Finding the Fit Chapter 4

Hunched over his computer spinning dialogue for his new novel, Rick gazes up as a familiar form clears his throat. The operative who dropped him off two days before is standing in front of his desk. "How did you get in here? Oh, never mind, you're the CIA. My security system wouldn't give you any trouble. That much I've already learned. So, time for another round?"

The operative holds up a hood. "You can put this on when we get downstairs."

Rick springs out of his chair. "Bring it on!"

Agent Turner drops another binder down on the table in front of Rick. "What's this?" he asks. "Another manual?"

"More like background material. In order to perform our missions, we develop sources. You're not on a level to know about most of them, but if you succeed in your training, you'll be joining their ranks."

"How?" Rick asks.

"On your last book tour, you not only hit the major markets in the US, you made stops in the UK, France, Germany, and Australia. Those are all allies, but you have readers in many countries that aren't. Some of them are fairly highly placed government officials."

"Wait a minute!" Rick protests. "Except for the few I have correspondence with, I don't know who my fans are. How do you?" Turner just stares down at him. "Right, of course, CIA. So what? You want me to meet with these readers and see what secrets I can extract?"

Turner smiles. "If there's any extracting to do, experienced agents will take care of it. All we want you to do is listen, Rick. Without realizing it, people often freely reveal information we can use. That's particularly true when they're talking to someone they admire. We just need you to engage certain fans in conversation and report everything they say. The material you have in front of you will give you some examples of how that's been successfully done in the past and ideas for how you can utilize those techniques."

"And you'll be grilling me on all of it the way you did last time?" Rick inquires.

"I know you have a fondness for film noir cops, Rick."

The writer rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. You probably know what brand of toothpaste I use."

"Until you sold your first book, whatever was on sale. Now it's Super Smile. But that's the point, Rick. Most of what we do is about gathering information. Sometimes it's useful. Sometimes it isn't, but we often don't know the difference until the need arises. And despite what happens in the movies, grilling isn't the most useful method for obtaining intelligence. What someone says in normal conversation or just to make themselves sound more important, often yields much more actionable data. So all you have to do is steer things the right way and report everything you hear. We'll take it from there. Studying what's in front of you now will help you do that."

Rick reaches for the thick notebook. "And, of course, you'll make sure that I have it all down pat."

"Of course."

What Rick reads is a lot less exciting than any scene he would write. In fact, he suspects that most of what's described would put his readers to sleep. But what the company uses and what he writes all spring from the same source: the need for human beings to feel and prove their own power somehow. For most people, it's more likely to be by bragging over a beer in a bar than by blowing up a building. Picking up on the former may yield much more information than noting the latter. And most sources, including American citizens, will give up information if they are just asked. That's what keeps security analysts up at night.

Giving Rick more time to absorb the information than with the first lesson, Turner returns to him in two hours. "So, what's your impression of all that?"

"It's very illuminating, but an author would have to work very hard to make an engaging story out of it."

"Which is good, because if you did, we'd have to kill you, Rick," Turner states matter-of-factly.

Rick's mouth gapes. "You would….?"

Turner breaks out in laughter, enhancing her beauty. "No, I wouldn't. If you tried, our analysts would catch it before it ever came close to going into print. But you might find it extremely difficult to ever publish another book. Publishers would hear a rumor that taking you on could trigger a tax audit."

A mix of horror and admiration swirls through Rick's brain. "Wow! That's devious!"

"And highly effective," Turner says. "So, ready to prove what you've learned?"

"Quiz away."

"Can you drop me off at Central Park instead of my loft?" Rick asks as the operative taking him home reminds him to put on his hood. "I really need to stretch my legs."

The operative looks toward Turner who shrugs and nods. "Fine," he agrees. "The north or south end?"

"The entrance nearest to Strawberry Fields," Rick decides. "After this place I can use a stroll across some green."

The operative gazes around the almost bare room. "Yeah, I can get that."

Breathing Manhattan's closest thing to fresh air, Rick ambles through the park until he reaches the lake. It's too late to rent a boat, and he's never enjoyed rowing anyway. But the large rocks on the shore are good places to stare at the water and think. He has a lot of thinking to do. Before his last tour, he hadn't been out of the United States much. Traveling a greater distance than school or the library was a rare thing while he was at Compassionate Hearts. Even when he did, it was no farther than a trip to a museum or a free concert. Between his own writing and his classes, he didn't have much time to travel in college either. He and Kyra had taken a few trips together, but they never went farther than it took to see Kyra's favorite bands. Back then, Rick also did a limited book tour in Canada and went to Mexico to experience The Day of the Dead, but that was about it.

Now he could become a real world traveler. He has no idea how the CIA can get Black Pawn to schedule that extensive an international tour, but he suspects they can pull it off. Of course, he'd be under the watchful eye of Agent Turner. But all in all, that wouldn't be so bad. It wouldn't be bad at all. She's different in almost every way from what he loved about Kyra. Kyra was petite and cuddly and could curl up in his lap almost like a kitten. She always spoke her mind – to everyone except her mother. And until she broke Rick's heart, Kyra was exceptionally kind, never passing a homeless person or a subway musician without giving them something. Turner is definitely not cuddly. He suspects her well-muscled body is as hard as a rock, perhaps with the exception of her classic female endowments. If Turner is kind, Rick hasn't seen it, except for granting his drop off at the park. And that was no skin off her or the CIA's nose. Still, she is beautiful. And he can't help wondering what lies beneath the tough exterior. If they do end up traveling together, he may get a chance to find out.

Even with the lights in the park, it's getting harder to see. Rick decides to climb down from his rock before he breaks his neck. He wouldn't be much use to the CIA then.