Mead was always invisible. Even in school she was not even visible enough to be picked on. If she raised her hand to speak in class, the person behind her would be called on. If she spoke up in the hallway in an attempt at making friends, the person behind her would knock her over and she would be ignored. She could have confessed to murder and no one would have listened to her. Little did she know this special talent that she had for being a ghost would serve her well later in her life.
Years later, here she was, her past in the past and her future ahead of her. She was sitting at a table at a small café with her laptop, updating her resume. She wondered where she would even send it out too, what kind of career was she looking for now? She had just spent three years in the Army and seen a lot of the world, should she settle down? If it did not work out in the civilian world she could always crawl back and reenlist, right?
She sipped her drink as she made a typo correction, but as she did so, she got a feeling that there was something strange happening around her. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she casually glanced up and around, then looked back down at her screen. She tried to remember what she just saw and what was out of place that made her feel uneasy. A woman at one of the outside tables feeding her dog part of her scone, a child sitting with his parents behind her sipping a hot chocolate and being surprisingly well behaved. And a man in the corner farthest from her, wearing a ball cap and jeans, with a notebook and drink in front of him, pretending to write. She thought that he seemed familiar, and not just because she has come in here before at this time of day and seen him. No, it was somewhere else, on a street corner maybe? She wanted to see what would happen if she got up and left so she walked past him to throw away her cup and he put his head down so she could not see his face.
Pretending as though she did not notice she loaded her laptop into her bag. She left the café and began walking down the street, trying to formulate a plan. Deciding that she needed to appear to have a purpose for her trek, she walked until she got to a copy store to look at resume paper. She really did need to purchase this, so it was a good cover. She glanced around briefly, trying to pull it off as though she were searching the store for what she wanted. Outside across the street she saw the same man with the ball cap and jeans, but when a car passed in front of him he disappeared. She blinked like her eyes had been playing tricks on her, but shook it off. She bought her paper and headed home.
Mead pinned the event to the back of her mind as she changed into workout clothing and walked through her apartment to the spare room that she converted to a gym. Pulling her gloves out she turned toward a large punching bag that was secured to the ceiling. Ear phones in and music blaring, she was ready to knock out some invisible demons.
Mead punched the bag hard. She kept her eyes open; closing them meant letting images flood in that she did not want to see, that she could not control. She punched it harder, and followed it with a front kick with her right foot. The bag made a thud sound and moved only slightly. She tried to clear her mind but this time she could not shake the thoughts of the man who seemed to be following her. Who was he? Was he a crazy stalker? Did he intend to harm her or creepily watch from a distance? Maybe he was an investigator and she looks like a criminal that he is hunting down. As her imagination ran amuck she began hitting harder, swinging more quickly and wildly, sweat beading up and dripping down her face and soaking her shirt.
The punches kept coming faster and then slowing down with her exhaustion, until finally she was holding on to the bag, breathing heavy. She allowed her body to slide to the floor and she looked up at her clock. 'Six already? Have I really been hitting the bag for an hour?' she thought. She got up and walked wearily out of the room to her bedroom, pulling her hair tie out of her long blonde hair. She pulled out some comfortable clothing to change into after her shower and laid them on the bed as she stripped off her sweaty tee shirt and threw it into a basket. In the shower she let her thoughts go and concentrated on getting clean.
After eating dinner, she made her way to bed and got comfortable. It was not long though that she was pulled awake by a noise somewhere in the apartment. At first she thought she was just imagining it, her thoughts getting away from her again, but then she had a strong feeling that she needed to go check it out.
She slid out of bed, trying to stay quiet and listening for more sounds. Grabbing the metal bat she kept next to her bed for just such an occasion, she stood up and moved through the dark. Knowing the apartment well, she was able to avoid the floor board that squeaked, and she reached for the dresser to help guide her to the door. It was open just enough for her to peek out before stepping through.
She pulled the door open slowly, and looked out. She quietly moved toward the sound, all the while thinking of how she would handle the confrontation if this were an intruder. 'What if they are armed? What if they are a desperate murderer? Or drug addict? Why am I sneaking toward this creep instead of running away like a sane person and calling for help?' Ignoring all of the rational thoughts she walked toward the living room. The intruder was moving around in the dark, using a flashlight to see. Mead could see his shape somewhat; enough to tell it was a male with broad shoulders. Her heart stopped and she pulled in air, trying to control her throat from letting out a scream. 'Yep, this confirms it,' she thought, as she gripped her bat tighter, 'I am crazy.' She gulped a big breath and as the intruder turned his back to her, she ran up and beaned him over the back of the head with the bat.
He went down with a thud and a groan, but was only dazed by the blow. He began to stand up, then did a swipe with his leg under her feet and put her on the ground.
"Ahh!" She fell against a small book shelf, and she felt pain shoot through her shoulder. He started for the door but stopped short. She stood up in between him and his only way out. She flipped on the light switch and got a better look. He was dressed from head to toe in all black, complete with mask. She saw nothing desperate about him. He seemed to be there under calculated circumstances. He reached out as if to push her out of his way, but he was taken by surprise when instead she grabbed his arm with her left hand and with her right palm shoved it as hard and as quickly into the middle of his mask, hitting him square in the nose.
"Ugh!" he exclaimed reaching for his face. He grabbed her arm and twisted her around into an arm lock. As she stood there in his hold she looked down. In the scuffle his sleeve was pushed back just enough for her to see a part of a tattoo on his left wrist. It was faded, as if he had been trying to get it removed, but she could tell it at one time was the talon of some kind of bird.
"Ahh!" she cried out. He grabbed her hair and pushed her into the wall, out of his way.
She grabbed his mask as he pushed her away, revealing his face and he put up his hands as she grabbed the bat and raised it to strike him again.
"Mead, no, stop!" he shouted. "Put the bat down, please." She realized that he was the man who had been following her that day.
"I KNEW you were following me! Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" She demanded. Then she lowered the bat. "Wait, how do you know my name? What do you want?"
He took a big breath and let it out with a laugh, "Okay, well, let's sit down and I will tell you."
Mead was still on alert so she grabbed the bat to keep with her. She sat down on the arm of the couch and he sat down in the chair across from her. He was much calmer than she and seemed to relax into the chair.
Mead began her interrogation. "So who are you and what do you want? Why are you here? How did you get in?"
"Some of your questions I will not be able to answer, and I apologize in advance for that, but you will understand why later. Firstly, you can call me Major Harrison. You put up quite a fight just now," he said, rubbing his nose where she had got a good shot in.
"Teaches you right for coming in to a person's home unannounced. So what can I do for you 'Major'?" She emphasized the word Major, to show that she did not believe him.
He laughed again, "Well, I guess I did have it coming. To get to it now," he sat up straighter and took on a serious tone, "We have been watching you Mead. We know about you and your military experience, that you had very high scores on your testing and that you have a degree in political science and sociology. We think you might have what it takes to work for us." He paused to let it soak in.
"And who is 'we'? Who would I be working for?"
"I can't tell you that yet, but I can say we are in the private sector, although we do most of our work for the government. We just- I mean I just want you to try us out, see how it goes. I think you would like the good you will be able to do." He stood to leave. "So if you do decide to try this out, meet me tomorrow at the café at 0800. If not, you don't have to show and we won't bother you again." He turned and walked out the door.
"So how do you know I won't call the cops as soon as you leave?" She questioned.
He smiled. "Because you are curious and deep down you know I am telling the truth," and he left.
Mead was left standing there, stunned. She picked up the phone to call the cops, but what would she say? Nothing was broken really or stolen, so who would believe what just happened? She put the phone down and before she went back to bed she went through the whole place and locked it all up tight.
The rest of the night she lay awake, wrestling with her curiosity and the feeling of violation she felt when she found him in her apartment. So many questions went through her mind concerning how he got in and what he wants her to do. 'Who does he work for? CIA? FBI?' She pondered. The not knowing was killing her. No sleep. She got no sleep.
The next morning she got up and got dressed in plain clothes. Too keyed up to eat she skipped breakfast and headed out the door to the café. Feeling cautious about the meeting, she decided to stand at a distance and observe. She was meeting him on his terms, giving him every advantage and she needed to find her own advantages.
She figured if he worked for an intelligence agency it was just as possible that he would have people watching as it was that he would be alone, so she made a mental note of everyone she saw. Even people she had seen almost every day were noted; she could not take chances. Then she noticed a dark green SUV that was parked across from the café; its passengers had not yet exited the vehicle. Staying back so they could not see her, she put her sunglasses on and tucked her hair up under her cap. She walked past the café and the SUV so she could get a good look at the plates without being obvious. Virginia plates; they were a bit far from home. Although it was not unusual for her to see plates from other states, Springfield was a college town after all; it still gave her a feeling in her stomach that it was out of place. The passenger side door opened on the SUV and one of the occupants stepped out, so she stooped on the other side of the bench as if to tie her shoe. It was the man who broke in last night, walking into the café, to wait for her.
She went for it and followed him in pulling her glasses and hat off and letting her hair drop to her shoulders. The man stopped and turned to greet her with a smile on his face.
"So glad you came Mead, let's have a seat and talk, shall we?" He gestured to a chair outside and she hesitated. She really needed to know what this was all about.
"No, let's go inside to sit," and she opened the door to let him in. Her thought process in this was that she knew she could leave through the bathroom window if she needed to make a getaway.
He smiled again. "Alright, after you then," he said walking through the door. When they got inside she chose a booth.
"You are cautious, that's good. I want to assure you however that you are not in any danger, I am only here to offer you a job."
Her face gave way to skepticism. "You know, usually an employer will call or write to express interest in a potential employee, not break into their home. What kind of job?"
Just then a server came over to take their order. They both ordered lemonade and then looked at each other. He finally spoke.
"I have a friend that you worked with while in the military, who recommended you for this job. He said that you are highly proficient in many aspects of intelligence analysis. We want to see if you want to apply that proficiency to field work." He paused to allow that to sink in. "We are the good guys, Mead. I am a recruiter, much like your recruiter when you joined the military, only we come to you, not you to us. We could use someone like you to help us in keeping this country safe. We also know that several years ago you had looked into a career with the CIA-"
She cut him off. "I knew it, I knew you were intelligence."
"We are not the CIA, but we are similar. We are more like private contractors. We do work for the CIA, however, and other agencies, for the government. A lot of it I cannot go into detail right now, but once you are in you would be privy to that."
"So what if I say no?"
The server came with their drinks and sat them down, asked if there was anything else and when they said 'No, thank you,' she walked away.
"If you say no, then I walk away and we never speak again. You won't be bothered by us. We put the offer out there and if you want it, it is there."
"What if it's not what I think it will be and I want out?" She said, hoping the answer was not what she was thinking.
He must have found this humorous because he smiled again. "Then like any job, you can leave. You will, however, sign contracts that prevent you from speaking about any of what you will see and do, and that includes 'tell-all' books. We are willing to give you clearance in exchange for your solemn oath to protect this country, to include it secrets."
She sat for a moment. She was intrigued, but it was a lot to take in, and she stared at her glass of lemonade, pondering. He must have been talking about the Lieutenant that she worked with in Iraq; he seemed to think highly of her. She had confided in him that she had always wanted a career in intelligence. It could be an opportunity that she would regret not taking. Then she remembered.
"So what was the point of you coming into my apartment last night? That was a major violation, how did you expect me to trust you?" She began to get a little worked up at that moment so she stopped talking and allowed him to explain himself.
"We have to study people first before we can offer this opportunity and that is why I was in your apartment. That was a test and you passed. We needed to see how you would react to a stressful situation and you did great," he said, clearly pleased.
"Okay. What do I need to do first?" She felt butterflies, but she also had that good feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her think that she could trust this.
"First, you go through training. You will stay at the training facility until you complete training. You won't need to bring much with you, a few clothes, and we will provide everything else. One thing though, you cannot tell anyone where you are going or what you are doing. There will be no contact with the outside for this training," he warned.
"How long is the training?" She asked.
"Three months. We will leave in a month which gives you plenty of time to make the arrangements and think this through. You can tell friends and family anything you want except the truth. That will be your first challenge in the training, and remember, if anyone fails a challenge you can be booted from the program," he told her. He waited for her answer.
She took a deep breath, mulling over what she might say to her mom, and she came to a solid decision.
"Let's do this then," she said, trying to keep her excitement under control. 'Here I go,' she thought to herself with a smile.