suicides had diminished to near zero. Though the number of children roasting in overheated locked cars while parents became spellbound [SZ2] by slot machines remained steady. The restaurant in their hotel, though glitzy, served nothing but reheated canned entrees such as chili and Campbell’s mushroom soup. Quite naturally, the gambling floor sparkled like an amusement park.

The three of them had never before gambled anywhere on Earth. They had no understanding of how it worked or why people wasted so much time on it or got so much enjoyment out of losing their life savings. Still, they quickly became fascinated with it all. Even for Manny, Moe, and Jack the lure was irresistible. Group had advised them to steer clear of the gaming tables. But it hadn’t been a direct order, and the attraction was far too great. The lights and noises were mesmerizing.

These emissaries each had an uncanny head for numbers, and not long after arriving, by working as a team, they had determined the precise win/lose ratios and odds for every form of gambling the citywide casinos had to offer. Counting cards proved to be child’s play. It was as if they could read the minds of the blackjack dealers. Craps, roulette, even the slot machines were no match for their mathematical prowess as they hopped from one machine to the next. One casino to the next.

As a result, within seventy-two hours of their arrival, they had accumulated a vast amount of money—and had been summarily banned from setting foot onto the floor of every gambling house in the city. Their photographs had been digitally circulated throughout town by a private security firm, along with unflattering descriptions of their physicality and poor clothing choices. They didn’t take to the banning happily, and when alone in their hotel room, lounging in their nakedness, they spoke in their own language.

“These filthy creatures encourage you to bet, encourage you to win, throw their Females and booze at you, encourage you to wager higher, and then when you do win, they throw you out on your ass. You don’t even get to keep the Females as a consolation prize.”

“I’ve always liked the Female aspect of these operations, especially in Eastern [SZ3] Europe. They are so easy if you have enough money.” Moe offered a lecherous smile. “The Jersey Girl thing is okay, but I do prefer the Estonian Females. It would be nice if things worked that way back home, though I don’t see how it could be accomplished. I like dipping this organ of mine. It makes me feel wanted. Even if it is just a Jersey Girl.”

Manny was only half in agreement. “Yeah, the Females are a nice bonus, but it annoys the hell out of me that Group won’t let us eliminate people on this gig. That babe at the Caesar’s blackjack table would have been number one on my list. That smug little look, the not-so-subtle nod to the goon who threw us out; I would have loved to put the touch on them both. Leave them gasping for air on the boardwalk while their blood oozed into the wooden planks. They wouldn’t know what hit them.”

Jack muttered, “Obviously,” and rolled his eyes, wishing he could somehow escape these two morons. His thoughts were interrupted by an aggressive knock on their hotel room door, and he stood to answer it. “We need to be very careful how we play our cards.” He then opened the door.

It was The Boss. Again, The Boss’s actual name was so alien to the English language that there is little point in translating it. In the beginning, The Boss was simply referred to as “A.” But she would, in the days to come, assume the alias of Angelica. This was done to blend in with the locals; though, in reality, she was somewhat ill-suited to blend in unnoticed. [SZ4] She was well aware [SZ5] that she was more highly educated than these three put together, and she resented being forced to deal with them. However, Jack seemed to be a bit more intuitive than the other two. When she spoke, she also used their native language.

“What’s with the knocking, A?” Moe asked.

“In case you dopes have forgotten, we’re becoming one with these people. Everyone in America knocks on doors before they enter so we will also knock on doors before we enter. It’s that simple. Next, have you already forgotten that you’ve been wired? We’ve all been wired. This room has been wired. I hear everything you’re saying. Group hears everything you’re saying. Everything I’m saying, for that matter. What’s all this talk about killing people?”

She studied the three of them.

“Yes, Manny, I’m talking to you. Did you think that comment would slide by unnoticed? We are not authorized to kill anyone. Get that through your thick head. I personally placed that in the operating instructions, don’t improvise.” She eyed the three of them closely. “We want this to run smoothly, without violence.” Moe appeared confused. She added, “Improvise? Is that the word you’re having trouble with, Moe?”

“Yeah.”

“It means make shit up. It’s an English word, perhaps not translated well, but I threw it in as a test. And you failed. The three of you should be spending your time working on improving your English, rather than pissing and moaning as if you were back at Base lounging in the enlisted man’s club.”

“I was only thinking of the old days. I wasn’t going to do anything. I follow orders. You know that. It’s in my record. I’m not killing anyone until I’m told to,” Manny grumbled. “This too will change. And I’m looking forward to the time it does. Nothing’s set in stone. Nothing ever is. Group’s directives can change like the direction of the wind. And when they do, I will be ready. The Females will not be in charge forever. And I do hope they’re monitoring, and I do hope they hear that. I hope they know where I stand.”

“Should I take that as some sort of threat?”

He didn’t respond.

“Good. Keep your opinions to yourself. Group is adamant about murder. And so am I. There will be no killing on this operation. That’s a Female directive. Historically, freelance termination is where past operatives have continually gotten themselves into trouble, especially here in the US. And often Elsewhere. Remember when they ran to save the Europeans? Once we started slaughtering people these Americans instinctively fought back, no matter where we struck. They quickly developed a counterattack, which I needn’t remind you, they are extremely good at. And in every past instance, they’ve fought back with intensity, successfully and lethally, and that’s why they’re still a thorn in our side, that’s why we’re still where we are, especially here in the Eastern States. Have these clowns never lost a war?”

“Vietnam?”

She switched over to English. “For crap’s sake, Moe, don’t take things black and white only. That’s old-time stuff by their words. You should be spending your time working on English speaking. Learn to be as good in English as me. Read a book why don’t you? There is a bible in that drawer.” She pointed. “It doesn’t make any sense, but you can learn English words.”

“English is a shit, bastard language.”

“There may be truth in that.”

“I am now knowing improvise. Every day something new[SZ6] .”

“Good for you, I report it to Group. Look, we’re here to dispute a disease and that’s everything. Murdering people is bad to the strategy. This new [SZ7] approach had been built up ages ago, but it took change in Group’s leadership to perform it. Plus an adjusting in the technology. Now that we Females are controlling functioning, Group is going to design operations the Female way. We’re permitting the science work. Give the disease nothing to strike back at, nothing to get its mutations into. It won’t know what’s going on until it’s too late.[SZ8] ”

She paced the room for a minute. “Unless it passes the test. Which I doubt it can. In the end, there won’t be much of a time changing between this strategy and the murder doing, or a war approach, which has failed badly in the past too. War has accomplished absolutely nothing. Makes me wonder what it’s good for. With this new blueprint, the disease should be on its way to extinction. Eradication, by the time you boys are returning back to Base. Our function here is to execute the plan and disappear any attempts to challenge Group’s goal. Without doing murder.”

Jack raised his hand, looking much like a third-grade student.

“I follow all this, but I don’t like the part about the gorillas. Isn’t there some way to change that part of the blueprint[SZ9] ? Leave the gorillas out of it?”

“Nobody likes the section about the gorillas, Jack. Understand what’s true. It’s how the machinery is working. The gorillas must go.”