My parents want me to move back to India.
I could, you know. It's not as if I have a great deal keeping me in London. And the Mob paid well for that unruly action in Tokyo...wonderful. I work for the Criminal Element now.
I left that part out of the weekly phone call with my parents. They're to good for that. have so much faith, in me, in God...I was like them once. It drove me to be the best, to outperform my (white male) colleagues...& what did it earn me?
The video of me failing to protect the Prime Minister has 400 Million views now. I'm sure it's making someone a lot of money.
Just don't read the Comments.
If I was a better person I'd let it just slide away...I wanted to be a better person. You know, as a Sikh girl growing up in England. It will make you hard, which it did, but I also wanted to be good.
Reading the Comments from the cesspool of Humanity makes me want to bash all their fucking brains out.
Britain is wise to not allow Civillians (even C.P.S's) to own weapons. I am proud to be British. God save the Queen & all that rubbish. The men here are only equally as stupid, piggish, & infantile as men everywhere else. I don't want to leave! Making a mistake should't end your career, right?
I say that, but the same mistake ended a man's life, didn't it?
See that? I made a funny.
God...what does religion even mean to me?
I am an Initiated Sikh, but come on now: I was raised a Sikh. Is it really a choice when it's all you know?
Is God within me & within the world? Yes, I suppose so...but I don't have the faith of my parents. Or their courage.
I don't wear a turban because let's be honest: It typecasts you.
"Oh, you're a Sikh! Where is that funny little knife you have to wear?"
Not exactly helpful on job interviews in a modern world. Even in India few people forget it was Sikh Bodyguards who assassinated a Prime Minister (Ugh...I hate that word!) ages ago. You would think the sacrifices our people made for Queen & Country would at least matter a little.
They do not though. Not even a little. Average Bloke on the street sees you as a "Daft Asian" at best, possibly a good time for a few quid if his Mates ain't looking.
However, even saying so just shows what a bad Sikh I am, eh? Amarjeet Kaur Inderpal - Failed CPS, Failed Sikh...what's next? A failed marriage? Failed mother?
Plenty of room for failure yet: I'm not even 30 years old...lovely.
If God is listening, listen here: I do not wish to Fail again. Not ever. I will do anything to avoid that shame again. Show me the Way, & I will follow no matter the pain, no matter how long or how hard it is.
God Save me from the shame of failure.
There we go, work Visa underway, office (well, a dingy, unfurnished room anyway) & a flat with AC.
The Noble Beginnings of the Inderpal Agency.
I do hate to leave the UK. I mean, I can still go on Holiday there or India for that matter. It's not as if I am banished to this sweltering desert filled with rich elitist pigs forever.
There is a demand for Female Bodyguards in the Middle East due to the antiquated customs of the Koran. Men cannot see their wives & daughters or whatever load of bollocks: excellent. My infamy may even work to my favor here, as some of these Oil Sheiks love a good scandal.
My Arabic is rusty, but coming back to me more every day. Also, while I love Britain, I am a Gun Girl. The strict laws of the UK just don't work for me on that matter. True, it means I may have to face down armed assailants more often, but I'd rather have a gun in my hand or even a stick than rely on my winning personality to get my client out of a scrap.
Ugh...I am still trying to prevent like it didn't happen!
What was that fucking Bird?!?
I don't know if it was my prayers, the old geezer, or (Ugh!) reaching into Aiofe, but these mannish hands have learned a new trick apparently. Well, some times, anyway.
Seems if I want it bad enough, I can find my Clients. Protect them too. What does it entail?
Well, I always liked Henna. Tattoos are forbidden of course, but Henna? A-Ok.
Good thing too.
The doctors say I'll may be able to walk without a cane if I can endure months of grueling physical therapy. Even then, I should expect a limp at best; won't be competing in the Olympics then...
Hah. Such a funny one you are.
The fact of the matter is: My career is effectively dead as a Close Protection Specialist. The hurdles of being a woman combined with my disgraceful failure were already signifigant; a visible limp is the proverbial nail in the coffin. That limits ones tactical options, obviously, but also sends a certain signal: Unfit for duty.
Better to have terrible scars or some such: At least that doesn't signal weakness.
A Bodyguard with a distinct handicap is not so different than being a bloody fat fitness instructor: Unlikely to find paying clients. Even if you had a reputation, which I decidedly do not.
Not to say options are in short supply: this "Lorenzo" character has made a handsome offer for a Security Specialist, including a year long contract & retainer...suspiciously handsome, that. More of these "jobs" & never mind the Bollocks I imagine. Will need to look into that after the next surgery, would not be cricket to make a descision lacking my faculties.
Though as far as I can tell, this "Lorenzo" makes all his descions in such a state. Bloody wonderful. Hardly surprising he wants a Bodyguard then.
There is also the other matter. One to take at least as seriously...
One's flesh is a gift from God, who lives within & without...we are forbidden to pollute or mar it...& yet...
The email is very detailed in it's specifications. I had no idea such prosthetics existed...as I have come to learn: There is more in the World than Heaven & Earth.
Will I go forward in this broken body gifted to me by my parents & God? Or will I take the path offered, & pass on that physical therapy & limp, thank you very much?
I'm sorry Mother. I'm sorry Father.
I simply can't be a failure.
With the substantial retainer from Lorenzo, I can finally move on my plans for the Inderpal Agency
Mahmoud will be the "owner" of the Middle Eastern branch of the Agency...a bad taste in the mouth that; He is pleasant enough, & well connected in local circles (imperative in the UAE)...still. Knowing that I must pay a local National (& a Man on top of that) to "own" my business for me simply does not sit right.
"Tradition" they would say. "Customs."
Yes, well...I am still quite cross about it.
In the above file I mentioned taking a Close Protection Contract while on one of these mad "Jobs" (I will not disgrace my profession by calling them proper "Contracts"), at a princely sum of $1200 a day. A sum I might add, that was immediately paid. Gladly, even.
Those are elite rates.
I can almost hear my mother chiding me about greed...it's not greed though. It's about Professionalism. It's about Respect.
I intend to gain that respect, among my peers, with my family, before God, & before myself.
If I can afford all the top shelf gear that the world has to offer in the meantime, so much the better. I'll need it too, I am certain. These are not normal jobs after all. It will take every bit of my skills, wit, & cunning to see my clients through.
Oh yes...& an edge. I may have gained an edge as well, though I have not yet made sense of it...as a girl I always marveled at the pretty patterns of the Henna. These...these markings that accompany my Contracts...I do not know what they mean. Some sort of "reward" they say, like the leg...but what does it mean? How does it work? A part of me says I should simply trust to God & take it as a blessing on faith.
I am historically rather bad at doing that however.
I feel like a fucking idiot.
While that is hardly a new sensation, unfortunately, it hardly excuses my incompetence.
So caught up with living my life (such as it is) I neglected to follow up. Not my job, right?
Well, it may have behooved me to do so considering that many of these "Jobs" I've done over the last few months never happened.
The AI controlled Cruise Vessel? There is no such thing. Moonyvale, California? No such place (Though that is something I should have deduced on my own, obviously). The creature in Africa? No reports, no records. I would say I had imagined it all if not for the rather insistent presence of this cybernetic prothesis (Anderson Robotics? There is no such company. Of course there isn't). I would check myself into the Mad House right now if not...if not for the Visions.
That awful Thing in Russia showed me countless potential realities. Countless. Layered over one another like a frayed quilt. These..."Jobs"...they happened, of that I cannot doubt. The lack of records leaves only two answers:
1) There is a staggering, & dreadfully conducted cover up underway
2) These events transpired in paralell realities.
I would prefer the bumbling cover-up to be honest. Agents looking to kill me as a loose end fits my martyred sense of melodrama.
Other Worlds than These? Even though I've seen it, experienced it first hand...I don't feel I'm ready. How can anyone be ready to accept limitless poteniality?
God...I am at a loss.
So, Mr. Lee asked some pertinent questions that I have had time to ruminate on. Further, my "benefactors" have made me an interesting offer that challenges some of my beliefs.
Good thing these entries are encrypted. If I ever can afford a Personal Assistant it would simply not do for them to find I was journalling like a distraught teenager on company time.
So, the first question: When is it valid to take a man's life?
Self Defense of course. I am no pacifist. Most Sikhs are not, with storied careers in military pursuits since the first Guru. My brothers were quite fond of using their Karas as a fist pack, something I've done myself. As a people, carrying a fucking sword at all times is part of our religion! So yes, not only Self Defense but duty as well: A soldier who kills other soldiers is not "Murder." That applies, in my mind, to the work of a Security Specialist. A threat to my clients is a threat that is my solemn duty to...neutralize. With prejudice, if necessary. It is decidedly not cricket to kill anyone who provides a moment of inconvenience, or is perhaps a bit insulting.
That would be wrong.
I say that with such feeling not as a religious person, or a "weak woman" - I say that, often & with fervor, because if I did not I know that I would have my own trail of corpses.
Well, more than I already have.
The second question: Polluting the body that God made for me.
I don't eat meat. I don't cut my hair, or pluck my eyebrows, as dictated by the Khalsa. All the other rubbish as well, thank you very much. Nor do I consent to tattoos or piercings...however, I do have a bionic prosthetic. A war injury, any Sikh Veteran would do the same, right?
Now, my benefactors have begun to open the catalog. Implants. Augments...more than human. Better than God made you.
A better, more faithful person would refuse.
May God forgive me then.