Scarecrow and Mrs. McGuire - Revised
Summary: AU - what if Amanda had already been married to Dean for a year before that fateful morning at the train station?
Disclaimer: They belong to Shoot the Moon Productions and everybody else but me...
Feedback: yes, please. Writers live on feedback. You don't want a dead body on your conscience, do you? I'd like to apologize to my readers for the previous version of this story. I took only a superficially look at it in the preview and didn't notice, this was the one without the translation of certain words into English, which weren't present in my mind while writing. I'm no native English speaker. And I hadn't inserted the spaces yet to make it more easy to read.
It was supposed to be so easy...a rookie job. Meet the informant, obtain the information, pass the information on.
But somehow somewhere someone messed terribly up and now he was forced to run to pass the information on. He had tried for hours to loose Ivan and Igor, some KGB lackeys with more training and experience than the average embassy lot. Lee 'Scarecrow' Stetson hurried along the tracks, frequently looking back to see if he was still followed.
###########
Next to the train on track 8 a couple stood, waiting for the departure, engrossed in a heated conversation.
"Amanda, please. I don't want to fight with you. You're on PTA, a bluebell nurse at two hospitals, have two boys, a live-in-mother and a husband. Your days are filled 'til late night. Why do you want to take up a job? Especially since we're off well enough."
"Dean, I want to feel like I contribute something to this marriage."
"But you do, darling. You're the perfect wife for me. Don't we have a good life? Don't I work hard enough to provide you and the boys with everything you need? Isn't that enough?"
"I'm sorry, but no, it's not enough anymore. All my life I've been the perfect daughter, the perfect wife and mother. Always doing things to make life easier for those near me. Why don't you understand, that this isn't something to prove you at fault. It's simply all about me and that I want to feel more..."she hesitated for a moment "...independent."
Amanda McGuire looked into the thunderous face of her husband and sighed mentally. She had known beforehand it wouldn't sit well with him.
"Independent. Independent!! INDEPENDENT!!! I work 12 hours and more a day to make sure you've got a comfortable life, that you're free to follow your heart's interests and now you tell me you want more independence!" His voice had risen.
"Dean, please. Not so loud! People start staring at us."
Amanda was mortified. "Be reasonable. Don't you think I don't know how much you'd like to have this little boat to go fishing for instance? But we can't afford it. On the other hand, if I worked....we'd manage."
"That's not the point! A mother belongs to her home and takes care of her family. And what about this little baby of our own we discussed? Didn't we come to the conclusion we wanted another one? Why taking up a job, when you'll quit anyway in a year? Besides, do you really want to become one of those stressed out women, who try to juggle home and work? Who are always tired, too tired to take care of their families? Amanda, we need to talk this over, until you get reasonable. But my train's leaving now and we're both too upset to discuss this rationally. Love you." He bent to kiss her goodbye. Upset and unhappy she pecked him back.
She knew in advance, nothing would be solved when he came back from this business trip as long as he didn't budge. She had entered her second marriage with the knowledge that Dean had been brought up very conservatively. No female relative of his worked. It just wasn't done. Her first mistake had been to think that her boys needed a steady male influence in their life and that she needed a companion, she could rely on and that she thought she could work around his set beliefs.
And her second one had been her underestimation on what it would mean to become again part of a couple. She and Joe had lived too long separately not to develop a taste of independence. And with every month she felt restrictions that should be none, more. If Dean only would come around to support her in her decision to start working to contribute financially and not make her feel guilty. Even if unintentionally, when she asked him for money to buy things for herself.
What once had been relief not to be alone anymore, turned more and more into a golden cage. What she first had seen as loving concern now was felt as a means to control her. If he could, he wouldn't let her out of the house so no man could develop an interest in her. She wrapped herself in more than modest clothing to please him. If a man started talking to her, if for nothing more than a friendly chat, she started to feel nervous and flustered, because she knew Dean didn't like her talking to other men.
Shortly, Amanda didn't like the person she was about to become. And her mother didn't like it either. She tried to keep her mouth shut over this, but from time to time she couldn't help but reminding her daughter, it was socially acceptable to show knees and some cleavage, to wear form fitting, colourful clothes and talk and even dance with other men. Well, Amanda just hadn't the energy to fight Dean on this. Besides, she felt she couldn't afford a second failed marriage if only for her boys. So she kept quiet for all these months, but now she started to hate herself because of her weakness. Amanda West pounded on the doors to be let out. With Dean away she had a lot to think about. Waving a last time at Dean's train she turned and walked determined to the exit.
##########
Lee had done everything he could think of to loose Igor and Ivan, but to no avail. He needed help and fast. Scanning the commuters his gaze fell upon a young woman in a brown trench coat and some dress with lace at the hem. Very conservative, looking unhappy, but determined. She would do. Straightening his attire a bit he approached her.
"Please, I need your help."
Caught off guard, Amanda allowed herself to be dragged in the opposite direction. A waiter pleaded with her to take a package and deliver it to a man with a red hat in a train. She refused. What if it was drugs? She had children. She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their future.
"No! Leave me alone, mister, before I scream."
Lee looked deeply and pleading into her eyes - his last and most powerful weapon. She relented after a moment. Her thoughts raced. It was all so improper, but the thought of Dean not approving this, decided.
"Okay. Give me the package. This isn't drugs?"
"What? No. Just deliver it to the man with the red hat."
And so she entered the train.
Lee smiled pleased with himself. The old whipped dog eyes did the trick every time. And Igor and Ivan would turn home with empty hands. Turning around he caught one of their frantic glances and started to run along the tracks to distract them and make them believe, the transaction hadn't taken place already. He got eventually tackled from behind and while taking their punches thought 'Oh hell, it's for a good cause.'
##########
It had taken heavy flak and two days to surf the databases. Who would have thought that there were thousands of tall brunettes in their thirties with brown eyes in D.C.? Finally he had found her - Amanda McGuire, née West, divorced King, housewife, 33. Husband Dean McGuire, meterologist, 35. Children Philipp and James King, 10 and 8. Mother Dorothy West, 53. Ex-husband Joe King, 34, lawyer for the EAO in Estoccia, Africa. Address: 4247 Maplewood Drive, Arlington.
Stealthily he made his way to the house with the white picket fence. The only thing that was missing was a family car. Lee looked through the garage windows. 'A station wagon...I'm in Kansas. That's what you get, when you work with civilians.' He had a lot to say, if he met this Mrs. McGuire again. Not delivering the package...
Even more silently he sneaked towards the house, taking a quick glance through
the opened kitchen window he saw his civilian and an older woman. Amanda and Dorothy, his memory provided. He decided to listen in a bit before knocking on her door to demand his package back.
"Did you call Dean back, Amanda?"
"Yes. He's fine."
"Did you talk about taking up a job?"
"We argued before he left, we argued on the phone. I've thought it over again and again, mother, but I just don't see any alternative. I'm going to take a part-time job. I even found already an interesting ad in the newspaper. It's called Honeywell Typings."
"And what about Dean?"
"As this is something we can't agree on and I don't want a serious rift between us, I'm simply going to become a very busy bluebell nurse. It's something I have to do for myself. There's more for me. I just feel it."
"You know I support you in every decision, but doesn't Dean need to know despite your disagreements? It's not good to go behind his back in such a big matter."
"No, it's a need to know and he doesn't."
'Oh wedded bliss!' Lee thought sarcastically, but involuntarily smiling at Amanda's wording.
"If you say so. What about that strange man and the package?"
"It's still here. I don't really know what to do with it. The waiter, and I seriously doubt he's one, you know he was wearing designer shoes and no waiter wears shoes that might get uncomfortable, especially if he's going to wait on a private party when you can't know when the last guests will say goodbye, anyway the supposed waiter just grabbed me and tried that old "desperate puppy eyes" routine on me. I guess he's quite successful with it. I almost didn't take the package, but then I thought Dean wouldn't approve...so I took it to spite him, even if he doesn't know."
Lee's eyes got wider by the second. Not only on the amount this woman could babble with one breath but also on her keen deduction on him not being a waiter just from a look on his shoes. And the comment about his eyes did hurt his pride. Very seldom Scarecrow encountered a woman, who wasn't falling for his eyes. 'Old puppy eyes routine!' he snored. 'I show you an old routine!'
"Did you open the package?"
"Certainly...since he's no waiter...maybe it's drugs after all."
"And?"
"It's an old musical box."
"That's all? All that fuss about an old musical box?"
"Yep...apart from that little note in the ballerina."
"What does it say? And why would somebody put a note in it and then make such a fuss about passing the package? Maybe it's some secret code?"
"It's definitely a code, because it's all gibberish. Either my waiter is a spy and I firmly believe this, because he got caught after passing the package on to me and beaten up or I've been set up and I'm going to appear on TV and end up as the laughing stock of our neighbourhood."
"Oh my God. Beaten up? The poor man. Amanda, you should invite him for dinner sometime."
"Mother, I can't invite him for dinner! First of all, I don't know who he is. Maybe he works for the bad guys and secondly how do you think Dean will react, if he comes home to find a handsome man in our kitchen?"
"Oh is he? Anyway, you've got a package here that belongs rightfully to the government - if you're right. What now? Are you going to call the CIA?"
"And tell them what? About a waiter, a man with a red hat, a musical box and a note with gibberish? Please, how serious will they take me? And besides, the CIA is not listed in the phone book. Just imagine the operator ...'Hello, this is Amanda McGuire...I'd like to have the number of the CIA here in Washington. I think I have something that might belong to them.' No, I'm waiting. He should know by now that I didn't deliver. There were at least 30 men with red hats. How was I supposed to know which one is the right one? He will find me and then I can give him his musical box and get on with my life and try to find a job, Dean hopefully will never know about. It's already complicated enough. I don't need any spies in my life."
"Amanda, is your marriage not a bit of personal happiness worth?"
"Mother, is my personal happiness not a bit of my marriage worth? You know how much I try to make things work not the least for the boys. And I do love Dean. But I'm not ready any longer to sacrifice myself for the happiness of somebody else, if I don't meet them half way."
"AMANDA!"
"Oh, look at me, mother. I'm 33 years old and Dean wants me to wear clothes that...that...Do you know what happened the last time he took me shopping? The sales assistant looked at the dress, the brown, long one, and said 'what a lovely dress for your MOTHER for a festive evening! And that's all because of his silly jealousy and control streak."
"But didn't you want someone who'd be there for you and not trying to solve the problems of the world, while ignoring the needs and problems of this family?"
"Yes, but there's a difference between being there for someone or trying to run his life for him."
"Well, I think that's something you have to discuss with Dean. How about dressing up and going to the movies? I think there's new James Bond running."
"Oh, mother. You and James Bond - a lost love. Don't you know that those dashing men are completely useless in day-to-day life? I bet, they wouldn't even know how to fix the plumbing."
"You don't know either, my dear." Dotty said pointedly. "But that brings me back to your spy. Really, what are you going to do, if he doesn't show up?"
"I write to our congressman and express my worries about national security. If the CIA isn't capable of finding a housewife in Arlington, how are they to find foreign spies?"
The women laughed and went upstairs.
Scarecrow lent against the wall and contemplated what he had learned so far. This Amanda McGuire was...unusual to say in the least. How many agents had been uncovered by a simple look at their shoes? None, as much as he knew. And how many would take a look at the ballerina? Not many. This woman seemed to be a walking contradiction. On the one hand, she seemed to be happily married, on the other hand sought out that indefinable 'more' he had observed in many bored high society women. She was about to go out for a James Bond movie, but didn't think much of him or them. She was dressed very conservatively, but seemed to be unhappy with her choices. She was very upfront, but friendly and ready to sneak around to find satisfaction. Really, a very unusual woman. 'Wonder, what Emily would think of her?' At least he knew now what had gone wrong during the transaction. And her estimation of the CIA would be probably right. Those guys got it always wrong. But he was here to bring a job to an end. They couldn't afford to get any more of them killed.
He moved along the house to knock at the front door.
##########
"Coming!" a slightly breathless voice could be heard.
"YOU?!" Amanda looked at the man at her front door. Her 'waiter' had found her.
"Mrs. McGuire? I think you've got something that belongs to me. May I enter?"
"I don't know. Who are you?"
"I'm with the Agency."
"The Agency...what's that? CIA?"
"Please, may I enter? I don't think it's wise, if I stand any longer on your front porch. What will your neighbours say?" He flashed her a quick smile.
Glancing around, she quickly opened the door wider to let him in.
"Amanda, who're you talking to?"
"The 'waiter', mother. He's found me." She shouted up the hall and turned around to her guest. "It's about time. What took you so long? I'm pretty angry with you right now. 'Just pass the package on to the man with the red hat.' Do you know how many men with red hat were on this train? What was I supposed to do?"
"Well, I'm here, am I? Now give me the package and forget you ever saw me or ever took a package - for your own safety."
"Ah, you must be Amanda's 'waiter'. I'm Dotty West. But I think you know already. And you are?" Dotty had come downstairs to take a look at that ominous waiter.
"I'm with the Agency, Mrs. West. Now please give me that package."
"The Agency...never heard of. Is it CIA? Or FBI? Pentagon?"
"You're not supposed to have heard of us."
"Oh... OH! So what are you doing?"
"Counter Intelligence."
"Then you're not CIA."
"Mrs. West, the CIA has to follow rules...We make them. Now, for the last time. Give me that package."
"I see, it's urgent. My daughter told me about a note with gibberish. It's a secret message, isn't it?"
"That's a need to know."
"So it is. But once you see the note, you can decipher it, right?"
Scarecrow ran a hand through his hair. These women were too perceptive for their own good.
"Here you go, mister. Package, note and even the wrapping paper. Have a nice evening and goodbye."
"Amanda, why are you so rude to this nice gentleman?"
"Mother, I..."
From outside a voice could be heard suddenly.
"Hello, Dotty? Amanda? It's me, Peggy. Open the door."
For a moment everybody froze. Then Amanda grabbed Scarecrow by the lapels of his charcoal designer suit jacket and pushed and pulled him upstairs.
"Go! She can't find you here!"
"Why? She a soviet agent?" Despite all this mayhem, Scarecrow started to feel amused and felt like teasing the resolute Mrs. McGuire.
"Worse. She's the neighbourhood chatterbox. If she finds you in here, she will tell around and then I get in trouble with my husband."
With a last push she made sure he stumbled up the stairs, straightened her moron sweatshirt over her deep green sweatpants, and turned around to open the front door with a smile.
"Hi Peggy, what's up?"
"Hi Amanda, you wouldn't believe it! I just heard from Marjorie, that Paula told Susan, Rachel is having an affair with the vicar! She's seen them last Saturday at the mall."
Amanda sighed deeply.
"Peggy, that's complete nonsense. Mr. Thomas asked Rachel to help him organise the children's day over at the church and probably she just helped him shopping. Really, you have sometimes the worst imagination."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't believe that there's nothing between them. Have you seen that silver sports car next to Jenny Sommer's? Wonder whose car it is. Anyway, what's up with Dean out of the house? Having any interesting men around?...Hi Dotty."
"Peggy, how nice to see you. How's Ed?"
"Don't ask me! I could tell you stories. I don't know why I married this man in the first place. He's such a slob sometimes. Over and over again I tell him...how about some coffee?"
Dotty and Amanda exchanged glances.
"Certainly, Peggy. But you have to excuse Amanda, she needs to call Dean."
"You know Amanda, you've got a fine man. Always caring, always doing all the unpleasant things for you. I don't know why you dress like this. I can still remember, when you were with Joe. Some of those outfits, woah! But then, we were all younger and could do things, we can't do anymore. But let me tell you, if you don't start wearing nice, appealing clothes soon, he will start looking elsewhere."
"Believe me, Peggy. Dean is happy with how I am. And please excuse me now."
Amanda left the room to find her other guest.
"You know Dotty, it's a shame with Amanda... such a beautiful young woman and dressing like old Mrs. Jefferson from Oak drive. But it's her marriage. I won't say anything." Happily Peggy accepted a cup of coffee, prepared to spend some time with Dotty West.
Amanda found her 'waiter' in her mother's bedroom in the chair, browsing through old photo albums.
"What are you doing in here? Who gave you the right to go through my mother's personal stuff?" She hissed at him angrily.
"Listen, I called my people to decipher the codes. I felt bored and started to have a look around. It's not like I went through her undies, so calm down."
"Calm down, calm down! I never should have taken this darn package. But no, of all times to be reckless, I had to choose this moment with you. Dean was right all along. But I had to be dissatisfied and went out of my way to do something he wouldn't..." Abruptly she fell silent, realising, she told a stranger about her marital problems.
"So, what did your people say?"
"They call me back here to tell me what Crypto found out."
"Crypto?"
"Need to know. I already tell you more than it's good for you."
"Listen, Mr...."
"Scarecrow."
"Huh? That's your name?"
"My codename."
"Okay, Mr. Scarecrow, I'm pretty much involved as it is right now. And I think I have a right to know, what's going on, if you turn my mother's bedroom into an Agency office, don't you think?"
"Just Scarecrow."
He was biding his time. Could he trust her to keep her mouth shut? Yes, if only not to have to deal with an angry husband.
"Okay, this note is supposed to tell me something about a leak in the Agency, big enough to sink the Titanic and now agents drop dead like flies. Do you know now, why it is so important for me? There are lives at stake, goddammit."
Amanda put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Oh my God. Those poor people. I will do whatever I can to help you."
Scarecrow snorted. How much of a help could be a normal suburbian American housewife?
"Listen, I appreciate that you try to help, but honestly there's nothing you can do. Just..."
The phone rang and Amanda answered.
"Hello. This is Amanda McGuire speaking...Oh, hi Dean...Dean, not now. I expect a very important phone call...No, it's not a man....Well, it is, it's Joe. He wrote he'd try to call me this evening to tell me, when he comes home...Certainly he will take the boys...Dean....Dean...that's...Dean, I'm sorry, but I need to say goodbye right now. I talk to you later..."
Frustrated Amanda hang up and looked embarrassed at her guest.
Scarecrow looked equally embarrassed around, trying to find a safe topic.
"Well, I guess these are your children?" He pointed to a photo in the album and witnessed a transformation in Mrs. McGuire. A tender smile graced her face.
"Sure. Philip and Jamie. Philip's 10 and Jamie 8. They're with some friends and their dads at a little league game. They love to watch and play. Normally I'd have gone with them, but then I didn't know when you'd come to get the package. Is it really that bad?"
"Yes, it really is." Frustrated Scarecrow started to pace.
Amanda looked at him speculatively. He didn't seem to be a bad person and really caring about his friends and that leak. Maybe she had misjudged him on the train station. He turned around, when he heard a small chuckle emanating from her.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking about how I'm sitting in my mother's bedroom with a spy and wait for some secret message to be deciphered. Pretty much unbelievable."
"That's not so unusual. You wouldn't think of places I've been, while waiting for something to happen." He smiled and got an answering smile. They fell silent again.
Scarecrow jumped towards the phone, when it rang, disturbing the silence. She picked up.
"....Oh, it's for you."
"Yeah, what do you have?...What?...That's rubbish! Pilgrim's Peach Pie...What's that supposed to mean?...Use another key code...I know that's...I don't think...yeah...yeah. You're the expert. Bye."
He turned around and sighed in frustration.
"Pilgrim's Peach Pie, Duck á la Nathan Hale...Goddammit!"
Amanda sat in silence. Suddenly she jumped off her mother's bed and ran out of the room.
"Wha...?" 'Did she forget she had something in the oven? Housewifes!' He snorted. He had to get out of here to try to find another way to find the leak.
Slightly breathless, Amanda returned with a notebook in her hand.
"Pilgrim's Peach Pie...Duck á la Nathan Hale..." She started to read aloud.
"Huh? Okay, they're recipes, but I don't see a connection between cooking and our leak."
"You don't understand. My mother is an avid follower of Mrs. Welsh. Every week Mrs. Welsh cooks on cable 7 old forgotten dishes. She's very famous. But sometimes I think her recipes aren't so hot. For instance about the duck...she said 400° for one and a half hours. But normally it's better to let the duck cook slower with less heat. Do you see, what I mean? No cook would do this normally. The duck just gets tough. Mother and I thought she got confused for a moment. .... But what if she didn't?"
Conspirating Amanda McGuire lent towards her spy.
Scarecrow was flabbergasted. This woman was AMAZING! She pulled facts out of nowhere and suddenly things made sense. His colleague Francine Desmond took cooking lessons at Mrs. Welsh's. What if she was the involuntary leak? Did Mrs. Welsh pass the information via television? He asked for the recipe book, carefully comparing them to several stints that had gone wrong. There was no doubt. The baking degrees and the hours matched meeting points.
"Ahm, Mrs. McGuire...I don't know what to say. It's possible. I have to go now."
"You're welcome, Mr. Sc...Scarecrow...Wait."
"What?"
"Peggy's downstairs. She can't see you."
"I HAVE to go NOW!"
"I know...come on."
Quietly she lead him to her bedroom and opened a window.
"You want me to climb down the trellis?" Scarecrow looked dumbfounded at Mrs. McGuire.
"Yes. It's the only way. Peggy won't leave in the next hours and if we try to kick her out, she'll get suspicious and when she sees you leaving the house...I don't want to even think about the consequences. Besides, I don't think you've never left a woman's bedroom through the window before." She teased.
"Not a married woman's bedroom. Too much complication."
"Well, consider it as a new experience."
"'Consider it as a new experience'..." Scarecrow grumbled as he climbed out. "And I didn't even have any fun."
"You'll live."
Amused she watched him struggling his way down and then he was gone.
"He didn't even say thank you. That man has no manners. James Bond would never be so rude...at least not to a woman."
After a moments thinking, she changed into more "normal" clothes and went down to find a chatting Peggy and her mother with slightly glazed-over eyes.
"...and old Mrs. Jefferson told him, he would be welcome. Please, Mr. Olowsky is even too old to take care of his own garden."
"Hi Amanda. Did you reach Dean?" She looked pointedly at Amanda.
"Yes, mother. And it was the most interesting conversation. I'm sorry you two, but I have to go now. I need to run an errant for Dean. Bye mother, bye Peggy."
And off she was.
"Now, that's a nice outfit. Why doesn't she look like that when Dean's at home?"
Amanda steered carefully her wagon through the rush hour of a Thursday afternoon on her way to Mrs. Welsh. She had assisted in this case too much to let go. She wanted to be there, when it came to the showdown.
She parked her car behind a silver Porsche, which probably did belong to Scarecrow. Hadn't Peggy said something about a silver sports car parking in the neighbourhood? He was already there. When she walked up to the old mansion, and crouched down behind a big bush, when she saw Scarecrow coming out of the door flanked by two men carrying guns. Amanda came to the conclusion, that she was probably the only one, who could help the agent.
She stepped out of her hiding-place and walked confidently towards them.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but would you be so kind to help me? I've car problems."
The men whirled around, and the bodyguards tried quickly to hide their guns. One of them spoke up. Scarecrow was angry. What was she doing here? Didn't she realise the danger?
"Well, we..."
"Please. I need to pick up my children from the stadium and I'm already late. They will be worried. And who's going to have a look over them, as long as I'm not there? Nowadays it's so dangerous for children to wait alone somewhere. You never know what kind of people try to speak to them or worse do to them. I just can't figure out the problem. I'm not low on gas. And suddenly the car stops and I can't make it run again."
Seeing a possible way to distract his guardians for a moment, Scarecrow spoke up.
"That seems serious, ma'm. I'm sure we have time to take a look at your car, don't we?"
The guardians exchanged a look. They couldn't afford to draw attention to them, not now, when they had the Scarecrow in their clutches.
"Okay, let's have a look. Where's your car?"
"Just down the road. Not far. I really hope it's nothing serious. The car shops are so expensive these days. And I'm never sure, if it's really necessary what they do, when the car's in the shop. Somehow things are always more expensive than originally thought. See, here's my car. I open the engine bonnet. One moment please. Okay, it's open."
One of the men gestured for Scarecrow to pull it up. Involuntarily they bent over and looked into the engine compartment. That was the moment for Scarecrow to act. Quickly he delivered a punch to his distracted bodyguard. And Amanda pushed down the engine bonnet; as fast as she could to squeeze the man between engine and engine bonnet. With all her might she pressed down, while Scarecrow disabled the second man with a last punch that sent the man into oblivion. Picking up his gun, he told Amanda to let loose.
Pointing his gun towards him, he ordered the man to stand next to his companion and walked backwards to his car to call the cavalry.
Amanda closed the hood and walked slowly up to the agent to find a seat on the edge of the pavement. Her legs threatened to give out.
"Oh my gosh. I can't believe I did that."
"Well you did. Don't you know how dangerous this was? You could've easily hurt."
"I know. But I saw you and the guns and figured that you're in trouble and on your own. Should I stand by and watched you getting hurt?"
"If you had half of a brain, you wouldn't have come in the first place."
"If I had only half of a brain, you wouldn't be here either."
"It was only a matter of time before we'd have figured it all out."
"You told me you didn't have time."
"Don't argue with me."
"I don't argue. I'm only stating facts."
Scarecrow glared at her for a moment, then he smiled while shaking his head.
"You are some special lady. I'm glad you came after all, I think."
"Is this your way to say thank you?"
"Ahm..."
Amanda enjoyed him squirming. Deep down she recognized his gratitude. He had just difficulties expressing it.
Scarecrow was relieved to see the non-descriptive Agency cars pull into the road and stop next to him. His section chief, a black, short, overweight man emerged from the car. He radiated authority.
"Scarecrow, report! And put this scum away. And who's that?" He barked orders, while pointing at Amanda McGuire and the cuffed, unconscious men.
"I...we...she discovered, that Francine is the leak. Drugged up to the gills, she talks to Mrs. Welsh, who passes the information during her cooking lessons on TV. I found them while interviewing Francine. Unfortunately I got caught and was about to be deported by the next flight to Moscow, when Mrs. McGuire here helped me out of misery."
"Where's Francine now? And what about this Mrs. Welsh?"
"We need to go in right now. I don't know how long they will stay put before they realize there's something wrong."
"Okay. Barnes, Ogglevy, Podolsky...in. Now! You will stay here, Mrs. McGuire. I have some questions."
"Certainly, sir." Self-consciously Amanda tried to smooth her clothes.
Awed she watched the men deploy and enter the house. One or two gun shots could be heard, then silence. A little while later the men came out again with Mrs. Welsh in between them, handcuffed along with two other bad guys. Scarecrow carried a stunning blonde in his arms. An ambulance arrived on the scene along with police. And Amanda McGuire realized this was no television, when Scarecrow carefully laid down the blonde on the stretcher and one of the Agency men had blood seeping through his sleeve. This was real and frightening and messy and ugly - it was exhilarating. She observed Scarecrow and the black man conversing quietly with short glances directed at her from time to time. Her nervousness grew exponentially.
Finally the black man approached her.
"Mrs. McGuire. I hear you've been behind all this. Congratulations. That was a fine piece of work for a civilian. Quick thinking. Great intuition. You seem to have the instincts. We need those talents. I hear you're looking for a job. We could need an extra hand in the steno pool. Any qualifications, Mrs. McGuire?"
Amanda was flustered. Did it mean, this man offered her a job with the Agency? Would she work with Scarecrow?
Her voice croaked, when she answered.
"Well, I almost majored in American Lit, I type real fast with almost no mistakes. My shorthand is a bit rusty. I've always written the speeches for my first husband. I have a reputation for being good in organisation. I have some basic knowledge of computer systems and databases."
"Well, I think we can find something for you. Why don't you put together your VC and Scarecrow here picks it up let's say in a week? That convinient? That is, if you'd like to work with us."
"Oh sir, it's not a question of wanting to work with you, but I need to think about this. I have two small boys and a...I need to think about this. At most I could work half-days."
"Well, think about this. Scarecrow here will approach you again next week. And now I need you to come with us to give a full report on this case."
Amanda nodded shyly. The man offered her his arm.
"Wait. What about my car?"
"Well, you can't follow us. Scarecrow, drive Mrs. McGuire to the Agency and make sure, she'll have a lift afterwards back to her car...I see you soon."
Left to their devices, Scarecrow turned to her.
"Well, Mrs. McGuire, looks you're about to get a job."
"How do you know I want a job in the first place?" Amanda asked suspiciously.
"I listened to your conversation with your mother."
"You WHAT?"
"I needed to make sure it was no trap for me."
"That's PREPOSTEROUS! You had NO right to listen in to a private conversation. Is there nothing sacred for you?'"
"Nope."
"Well, I hope this is no general attitude with your Agency, otherwise I'm not sure, I want to work with you."
"Why are you so upset?"
"Because it's not right to listen in."
"Oh man, it's not as if I had been under your bed, when you make love with your husband!"
"You're horrible!"
Amanda McGuire paled and blushed in turns.
"No, I'm realistic. Lady, this is sometimes dirty business. And trespassing the privacy threshold is part of our business. How else do you think we bust the enemy? It's not as if they put an ad into the newspaper."
"Well, I'm not a bad guy."
"How was I supposed to know that? You didn't deliver the package."
"Because I couldn't!"
"I think we covered this already. Now, get in the car."
"Please."
"What?"
"Get in the car, please."
"What? Are you trying to drive me crazy?"
"No, I'm trying to install some manners into you. You seriously lack some social skills, mister. You won't even tell me your name."
Exasperated Scarecow ran a hand through his hair.
"It's Lee."
"Well, nice to meet you, Lee. My name's Amanda."
She held out her hand and reflexively Lee gripped it to shake it only to snatch it back like burnt. Angrily he motioned her to get in the car and off they were.
Billy Melrose had been about to leave, when he overheard the discussion between his top agent and Mrs. McGuire. He was impressed. Not many people could press Scarecrow's buttons like this Mrs. McGuire. The wheels in his head started to spin. He envisioned a partial co-operation between these two. He practically smelled the possibilities.
##########
For Amanda the following seven days were alternately the longest and the shortest of her life. She was agonizing over the job offer of that Agency boss Melrose. Should she take it, should she leave it?
Eventually her mother pointed out that Dean obviously wouldn't change his mind about Amanda's job and that the Agency should know a thing or two about keeping secrets. And so Amanda prepared her VC, bothered by self-doubts. If you looked at it from a certain point of view, there was nothing really encouraging in there.
Heading up to a master's degree in American Literature, married two months before the final exams, postponing the exams for supporting her husband during his finals in Law, then getting pregnant, postponing again, getting pregnant with her second child.
Ever since then ordinary American housewife, who sacrified herself for her husband's career, then being left behind with two little children for the greater good of humanity. Finally divorce. Feeling too old to pick up her studies again. Remarried.
No real qualifications for any qualified job.
Would she be good enough for the Agency?
Then the seventh day. Amanda felt jumpy all over. Would Scarecrow, no Lee come for her?
She got the shock of her life, when Lee knocked at the back door too lost in thoughts of what ifs. What if she had insisted on marrying after her finals? What if she had followed Joe to Africa? What if ...what if....what if....what if she hadn't married Dean so fast after her divorce - filled up with stories of divorced women with children, who had never been able to find a partner again because of the children? What if she would be alone for the rest of her life?
After encouraging the agent to come in she silently offered him her thin folder.
Lee looked at Dotty, who shrugged with her shoulders. She wouldn't help her daughter in this. Amanda had to do this on her own.
Equally silent Lee leafed through it without any expressions.
Finally Amanda jumped off the couch. She couldn't take it anymore.
"Please, Lee, say something."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Something. Anything. I don't know."
"You don't have a lot of experience."
"I know. Somehow things were always more important than me."
"And now?"
"Now I feel like I should at least try to make some dreams come true before it's really too late for me."
"Well, do you want to work for The Agency, Amanda?"
"I want to work."
"Do you realize, what it means to work for us? As a stenotypist, you will see, read or hear things, you can't talk of to somebody."
"I know this."
"Not to your friends, not to your mother, not even to your husband."
"Don't you worry. I won't talk to Dean or anybody else about my work. I know national security is a big deal."
"Amanda, I know you feel...restricted in your marriage. Is it possible that your potential involvement with the Agency might stem from the wish to spite your husband? And nothing more?"
"Do you say I apply for a job with you on a childish tantrum?"
"Do you?"
"NO! I apply for a job with you to make a difference, to make it safer for my children."
"Okay, I will take this to my boss, tell him what you told me so far and about my impressions. If he's still interested in you after my report, you will have to undergo several interviews and security checks over the course of several weeks. The questions will be very personal and for you probably impertinent. But we have to know you, your strengths and your weaknesses, your likes and dislikes, what pushes your buttons and what not. Are you ready to do this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Only not to work for us."
"Then I have no choice."
"No. I have to go now. You will hear from us."
"Wait...If Mr. Melrose decides he doesn't need me after all, will I ever see you or anybody else from your organisation again?"
"No."
"In this case...I'm glad to have met you."
Lee smiled for the first time. He couldn't help but like this Mrs. McGuire. And for the first time he wondered, what kind of person she would have become, if she hadn't married so young. Would she be a teacher? He thought she would have been a good one.
"I'm glad, too, Amanda. Maybe I will see you again."
##########
In the end Mr. Melrose decided to discard her poor experience, and Amanda had to undergo the long procedure of security checks. But finally she made it and Lee delivered the message personally. Somehow he looked forward to see her whenever he felt like it and he became pretty fast fond of Dotty as well. Amanda felt relief. No there was no turning back anymore.
And proudly she entered the house of the "International Film Foundation" for the first time.
Being a likeable person she made friends fast in the steno pool. Rumour had it quickly spread that she had been recruited by Scarecrow and Mr. Melrose himself. And people wanted to know what made her so special after all. In exchange Amanda heard all kinds of water cooler gossip about the various single male agents with the ever favourite topic Lee Scarecrow Stetson. And upon learning that Amanda was married and that the tentative friendly relationship with him was purely platonic and work related as far people could tell, those single females of the pool who dreamt of grounding the Scarecrow were more than relieved to find in Amanda no competition. Amanda learned quickly and after her more than successful involvement of the case of the arms dealer and manager of Conny Beth Cosmetics, she was considered as the rising star among the typists.
But one question stayed with her day and night. What would happen, if Dean ever got to know?
To be continued?
Summary: AU - what if Amanda had already been married to Dean for a year before that fateful morning at the train station?
Disclaimer: They belong to Shoot the Moon Productions and everybody else but me...
Feedback: yes, please. Writers live on feedback. You don't want a dead body on your conscience, do you? I'd like to apologize to my readers for the previous version of this story. I took only a superficially look at it in the preview and didn't notice, this was the one without the translation of certain words into English, which weren't present in my mind while writing. I'm no native English speaker. And I hadn't inserted the spaces yet to make it more easy to read.
It was supposed to be so easy...a rookie job. Meet the informant, obtain the information, pass the information on.
But somehow somewhere someone messed terribly up and now he was forced to run to pass the information on. He had tried for hours to loose Ivan and Igor, some KGB lackeys with more training and experience than the average embassy lot. Lee 'Scarecrow' Stetson hurried along the tracks, frequently looking back to see if he was still followed.
###########
Next to the train on track 8 a couple stood, waiting for the departure, engrossed in a heated conversation.
"Amanda, please. I don't want to fight with you. You're on PTA, a bluebell nurse at two hospitals, have two boys, a live-in-mother and a husband. Your days are filled 'til late night. Why do you want to take up a job? Especially since we're off well enough."
"Dean, I want to feel like I contribute something to this marriage."
"But you do, darling. You're the perfect wife for me. Don't we have a good life? Don't I work hard enough to provide you and the boys with everything you need? Isn't that enough?"
"I'm sorry, but no, it's not enough anymore. All my life I've been the perfect daughter, the perfect wife and mother. Always doing things to make life easier for those near me. Why don't you understand, that this isn't something to prove you at fault. It's simply all about me and that I want to feel more..."she hesitated for a moment "...independent."
Amanda McGuire looked into the thunderous face of her husband and sighed mentally. She had known beforehand it wouldn't sit well with him.
"Independent. Independent!! INDEPENDENT!!! I work 12 hours and more a day to make sure you've got a comfortable life, that you're free to follow your heart's interests and now you tell me you want more independence!" His voice had risen.
"Dean, please. Not so loud! People start staring at us."
Amanda was mortified. "Be reasonable. Don't you think I don't know how much you'd like to have this little boat to go fishing for instance? But we can't afford it. On the other hand, if I worked....we'd manage."
"That's not the point! A mother belongs to her home and takes care of her family. And what about this little baby of our own we discussed? Didn't we come to the conclusion we wanted another one? Why taking up a job, when you'll quit anyway in a year? Besides, do you really want to become one of those stressed out women, who try to juggle home and work? Who are always tired, too tired to take care of their families? Amanda, we need to talk this over, until you get reasonable. But my train's leaving now and we're both too upset to discuss this rationally. Love you." He bent to kiss her goodbye. Upset and unhappy she pecked him back.
She knew in advance, nothing would be solved when he came back from this business trip as long as he didn't budge. She had entered her second marriage with the knowledge that Dean had been brought up very conservatively. No female relative of his worked. It just wasn't done. Her first mistake had been to think that her boys needed a steady male influence in their life and that she needed a companion, she could rely on and that she thought she could work around his set beliefs.
And her second one had been her underestimation on what it would mean to become again part of a couple. She and Joe had lived too long separately not to develop a taste of independence. And with every month she felt restrictions that should be none, more. If Dean only would come around to support her in her decision to start working to contribute financially and not make her feel guilty. Even if unintentionally, when she asked him for money to buy things for herself.
What once had been relief not to be alone anymore, turned more and more into a golden cage. What she first had seen as loving concern now was felt as a means to control her. If he could, he wouldn't let her out of the house so no man could develop an interest in her. She wrapped herself in more than modest clothing to please him. If a man started talking to her, if for nothing more than a friendly chat, she started to feel nervous and flustered, because she knew Dean didn't like her talking to other men.
Shortly, Amanda didn't like the person she was about to become. And her mother didn't like it either. She tried to keep her mouth shut over this, but from time to time she couldn't help but reminding her daughter, it was socially acceptable to show knees and some cleavage, to wear form fitting, colourful clothes and talk and even dance with other men. Well, Amanda just hadn't the energy to fight Dean on this. Besides, she felt she couldn't afford a second failed marriage if only for her boys. So she kept quiet for all these months, but now she started to hate herself because of her weakness. Amanda West pounded on the doors to be let out. With Dean away she had a lot to think about. Waving a last time at Dean's train she turned and walked determined to the exit.
##########
Lee had done everything he could think of to loose Igor and Ivan, but to no avail. He needed help and fast. Scanning the commuters his gaze fell upon a young woman in a brown trench coat and some dress with lace at the hem. Very conservative, looking unhappy, but determined. She would do. Straightening his attire a bit he approached her.
"Please, I need your help."
Caught off guard, Amanda allowed herself to be dragged in the opposite direction. A waiter pleaded with her to take a package and deliver it to a man with a red hat in a train. She refused. What if it was drugs? She had children. She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize their future.
"No! Leave me alone, mister, before I scream."
Lee looked deeply and pleading into her eyes - his last and most powerful weapon. She relented after a moment. Her thoughts raced. It was all so improper, but the thought of Dean not approving this, decided.
"Okay. Give me the package. This isn't drugs?"
"What? No. Just deliver it to the man with the red hat."
And so she entered the train.
Lee smiled pleased with himself. The old whipped dog eyes did the trick every time. And Igor and Ivan would turn home with empty hands. Turning around he caught one of their frantic glances and started to run along the tracks to distract them and make them believe, the transaction hadn't taken place already. He got eventually tackled from behind and while taking their punches thought 'Oh hell, it's for a good cause.'
##########
It had taken heavy flak and two days to surf the databases. Who would have thought that there were thousands of tall brunettes in their thirties with brown eyes in D.C.? Finally he had found her - Amanda McGuire, née West, divorced King, housewife, 33. Husband Dean McGuire, meterologist, 35. Children Philipp and James King, 10 and 8. Mother Dorothy West, 53. Ex-husband Joe King, 34, lawyer for the EAO in Estoccia, Africa. Address: 4247 Maplewood Drive, Arlington.
Stealthily he made his way to the house with the white picket fence. The only thing that was missing was a family car. Lee looked through the garage windows. 'A station wagon...I'm in Kansas. That's what you get, when you work with civilians.' He had a lot to say, if he met this Mrs. McGuire again. Not delivering the package...
Even more silently he sneaked towards the house, taking a quick glance through
the opened kitchen window he saw his civilian and an older woman. Amanda and Dorothy, his memory provided. He decided to listen in a bit before knocking on her door to demand his package back.
"Did you call Dean back, Amanda?"
"Yes. He's fine."
"Did you talk about taking up a job?"
"We argued before he left, we argued on the phone. I've thought it over again and again, mother, but I just don't see any alternative. I'm going to take a part-time job. I even found already an interesting ad in the newspaper. It's called Honeywell Typings."
"And what about Dean?"
"As this is something we can't agree on and I don't want a serious rift between us, I'm simply going to become a very busy bluebell nurse. It's something I have to do for myself. There's more for me. I just feel it."
"You know I support you in every decision, but doesn't Dean need to know despite your disagreements? It's not good to go behind his back in such a big matter."
"No, it's a need to know and he doesn't."
'Oh wedded bliss!' Lee thought sarcastically, but involuntarily smiling at Amanda's wording.
"If you say so. What about that strange man and the package?"
"It's still here. I don't really know what to do with it. The waiter, and I seriously doubt he's one, you know he was wearing designer shoes and no waiter wears shoes that might get uncomfortable, especially if he's going to wait on a private party when you can't know when the last guests will say goodbye, anyway the supposed waiter just grabbed me and tried that old "desperate puppy eyes" routine on me. I guess he's quite successful with it. I almost didn't take the package, but then I thought Dean wouldn't approve...so I took it to spite him, even if he doesn't know."
Lee's eyes got wider by the second. Not only on the amount this woman could babble with one breath but also on her keen deduction on him not being a waiter just from a look on his shoes. And the comment about his eyes did hurt his pride. Very seldom Scarecrow encountered a woman, who wasn't falling for his eyes. 'Old puppy eyes routine!' he snored. 'I show you an old routine!'
"Did you open the package?"
"Certainly...since he's no waiter...maybe it's drugs after all."
"And?"
"It's an old musical box."
"That's all? All that fuss about an old musical box?"
"Yep...apart from that little note in the ballerina."
"What does it say? And why would somebody put a note in it and then make such a fuss about passing the package? Maybe it's some secret code?"
"It's definitely a code, because it's all gibberish. Either my waiter is a spy and I firmly believe this, because he got caught after passing the package on to me and beaten up or I've been set up and I'm going to appear on TV and end up as the laughing stock of our neighbourhood."
"Oh my God. Beaten up? The poor man. Amanda, you should invite him for dinner sometime."
"Mother, I can't invite him for dinner! First of all, I don't know who he is. Maybe he works for the bad guys and secondly how do you think Dean will react, if he comes home to find a handsome man in our kitchen?"
"Oh is he? Anyway, you've got a package here that belongs rightfully to the government - if you're right. What now? Are you going to call the CIA?"
"And tell them what? About a waiter, a man with a red hat, a musical box and a note with gibberish? Please, how serious will they take me? And besides, the CIA is not listed in the phone book. Just imagine the operator ...'Hello, this is Amanda McGuire...I'd like to have the number of the CIA here in Washington. I think I have something that might belong to them.' No, I'm waiting. He should know by now that I didn't deliver. There were at least 30 men with red hats. How was I supposed to know which one is the right one? He will find me and then I can give him his musical box and get on with my life and try to find a job, Dean hopefully will never know about. It's already complicated enough. I don't need any spies in my life."
"Amanda, is your marriage not a bit of personal happiness worth?"
"Mother, is my personal happiness not a bit of my marriage worth? You know how much I try to make things work not the least for the boys. And I do love Dean. But I'm not ready any longer to sacrifice myself for the happiness of somebody else, if I don't meet them half way."
"AMANDA!"
"Oh, look at me, mother. I'm 33 years old and Dean wants me to wear clothes that...that...Do you know what happened the last time he took me shopping? The sales assistant looked at the dress, the brown, long one, and said 'what a lovely dress for your MOTHER for a festive evening! And that's all because of his silly jealousy and control streak."
"But didn't you want someone who'd be there for you and not trying to solve the problems of the world, while ignoring the needs and problems of this family?"
"Yes, but there's a difference between being there for someone or trying to run his life for him."
"Well, I think that's something you have to discuss with Dean. How about dressing up and going to the movies? I think there's new James Bond running."
"Oh, mother. You and James Bond - a lost love. Don't you know that those dashing men are completely useless in day-to-day life? I bet, they wouldn't even know how to fix the plumbing."
"You don't know either, my dear." Dotty said pointedly. "But that brings me back to your spy. Really, what are you going to do, if he doesn't show up?"
"I write to our congressman and express my worries about national security. If the CIA isn't capable of finding a housewife in Arlington, how are they to find foreign spies?"
The women laughed and went upstairs.
Scarecrow lent against the wall and contemplated what he had learned so far. This Amanda McGuire was...unusual to say in the least. How many agents had been uncovered by a simple look at their shoes? None, as much as he knew. And how many would take a look at the ballerina? Not many. This woman seemed to be a walking contradiction. On the one hand, she seemed to be happily married, on the other hand sought out that indefinable 'more' he had observed in many bored high society women. She was about to go out for a James Bond movie, but didn't think much of him or them. She was dressed very conservatively, but seemed to be unhappy with her choices. She was very upfront, but friendly and ready to sneak around to find satisfaction. Really, a very unusual woman. 'Wonder, what Emily would think of her?' At least he knew now what had gone wrong during the transaction. And her estimation of the CIA would be probably right. Those guys got it always wrong. But he was here to bring a job to an end. They couldn't afford to get any more of them killed.
He moved along the house to knock at the front door.
##########
"Coming!" a slightly breathless voice could be heard.
"YOU?!" Amanda looked at the man at her front door. Her 'waiter' had found her.
"Mrs. McGuire? I think you've got something that belongs to me. May I enter?"
"I don't know. Who are you?"
"I'm with the Agency."
"The Agency...what's that? CIA?"
"Please, may I enter? I don't think it's wise, if I stand any longer on your front porch. What will your neighbours say?" He flashed her a quick smile.
Glancing around, she quickly opened the door wider to let him in.
"Amanda, who're you talking to?"
"The 'waiter', mother. He's found me." She shouted up the hall and turned around to her guest. "It's about time. What took you so long? I'm pretty angry with you right now. 'Just pass the package on to the man with the red hat.' Do you know how many men with red hat were on this train? What was I supposed to do?"
"Well, I'm here, am I? Now give me the package and forget you ever saw me or ever took a package - for your own safety."
"Ah, you must be Amanda's 'waiter'. I'm Dotty West. But I think you know already. And you are?" Dotty had come downstairs to take a look at that ominous waiter.
"I'm with the Agency, Mrs. West. Now please give me that package."
"The Agency...never heard of. Is it CIA? Or FBI? Pentagon?"
"You're not supposed to have heard of us."
"Oh... OH! So what are you doing?"
"Counter Intelligence."
"Then you're not CIA."
"Mrs. West, the CIA has to follow rules...We make them. Now, for the last time. Give me that package."
"I see, it's urgent. My daughter told me about a note with gibberish. It's a secret message, isn't it?"
"That's a need to know."
"So it is. But once you see the note, you can decipher it, right?"
Scarecrow ran a hand through his hair. These women were too perceptive for their own good.
"Here you go, mister. Package, note and even the wrapping paper. Have a nice evening and goodbye."
"Amanda, why are you so rude to this nice gentleman?"
"Mother, I..."
From outside a voice could be heard suddenly.
"Hello, Dotty? Amanda? It's me, Peggy. Open the door."
For a moment everybody froze. Then Amanda grabbed Scarecrow by the lapels of his charcoal designer suit jacket and pushed and pulled him upstairs.
"Go! She can't find you here!"
"Why? She a soviet agent?" Despite all this mayhem, Scarecrow started to feel amused and felt like teasing the resolute Mrs. McGuire.
"Worse. She's the neighbourhood chatterbox. If she finds you in here, she will tell around and then I get in trouble with my husband."
With a last push she made sure he stumbled up the stairs, straightened her moron sweatshirt over her deep green sweatpants, and turned around to open the front door with a smile.
"Hi Peggy, what's up?"
"Hi Amanda, you wouldn't believe it! I just heard from Marjorie, that Paula told Susan, Rachel is having an affair with the vicar! She's seen them last Saturday at the mall."
Amanda sighed deeply.
"Peggy, that's complete nonsense. Mr. Thomas asked Rachel to help him organise the children's day over at the church and probably she just helped him shopping. Really, you have sometimes the worst imagination."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't believe that there's nothing between them. Have you seen that silver sports car next to Jenny Sommer's? Wonder whose car it is. Anyway, what's up with Dean out of the house? Having any interesting men around?...Hi Dotty."
"Peggy, how nice to see you. How's Ed?"
"Don't ask me! I could tell you stories. I don't know why I married this man in the first place. He's such a slob sometimes. Over and over again I tell him...how about some coffee?"
Dotty and Amanda exchanged glances.
"Certainly, Peggy. But you have to excuse Amanda, she needs to call Dean."
"You know Amanda, you've got a fine man. Always caring, always doing all the unpleasant things for you. I don't know why you dress like this. I can still remember, when you were with Joe. Some of those outfits, woah! But then, we were all younger and could do things, we can't do anymore. But let me tell you, if you don't start wearing nice, appealing clothes soon, he will start looking elsewhere."
"Believe me, Peggy. Dean is happy with how I am. And please excuse me now."
Amanda left the room to find her other guest.
"You know Dotty, it's a shame with Amanda... such a beautiful young woman and dressing like old Mrs. Jefferson from Oak drive. But it's her marriage. I won't say anything." Happily Peggy accepted a cup of coffee, prepared to spend some time with Dotty West.
Amanda found her 'waiter' in her mother's bedroom in the chair, browsing through old photo albums.
"What are you doing in here? Who gave you the right to go through my mother's personal stuff?" She hissed at him angrily.
"Listen, I called my people to decipher the codes. I felt bored and started to have a look around. It's not like I went through her undies, so calm down."
"Calm down, calm down! I never should have taken this darn package. But no, of all times to be reckless, I had to choose this moment with you. Dean was right all along. But I had to be dissatisfied and went out of my way to do something he wouldn't..." Abruptly she fell silent, realising, she told a stranger about her marital problems.
"So, what did your people say?"
"They call me back here to tell me what Crypto found out."
"Crypto?"
"Need to know. I already tell you more than it's good for you."
"Listen, Mr...."
"Scarecrow."
"Huh? That's your name?"
"My codename."
"Okay, Mr. Scarecrow, I'm pretty much involved as it is right now. And I think I have a right to know, what's going on, if you turn my mother's bedroom into an Agency office, don't you think?"
"Just Scarecrow."
He was biding his time. Could he trust her to keep her mouth shut? Yes, if only not to have to deal with an angry husband.
"Okay, this note is supposed to tell me something about a leak in the Agency, big enough to sink the Titanic and now agents drop dead like flies. Do you know now, why it is so important for me? There are lives at stake, goddammit."
Amanda put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Oh my God. Those poor people. I will do whatever I can to help you."
Scarecrow snorted. How much of a help could be a normal suburbian American housewife?
"Listen, I appreciate that you try to help, but honestly there's nothing you can do. Just..."
The phone rang and Amanda answered.
"Hello. This is Amanda McGuire speaking...Oh, hi Dean...Dean, not now. I expect a very important phone call...No, it's not a man....Well, it is, it's Joe. He wrote he'd try to call me this evening to tell me, when he comes home...Certainly he will take the boys...Dean....Dean...that's...Dean, I'm sorry, but I need to say goodbye right now. I talk to you later..."
Frustrated Amanda hang up and looked embarrassed at her guest.
Scarecrow looked equally embarrassed around, trying to find a safe topic.
"Well, I guess these are your children?" He pointed to a photo in the album and witnessed a transformation in Mrs. McGuire. A tender smile graced her face.
"Sure. Philip and Jamie. Philip's 10 and Jamie 8. They're with some friends and their dads at a little league game. They love to watch and play. Normally I'd have gone with them, but then I didn't know when you'd come to get the package. Is it really that bad?"
"Yes, it really is." Frustrated Scarecrow started to pace.
Amanda looked at him speculatively. He didn't seem to be a bad person and really caring about his friends and that leak. Maybe she had misjudged him on the train station. He turned around, when he heard a small chuckle emanating from her.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I'm just thinking about how I'm sitting in my mother's bedroom with a spy and wait for some secret message to be deciphered. Pretty much unbelievable."
"That's not so unusual. You wouldn't think of places I've been, while waiting for something to happen." He smiled and got an answering smile. They fell silent again.
Scarecrow jumped towards the phone, when it rang, disturbing the silence. She picked up.
"....Oh, it's for you."
"Yeah, what do you have?...What?...That's rubbish! Pilgrim's Peach Pie...What's that supposed to mean?...Use another key code...I know that's...I don't think...yeah...yeah. You're the expert. Bye."
He turned around and sighed in frustration.
"Pilgrim's Peach Pie, Duck á la Nathan Hale...Goddammit!"
Amanda sat in silence. Suddenly she jumped off her mother's bed and ran out of the room.
"Wha...?" 'Did she forget she had something in the oven? Housewifes!' He snorted. He had to get out of here to try to find another way to find the leak.
Slightly breathless, Amanda returned with a notebook in her hand.
"Pilgrim's Peach Pie...Duck á la Nathan Hale..." She started to read aloud.
"Huh? Okay, they're recipes, but I don't see a connection between cooking and our leak."
"You don't understand. My mother is an avid follower of Mrs. Welsh. Every week Mrs. Welsh cooks on cable 7 old forgotten dishes. She's very famous. But sometimes I think her recipes aren't so hot. For instance about the duck...she said 400° for one and a half hours. But normally it's better to let the duck cook slower with less heat. Do you see, what I mean? No cook would do this normally. The duck just gets tough. Mother and I thought she got confused for a moment. .... But what if she didn't?"
Conspirating Amanda McGuire lent towards her spy.
Scarecrow was flabbergasted. This woman was AMAZING! She pulled facts out of nowhere and suddenly things made sense. His colleague Francine Desmond took cooking lessons at Mrs. Welsh's. What if she was the involuntary leak? Did Mrs. Welsh pass the information via television? He asked for the recipe book, carefully comparing them to several stints that had gone wrong. There was no doubt. The baking degrees and the hours matched meeting points.
"Ahm, Mrs. McGuire...I don't know what to say. It's possible. I have to go now."
"You're welcome, Mr. Sc...Scarecrow...Wait."
"What?"
"Peggy's downstairs. She can't see you."
"I HAVE to go NOW!"
"I know...come on."
Quietly she lead him to her bedroom and opened a window.
"You want me to climb down the trellis?" Scarecrow looked dumbfounded at Mrs. McGuire.
"Yes. It's the only way. Peggy won't leave in the next hours and if we try to kick her out, she'll get suspicious and when she sees you leaving the house...I don't want to even think about the consequences. Besides, I don't think you've never left a woman's bedroom through the window before." She teased.
"Not a married woman's bedroom. Too much complication."
"Well, consider it as a new experience."
"'Consider it as a new experience'..." Scarecrow grumbled as he climbed out. "And I didn't even have any fun."
"You'll live."
Amused she watched him struggling his way down and then he was gone.
"He didn't even say thank you. That man has no manners. James Bond would never be so rude...at least not to a woman."
After a moments thinking, she changed into more "normal" clothes and went down to find a chatting Peggy and her mother with slightly glazed-over eyes.
"...and old Mrs. Jefferson told him, he would be welcome. Please, Mr. Olowsky is even too old to take care of his own garden."
"Hi Amanda. Did you reach Dean?" She looked pointedly at Amanda.
"Yes, mother. And it was the most interesting conversation. I'm sorry you two, but I have to go now. I need to run an errant for Dean. Bye mother, bye Peggy."
And off she was.
"Now, that's a nice outfit. Why doesn't she look like that when Dean's at home?"
Amanda steered carefully her wagon through the rush hour of a Thursday afternoon on her way to Mrs. Welsh. She had assisted in this case too much to let go. She wanted to be there, when it came to the showdown.
She parked her car behind a silver Porsche, which probably did belong to Scarecrow. Hadn't Peggy said something about a silver sports car parking in the neighbourhood? He was already there. When she walked up to the old mansion, and crouched down behind a big bush, when she saw Scarecrow coming out of the door flanked by two men carrying guns. Amanda came to the conclusion, that she was probably the only one, who could help the agent.
She stepped out of her hiding-place and walked confidently towards them.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but would you be so kind to help me? I've car problems."
The men whirled around, and the bodyguards tried quickly to hide their guns. One of them spoke up. Scarecrow was angry. What was she doing here? Didn't she realise the danger?
"Well, we..."
"Please. I need to pick up my children from the stadium and I'm already late. They will be worried. And who's going to have a look over them, as long as I'm not there? Nowadays it's so dangerous for children to wait alone somewhere. You never know what kind of people try to speak to them or worse do to them. I just can't figure out the problem. I'm not low on gas. And suddenly the car stops and I can't make it run again."
Seeing a possible way to distract his guardians for a moment, Scarecrow spoke up.
"That seems serious, ma'm. I'm sure we have time to take a look at your car, don't we?"
The guardians exchanged a look. They couldn't afford to draw attention to them, not now, when they had the Scarecrow in their clutches.
"Okay, let's have a look. Where's your car?"
"Just down the road. Not far. I really hope it's nothing serious. The car shops are so expensive these days. And I'm never sure, if it's really necessary what they do, when the car's in the shop. Somehow things are always more expensive than originally thought. See, here's my car. I open the engine bonnet. One moment please. Okay, it's open."
One of the men gestured for Scarecrow to pull it up. Involuntarily they bent over and looked into the engine compartment. That was the moment for Scarecrow to act. Quickly he delivered a punch to his distracted bodyguard. And Amanda pushed down the engine bonnet; as fast as she could to squeeze the man between engine and engine bonnet. With all her might she pressed down, while Scarecrow disabled the second man with a last punch that sent the man into oblivion. Picking up his gun, he told Amanda to let loose.
Pointing his gun towards him, he ordered the man to stand next to his companion and walked backwards to his car to call the cavalry.
Amanda closed the hood and walked slowly up to the agent to find a seat on the edge of the pavement. Her legs threatened to give out.
"Oh my gosh. I can't believe I did that."
"Well you did. Don't you know how dangerous this was? You could've easily hurt."
"I know. But I saw you and the guns and figured that you're in trouble and on your own. Should I stand by and watched you getting hurt?"
"If you had half of a brain, you wouldn't have come in the first place."
"If I had only half of a brain, you wouldn't be here either."
"It was only a matter of time before we'd have figured it all out."
"You told me you didn't have time."
"Don't argue with me."
"I don't argue. I'm only stating facts."
Scarecrow glared at her for a moment, then he smiled while shaking his head.
"You are some special lady. I'm glad you came after all, I think."
"Is this your way to say thank you?"
"Ahm..."
Amanda enjoyed him squirming. Deep down she recognized his gratitude. He had just difficulties expressing it.
Scarecrow was relieved to see the non-descriptive Agency cars pull into the road and stop next to him. His section chief, a black, short, overweight man emerged from the car. He radiated authority.
"Scarecrow, report! And put this scum away. And who's that?" He barked orders, while pointing at Amanda McGuire and the cuffed, unconscious men.
"I...we...she discovered, that Francine is the leak. Drugged up to the gills, she talks to Mrs. Welsh, who passes the information during her cooking lessons on TV. I found them while interviewing Francine. Unfortunately I got caught and was about to be deported by the next flight to Moscow, when Mrs. McGuire here helped me out of misery."
"Where's Francine now? And what about this Mrs. Welsh?"
"We need to go in right now. I don't know how long they will stay put before they realize there's something wrong."
"Okay. Barnes, Ogglevy, Podolsky...in. Now! You will stay here, Mrs. McGuire. I have some questions."
"Certainly, sir." Self-consciously Amanda tried to smooth her clothes.
Awed she watched the men deploy and enter the house. One or two gun shots could be heard, then silence. A little while later the men came out again with Mrs. Welsh in between them, handcuffed along with two other bad guys. Scarecrow carried a stunning blonde in his arms. An ambulance arrived on the scene along with police. And Amanda McGuire realized this was no television, when Scarecrow carefully laid down the blonde on the stretcher and one of the Agency men had blood seeping through his sleeve. This was real and frightening and messy and ugly - it was exhilarating. She observed Scarecrow and the black man conversing quietly with short glances directed at her from time to time. Her nervousness grew exponentially.
Finally the black man approached her.
"Mrs. McGuire. I hear you've been behind all this. Congratulations. That was a fine piece of work for a civilian. Quick thinking. Great intuition. You seem to have the instincts. We need those talents. I hear you're looking for a job. We could need an extra hand in the steno pool. Any qualifications, Mrs. McGuire?"
Amanda was flustered. Did it mean, this man offered her a job with the Agency? Would she work with Scarecrow?
Her voice croaked, when she answered.
"Well, I almost majored in American Lit, I type real fast with almost no mistakes. My shorthand is a bit rusty. I've always written the speeches for my first husband. I have a reputation for being good in organisation. I have some basic knowledge of computer systems and databases."
"Well, I think we can find something for you. Why don't you put together your VC and Scarecrow here picks it up let's say in a week? That convinient? That is, if you'd like to work with us."
"Oh sir, it's not a question of wanting to work with you, but I need to think about this. I have two small boys and a...I need to think about this. At most I could work half-days."
"Well, think about this. Scarecrow here will approach you again next week. And now I need you to come with us to give a full report on this case."
Amanda nodded shyly. The man offered her his arm.
"Wait. What about my car?"
"Well, you can't follow us. Scarecrow, drive Mrs. McGuire to the Agency and make sure, she'll have a lift afterwards back to her car...I see you soon."
Left to their devices, Scarecrow turned to her.
"Well, Mrs. McGuire, looks you're about to get a job."
"How do you know I want a job in the first place?" Amanda asked suspiciously.
"I listened to your conversation with your mother."
"You WHAT?"
"I needed to make sure it was no trap for me."
"That's PREPOSTEROUS! You had NO right to listen in to a private conversation. Is there nothing sacred for you?'"
"Nope."
"Well, I hope this is no general attitude with your Agency, otherwise I'm not sure, I want to work with you."
"Why are you so upset?"
"Because it's not right to listen in."
"Oh man, it's not as if I had been under your bed, when you make love with your husband!"
"You're horrible!"
Amanda McGuire paled and blushed in turns.
"No, I'm realistic. Lady, this is sometimes dirty business. And trespassing the privacy threshold is part of our business. How else do you think we bust the enemy? It's not as if they put an ad into the newspaper."
"Well, I'm not a bad guy."
"How was I supposed to know that? You didn't deliver the package."
"Because I couldn't!"
"I think we covered this already. Now, get in the car."
"Please."
"What?"
"Get in the car, please."
"What? Are you trying to drive me crazy?"
"No, I'm trying to install some manners into you. You seriously lack some social skills, mister. You won't even tell me your name."
Exasperated Scarecow ran a hand through his hair.
"It's Lee."
"Well, nice to meet you, Lee. My name's Amanda."
She held out her hand and reflexively Lee gripped it to shake it only to snatch it back like burnt. Angrily he motioned her to get in the car and off they were.
Billy Melrose had been about to leave, when he overheard the discussion between his top agent and Mrs. McGuire. He was impressed. Not many people could press Scarecrow's buttons like this Mrs. McGuire. The wheels in his head started to spin. He envisioned a partial co-operation between these two. He practically smelled the possibilities.
##########
For Amanda the following seven days were alternately the longest and the shortest of her life. She was agonizing over the job offer of that Agency boss Melrose. Should she take it, should she leave it?
Eventually her mother pointed out that Dean obviously wouldn't change his mind about Amanda's job and that the Agency should know a thing or two about keeping secrets. And so Amanda prepared her VC, bothered by self-doubts. If you looked at it from a certain point of view, there was nothing really encouraging in there.
Heading up to a master's degree in American Literature, married two months before the final exams, postponing the exams for supporting her husband during his finals in Law, then getting pregnant, postponing again, getting pregnant with her second child.
Ever since then ordinary American housewife, who sacrified herself for her husband's career, then being left behind with two little children for the greater good of humanity. Finally divorce. Feeling too old to pick up her studies again. Remarried.
No real qualifications for any qualified job.
Would she be good enough for the Agency?
Then the seventh day. Amanda felt jumpy all over. Would Scarecrow, no Lee come for her?
She got the shock of her life, when Lee knocked at the back door too lost in thoughts of what ifs. What if she had insisted on marrying after her finals? What if she had followed Joe to Africa? What if ...what if....what if....what if she hadn't married Dean so fast after her divorce - filled up with stories of divorced women with children, who had never been able to find a partner again because of the children? What if she would be alone for the rest of her life?
After encouraging the agent to come in she silently offered him her thin folder.
Lee looked at Dotty, who shrugged with her shoulders. She wouldn't help her daughter in this. Amanda had to do this on her own.
Equally silent Lee leafed through it without any expressions.
Finally Amanda jumped off the couch. She couldn't take it anymore.
"Please, Lee, say something."
"What do you want me to say?"
"Something. Anything. I don't know."
"You don't have a lot of experience."
"I know. Somehow things were always more important than me."
"And now?"
"Now I feel like I should at least try to make some dreams come true before it's really too late for me."
"Well, do you want to work for The Agency, Amanda?"
"I want to work."
"Do you realize, what it means to work for us? As a stenotypist, you will see, read or hear things, you can't talk of to somebody."
"I know this."
"Not to your friends, not to your mother, not even to your husband."
"Don't you worry. I won't talk to Dean or anybody else about my work. I know national security is a big deal."
"Amanda, I know you feel...restricted in your marriage. Is it possible that your potential involvement with the Agency might stem from the wish to spite your husband? And nothing more?"
"Do you say I apply for a job with you on a childish tantrum?"
"Do you?"
"NO! I apply for a job with you to make a difference, to make it safer for my children."
"Okay, I will take this to my boss, tell him what you told me so far and about my impressions. If he's still interested in you after my report, you will have to undergo several interviews and security checks over the course of several weeks. The questions will be very personal and for you probably impertinent. But we have to know you, your strengths and your weaknesses, your likes and dislikes, what pushes your buttons and what not. Are you ready to do this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Only not to work for us."
"Then I have no choice."
"No. I have to go now. You will hear from us."
"Wait...If Mr. Melrose decides he doesn't need me after all, will I ever see you or anybody else from your organisation again?"
"No."
"In this case...I'm glad to have met you."
Lee smiled for the first time. He couldn't help but like this Mrs. McGuire. And for the first time he wondered, what kind of person she would have become, if she hadn't married so young. Would she be a teacher? He thought she would have been a good one.
"I'm glad, too, Amanda. Maybe I will see you again."
##########
In the end Mr. Melrose decided to discard her poor experience, and Amanda had to undergo the long procedure of security checks. But finally she made it and Lee delivered the message personally. Somehow he looked forward to see her whenever he felt like it and he became pretty fast fond of Dotty as well. Amanda felt relief. No there was no turning back anymore.
And proudly she entered the house of the "International Film Foundation" for the first time.
Being a likeable person she made friends fast in the steno pool. Rumour had it quickly spread that she had been recruited by Scarecrow and Mr. Melrose himself. And people wanted to know what made her so special after all. In exchange Amanda heard all kinds of water cooler gossip about the various single male agents with the ever favourite topic Lee Scarecrow Stetson. And upon learning that Amanda was married and that the tentative friendly relationship with him was purely platonic and work related as far people could tell, those single females of the pool who dreamt of grounding the Scarecrow were more than relieved to find in Amanda no competition. Amanda learned quickly and after her more than successful involvement of the case of the arms dealer and manager of Conny Beth Cosmetics, she was considered as the rising star among the typists.
But one question stayed with her day and night. What would happen, if Dean ever got to know?
To be continued?