by C. S Luis
“Remember the alien product is not so easily fooled. Be prepared for anything.”
“Detect, engage, retrieve and most importantly, find the source.” I repeated the instructions of previous missions. The order had been drilled into me since the beginning. He was always looking for the source.
“Set the markers, if the source is detected the devices will confirm its presence.”
“Yes, sir. I know the procedure and how the devices work.”
He gave me a stern look. “Very good then.” He wrinkled a slim lip back. “Do you have any further questions in regard to your assignment?”
“No, sir,” I answered.
“Good. Now, in the envelope you will also find your new housing location. I’ve secured a new rental for you and Joseph in the fashionable River Oaks area, close to the target destination. You’ll find the details inside.”
“Isn’t that a little too flashy sir for the salary of a mere principal?” I volunteered.
He grinned. “Very good, John. But no, your uncle comes from a wealthy family. The details are all in the envelope, memorize your family history. You know the procedures,” he firmly reminded.
“Of course, sir; forgive me.”
I took the documents out again. Inside, there was a small envelope with a pair of house keys and a lease for the rental with my required ID cards identifying me as a student at Milton High. The Company had prepared everything; I had only to play the role.
“Under the bed you will also find a drawer with a few devices that may be of some use in the retrieval of the alien product. Don’t hesitate to use them.”
Visibly under the bed there was a compartment. Opening it, however, required a combination to unlock the electrical key panel.
“One last thing, John. In regard to your previous question.”
I blinked. I’d almost forgotten the question thinking he wouldn’t answer my silly remark on who I was to impress.
I furrowed my brow. My awkward, puzzled gaze delighted him. He was smiling on the other end of the screen.
“It seems that the late Dr. Neil Edwards had one living relative. One that has just now come onto our radar...”
I wondered why this was relevant.
“…a granddaughter by the name of Claudia Belle. It might be of interest to get to know her. She might widen the social network from another angle. She might be your inside connection.”
“Is it your wish that I interact with her, sir?”
He smiled. “Yes. Interact. Get to know her. She might offer some information. Waste no time if she offers none. This part of the assignment must be handled discreet, and a detail not to be discussed with your guardian. He has his own orders.”
I nodded. It wasn’t the first time he had said those same words to me.
“Report back to me once you and your guardian have settled into your roles. And as always, you know the procedure, maintain radio silence until you’ve completed your mission.”
His image vanished from the screen. I sat there staring at the flashing cursor, and my reflection on the semi-black monitor. I was used to his quick briefings. It was a repeat of all my previous missions, except the principal was deceased. In my prior roles I had always played the role of a lone student, planted the devices as instructed, and proceeded as the readings deemed fit. The last mission ended quickly with no leads to the source of energy.
Once I had informed him of the nonexistence of alien forms and lack of discovery of a source by any of our devices, he pulled me off the mission. He was only interested in obtaining this source, whatever that was. I often wondered what the source was. I suspected another alien form, but my place was not to question the reasons or even ask what they were after. I had one job, as Joseph had always said: We are sent to engage, capture and secure. After that, it’s all up to The Company.
An email came in as I sat there. The email was from Dr. Nicholson regarding Dr. Neil Edwards’ granddaughter, Claudia Belle. I moved the cursor to open the email.
I picked up the documents again. Glaring at the picture ID I had taken and used before on varies assignments. It was the same face I had seen on countless of other forms of ID- the bright green eyes of a youthful man with ash brown locks of hair. I had been an athlete in my last assignment, a football star. Ran track in the last school and was even on a Championship basketball team. Always baring a different name, a different identity in a different school. I think I might have graduated at least four times, attended prom four times, and won five school championships. My exit strategies had always been different. One had me moving to New York, another my father was leaving the country to start a new job. The last one was my parents had divorced and I would go live with my father. Joseph had been my uncle in almost all the scenarios, but never once had he been my father. He just didn’t look the part. He was like a big kid himself, more of an uncle type. My imaginary father had always been on paper or a call conducted by The Company.
This time my name was Christian Müller. Kind of catchy I would agree. I tapped a few key strokes and studied on my family history. I had a lot of work to catch up on. Sometimes, learning had to be done in a short amount of time, but it was all part of the training.
“A hunter is always on his feet. He must adapt,” Joseph had repeated on multiple occasions when drilling me on assignments.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex; Alex Baxter...”
“Where are you from?”
“Portland.”
“Who are your parents?”
“Amanda Baxter and Bruce Baxter.” I shook my head.
“What is your address?”
“2345….” I froze, struggling to recall the street name, “Bloomingdale Ave."
He huffed. “Again.”
“I’m Alex Baxter. My parents are Amanda Baxter and Bruce Baxter…”
After a few minutes it stuck, and I no longer needed to be told.
Luckily for Joseph, I picked up on everything quickly. It was one thing he loved about me and often told me. He knew my stats. I’d majored in many languages. It was just something about me. I could learn things fairly quickly if I concentrated and focused.
I read on my family history. According to my profile, my parents were very wealthy, my family was of German descent. My uncle, who Joseph had to pretend to be was a principal. He was the youngest of two sons, had been adopted, and was currently single. That made sense since Joseph was of Mexican descent and a little hard to pass for German.
My father was one Bryce John Müller. I wrinkled my lip. He was a top surgeon in the field of Neurosurgery. My mother, Martha Müller, had been deceased for two years now. Died of Cancer. She had been a surgeon, too. It was how my father had met her. It was just my uncle, my father, and me.
I lived with my uncle and father in their River Oaks property. Having recently moved in with father, after uncle was transferred. Father was mostly absent, so we never saw him and one of the reasons I lived with my uncle mostly. That was my story. He traveled a lot which accounted for his absence. He was a busy man.
After running through family history and fake family photos designed to show the appearance of family. I clicked on the pictures of each individual school staff member and read each bio briefly. Joseph and I were to meet Michael McClellan tomorrow, so I read up on him first. He was a single, simple, boring man with white peppered hair and dark eyebrows. Below the summarized information, several links opened to references, clippings of his charity work and his awards. He was dedicated. I yawned.
Next was Dr. Neil Edwards, described as a loyal and caring educator. I read down until I came to a link of references below. I clicked on the news references under the family. I read:
Dr. Neil Edwards, respected educator and community hero, was awarded and honored at a large ceremony for his great achievements…
I continued reading down past the interview with Dr. Edwards about his great accomplishments. The story continued, regarding Dr. Edwards’ funeral arra
ngements and those in attendance. The number reached over two hundred; apparently, he was well-loved. He had donated to charity, but most of his assets were left to his only surviving heir.
I blinked at the email Dr. Nicholson had sent me of Claudia Belle, still open on my screen. I clicked on the file within the email and I read on: Claudia Belle is the only child of Nicholas & Isabella Belle. She attended Portland High School and excelled in English, yet her favorite subject is art; her hobbies include: painting, drawing, and reading. Her favorite artists are Ralph Steadman, Jason Shaw Alexander; favorite writers include Anne Rice and Stephen King. Her favorite color is red. Favorite actor- Johnny Depp. Favorite music- too many artists were listed to narrow. She loves daisies and roses.
Seemed like the bio of every 16 or 17-year-old teenager. Sigh. Another yawn escaped me. The bio continued with a briefing on Claudia’s mother.
Claudia’s maternal grandmother died in childbirth, giving birth to fraternal twins, Isabelle and Christopher who were later put up for adoption; their biological father was unknown. The Company records indicate Christopher, Claudia’s uncle, joined the army at the tender age of 18 straight out of high school and then was shipped to Iraq when the war started; he was in the front lines when it all came down. The Company has little information regarding his whereabouts after enlistment; he is presumed to be dead.
There were brief school records of Christopher, and the adopted family’s surname was noted as Vega. The few photographs of Christopher that The Company had were of high school portraits.
A photo of Christopher showed him as a skinny kid with very dark hair and piercing dark eyes. Another was of Christopher in his military uniform; he was a grown, muscular man with facial hair and a large cigar hanging from his mouth. He was posing with an assault rifle. It appeared he had been serving in the military for a long time, and it was something that he apparently loved.
I read on, there was more regarding her father: Nicholas Belle was a highly-respected man and CEO of a large financial firm. Not a lot is known of Mr. Belle or his business dealings, only that he worked with a large number of respected corporations. None were listed, though.
Below that there was a small news clipping: Family tragedy. Mr. Nicholas Belle, a CEO and businessman for a large financial firm, and his wife Isabella Belle perished while heading to the airport during the early morning hours. It appears Mr. Belle lost control of the car and was hit by a passing truck. The two were killed on impact.
Nothing about Claudia Belle. Obviously she wasn’t in the vehicle.
I shook my head. Sad all around.
I logged off and rose from the seat to stretch, walked over to the window, and gazed out into the quiet night. It was now midnight. The bed was looking very appealing. Kneeling near the bed and pulling out the trundle from under, a glass case with an electrical key panel stared back at me. I typed in the access code and the panel beeped and popped out like an air lock release. The glass shifted and allowed access to the drawer’s contents. I was only interested in a few devices, a watch and a few metal discs that were the size of smoke detectors. To my left I found the Desert Eagle, secured into a section of the drawer, only I could access the control panel. I punched in the code and took it along with everything else. Once I had these, the drawer pulled back and locked.
I set the items on the table near the laptop. The watch resembled an ordinary watch to the untrained eye, but I knew what was really in the clear case and what the flashing lights on the body could do. It looked fancy. I could easily turn the head of the watch to change the patterns of the frequency. It could be a mind-scrambler or a mind-manipulator; it interfered with brain waves to keep thoughts from being read. But it wasn’t just waves; many energies could be detected. It had a variety of frequencies and capabilities. I could program it to distort or project memories or thoughts I wanted to forecast. The Company came up with many devices to stay ahead of the oddities, minder sifter, and mindbenders. I was required to take it everywhere with me.
After going over the necessities of the job, I walked to the closet in the room. Inside was a plastic bag that held the outfit I would need for my first day. Beneath the bag a pair of dressy half calf boots sat.
“Thanks, Joseph,” I said knowing he was responsible for making sure I had the outfit that would make me feel most comfortable. The top drawer in the dresser had undergarments and a small plastic bag with hair products. I grinned. Had to hand it to Joseph who always wanted me to put that goo in my hair.
The bed beckoned me. I walked over and dropped onto it. Looking up at the ceiling, I thought of schools, desks, teachers. Once again this would be my norm…my new reality. I think I liked it a little more than I liked the facilities and military bunkers at the Academy.
My eyes closed, and sleep found me immediately.
9
The Meeting
Overwhelmed, I must have slept four hours the entire night. The rest of the night I laid staring at the ceiling, excited about the following day’s events. My adrenaline was already rising. I couldn’t wait to get started. The beginning of simulations always got my blood pumping, this was no different. All I could dream about was racing into a building after my target. The anticipation had turned into something far more, a drug I had to keep pumping into my veins to function.
The darkness of the room gradually changed and light came through the pale curtains of the window, spreading across the wooden floor of my bedroom until it touched my bed and made me blink away from its bright and warm embrace.
I rose, showered, and came to stand in front of the mirror clearing the glass of the misty fog. Bright emerald eyes stared back from the other end of the mirror, mirroring the excitement I felt. I smiled recalling the ease it took to slip back into the teenage appearance. Joseph’s words mocked me each time, Easy on the eyes...
I pushed back wet, brown blonde locks. My hair was so thick it took shape with a little help from my long fingers.
My eyes traced several scars on my chest, sustained over my short period as a hunter and that of a cadet. It took a few moments to remember the story that would explain all the marks on my body. The “car accident” had dislocated my arm and had cut quite a large scar on my side. There were “football injuries.” Some of the scars I remembered getting- knife wounds, gun shots, a graze here, a bullet hole there- but others might as well have been divvied out from their fictional beginnings.
The only ones to ever ask about the scars and need an elaborate explanation were the girls when we were together. Guys were easier to appease, if I said car accident I didn’t have to say anything else.
I brushed my teeth, added cologne, and grabbed the costume that would finish off the look of high school senior.
Dressed in a silk, pastel blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and a grey vest buttoned all the way, I stared over at the faded jeans sitting on the shelf. They seemed to go better with the top than the dress slacks that Joseph had left for me. They were faded to look rough and worn, but they came right off the department store shelf. Joseph would be surprised and would have to rethink his dress order when getting my apparel from now on. A little variety was good.
On the floor was a backpack and a brown genuine leather satchel. I almost missed it laying against the side of the closet. I thought of taking the satchel, but grabbed the backpack, instead. This would complete my look.
The previous social media accounts began a few years by The Company were no longer operational, my identity could no longer be compromised. So further were discontinued. Many asked why I didn’t have one. Specially the girls. The only excuse that had not failed me was my father, he didn’t approve of them.
I hadn’t given girls much thought, I always had too much to do. I found them appealing, lovely, delicate creatures who smelled good and were soft to the touch, but I knew it would never last. They liked being held and protected by me. My last girlfriend begged to come away with me after graduation. I hated what I had to do to persu
ade her she couldn’t.
She was determined to leave everything behind to be with me.
“You would leave everything for me?” I had asked her. “Aren’t you afraid?”
“No. When I’m with you, you make me feel safe. We can start over together. I can get a job as a waitress or at your uncle’s company.”
I’d cringed when she’d said that. I didn’t want to break her heart. I couldn’t do it. She was innocent, and I was something different.
At least that’s what Joseph had said. “You’re a good kid, John. Deep down inside you have a sweet spot.”
The mission had ended and I had yet to give the phone to my guardian for disposal. She’d called before I could. It rang in the most embarrassing of all places- Dr. Nicholson’s office. We were getting debriefed, handing over our reports and observations. I was an idiot for having it on. I meant to switch it off. He immediately motioned me to give him the phone, lifting a single finger to hand it to him. He took it and deactivated the phone with a device he inserted into the charging port. It went dead immediately.
“You’d avoid such distractions if you followed protocol and handed Joseph your equipment at the end of your assignment.”
He gave Joseph the phone, who immediately took it and placed it into the briefcase he carried.
Dr. Nicholson narrowed his eyes right at me. “Let this be the last time you disregard procedure.”
There was nothing I could say, he was right.
Putting on the watch, I set it as I always did during the beginning days of a mission. I grabbed the devices on the top of the desk and dropped them into the backpack, and came out of the room.
I wasn’t surprised to see Joseph when I came down the stairs and set the contents of the envelope on the counter. He was dressed for the job in a dark blue striped suit with coordinating color grey striped tie finishing his attire. Streaks of blond highlights shone through the dark brown slicked back nest of hair, he had it styled like a professional businessman. Golden brown skin made him look flawless and youthful. Joseph was in his early thirties, but he acted a lot older. I guess it made sense with him having seen a lot more than I had.
