by J. Judkins
Kim nodded enthusiastically. “You’re great at breaking encryption and getting into computers. Even Harrison said so. How about, instead of interviewing people and hoping one of them slips up and makes a mistake, we find one of their computers and you work your magic?”
“You believe that would be enough?”
Kim took Angel’s hand. Naomi realized she was smiling in reaction, interested in their little drama despite herself.
“Angel, listen to me.” Kim’s voice was pitched low, as if fearful of being overheard. “You proved yourself to me when you stole Harrison’s research data. Aliens are in the city. I believe you. You’ve shown me that.”
Kim’s words shocked Naomi to her core. The room about her seemed to dip and sway, as if something had happened to the artificial gravity.
They know? How is that possible?
“Then why did you take his side?” Angel asked.
Kim seemed confused. “What?”
“I told you about my extraterrestrial origins, yet you accepted Harrison’s version of events,” Angel said sharply, her arms folded. “Your arguments were based upon his assertions and not mine.”
“Is that what you’re upset about?”
“It has been bothering me, yes.”
“I only did that because he set himself up!”
Following the mental pathways, Naomi called upon new surveillance sources. Angel was examined down to the finest detail, recorded at every angle, from every conceivable vantage point. Who is this woman? Is she one of us? Could she have been part of a previous, failed expedition?
Naomi had never heard of any other groups, and she’d certainly never heard of any failures.
The search results came up negative. As far as the data banks were concerned, Angel didn’t exist.
Naomi wasn’t deterred in the slightest, though. Failed missions wouldn’t be included in the archives. They’d be locked away; certainly not easy to find. The powers that be would sweep everything under the rug, and then deny ever owning a rug. Angel could be exactly what she claimed to be.
“I believe you, Angel,” Kim said. “You. Not him. I loved your solution for how you became your own person.”
“‘Became your own person’?” Naomi echoed to herself, once again sent reeling by the implications of Kim’s words. Her grip on the table tightened until it was just shy of breaking it.
Angel had somehow achieved the impossible.
Angel had achieved . . . independence.
“Then, believe me,” Angel said. “We’re here to find irrefutable evidence of an alien presence in this city and stop them.”
Kim shook her head. “Angel—”
“If you believe me, we should continue our investigation. If you don’t, then I respectfully ask that we continue until I find proof.”
“I’m all for continuing, but we’re never going to get anywhere using casual conversation.”
Angel appeared to think about it, then nodded. “I agree with your assessment. We’ll leave for now and come up with a workable strategy.”
No. That can’t be allowed to happen.
Naomi partitioned her mind to open a channel to their head of security. “There are two women on the sixteenth floor,” she sent, including a direct link to the surveillance feed. “They’re here to see Joseph Friedman. I want them brought directly to me.”
Naomi received an affirmative response seconds later. She severed the connection and returned her attention to the two women. Both were waiting at the elevator doors.
I may never have a better chance to be free. I don't know how you managed to escape, Angel, but I'm going to find out!
Less than a minute later, Naomi’s order achieved results. Two sentries closed in from either side. They appeared as security guards, dressed in matching dark blue uniforms with crisp white shirts and black ties. Both stopped at the optimal position for maximum intimidation, folding their arms and adopting matching glowers.
Kim began doing a curious dance in place, eyes wide and looking about as if searching for an exit.
Angel folded her arms and adopted her own arrogant smirk, apparently unimpressed. “I think we caught someone’s attention,” she remarked.
Kim slumped in place, her options seemingly exhausted. “Aw, crap baskets.”
Chapter Nine
Kim stumbled through the halls of Brookings Pharmaceutical like a woman condemned, the pallor of doom weighing her down. The unspeakable had happened. They’d asked too many questions, and the aliens had discovered them. Somewhere along the line, they’d made a mistake, and now the situation couldn’t be any more hopeless.
If there was some way out, some glimmer of hope shining in the darkness, Kim couldn’t see it. Logical deductions, blatant guesswork, and multi-page flowcharts that cost the reader sanity to skim past and even more sanity to fully comprehend told her that Angel considered Kim’s lack of trust to be the final deterrent preventing her from loving her in return. And Angel would certainly see their captivity and subsequent interrogation as irrefutable proof of alien activity. Kim could only contemplate the grim future which lay in store for her. There was no escape now.
As a fan of anime and science fiction, Kim knew what to expect. The pattern was clear—assuming they somehow survived the next few hours. Angel would no doubt press for a physical demonstration of love the moment they returned home. Kim was all too aware of how one meaningful event would inexorably lead to another. Could marriage be far behind?
But one thought troubled her above all else.
The idea of indulging in the physical part of Angel’s expectations didn’t seem all that scary anymore. In fact, it could even be said she was . . . looking forward to it.
Could that thought be any more terrifying? The corners of her lips threatened to curl into a smile. Kim felt apprehensive and ecstatic at the same time.
What changed? How did this happen? Is this my future? All Kim had were questions. When and how it happened, she hadn’t a clue, but the results were undeniable.
She hesitated at the open doorway, only for her muscle-bound goon escort to somewhat forcefully usher her inside. What she beheld seemed like nothing more than a typical office. Certainly not what she’d expected. Two comfortable-looking chairs sat before a large mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat a smiling mid-thirties, black-haired woman, her hands folded neatly before her. The upswept glasses perched on the end of her nose gave Kim the impression of a stereotypical librarian. Behind her were two more double doors, both of which were closed.
Kim was made to sit down by steadily increasing pressure on her left shoulder; Angel sat next to her. The two goons stood directly behind them, doing their part to contribute to the intimidation. Nothing in their mannerisms betrayed any hint of higher brain activity.
She squirmed in her chair. She tried to concentrate, to dwell upon the seriousness of the situation, but she couldn’t. Thoughts of Angel filled her mind. What was tonight going to be like?
Focus, Kimmie. You’re about to be interrogated and tortured. Worry about the other stuff later.
“My name is Naomi West,” the woman said. “I’m Mr. Friedman’s personal assistant.” Her smile looked carefully crafted, as if to reassure her guests that they had nothing to fear, that this meeting was nothing more sinister or dangerous than any other meeting between friends.
Naomi’s words effectively shocked Kim out of her introspection. An introduction? What was this, an interview? What was going on? Surely this so-called “Naomi West” was only stalling for time, waiting until some minion retrieved the brain slugs from cold storage.
The rational-yet-sarcastic part of Kim’s mind had a different opinion. Naomi could be assuming she has legitimate visitors, and is hoping to find out more about them.
Kim had to admit that the rational-yet-sarcastic part of her mind did have a point.
Secretive behind-the-scenes aliens with world domination on their mind would have spent time and effort establishing backgrounds for t
hemselves. They’d trust in their credential’s effectiveness. Reassured, Kim started to relax. They were safe. She and Angel had nothing to fear. No self-respecting alien would pull out the brain slugs at the first hint of public scrutiny.
“We’d like to see Mr. Friedman,” Angel said.
“If you have questions for Mr. Friedman, I’d be happy to answer them for you,” Naomi replied.
“I’m sorry, but no. We’d like to interview Mr. Friedman specifically.”
Naomi tapped her fingers against the mahogany desk. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid Mr. Friedman is currently unavailable. In his absence, I’d be happy to answer any and all questions. Please, what organization do you represent?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“That specific information is required for an interview, I’m afraid.”
“We’re private investigators,” Kim said.
Naomi shifted her attention to Kim. “Oh? Investigating what? For what purpose? There’s nothing noteworthy at Brookings Pharmaceutical to investigate. We’re a global specialty biotechnology company that researches, develops, manufactures, and markets products to treat and prevent serious human medical conditions. At present, we employ over ten thousand, four hundred people worldwide. If you require more information, I’ll be happy to provide it.”
She slid a pamphlet across the table. Kim glanced at the title: “Pharmaceuticals and You!”
The cover depicted men and women dressed in white lab coats and engaged in various stages of scientific research and discovery. One female doctor stared intently into her microscope. Another seemed thoughtfully concerned, plagued with apparent internal turmoil as he frowned under the light of a computer screen. A third looked off into the distance, staring out at nothing with a look of deep contemplation in his eye. Below them all, six doctors appeared on the verge of open cheering. Each smiled brightly for the camera as if ecstatically overjoyed simply because they happened to be doctors.
“When will Mr. Friedman be available?” Angel asked.
“Again, I’d be happy to answer any and all questions. But before I do, I require more information. Are you representatives of the local government?”
Kim did her best to conceal her surprise. Could the Riker-clone have talked to Naomi? Or had she overheard Angel’s reference to a “nondescript organization” during their conversation?
If she had, it would certainly explain her line of questioning. Kim tried to recall the specifics. What had they been saying? Surely they hadn’t said anything that might be considered suspicious or incriminating, had they?
After the Riker-clone conversation, she and Angel had found an isolated corner and discussed strategy. They’d talked about how their conversation and social skills were sorely lacking. She remembered telling Angel they needed to find a new way to investigate, and Angel had reminded her of her quest to find physical proof, how nothing else would do.
Angel had been upset. They’d talked of Harrison, and Angel’s theory about aliens in the city.
A shiver ran up Kim’s spine. Naomi knew exactly why they were here!
But wait . . . if that were true, why would their host continue to play along?
Because she wants more information. That’s why.
Angel’s vague job description may have inadvertently saved them. If Naomi believed she and Angel were untouchable government agents, she would dare not act against them.
“At what point will Mr. Friedman be available?” Angel asked again. “We’re willing to compromise and return at a later date.”
“That would be an acceptable and agreeable compromise,” Naomi agreed. “I’m willing to set up the appointment. Now that that’s settled, what organization do you represent?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking Friedman if he’s willing to see us?” Kim asked.
“I screen all visitors,” Naomi said testily. “My questions need to be answered to my satisfaction in order to determine your importance. As his personal assistant, it’s within my power to arrange a meeting.” She took a moment to look at Kim, then at Angel. “Once again, who do you work for?”
Kim decided to run with her theory, assuming Naomi’s own mistaken beliefs and fears would prevent her from taking direct action. “What if we’re both independent?” she asked.
Naomi’s smile seemed to become genuine for the first time.
Seeing this reaction, Kim wondered if she dared take it a step further. Could she exploit Naomi’s fears of discovery and back her into a verbal corner?
Naomi looked past Kim and Angel, to the guards standing at the door. “Leave us.”
“We provide security,” one of the brutes said.
“Then provide it in the hallway!” Naomi snapped, displaying anger for the first time. “I said go! Get out! Leave us!”
Neither one seemed to like it, but they obeyed. The giant doors eased closed behind them with the finality of a closing tomb.
Naomi’s genuine smile returned. Her eyes seemed to shine. “Please, tell me. How were you able to achieve independence?” she asked Angel.
Kim blinked. This was not the reaction she’d been expecting. “Excuse me?”
The receptionist chose not to answer.
“Ultimately, I’m here because of her,” Angel said.
“Because of her?” Naomi looked Kim up and down. “How? What do you mean? What’s special about her? Tell me how you did it!”
“It took time, but love has given me—”
Kim jumped halfway out of her seat. “Don’t tell her that!”
Angel seemed on the verge of arguing, but fell silent.
“Try not to get sidetracked,” Kim admonished her. “Don’t say anything personal. Remember why we’re here.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed in evident frustration and anger. “Don’t try to silence her. Let her talk. I’m interested in what she has to say.”
“That’s personal information,” Kim said.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Naomi broke first. “Let’s dispense with the games, shall we?” she asked with a thin smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You told my associate you were employed by a nondescript and possibly nonexistent investigative branch of a company that shall remain nameless. You also said you were in favor of her solution.” Naomi indicated Angel with a flick of her eyes. “Please, don’t try to deny it. I heard you. She achieved independence and became her own person.” Her tone softened to the edge of pleading. “Please, I’d like to know more.”
Kim could only stare back at her. The idea of Naomi playing the role of a receptionist and never breaking character made sense to her. It was something she could accept.
But if she were aware that her secret had been exposed, how did it make sense to deliberately give that information away? Why say anything at all?
Had Naomi made a mistake? Or could it be similar to the blinding overconfidence of a supervillain boasting of their plans to the hero, secure in the knowledge they were about to be destroyed by a custom-made deathtrap?
“You admit to listening in,” Kim blurted out, realizing too late that she was also giving herself away, but burning with curiosity. “Why would you tell us that?”
Naomi hesitated, as if carefully considering her words. “My duties demand nothing less. This is my official role.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, I’d like for us to help one another,” Naomi said simply. “You wish to accomplish your ends. That’s commendable. I ask that you assist me in achieving mine.”
When Kim didn’t answer, Naomi again took the initiative. “Please. Tell me how Angel achieved independence, and I’ll help you.”
“I believe I understand,” Angel said. “Are you able to give us specific information?”
“No.”
“You’re unwilling? Or unable?”
“I’m under restrictions.”
Kim was starting to become alarmed. “Angel, what are you doing?”
“S
he’s like me, Kim. When I first met you, I had become a tourist. I adopted the role and claimed it. I didn’t pretend to become a tourist. There was no acting. No deception. It became who I was. Think of it as acting according to expectations, if that helps. Naomi and I are the same.”
Now that the parallels between the two had been pointed out, Kim realized she could see it. It was literally impossible for Naomi to do anything an ordinary receptionist couldn’t, for fear of being exposed for what she truly was. Their desire to blend in was too extreme.
Angel was right. Naomi wasn’t simply playing a role. She was locked into one!
Kim rose to her feet, overflowing with confidence and secure in the knowledge that her opponent didn’t know enough about them to challenge them.
“We work for a . . .” Kim’s mind drew a blank. “What did you call it, Angel?”
“A nondescript and possibly nonexistent investigative branch of a company that shall remain nameless,” Angel said. “Where are you going with this? Naomi is willing to help. We only need to ask the proper questions.”
Reassured, Kim turned to address Naomi directly. “You guessed it right the first time. Angel and I are part of a secret covert branch of the government. We’re so incredibly secret, in fact, we’re not allowed to tell anyone about it.”
Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me, if it’s a secret?”
Dammit! “That doesn’t matter,” Kim said. “As a duly designated representative of . . . of the organization I work for, I demand to see Mr. Friedman at once!”
“No.”
Kim blinked. “What?”
“No,” Naomi repeated. “Why would I do that? I’m his receptionist and personal assistant. You need to talk to me before you’ll be allowed to talk to him. How many times must I repeat myself? He doesn’t set up personal meetings with outsiders. I do.”
Angel laid a hand on Kim’s arm. “Kim, this is unnecessary. Naomi is looking for help. She—”
“She can’t act against us, Angel. There’s no need to worry. Don’t you see? You said it yourself. We’re completely safe.”
“Then what are you—”
“Now, if Naomi were a supervillain playing the role of an ordinary receptionist,” Kim said, “then we’d be in trouble! She’d be free to abandon her receptionist persona on a virtual whim and worry about cleaning up the mess afterward. Nothing could stop her. She could act in any manner she chose, as she saw fit.”
