Chapter Two

Dinah awakened; she was lying on a foam rubber mattress covered in a white linen sheet. As she looked around the gray-colored walls, a sudden rush of familiarity came over her.

OmiGod, she thought. I'm back in The Factory! But why? I thought I was through as a remote viewer. She searched her mind for any memory of the past few hours; hazy, dimly-remembered memories of being led out of the main office at school in handcuffs, having a black pillowcase put on her head, being shoved into a car, and driving for a long time came to mind.

Damn, these guys are good … I can barely remember anything. What did they do to me back there? How long have I been here? How long have I been out?

A wave of panic and terror suddenly washed over Dinah. No … no. Please, God … not THIS again!

All at once, Dinah sat up on the mattress and checked herself. Snap out of it, she thought. She took a few deep breaths, regaining her composure. Remember your training. As if to remind herself of whom she was now, she threw a karate punch at the air. Focus … keep your wits about you. You're no longer the frightened little girl The Factory picked up three years ago. Dinah's face broke out in a wicked grin … And when the time is right, you're gonna let em know it!

An hour later, Dinah was standing in the Director's office; she was handcuffed behind her back. A pair of Men In Black -- matching suits, sunglasses, and all -- stood behind her. The Director -- a stocky bald man in his late-forties with a double chin -- sat behind his desk in front of her, his back to the windows behind him. The Director was dressed in the standard-issue Men In Black uniform of black two-piece suit, black wingtip shoes, white shirt, and black tie.

"Welcome home, Dinah", he said.

"I thought I was through as a remote viewer", said Dinah.

"How did you know we wanted a remote viewer?"

"Wasn't that the whole point of my being here the last time?"

"Actually, this is your first time at this particular facility", said The Director. "Before, you were at our District Four center."

They must have several facilities around the country, Dinah noted silently to herself. Gather intelligence. Keep him talking … and report back to Oracle.

"We've been watching you for some time, Dinah", The Director continued. "You're very powerful … I hope you realize that."

"How did you find me?" said Dinah.

"Oh … we have our methods", said The Director with a Cheshire-cat grin. "I'd hate to see such potential go to waste."

"What part of 'Leave me alone' do you not understand?" Dinah shot back.

The Director grinned and let out a snort. "It seems we've developed an attitude since we were here last", he said.

"I was thirteen. Back then, I was a frightened little girl."

"And now?"

"I'm older … a different person."

"We'll see about that", said The Director with a smirk. He then said to the to Men In Black who were standing behind her, "Take her away."

Back at the Clocktower, Barbara combed through every database and computer network she could access, trying to gather information about The Factory and where it operated.

Must be a black project, she thought. Above Top Secret. After all the torture they put Dinah through the last time, I'd probably hide too.

"Any luck finding the kid?" said a voice -- Helena's -- behind her.

"No", said Barbara mournfully as she turned around to face her. "This must a black program. Above Top Secret. I can't find anything on The Factory."

"What's a 'black program?' "

"A program funded by a black budget", Barbara replied, seemingly stating the obvious.

"Okaaaaaaay", said Helena. "This brings me to my next question…"

"What's a black budget?" said Barbara with a smile, completing Helena's thought. "It's a budget whose details are hidden from Congress … and by extension, the taxpayer.

"What happens is that Congress is presented with a bill seeking X amount of funding for Project X…period," Barbara explained. "Nobody knows what Project X is supposed to do, what purpose it's supposed to serve, or how the money is to be spent. Congress is forced to take a leap of faith and hope that the taxpayer's money isn't going to be wasted on gold-plated bathroom fixtures and junkets to Bermuda by the project's senior staff."

"I worked on a couple of them when I worked at the defense contractor," said Barbara. "Basically, it's called a 'black budget' because Congress and the taxpayers are kept … in the dark … about the details."

"OK. I see now", said Helena as she turned to leave. "I'll let you get back to work. I'm here if you need me." As she left the room, Barbara turned around and went back to work.