Effective immediately, p.4
Effective Immediately, page 4
part #3 of The Agency Files Series
Chapter Four
I’ve got to learn to walk in heels. It’s not an option. I’m twenty-six! Despite having worked at Thornton-Weinbach for almost four years, the daily battle to get through the lobby and up to the research lab without being harassed as some executive’s obnoxious tween daughter had killed any charm that such a so-called compliment might have offered.
The new guard compared the photo on her ID to her face half a dozen times before she stepped around him and said, “Why don’t I just show you.” With her thumb pressed against the scanner, the door buzzed. She leapt forward and grabbed it with one hand, holding out the other for her ID badge. “Mind?”
“How do I know you’re not like some researcher’s kid? You could look a lot like your mom.”
“And because we’re so closely related, our finger prints would be so close that I could use mine to get in. Or,” she added in a stage whisper, “maybe you should check my thumb for a finger cote. I could be stealing Mom’s fingerprint so I can go stare at classified paperwork all day. Exciting.”
“Yeah—what?”
In a monotone her conscience warned she’d regret, Lucy Todd, research assistant, said, “Fingerprints-are-like-snowflakes-no-two-are-alike.” Snatching the ID from his limp hand, she hurried inside and let the door shut behind her. Serves him right. Honestly, this has got to stop.
While the day’s emails flooded her inbox, Lucy clicked on station lights and checked to see that all equipment was on and functional. The life of a research assistant is so glamorous. Almost the minute she thought it, her conscience added, Yeah, because checking IDs is just too exciting for words. Go apologize. It’s not his fault.
A glance at the inbox showed the day’s data comparisons. Lucy double clicked, hit print, and forced herself to walk back to the door. The guard turned the minute she opened it. “I was rude. I’m sorry.”
“Aw, that’s okay—”
“Thanks for understanding,” Lucy added before he could say something else she might find hard to ignore. “I get sensitive about my size, but it’s not your fault I have bad genes. Have a nice day.”
What he said in reply, she couldn’t tell. The words ended in a muffled whomp, as the door closed behind her. The printer whined to a stop and the tray clicked. She grabbed the pages and carried them to her desk. Thornton-Weinbach—TW—required data to be printed daily, compared, and shredded nightly. She’d found the system a bit outdated, but as a defense contractor, it made sense. They had rules that took years to change. Like the valve manufacturer for a nuclear plant. Sure, you can buy the exact same thing from a different company, today, for half the price, but it’ll take four years to get congressional approval. Ridiculous.
The first time she looked up from the pages before her, the researchers had arrived as well as most of the other assistants. At two minutes to the hour, the last two assistants burst through the door. “Morning!”
Lucy nodded but went back to the rows of numbers. After another twenty minutes, she typed in a string of numbers, adding periods to logical coordinate spaces. Pyongyang, North Korea. Repeatedly the numbers came up in connection with other numbers that looked like deposits—enormous deposits. Then a zero at the front caught her eye. She counted and her eyes widened. Some are dates. Some are deposits. They have to be. But to North Korea? Why would we be giving North Korea money, and why dates? They don’t correspond to the money.
The longer she worked, the more alarming the numbers became. Six pages into the bundle, she found a footnote written in Korean. Lucy pulled up an Internet translation site and frowned when she couldn’t find the right characters. She stared at it and closed out again. They use keystroke software. They’ll know I went there. Her eyes slid to the corner mirror that showed the bulk of the room. All eyes were on work and not her. She slipped her phone from the desk and snapped a picture of the words.
Perspiration beaded on her upper lip and trickled down her neck as she realized what she’d done. I looked up those numbers. The coordinates. They’ll know. But do they monitor in real time or will it take a few hours or days? Will I look suspicious if I leave now and go look it up? Bathroom. I can totally do the bathroom.
Lucy started to stand and sank back down again. Task manager. Maybe it’ll tell me if the program is really active right now.
Her phone rang. Shin Kim flashed on the screen. Lucy swallowed hard and answered it. “Hello?”
“I need you in my office with today’s data sheets.”
The blood drained from her head and her hands shook. “Sure. I was just on my way to the bathroom. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
“Thank you.”
The dead air sucked the breath from her. With her heart racing and fingers tingling, Lucy started to shove the phone in her purse when a new idea hit her. She held it to her ear, forcing herself to be as calm and reassuring sounding as she could—as loud as she could. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. Just give me time to get there. Okay. Love you.”
She threw the phone in her purse, grabbed the pages, and rolled away from the desk with what felt like exaggerated force. Don’t overdo it.
The girl closest to the door looked up at her. “Something wrong?”
“They took Daddy to the hospital.” In a move perfected over a lifetime of elfin-like features and a quiet, feminine voice, she let her voice waver. “I’m scared. Can’t let Mom see it.”
Another assistant—the guy who thought she’d make a perfect little “doll of a girlfriend” piped up too. “Need a ride?”
“No, I need a few moments in the car to gather myself before I get to Rockland Memorial.” Just in case it works to send someone the wrong direction… probably useless. This isn’t a B movie.
“At least it’s close…” someone called as she opened the door.
The hall to the elevators had only the bored security guard to watch over it. “Got an appointment?”
“Mr. Kim wants to see me, but…” She dropped her voice again and shook her purse. “I need to make a restroom stop.”
He eyed the papers. “Need me to take those down for you?”
“Don’t I wish! I think he wants to go over them with me, or I’d be grateful.” To ensure he didn’t try to insist, she added, “Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for leaving your post on my account.”
She rounded the corner, passed the bathrooms, and entered an empty elevator. As the doors closed, she shoved the papers in her purse and zipped it shut. Five people entered the elevator on the way down, each time sending a fresh wave of panic through her. For once, her size was a blessing. People ignored the little mouse in the corner as they chatted with their cups of coffee or glued themselves to their phones.
Her phone rang again. Every eye turned toward her as she ignored it. When someone started to ask, she blurted, “Stupid ex-boyfriend won’t leave me alone. Like I’m going to take his call after he cheated on me…” she waited a moment and added, “With a girl who’s almost six feet tall. I mean, c’mon!”
Laughter erupted, and for just a few seconds, Lucy relaxed as the passengers went back to their own interests and ignored her again. At the bottom floor, she crept out behind two men and a woman heading to the conference rooms near the front doors. Two more people passed and she fell into step behind them, wondering all the while if she was being smart or ridiculous. I just have to get out of here and figure out what this means. It looks bad, but if it’s not, I just lost my job.
Her heart sank into her stomach, and she took a steadying breath. Forget that. I’m out of a job, period.
Once near the street, she glanced around for a cab, but two security guards jogged down the steps to her left. Oh, boy. If they’re after me, I’m doomed.
Lucy crouched between two parked cars and tried to keep an eye on the guard closest to her. When he passed, she peered over the trunk of one car, and took the opportunity to dash out across the street. One car blared its horn, but she squeezed between two more parked cars and inched her way back to the sidewalk. The guards—both of them—looked her way before continuing their search. You don’t expect me to be able to hide so easily, and cars don’t honk at kids as quickly as adults. That’s one advantage to looking like a kid.
Half a block down, Lucy stepped into a deli and asked to use the restroom. The morning lull had begun, leaving him with time to eye her. “The bathroom is for customers.”
“I’ll take a coffee…” she dug into her purse for her emergency cash. “…and a bagel. Here. I’ll be back in a minute—where…”
“Through the double doors and to the right.” She hadn’t taken two steps before he said, “Sorry. I’m used to kids coming in here and trashing the place. Mistook you for one of ‘em.”
You’re going to be so confused when I leave here, she grumbled as she stepped through the doors and into the bathroom. Her phone had three messages from her boss. Lucy ignored them, pulled out the papers, and called up the translation website on her iPhone. It took three tries to get the Korean alphabet loaded onto her phone, and after four attempts to type it in and four garbled failures, she shoved the phone back in her pocket, pulled out her makeup bag, and went to work.
Cosmetic wipes—perfect. She pulled one out and removed every trace of makeup, showing off the blotchy skin she worked so hard to hide each morning. Hair ties—somehow, she found two. With deft fingers, she braided her hair into braids on each side of her head, and pulled her bangs over her forehead. Looks shaggy, but I just lost ten years. That’ll work.
Sick at the idea of doing it, she pulled off the jacket she’d just spent too much money on and started to shove it into the trash can. Another thought prompted her to roll it as tightly as she could and wedge it into one corner of her purse. It wouldn’t zip. Again she started to toss it in the trash, but it had been hard enough to choke down a hundred and twenty dollar price tag—on half-price clearance, no less. Throwing away money like that—Lucy Todd couldn’t take it.
First, she tucked the rolled up jacket under one arm, but one look in the mirror changed that. It wouldn’t work—not if she had to run. Lucy’s stomach churned. Run. This is crazy. I should go to the police and ask them to help me prove that I’m just paranoid. Or maybe the FBI… those offices are close…
None of her thoughts helped with the main problem of saving her blazer. No more department store purchases—even on half price clearance. Thrift store for you. For now and ever—whoa. That’s a good idea. That one on the corner. I could go in, buy some jeans, t-shirt, pair of kids’ shoes. Yeah…
Once more, she stared at the jacket and into her purse. The pages came out and she shoved the jacket in their place. With her cellphone, she snapped a full picture of every page in the stack of papers. Lucy tried to bury them in the trashcan, but two wadded paper towels wouldn’t hide anything. She pulled another paper towel from the rack—and then another. It would take half the roll to do much good without being obvious. Unwilling to risk them being found and taken, she held them in her arm like a school book and opened the bathroom door. The memory of digging through the trash sent her back to the sink again. With clean, dry hands, once more she forced her way out the door and into the deli proper. “Whoa. That’s a change.”
Think fast! “Um… well, okay. See that guy out there?” She pointed through the window and hoped that a man of some appropriate age would appear. The deli man nodded. “Gray shirt and red tie?”
A glance that way told her it would work. “Yeah. Bad breakup. He won’t leave me alone.” She dropped her voice and leaned closer. “This is one time that my pride in never letting myself go au natural around him will work. He’s never seen me without makeup and with my hair like this. I’m hoping he won’t really look.”
“Smart move.” He frowned as he saw the papers in her arms. “Whatcha got there… I don’t remember you having those when you went in.”
Aaak. Why do you have to be so stinkin’ observant. Police officers would love you! “Had to put my jacket in my purse.” Yeah. Honesty. That’ll work. “So, my boss’ papers got the boot. Got a bag I can use to protect them? I’d really hate to lose my job because of an egomaniac like Trent, but if I lose one or ruin ‘em…”
“But you’ll take them out to save your jacket. That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Trent was with me when I bought it,” she added in a panicked rush. So much for honesty. “If he saw it—c’mon, that Kelly green? He’d totally recognize it.” She forced her shoulders into a slump and grabbed the bag with her bagel and her coffee. A few drops sloshed out, just as she’d hoped. The man reached for a plastic bag. “Here, here. Sorry. So many weirdoes come in here that I get overly suspicious.” A streak of red stole up the guy’s neck and flamed his ear. “Okay, and I like to watch cop shows.”
“Me too. Did you see last night’s Blue Heat?” Get out of here. Stop wasting time so they make it to this side of the street! Still, when he nodded, she heard herself add, “When Jarvis was running toward the building with the gas leak, I thought for sure he was a gonner.”
“I—oh, hey. You’d better go now. He’s walking toward 9th.”
Whew. You’re a good egg. “Thanks! I’ll be back.”
“Oh, wait. Your change!”
Lucy waved from the door. “It’s not much of a tip, but keep it.”
Once out on the sidewalk, she glanced around her and hurried up the street toward the thrift store. “Jeans, t-shirt, shoes—Converse or knockoffs would be nice—and a backpack for my purse and these papers. That’d help, too.”
“What?”
Her throat went dry when one of the security guards paused as she passed. Lucy forced herself to scowl at him and snap, “Nothing. Just my mom’s shopping list—like it’s any of your business.”
Three steps later, she began to relax. Four doors from the thrift store, she thought she heard a shout, but a glance over her shoulder showed nothing. You’re totally getting spooked out. That’s probably not even a TW security guard. They all look alike—like cops, firemen, and cable guys. Stick a man in a uniform and you can’t even remember his skin color half the time.
With a much more carefree air than she felt, Lucy stepped into Concept 5, a trendy thrift store, and let the door swing closed behind her. Step one: new wardrobe. Step two: figure out what to do next.
Chapter Five
Finding clothes that changed her appearance completely gave Lucy a slight sense of security. Which’ll probably mean my death. I don’t know where to go or what to do. Police? FBI? Call Dad and ask what he’d do?
As she pondered her options, she walked—working hard to put as much space between herself and the TW building. They’d expect me to take a bus or a cab—even the subway. Wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t expect me to walk around out in the open. So now it’s a matter of doing the whole hiding in plain sight thing. She sighed. Like that ever works outside of movies and TV.
A building ahead looked like a church. Or maybe a Masonic temple. That wouldn’t be helpful, but— Lucy’s thoughts stalled as she saw the stained glass over the door—a Star of David. Hmm… Synagogue. I wonder if they’re anything like a church. Do rabbis have to follow the same confidentiality laws as priests and reverends?
Her hesitation lasted only as long as it took for her to glance around her. Determined to receive any kind of help, she hurried inside and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. Another glance around surprised her. It looked like any church foyer. Somehow, I thought it would be… well, different.
She peered into open double doors and frowned at the rows of pew-like chairs facing the center of the room. That’s different, anyhow.
“Can I help you?” The man wore no robes—nothing but the little cap on the back of his head to indicate he wasn’t just some strange man from the street, ready to haul her off to North Korea to be tortured for knowing too much of nothing that she understood.
“I don’t know.”
“You aren’t Jewish.”
Though it didn’t sound as if he had actually asked a question, Lucy found herself shaking her head. “No.”
“Curious? Seeking?”
“Curious about one thing and seeking another, one might say.” She glanced around her and inched toward a bench. Her legs felt wobbly.
“What are you curious about?”
“Is anything I say to you confidential—like it would be for a priest or a reverend or something?”
The man nodded. “I’m Rabbi Bieber.”
Though she tried to stifle it, a snicker escaped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Thanks to that Canadian kid, people never forget my name or call me Beaver anymore.”
Lucy gave a token laugh but couldn’t help but add, “So… confidentiality…”
“Is the same as with any religious cleric. We are required to protect what we are told.”
“And does Jewish—the Jewish faith—does it allow you to hear what a non-religious Christian has to say?”
“I don’t even know what a non-religious Christian is, but yes, I can listen.” Rabbi Bieber sat a few feet from her and folded his hands in his lap. “However, before you tell me anything, if you’ve hurt or killed someone, I really recommend you turn yourself in. People rarely hide long enough to get away with it.”
“What if they’re hiding from someone else?” she asked before she considered the wisdom of speaking. Once started, Lucy found it hard to stop. “Say, for example, you may have found out something within the government that seems very off—possibly even treason related.”
“But you aren’t the traitor.”
She shook her head. “Only if what I think I found is totally not what I think it is at all. Then, who knows. Maybe. I suppose if North Korea has a spy in the DOD, and I think the whole place is some kind of cover—” She froze, her hand rising to her lips as if she could somehow stop the words now that she’d spoken them. “That’s what it is, isn’t it?”
