Variant Exchange

by Fox J Wilde

  Red-hat finally exited the store with a brown bag of goods under his arm, and began walking back down the street. He had a gift for fading into the crowd, and Lena admired his ability to do so. She allowed him roughly a block-and-a-half of headway before she began slowly traipsing after him. But as she did, she took one glance at where the man reading the newspaper was slowly folding his newspaper and standing. “Gotcha,” Lena thought.

  She did the best she could to curb her excitement as she switched gears. She wasn’t 100% sure that this man was following Red-hat, but he was by far the most solid lead. She only needed a few more signs, and she had her man. After a few blocks of Red-hat ambling down the street, and Lena moseying slowly after while watching Newspaper-guy do the same, Red-hat finally stopped for a breather. “Come on...” she thought. “Come on…give me another sign.” Just a moment later and Newspaper-man stopped as well, to look at a particularly interesting crack in a nearby wall.

  “Yes!” Lena thought, that was all the proof she needed. Granted, she was supposed to wait for three signs, but knowing herself, she had likely missed one. Suddenly, she realized that her shoe was magically in need of re-tightening (these things happen, after all). Bending over to take a few moments, she noticed Red-hat, just a few blocks ahead, take off his black-fedora and inspect it for cleanliness, “That’s the signal.” Lena cheered at herself; she would no doubt get kudos for her progression. As if sensing her pride, Newspaper-man happily pumped a fist in the air, cheering for her benefit, before disappearing inside of a nearby store. “It’s going to be a good day,” Lena congratulated herself.

  Lena slid into a booth at Dritte, on 6th Street. She picked one near the back and away from the windows to provide her and the one meeting her some measure of control of the room. It was just easier to see anyone entering and where everyone was choosing to sit just in case it surreptitiously correlated with them. She knew it was highly unlikely at this juncture, but the future could hold a very different set of circumstances, so she may as well get used to it. Unfortunately, an older woman with a headscarf was sitting in the furthest-back booth, reading a book, so Lena couldn’t get the absolute best option. It wasn’t really all that important, just so long as security was assured.

  Soon enough, Red-hat and Patrick entered and slid into the booth across from her. In his typical sardonic tone, Patrick congratulated her on her success.

  “I guess you don’t suck as much as you used to,” he smirked. “Keep it up and we’ll make a master out of you yet.”

  “What, I’m not already?”

  “Oh yes,” Patrick laughed. “Basically. I mean, between that time you exercised one of the three skills you have correctly, and the fifty times you didn’t, you’re basically me with tits.”

  “Mean.” Lena pouted.

  The three made idle conversation for about fifteen minutes. In truth, Patrick and Lena talked, while Red-hat stared out the window, and occasionally laughed under his breath. She couldn’t tell if he was being snide or just not amused in general. After a few more moments, Patrick decided to get down to brass tax.

  “So, here’s how this is going to go,” he said, switching to a more serious tone. “Grandfather wants to meet with you in a few days.”

  “Awesome!” Lena exclaimed. “I’m so...”

  “I’ve kept him apprised of your performance and progression,” Patrick interrupted, “and he is sufficiently impressed. He’s recommending that I spin you up on some more intermediate-level training. That means we will be working more together.”

  “Intermediate level?” she asked, “After the Interhostel, I couldn’t possibly fathom what that might look like.”

  “That was pretty much a one-off.” Red-hat said, “Far less about training than other things.”

  “Like what other things?”

  “Like giving you a picture of how big and complicated the world is, and how bad the world can get for someone that steps outside of the lines.”

  “I…um...” Lena stuttered. She didn’t know precisely how to respond to that.

  “You have to understand a few realities. We have to be able to trust that our agents and assets will do what they say they are going to do. Most of our agents go through years of training after years of vetting. Those agents are highly trusted; yet they are still routinely followed and monitored, regardless. When an asset comes to us from a position of convenience, rather than a position of trust and respect, we have to go to certain lengths to ensure they stay on point when they are out of our control. This is because, simply put, we have no reason to trust them. At best, these assets are working for us because of the money or the adventure. But the best case isn’t generally the norm: most work for us out of fear. And we know from experience that while neither money, adventure, nor fear can buy loyalty or respect—fear comes pretty damn close to the next best thing.”

  “I suppose,” Lena stated honestly. She couldn’t disagree with his logic, but she hated it all the same. “So what sort of training will I be getting?” she tried shifted topics.

  “Well, that is going to depend on a few things.” Patrick said, “Because there’s a few realities that are concerning us, and some potentialities the three of us need to get hashed out before that question can be answered.”

  “Like what?” Lena asked, as a prickle raised on the back of her neck.

  “It comes down to loyalty.” he continued with a knowing look. “You either have it or you don’t…and you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Remember this, Lena,” Red-hat said using her name—which he never did. “Your answers to the following questions are going to change the direction our relationship is headed. Be open and honest with us, and our relationship will improve. Hold back, and things will become more complicated. And if you lie to us, your relationship with Grandfather will also change.”

  “Okay.” Lena said, but her unease was quickly rising.

  “Don’t take any of this personally,” Patrick placated. “Just tell us the truth, and we can start fresh.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lena asked softly, with a rash of red spreading across her face.

  “We need to know...” Red-hat began, “what you, Matt York and his manager discussed.”

  The flash of red across Lena’s face may have very well proven to her that God was real, and that God loved Lena ferociously, because the flash of red was the only thing keeping blood in her face as fear washed over her. Her hands trembled and began to sweat profusely as a prickly sensation crawled its way down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, her life was flashing before her eyes, “How?!” she asked. “How do they know?!” There wasn’t any way they could have heard anything. They could have assumed, sure, but no way could they have known. Right?

  She ran through every memory of the event—every walk, every talk, every person she had encountered or told—but besides Vivika and Mrs. Schroeder, the only person that could have had any knowledge of the event even happening was Patrick, and nothing incriminating had been said outside of the bus. Mrs. Schroeder she would just have to trust, as there wasn’t any way they could have gone after her. But she could trust Mr. Collins’ countermeasures, right? There wasn’t any particularly nifty spy-stuff she knew of that could cut through the noise of a bunch of drunken groupies singing bad love songs as loudly as they were singing them.

  “God damnit,” Red-hat said, as he smacked the table and looked out the window. “I told you, Patrick. I told you about her.”

  “Give her time,” Patrick said.

  “Look at her eyes!” he whisper-yelled at him. “Her pupils are dilating. She’s trying to lie.”

  “She hasn’t even said anything yet!” Patrick argued. “She’ll do the right thing.”

  Every second brought her closer and closer to the point of no return. She had to figure out what to say, or buy some time right now. “It has to b
e Vivika,” she thought to herself, “Mrs. Schroeder wouldn’t have, and Patrick couldn’t have…no one else knew!”

  “I…I don’t...” Lena stuttered.

  “Look,” Red-hat whispered, leaning forward, “the only reason I’m not throwing you across this room right now is because we’re in public. You either talk, and talk true, right now, or I’m gonna drag you out of here in front of everyone, throw you down behind the building and beat you within an inch of your life.”

  “P-Patrick?!” Lena looked over, hoping for some help, but he simply stared at her with a disappointed look. Whatever had happened, she was in a world of trouble now. Only the truth could save her. It had to have been Vivika—she was the only one who had been in a place to tattle about anything. Yet, even as she began to mouth the damning words, the words Mrs. Schroeder had said last night were speaking louder, “Trust, Lena…just trust.”

  “I…I can’t,” Lena trembled.

  “Why the hell not?!” Patrick said with exasperation under his breath.

  “B-because…it’s gross,” Lena said. “It’s gross and embarrassing.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Red-hat demanded. “This isn’t a damn game, little girl!”

  “Look, if I tell you what happened, no one will ever talk to me again. Not you, and certainly not Grandfather.”

  “Trust us,” Patrick said, “Please!”

  “Vivika told you, didn’t she?” Lena’s eyes flared with betrayal, “God, I knew she was spying on me. If she told you, I swear I’ll never forgive her!”

  “We’ll keep your secret. Trust us,” Patrick pleaded.

  “Well…” Lena quivered, “...Matt...”

  “Yes?” Red-hat said, annoyed, “Matt...”

  “Matt and I smoked drugs!” Lena exclaimed, just a little too loud.

  “Wh-what?” Red-hat stuttered, and for once he looked mortified.

  “Yeah, what?” Patrick said, his face equal parts surprise and amusement.

  “I know, I know,” she began to cry, eyes watering as she gained steam. “Matt was just so helpful, you know? And I was so grateful because I was excited about our show, and then he invites me back to his bus, and then this little glass thing came out and…and...well, I didn’t really know what it was…” With every element of the story, her lips quivered more and the tears ran wetter. “...and next thing you know, I was so, like, drunk on drugs, and…”

  “High, Lena.” Patrick said, trying to hide a grin.

  “Wh-what?”

  “You don’t get ‘drunk’ on drugs. You get ‘high’.”

  “Oh, okay. So, I was getting high…and drunk…and high…and I didn’t think I was going to like smoking drugs, but then I did! And I didn’t want to tell you because I figured I would be in trouble…”

  “Okay, you can stop,” Red-hat said as Patrick struggled to hold back laughter.

  “Well, then his manager pulls out this thing called…I think it’s called a steam-something?”

  “Did it look like this?” Patrick asked, cupping his hands in a familiar shape and holding it up to his mouth.

  “Exactly like that!” Lena exclaimed, as more of the café began paying attention.

  “Yep,” he sighed “those things will getcha if you aren’t careful.”

  “Stop egging her on, will you?” Red-hat whispered, aggravated at the attention in the café that she was now attracting.

  “Well, and then he tells me to smoke it! I told him I wasn’t supposed to, but then his manager is lighting up another j…err, another jaw…I don’t know what he called it…”

  “A joint?” Patrick offered.

  “That’s it!” Lena exclaimed, while the entire café was listening in.

  “Ooooh, yeah. Gotta be careful with those.”

  “Patrick!” Red-hat seethed at him.

  “What?! It’s true!”

  “And so he’s smoking one thing,” Lena continued, “and I’m smoking another, and now I’m crying because I know if anyone ever finds out then I’m going to get into soooo-oo-oooo much trouble, and…”

  “Would you please shut up?!!” Red-hat yelled loud enough for the entire room to hear. Now that Red-hat had yelled at her, though, the waterworks really came on.

  “Please don’t hate me, Sir,” Lena said as innocently as she could manage, wiping fat tears from her eyes. “It really was my first time smoking drugs, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”

  “What the hell is the matter with her?!” Red-hat shouted at Patrick. “This? This is what these musicians are all about?”

  “I guess,” Patrick said, openly laughing. “A joint and a steamroller?”

  “It was terrible!” Lena said piteously, “It’s good that drugs are illegal!”

  “Alright, alright, let’s put an end to this,” Red-hat said, trying to compose himself. “You have had your fun, Patrick. Let’s continue.”

  “So, you aren’t mad that I was smoking drugs?” Lena asked, hopefully.

  “I couldn’t care less,” Red-hat said apathetically. “Really. I couldn’t possibly.”

  “I’m glad we got that sorted out,” Patrick said, “Let’s move past this and get on to the purpose of our meeting.”

  Lena wiped her eyes clean, and composed herself on the outside. But on the inside, she was a wreck—both cheering roundly, as well as shaking with fear. She had somehow managed to dodge the bullet by obscuring her true position with pure nonsense. Thanking the gods, she recalled an axiom Patrick had told her during her training: “If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit.” In a parallel universe where letting him know she had succeeded wouldn’t get her savagely murdered, he might have been proud of her.

  She certainly never wanted to have to attempt that again. Yet, seeing how Red-hat had carried on the way he had did make her feel awfully good about herself. She would never, ever, ever admit it to anyone, but the look of rage and embarrassment written across his face had been more than worth the effort.

  “As I told you during the first days of your training,” Patrick began, “There isn’t always a standard or method for arranging secret meetings. They are all situational, and have to be creatively orchestrated per-meeting, taking everything into account. This meeting will be even more difficult, since it involves not only your case officer, but a safe house.”

  “I want you to understand that the security of a safe house is a delicate thing,” Red-hat said, “Quite frankly, Patrick here is the only one that trusts you enough with that information. If it were up to anyone else on this team, we’d put a black bag over your head, so you wouldn’t be able to retrace your steps back to it. Alas, that would arouse suspicion, so we will have to make do with the hand we are dealt.”

  “Again, don’t take this personally,” Patrick interjected. “It’s just a matter of security.”

  “I’m going to slip you a piece of paper,” Red-hat said, casually reaching into his pocket. “This paper will contain an address for this Thursday. Like today, you will go there and await further instructions. And Lena, this isn’t training—this is the real deal. So really keep a lookout for anyone you might know.”

  “Whichever one of us approaches you,” Patrick explained, “you will call him Adam if you feel the coast is clear. If you feel you are being watched, or if it’s not a good time to meet, you will call him Aldrik. If you call him by that name, we will enjoy a cup of coffee, and wait for you to use the name, Mr. Weber. Once you use that name, we will begin our route. If you don’t use the name by the end of our cup of coffee, or you use the name Mr. Schmidt, we will assume that the meeting is not safe to conduct, and we will break contact. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do,” Lena responded, trying to remember all of the code-words. They changed every single time they needed to be used, and Lena was sure that they used the
m only to mess with her.

  “What is the name for breaking contact?” Patrick asked.

  “It’s Ald…no, no…it’s...” Lena stuttered.

  “What is the word for continuing the route after discovery?”

  “Mr. Weber.”

  “Good,” Patrick said sternly. “Don’t mess this up. Grandfather is a very important and busy man. He’s making sacrifices to meet with you, and there’s a lot riding on your meeting. So, remember what you are told to remember.”

  Vivika watched the reflection in the set of sunglasses. She had placed them on the table at such an angle so that she could see the room quite clearly, while also preventing the occupants in the booth behind her from seeing her face. She knew Lena was meeting with them, and she knew that they (like all agents) always sat in the rear-most seats they could find in meeting places. So, she had resolved to beat them to the punch.

  She noticed immediately as Patrick and the other man left. First the other man left, stepping outside to smoke a cigarette. She knew he was scanning the crowd to make sure that no one was acting suspicious. Then Patrick left. He walked outside and began walking down the street. The other man watched intently to make sure no one was following Patrick, before starting off down the street in the opposite direction.

  Vivika was dressed like an older woman. She wore a darker foundation, a graying wig she had cultured herself, and a headscarf just in case. She also hunched over in contrast to her regular posture. Patrick had taught her well…it wasn’t always about looking like the character you wanted to portray—more like obscuring trademark aspects about yourself.

  She always felt just a hair silly whenever she played dress-up. Yet this meeting not only re-affirmed the importance of it, but made her take notice of the corners she had cut. If Lena knew that Vivika was spying on her, the friendship would be over; but if the two men knew, Vivika would likely die a screaming death somewhere. She had to be ever so careful—especially now that she was so close to her goal.