by John Conroe
“A man of many talents,” Caeco said to me with a sly grin. I think I might have gaped at her, just a bit, but her sense of humor kept catching me off guard. Especially since I hadn’t detected one when we first met.
“I will truthfully admit that I am fascinated by this… magic, but Caeco and I still need to be on our way,” Dr. Jensen said. “Even if AIR believes your impersonation of their agent, it is only a delay. They will find out.”
“Actually, I don’t believe they will. As I said, Agent Machete already reported in that his assigned Sarah Williams wasn’t the one they were interested in. If he has an accident on the way to his next assignment and ends up dead, then they will never know. Often the best place to hide is the place that’s already been searched,” Agent West said.
“You would really kill Machete?” Aunt Ash asked.
“No, he’ll be our honored guest in an Oracle facility.”
“What if they inspect the body?” Darci asked, caught up in the details despite herself. Darci loves mystery novels which made sense… she is, after all, a cop.
“Oh they will, I guarantee it, but they’ll still be convinced,” he said with a grin. “My people are on their way as we speak and we’ll lay the whole plan out in detail. How about that? If you still don’t like it, you can head out on your own and we’ll even help you, but I think you know that Agents in Rebus will just track you down again.”
Caeco and her mother exchanged a long glance then turned back and nodded almost in unison.
“Why don’t you tell us your plans now?”
Nodding back at them West opened his mouth and did just that.
Chapter 18– Miseri
The ginger kitten was curled in a tight purring ball of fluffy fur, its rounded well-fed belly almost dead center of the motel room bed. Miseri’s right hand idly smoothed the orange fur on its back as she sat next to it, her cell phone held to her left ear. The ringing stopped as the line opened but there was no answering voice or sound. There never was.
“Central, this is Miseri,” she said, then waited the half second or so for the voice recognition software to do its job.
“Go ahead Miseri,” a brisk voice finally said.
“Status update on target search.”
“Negative results to date. The initial list was reduced to thirteen possibles. All thirteen have been cleared. We are now conducting secondary and tertiary searchs.”
A frown appeared on Miseri’s attractive face. “Any anomalies during the original thirteen searches?”
“None. Well…” the voice hesitated.
“What?” Miseri asked, voice curt.
“There was an accident with one of the responding agents. Machete was killed in a traffic accident while traveling between his second and first assignments. The accident was caused by a drunk driver who was also killed. Law enforcement reports check out.”
“I want the details of his assignments, the accident and any reports he made, Central,” Miseri demanded.
“That’s not necessary Miseri. The details have been verified.”
“Central, are you in charge of this search or am I? Because it seems to me that the Director assigned it to me, seeing as I’m the agent who has been assigned to Project Beastiarius since it’s inception. Are you suddenly an expert on subject CAECO?”
On the bed, the kitten woke up at the sudden tension in the hand that was stroking it.
“Transmitting requested information now, Miseri,” the voice said in a resigned, but respectful manner.
“Thank you Central,” Miseri said ending the connection. Her smartphone pinged to announce an incoming email. Looking over the new material, she continued to pet the kitten until it fell back to sleep.
Two hours and seven minutes later and the fifth time through the insurance adjuster’s report and the petting stopped. Miseri sat up straight and reread the line that had caught her attention. “That’s odd little hunter. Why would the battery on Machete’s rental have an installation sticker showing a date one day before his death?” She pulled up the rental agency vehicle maintenance report and checked dates of service. “Hmm, not only that but this lists a different brand of tire?” She pulled up an online map and plotted his two assignments on it then turned once more to the kitten.
“Time for trip, Talon. You need to expand your horizons,” she said as she abruptly stood and began packing her few—but expensive—possessions.
Chapter 19– Declan
Death and taxes. The old adage says they never change. But somebody left out high school, ‘cause it doesn’t seem to change, either. It had been two days since the excitement with the agent man and nothing was different. Mostly.
I looked up from my turkey, avocado, lettuce, and cranberry mayo on ciabatta bread to watch Caeco weave through the tables. A number of other people watched her as well, mainly boys, but also a few girls who appeared to be taking notes.
Agent West had been true to his word. A small army of government types had descended on our restaurant and the little rental cottage that Caeco and her mom continued to live in. Apparently, they represented an unmatched opportunity. West had explained that Agentes in Rebus—or Those who are active in Matters, as it translates from Latin—were an uncontrolled cancer embedded in the very structure of the US government. Begun by powerful leaders of a very young republic, AIR had been founded on principles of patriotism and national honor. Somewhere along the line, it had been twisted into a much darker organization bent on accumulation of power and protection of its leaders. Because it had moles in every branch and office of the federal government, it was very difficult to pin down. Oracle had fought a silent war against the shadow agency for the last three presidencies, mostly a losing one.
But AIR’s fortunes had changed over the last two years. They had taken on another adversary that, according to West, had cleaned their clock. Vast amounts of resources had been directed toward this unknown opponent, but all had been wasted. West either didn’t know or wouldn’t say who or what the adversary was, but he did let slip the words he’s been beating their best. When pressed on the he part, West had simply changed topics. Back to us and the Plan. Basically, it didn’t seem like any real plan that I could see. We would stay in place, Caeco and her mom continuing their new existence as student and lab technician, respectively. Machete disappeared into Oracle’s own shadowy facilities and a fake accident was constructed in western New York near the site of his second assignment, where a different Rachel Williams lived, one who worked in a turbine plant for General Electric.
There were some changes made to enhance Caeco and her mom’s covers. The most glaring of these was the reason Caeco was attracting stares where two days earlier, she had been entirely ignored.
Her hair was a different color brown with blonde highlights, cut in a new style that I had overheard one girl in Calc describe as “super cute.” She wore makeup, and her clothing had undergone perhaps the most drastic change. Her previous style—well, let’s be honest; she hadn’t had one—had been centered around loose tees that mostly came from clearance racks and baggy discount jeans.
Her new look was fitted and obviously, even to my uneducated eyes, stylish. Today, she wore black leggings tucked into cowboy boots that had their tops rolled down and layers of old belts buckled around them to create an effortlessly elegant look that was completely unique. Her shirt was blue and made from some sort of wispy material that left it flowing in the wind of her passage. Under it, she wore a stretchy white, strappy undershirt that emphasized her previously hidden curves. Combined with her government-ordered and -issued physique, she was turning heads all over the place. It annoyed me.
Which made me wonder about the whole shelter in place and live under the radar concept. By making her a fashion plate and changing her looks from mildly pleasant to dangerously pretty, the geniuses of Oracle had made her stand out, not fade away.
“What’s the matter with you? Smell something bad?” Caeco asked as she sat down and placed h
er brown bag the table.
“He’s been that way since you got the makeover from that fashion contest,” Rory said, a touch of snide in his voice. The fashion contest story was the one we were circulating to explain her changes, although the kids at my table knew the truth.
“Oh,” she said, then smiled to herself while she opened her bag and pulled out a Rowan West take-out container. It matched the one I had, as well as the ones that Rory and Jonah were now bringing almost daily. Started a trend all by myself, I did.
Candace still brought a homemade lunch and Jonah mostly did as well. But Rory’s parents’ had placed a standing order for lunch, which I delivered to his locker each day. Caeco’s was curtsey of my aunt, who had taken a strong liking to the girl. I also got to deliver that lunch as well, but truth be told, I didn’t mind in either case.
“I just think it draws more attention, that’s all,” I said.
“Yeah and how! The whole football team stopped eating when you walked by, Sarah,” Rory said. We still had to use the cover name. “Those animals never stop stuffing their faces.”
“Oh, like you do?” Candace asked. “Stop glaring at them, Declan. You’ll only cause more trouble,” she added, looking my way.
I blanked my face but couldn’t stop a glance at Caeco. She was studying me curiously, but when she caught my eye, she smiled , blew an a errant hair out of her face, and looked back down at her food. I know I smiled back, because I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Damn, when did that happen? I just met this girl less than a week ago and I… I like her.
Completely unnerved by that sudden realization, I froze in mid-swallow and almost choked. I quickly took a drink of lemonade. Rory and Jonah missed it completely, but Candace was watching me with interest. She flashed a quick look at Caeco, who was working through her chips with intent, then shrugged to herself and went back to her own tuna sandwich.
Caeco’s strong right hand gave me two sharp pats on the back, which, if the lemonade hadn’t greased my throat, would have dislodged the lump in my throat. She never even looked up.
The little flashes of insight I get when we touch told me she might be eating, but her senses were focused on me. Great. The girl could hear my heartbeat speed up whenever I looked at her. Not cool.
“Hey D, you got my iPad ready yet?” a light voice asked from behind me. I turned to find Jessica Connors in all her glory, a hopeful smile on her face. She, too, was wearing black leggings, soft boots, and some kind of green blouse.
“Yeah, it’s here in my bookbag,” I said, reaching down to dig it out. As I came back up and handed it to her, I saw she was eyeing Caeco curiously. She smiled brightly when I gave her the tablet, handed me a ten dollar bill with her other hand, then turned back to Caeco.
“Cute boots! That’s a really smart idea with the belts,” she said, then turned and strolled back to her table of cheerleaders and jocks. I glanced at my tablemates, only to find Rory and Jonah’s eyes still glued to Jessica’s butt, Candace looking impressed, and Caeco watching me.
“What?” I asked.
She studied me for a moment, flashed a small smile, then looked at the ten spot in my hand. “It’s gotta take a whole lot of iPad fixing to get to nine hundred?” she answered, more statement than question. I got the feeling that wasn’t what had caused the smile but couldn’t be sure. I mean, what the hell do I know about girls?
“I charge more for harder stuff. Laptop fixing can cost like fifty bucks, so it’s not that big a deal.”
“Un huh,” she said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced.
I turned back to Candace. “So, my point is that the makeover ends up making her more of a target. Nobody paid much attention a couple of days ago, but suddenly, she’s like the prettiest girl in the school and that’s supposed to hide her?”
“Really? You think she’s the prettiest girl in the school?” Candace asked, eyes alight with curiosity and something like glee. Rory and Jonah left off whatever conversation they’d been having and looked over with interest. Caeco sat frozen in place for a second, eyeing me, surprise on her face.
“What? Ah… well… yeah, I guess, but you’re missing my point. They did nothing to hide her!” Caught off guard by my own stupid mouth, I rushed through my sentence, getting louder as I went. The table next to ours looked over.
Candace smirked at me, Jonah gaped, and Caeco looked thoughtful, and Rory… Rory came to my rescue. “Yeah, he’s right. She is the prettiest, or at least one of the prettiest, maybe almost like Jessica. And that girl ends up with her picture in the paper all the time,” he said.
Candace frowned at him, but I gave him a nod when everyone’s attention moved to him. Rory grinned as he read my little gesture as a solid thanks, dude, then waited for Candace’s retort.
“If you had a fugitive from a government facility that had never been in a public school before, was raised by scientists, and knew nothing about modern culture, would you look for her to be the standout school beauty? Or on the Math Team, which she is, as of today,” Candace said.
“You’re on the Math Team? Who are you? I don’t even know you anymore,” I joked, glad to have the group’s attention away from me and my big mouth.
“You’ve only know her for like four days, Declan,” Candace said.
“Nope, I’ve known her for five!” I said. “Met her last Sunday, remember?”
“I know about modern culture,” Caeco said suddenly.
“How? You were raised in a lab,” Rory said, whispering the word lab and glancing around to make sure he wasn’t overheard.
“My training was all based on a special forces curriculum. Infiltration, guerrilla warfare, small squad tactics, demolition, and anything that would help me behind enemy lines. The idea was that I could blend in with almost any civilian population. My instructors were all special forces types, and I was encouraged to study television in my off-hours. I had classes in social media, cellular communications, and adolescent psychology. Watched sitcoms and MTV.”
We all looked at her in amazement.
“MTV? My mom would have a heart attack if she knew you were raised by MTV,” Rory said.
“No offense, Sarah,” Jonah said, glancing aside at his little buddy, “but when you started school on Monday, you were a bigger misfit than I am. It was obvious that you were—different.”
“Hah! That’s my point exactly!” Candace said. “We knew there was something odd about her immediately—no offense, my friend. Now she could be a cheerleader, class president, or Captain of the Math Club. But not Debate Team Captain, because I’ve just demonstrated why that’s my spot.” She settled back, triumphant, and waited for a rebuttal.
“What do you think about this tactic?” I asked Caeco.
“AIR will search for me using the nation’s law enforcement computers. The fact that they already know my alias means they’re running down every Sarah Williams in the country. They use facial recognition software as well as NSA ELINT monitoring networks combined with voice recognition. My school photo has been professionally altered by the Oracle people and you, Declan, so that won’t help them if they access it. Mother and I don’t talk on phones, we just text each other. Ground agents would likely be fooled by this new disguise, as they won’t be expecting me to be this well-integrated into the school’s social structure. Except… there is one agent—she wouldn’t be easy to fool.”
“Who is that?” Jonah asked.
“She’s a senior agent who has been involved with me since I was a child. She would know mother on sight, and I don’t think this disguise would fool her for long.”
“What’s her name?” I asked.
“Miseri.”
“I thought AIR agents were all named after blades of some kind or another?” Rory asked.
“They are. Miseri is short for Misericorde, which was a type of knife used in medieval times to give merciful death to wounded knights. Not to be confused with the Misericord shelf found in churches.”
The others were quiet for a second or two before Rory spoke up. “You know, you really do fit in with our group despite your new-found hotness. But that Miseri lady wouldn’t come here now that the Machete dude already cleared you, so to speak, would she?”
“It is unlikely, but then, Agent Miseri is tenacious and very smart. Who knows what she would do?”
“Okay, so we just need to keep you from getting photographed, from talking on phones or microphones and off YouTube completely,” I said. “How hard could that be?”
“Well, considering that every kid in this school carries a portable video recording device with real time Internet connectivity, I’d say damn near impossible,” Rory said.
