The day they announced Paul Smecker's passing, the office was filled with a deafening silence. He was such a presence within the agency that everything that possibly put on hold was just that… put. on. hold.
I took a short leave to attend his funeral and collect myself. I didn't know if I was ready to do this on my own. I knew Smecker thought I could, he told me every time I scolded myself on a petty mistake.
"Confidence is key, young lady" he had repeated time and time again, but I felt like I was still letting my insecurities show.
Smecker had taught me to use my -assets- to play situations in my favor. He is the one who showed me how powerful femininity could be in this male dominated industry and how that, combined with a sharp wit and the values I was brought up on would catapult my career.
I felt we had only begun picking at the haystack, and he was gone. My mentor, my confidant, my best and probably -only- friend was gone. Cuntsler was giving me a hard time about it as well. He, even before Smecker passed, would make underhanded remarks and sly comments about how I would be 'just another pretty face' without Smecker.
Well, I planned on showing -Cunty- how this -special- agent thing was done.
I donned my best black outfit and a pair of shoes that would make Paul proud to his funeral and through my black veil I watched Smecker's lawyer gather the few who were to attend the reading of his will. Four total…make that five. The man tapped my shoulder and handed me a folded piece of paper containing the place and time of the reading.
The reading was very…Paul. Mostly it was him giving the finger to his family and the odd request of having his suits and shoes donated to some religious organization out of the country. Then the lawyer said -my- name and held up a large yellow envelope with the explicit insturctions to not open until alone.
The letter opened with the praises of how far I had come as an agent and it stressed how open minded I had been and how he knew he could trust me to carry on his legacy. In cryptic form, the letter was a question of the faith I had in him as a mentor and how willing I was to push the envelope to do what the system can't… inside the envelope was the keys to his safety deposit box. If I was as eager to do the right thing as he thought I was, I was to go retrieve the contents of the. Safety deposit box.
Within the vault, the door secured behind me, I locate and retrieve the box. My jaw drops when I see its contents. Detailed accounts of events including the infamous Boston Saints, and hand written instructions from Paul asking me to take his place to ensure the boys never got caught. That I was the only one he could trust with this job.
I put everything back in the box and replaced it in the wall mount. I had a lot of thinking to do…
