Chapter Two
Settling In
Los Angeles
"So that concludes this year's course overview. Moving on, there will be a series of campus orientations later this afternoon, those students who are new to UCLA this semester, I strongly suggest you take one, two if necessary. Last year alone, fifteen freshmen were lost, never to be heard from again." The graying professor's clear baritone carried easily over the scrape of chairs, shuffling of papers and soft chuckles that filled the spacious lecture theatre. "And I believe that's all from me, class dismissed."
The noise level of the room suddenly swelled to deafening levels, as four hundred odd students resumed previous conversations and started new ones. One of those students was Sydney Derevko, or as her current alias had it, Sydney Jenkins, just one of many new students with nothing more than a doctored life history to distinguish her from the crowd.
Pausing a moment at the foot of the steps, waiting for the flow of students leaving the lecture theatre to slacken enough that she could exit herself, Sydney shifted her books from left arm to right and absent-mindedly tucked one of her long bangs behind her left ear. The unconscious gesture reminded her of her mother and her curious initial reaction to Sydney's choice.
~~~
"University of California? Interesting choice, do you have any particular reason for it?" To anyone who didn't know her, Irina would have sounded merely curious, one who knew her well, however, would have detected the dubious note in her voice.
"They're supposed to have some of the finest literature professors currently teaching. You think it's a bad choice?" Not that she was going to change her mind, but it never hurt to have her mother's approval.
"No, no, they do or at least did have. Just curious I guess." Indirectly changing the subject Irina continued, "Have you thought about scholarships, and the like? Things that are going to affect your cover."
~~~
Several months later, entering at a second year level instead of first and the recipient of a full scholarship, Sydney might have suspected the hand of her mother at work, but for the fact that academic achievement was one of the few things Irina Derevko held sacrosanct.
However, amongst all the careful preparations, construction of back-story, creation of identification and falsifying of documents, there was one thing that had been overlooked.
Accommodation.
By the time the necessary arrangements had been made to enable Sydney to enter college life without suspicion, there hadn't actually been any dorms left on-campus and most of the available apartments and room within a reasonable distance, were either out of 'Sydney Jenkins' price range or available for very good reasons. This meant that Sydney had been living in one of the organization's safe houses for the past month, an arrangement that could not continue indefinitely, for the sakes of both organizational security and Sydney's sanity. As she contemplated this a bright yellow sign caught Sydney's eye.
~~~
"Where is it?"
"She's got it!"
"No, he has!"
"Get him!"
"LOOK OUT!!"
So intent was the ebony-skinned woman on tackling her quarry, equally intent on evading her, that neither of them noticed Sydney until all three went down in a tangle on limbs.
"Great way to watch where you're going." The woman commented as she disentangled herself from the pile, flashing an apologetic grin at Sydney. "Sorry about that."
"And I noticed that you did such a better job," was the pointed response from her scruffy blonde companion. "Here let me help."
Accepting the bespectacled young man's hand Sydney rose gracefully. "No problem, but what were you doing?"
"Playing Frisbee." The blonde replied as he retrieved the fluorescent green disc, flipping it between his fingers. "Oh, I'm Will, by the way, and this is Francie."
"Sydney." A look of bemusement crossed her face. "Frisbee? I thought that was non-contact, especially for bystanders."
"It is, unless you're playing with Australians." Francie deadpanned, gesturing at the large group of students playing on the grass. "Nuts the lot of them, they don't think it's a sport unless you tackle."
"Hey, we heard that!"
"If you three are just gonna talk, d'ya at least think you could chuck us back the Frisbee."
Expertly tossing the disc underhand, Will turned back to Sydney and Francie. "Hey, Syd, you want to join in? It's really quite fun, once you get past the incredible violence."
~~~
"Four months, it's now officially over." Eric Weiss leaned back in his chair and stretched as he said this.
"What's over?" Vaughn asked absent-mindedly as he went over the latest reports from counter-intelligence.
"The Bristow Handler pool."
"The what?" Vaughn's voice rose incredulously. "You were running a pool on me?"
"No I was not running a pool on you." Weiss corrected. "I was running two. How long you lasted and who was next in the firing line."
Deciding actual bullets would be juvenile, Vaughn settled for shooting his friend a dirty look. "And just who won these pools, Eric."
"Well, nobody thought you'd last this long, so I guess you did." With that he passed a large bottle across the desk to Vaughn. "Here's your prize."
"Ulcer medication?"
"After dealing with Agent Bristow for four months, office consensus was you'd need it. Besides, you never know when someone's going to slip rattler venom in your coffee."
"I'm not even going to ask where that one came from."
"Yeah, that's usually the best policy. So," Drawing out the last syllable, Weiss abruptly leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his interlaced fingers he looked the other agent in the eyes. "Michael, what's it like, really?"
"Rattle snake venom? Can't say I'd be in a position to know."
Rolling his eyes heavenward at Vaughn's deliberate obtuseness, Weiss clarified, "Working with Bristow. You should hear half the stories floating around here. Is it true he keeps the severed fingers of his enemies on his bookshelf?"
"No, they're in his liquor cabinet, right next to the peppermint schnapps."
"Really?"
"Of course not." Vaughn slumped back in disbelief. "Eric, even if he did a third of the things they say he does, how would I know?"
"You are his handler."
"That doesn't make us drinking buddies, or even confidants. Eric, Jack is very… standoffish, to put it mildly."
~~~
"And to put it bluntly, he's a jerk!" Francie paused in the middle of her tirade to fling the Frisbee in the direction of the 'goalposts', actually two stacks of textbooks. "Cheating on me was bad enough, but with my flatmate?"
"What happened next?" The rather anarchic game purporting to be Frisbee turned out to be as much for socialising as anything else, and to be honest with herself, Sydney was genuinely intrigued by the unfolding saga of Francie's ex-boyfriend and -flatmate.
"Chucks him out his ear, she does, her slag of a roomie too." One of the other team's players, a lanky brunette who gestured violently as she spoke, answered in tones of marked admiration. "You should've seen it, clothes everywhere, Francie here, quite justifiably mind you, screeching like a banshee. Fan-bloody-tastic."
"Well, entertainment value aside, it still leaves me with a two-person rent and a one-person income." Ducking after a particularly low throw, she continued "In the middle of the worst part of the year to be looking for a new flatmate too, just to make things that little bit more difficult."
Sydney skidded to a halt as she remembered why she'd been over this side of the campus in the first place. "Wait a moment, you wouldn't be the 'F. Calfo' who stuck up all those 'room for rent' signs, would you?"
"Last time I looked I was. You're interested in the room?"