Reckless Creed by Alex Kava

colleagues call out her name. The others treated her like she was more senior than them. She was big and brassy. Even her purple-streaked hair demanded attention. When she stopped the line and asked that a case be pulled for a search, it got done immediately.
    Of all the terminals, this was the one Bishop had chosen. Despite having a guaranteed PreCheck boarding pass, it would still be important to feel confident and look confident so that someone like Oscar or LeKeesha had absolutely no reason to stop and say those dreaded words “Please step aside.”
    That old saying “Never let them see you sweat” became a vital mantra. And not an easy one today.
    Bishop’s suit was snug. The extra weight was difficult to get used to. It was exhausting, especially while plodding through the airport. But the extra weight had one benefit. It created—actually forced—a new walk that came instinctively with little risk of slipping into old habits.
    Bishop’s discomfort, however, didn’t stop there. The beard itched. The short, square-trimmed fingernails and the heavy-framed glasses were annoying. Bishop had given up everything fashionable and chic in exchange for ordinary and invisible. It was a small price to pay for future notoriety, possibly even making the annals of science history.
    Bishop’s grandfather, who had been a renowned scientist during the Cold War, loved to say, “You can change the world or sit on the sidelines and let the world change you. It’s your choice.”
    The cell phone started vibrating, and Bishop plucked it fromthe suitcase pocket with a quick glance at the incoming call’s phone number.
    â€œWhat is it?” Bishop said, using the new commanding voice that came with the new image.
    â€œIs this Bishop?”
    â€œWho the hell is this?”
    â€œThe colonel needs to know—”
    â€œIf the colonel needs to know anything, he needs to call me himself. I’m not talking to a lackey of his.”
    â€œExcuse me, but I’m the director of the division for—”
    â€œGood for you. Congratulations and never call this number again.”
    Bishop ended the call before the caller had a chance to respond. The phone stayed in Bishop’s hand. It would take only a few minutes for the lackey to report his failure to his boss.
    Colonel Abraham Hess was a necessary evil. They had formed an unholy alliance that suited both their needs. Bishop had agreed to spare the colonel’s precious reputation, while Hess provided Bishop with protection. The old man still held an undisputable amount of power and influence, but sometimes that same power triggered what Bishop called an arrogant ignorance. The colonel believed he was infallible. Stupid mistakes like trusting some low-level assistant with classified contact numbers would eventually bring the old man down, but he wouldn’t be taking Bishop with him.
    The phone started vibrating again. The same incoming number. Bishop swiped the faceplate to answer but said nothing.
    â€œBishop? What the hell’s going on?”
    â€œDon’t ever share my phone numbers with anyone. Do you understand?”
    â€œHe’s a high-level—”
    Bishop hung up and waited. The colonel would be furious. No one dared treat him with such disrespect.
    The phone began vibrating and Bishop let it continue, answering just before it went to voice mail.
    â€œWhat is it that you need to know?” Bishop asked in place of a greeting.
    â€œI need to know what the hell’s going on. I don’t expect to be updated through rumor and eventually cable news. There’s a young girl who was found dead in a river. What the hell—”
    â€œStop. Say no more,” Bishop said calmly. “I’ll call you but not on this phone. I’ll need to get you a new phone number.”
    â€œOh, for Christ’s sake. Isn’t that the reason we’re using these silly disposable phones?