He must have fallen asleep indeed, for when opening his eyes he found himself in a small, dark garage where two expensive cars were parked. Vivian pulled into one of the spaces not yet occupied and climbed out of the car. "Come on", she said.

He got out, stretched and followed her. Somehow he got the idea that she was watching him closely, that she was analysing every move he made. Trying to walk bolt upright and in forceful strides, he marched after her into a lift. Vivian pressed a button, and up they went. It seemed to him that their trip lasted for ages. Finally the doors slid open and he was in the most exciting homestead he had ever seen.

Through a glass door he and Vivian entered a flat high above the city. Never before had he seen anything like this. Almost all the walls were made of glass; one had a marvellous view out over the pattern of lights below. This must have cost a fortune, he thought. Whoever lived here must be very rich indeed.

Vivian locked the door behind them. "So", she said, absolutely at ease in this place. "My partner will turn up soon now. Pray be seated."

The living room was wide and spacey, and the glass wall curved in a graceful arc. Probably the whole flat was round, he assumed. Or at least half round.

Could they be seen from outside? Probably not; they were high up over the city. Still the transparent wall gave him a certain feeling of uneasiness he could not quite lay a finger upon. Forcing himself to appear completely calm, he nodded at the woman gratefully and slumped into a soft brown leather sofa.

"Now, Anthony. Do you have any idea what kind of job your friend suggested for you?"

Of course he had wondered. But he had not the faintest idea. So he shrugged while shooting Vivian a quizzical look to signal his interest.

"Hmmm." She gave him exactly that sort of mysterious smile parents tend to reserve for their children when Christmas is approaching and there is some secretive business going on. "You'll find out, trust me." She sat down close beside him, and his nostrils caught a faint, sweet scent, probably perfume. "You know, I'd like you to make a bit of conversation now, if you don't mind." With this a notepad and a pen were pushed into his unresisting hands. "So, tell me what you can do. Something about your skills. Just what comes to your mind."

What did she mean by that? The subjects he'd had at school? What types of cars he could drive? The sports he could do? How far he could jump?

"Just what comes to your mind", she repeated, smiling, when she saw his irritated look. "I won't be watching you if that makes you nervous." With that she rose and sauntered over to the glass wall, thoughtfully gazing down at the city lights.

He followed her with his eyes, and he was utterly unable to ignore a nasty little thought at the back of his mind, telling him that being alone with a woman like Vivian was a nice idea indeed, and in what things it might result if he was lucky…

Slowly she turned, and her eyes passed over him. Embarrassed for gaping at her like that, he bent down to the notepad and started writing, dragging the tip of the pen over the paper very carefully, trying to form the flow of the ink into his finest handwriting. I can drive cars and motorbikes and also trucks (but only if they're small). Actually he had never driven a truck yet, but it wouldn't sound too bad, and he assumed he could cope with a little one. What else? The languages he spoke? Good idea. I speak English and Romanian, some French, German and Spanish and a bit of Latin. Well, that he spoke these languages was exaggerated, he noted, feeling his embarrassment grow. So he struck out speak carefully and scribbled understand above it.

Oh no. He was making a horrible mess of that.

Again Vivian seemed to be able to read his mind. "Just anything you can think of", she said. "Anything that might come in useful. Whatever you're good at."

Smiling shyly at her, he considered it for a moment. Just anything he was good at? Oh, alright. He took a deep breath and continued underneath what he had written already: Although I have never really learned it, I'm not too bad at fencing. I'm also quite capable of fighting someone hand-to-hand. As I've always been good at sports, I would probably prove an apt pupil if you would mind to teach me some Martial Arts.

Reading this paragraph again, he found that it didn't sound too bad. With new energy he plunged on: I have some acrobatic skills (take flips and handstands etc. for example) and can climb almost everything that stands still long enough, and quite a lot of things that don't, too. At this little attempt of humour he grinned. You might find that I'm hard to knock out of balance. I'm not afraid of heights, and I'm not afraid of jumping off cliffs. That directly led him to another idea: I think I can call myself an expert swimmer and diver. Maybe he had never tried real scuba-diving, but he needn't mention it, he thought. Snorkelling had to do. Besides, he could dive without equipment just as well (but of course not for too long), so he really wasn't lying. I have some idea of surfing and sailing. I can ride horses and bicycles (although I have to admit that I'm much better at the latter). Yes, he could ride a horse when someone was leading it by the bridle. But no need to mention that.

"Seems you've acquired quite a lot of things in such a short time", Vivian laughed, watching him scribble away furiously.

Looking up at her, a grin sneaked upon his face. And there were still a lot more things that he could do!

Next paragraph. I'm a quick learner; I don't take long with either practising a move or memorizing texts and poems. Be sure I remember and carry out instructions as I'm supposed to do.

What had Vivian said back in the car? If he could be brutal when he wanted to? After a moment of thought he therefore added: In such situations I'm not too scrupulous concerning people getting in the way.

Wow. Sounded like an assassin's job application.

An assassin's job application? What job was he applying for? Some job where brutality obviously might come in very useful.

And what had that strange remark been again? Efficient men are usually better than gloaters. That was it. She had said that while they were driving to this place, and he had wondered what she meant. Now the answer was suddenly there, dancing tangibly before his eyes: An assassin who killed efficiently and without delay was faster than one who took pleasure in gloating at his victim's pain. And the victim stood less of a chance against the efficient one.

Oh man.

Maybe she meant something else, he hurried to think. No, she can't be looking for a killer. Not a woman like her. And Benji wouldn't try to make me a criminal.

And then something most irritating occurred to him: He didn't actually know what Benji did for a living. He merely knew that it earned him some money.

Quite a lot of money, to be exact.

Benji, his friend Benji a… murderer?

His eyes darted back at Vivian, at her alluring figure and pretty features. Would a woman like her really be in contact with criminals?

Why not? asked a nasty little voice from the back of his head.

Oh, come on, boy, you're imagining things! Angry with himself, he turned his attention back to the notepad and tried to concentrate. I can play the recorder and the piano a bit he came up with. I know how to use a computer more or less. Although I don't speak, I think I have some skills concerning acting. I can also dance, but I don't like it too much. Well, actually it was not the dancing itself he didn't like. It was the circumstances. There were very few girls who would dance with him. Most of the others stayed out of his way. It seemed that they were somehow afraid of him, a fact which sometimes made him proud, but sometimes grieved him. He was a loner. "It's your eyes", a girl from the orphanage had said once. "You've got scary eyes sometimes. They're so cold. And when you stare at someone… sometimes, you know… one is getting the idea that you're… quite capable of murder. Sorry about that", she had hurried to continue. "Don't take offence at it. It's just what they're saying."

Quite capable of murder…

Some people are afraid of my eyes he wrote. I'm good at that special stare. To give it a little try, he glared hard at the notepad and imagined it writhing and withering under his eyes, savouring the feeling this gave him.

Wow.

With determination, he added: Some say that I look quite capable of murder.

Very nice. Very impressive.

Yes, but what if Vivian was about to offer him the job of, say, a bank accountant?

No, probably not. She had sounded mysterious enough. It couldn't be anything as common as that.

What? You're now hoping she's offering you the assassin's job? his conscience asked, highly alert suddenly.

Oh, shut up! he mentally shot back. It needn't be the assassin. It could just be… a spy. A spy, yes. A spy was good. A spy was exciting.

What else was there to write about himself? I'm not complicated; I don't complain about anything. Maybe some people are frightened of me, but I'm not that unpleasant a chap to work with. And I certainly don't ask stupid questions.

Nice joke, boy, he thought sarcastically. Nothing else to tell her about you?

I can make scrambled eggs he finished lamely, then gave the notepad back to Vivian. Currently there was nothing else that came to his mind. But he was sure that he would think of something clever very soon now and be highly annoyed he hadn't thought of it earlier.

Vivian carefully read through what he had written down. Suddenly he was very aware that it might sound silly, that she might laugh at him. Why on earth had he written that rubbish about his eyes?

"Very interesting", Vivian said finally, not showing if she had noticed his embarrassment or not. "Skilful fellow, are you?"

He forced himself to a grin, feeling his cheeks burn. Please don't let me go red in the face right now…

"Show me that particular stare", Vivian said. To his great surprise and even greater relief, she wasn't laughing.

I won't be able to. I'll do it all wrong. She'll burst out laughing as soon as I try.

Well, he told himself, he had to. It was worth a try.

Now how was it done? Just a minute ago he had managed it and felt great about it.

He could do it again. Imagining nobody was looking at him, he narrowed his eyes. Automatically his eyebrows slid into position, and the next moment he was getting that feeling again. Pressing his lips together so that they would look thin and white, he gave the air two inches from Vivian's head the coldest and most baleful glare he could manage.

"Oh." She almost seemed impressed. "Can you narrow your eyes a little bit more? So that they become slits?"

He did what she told him to, believing to feel the gentle throbbing of blood in his lips.

"And now cock your head forward a tiny bit – excellent! – and turn your face a little bit away from me, without looking anywhere else. Exactly. Boy, you're a natural."

This came so unexpected for him that his features shifted into an expression of bewildered surprise, which in turn made Vivian laugh. "Hasn't anybody told you yet?"

Almost retreating into the sofa, he shook his head. He must have looked really, really stupid right now.

"High time someone told you, then." Still laughing, she slumped onto the sofa next to him and nudged him in the ribs. "Cheer up, it was really good. You know what? Until my partner arrives, why don't you make us some scrambled eggs, master cook? I'm starving."

Mentally he gave himself a slap. It had been no good idea, definitely, putting that on the list! But there was no way out of it right now. Helplessly he followed Vivian into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was that they had the same spectacular view from the kitchen; here the walls were made of glass too. The second thing was that this kitchen was much larger and cleaner than he had imagined it. Of course there was a large kitchen at the orphanage, but there was always a bit of untidiness about it, something he sorely missed about this one. It looked so… sterile. It made him uneasy.

"There you go, darling", Vivian said lightly, tossing him a small saucepan, which he managed to catch single-handed. "And there. And there." Very soon he found himself surrounded by ingredients. Was this one of the tests she had mentioned? But this was ridiculous!

Well, the easier it would be for him. He would show her that a hearth was absolutely no obstacle in his way. Without much trouble he got it running, whistling to himself as he did. When he had been a small boy, he recalled clearly that he had whistled very often. Later on, at that particular time he did not want to think of anymore, he had stopped it. But later, in his teenage years, he had returned to the old habit. Whistling made him feel more relaxed in most cases, and when it didn't, it at least made others believe that he was relaxed and at ease with himself.

Behind his back, Vivian was working with something, but he didn't dare to turn around to check what she was doing, in case she was watching him. After a few minutes, when a friendly smell began to fill the kitchen, she came over to have a look.

"Very nice", she stated, resting one hand between his shoulder blades.

He gave a little growl, unable to suppress it as, again, some slightly dirty thoughts crossed his mind.

Vivian ignored it. "I wonder", she said, mustering him, "what you should wear in your job, if my partner takes you."

He shot her a quizzical look before turning his attention back to the pan.

"Well, you certainly can't go like that. That wouldn't be… stylish", she answered with a strange little laugh.

Scanning his jeans and sweater critically, he found nothing wrong with them. What did she mean? There wasn't anything wrong with his clothes! Maybe the sleeves were getting somewhat thin at the elbows, but that was all.

"I wonder", Vivian continued, "how a suit would look on you."

At this he gave her an agonized look. He felt much better in his normal clothes. Besides, the nuns kept telling him to keep still on the rare occasions when he had to wear a suit. Seemingly he had the rather useless ability of almost immediately crumpling up everything he wore.

"We'll give it a try", Vivian insisted. "I'm a better judge than you when it comes to that."

To this he didn't react, although it quite annoyed him. Probably she was right, even if he hated to admit that.

She left the kitchen, accompanied by a clatter of plates, which made him guess that they would have a meal. Soon she returned. "Turn round for a moment", she ordered.

Just about to use some salt and pepper, he stopped in the course of doing so and faced her. Vivian was smiling roguishly, some clothes suspiciously looking like a suit and a white shirt over her arm. "Leave the eggs to me and put that on. It might be about your size."

Putting salt and pepper down, he considered this for a moment. Was this one of the orders he had promised to carry out? Then it seemed that he had no choice. Suppressing a sigh, he took the clothes from Vivian and went out, leaving the cooking to her.