-
The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight."
Sherlock Holmes, Masterpiece Mystery!: Sherlock -
(current events.)
Her mother was the first to notice a difference. Jessica was happier, more alert and outspoken. Then a few teachers made note of her new confidence. She was told about this in training, and did her best to continue feigning any change. But she couldn’t help it sometimes; she felt so good! Her memory was sharper, thanks to various supplements and nutrition tips from Doc Schwinn; she was much more agile and aware of her own body from Agent 14’s exercises, and of course her recent awareness of world affairs. It was this last detail that made her mother’s ears perk up. Jessica’s parents often sat and watched the news together after dinner. She came in during a story on an international crisis. Without thinking, she made a particularly educated comment on the situation. Now, if her parents had themselves been more versed in political affairs around the globe, they would have been much more suspicious. However, her father simply thought that her teachers must be talking about this story in their classes, and dismissed it. But her mother, a teacher herself, knew that such things were not discussed in classes of Jessica’s grade level, current or not. She eyed her daughter for a moment, and Jessica felt her gaze and deflected.
“It was in one of dad’s newspapers. I was using it to cover the table while I did my science project.” Jessica shifted her weight when she talked, and chided herself later for doing so. She waited, and her mother nodded and turned back to the TV. Jessica walked back into the kitchen to finish her dishes. She needed to be more careful.
-
The true mystery is the visible, not the invisible."
Oscar Wilde -
(snitch.)
“Good, you’re still here,” Agent Delta’s commanding presence filled the room. “Leave us, 33,” the blonde scooted out of the room with a look of relief. Agent Delta shut the door behind him. She had always favored Jessica; she had hand-picked her after all.
“How are you feeling?” It was nearly impossible to pick up any strain of compassion in Delta’s voice, but Jessica knew she wouldn’t have come if she weren’t concerned.
“Wonderful. I certainly hope there’s a bonus in order for whoever was holding the scalpel.” She always tried to lighten the mood with her superior, who often looked like she was waiting for a phone call about a new kidney. Delta ignored the comment.
“As you may have noticed, that was not a sniper from any registered Agency.” She began pacing, her thick black pumps clunking rhythmically on the sky-blue linoleum.
“He was wearing a mask, I didn’t notice anything significant—standard sniper rifle-”
“He was hired by a civilian.” Delta stopped, and Jessica noted how tall she looked in the white space.
“That’s impossible. My alias has no enemies; I’m a run-of-the-mill student,”
“I’m aware of that. The only other explanation is—”
“—My alias has been compromised.” Jessica sank down in the metal chair by the door. There were only two agents who knew her civilian identity. One was in the room. The other disappeared almost year ago, and was currently targeted as a traitor. She put her head in her hands.
“Agent 36 has been missing for nearly—”
“No. Not Bobby. It’s not possible. He wouldn’t…” Delta knelt down in front of Jessica, who was momentarily surprised at this emotional act.
“Jessica,” her voice was maternal, “we need to see what adds up. This is the risk of agent-to-agent relationships. That’s why we discourage agents from revealing their alias’ until marriage, should it progress to that stage.”
Jessica felt a prickling behind her eyes. Bobby had proposed to her, two days before he went missing.
“But—he may have been kidnapped, we can’t rule that out,” she was desperately searching for another explanation.
“All the more reason to keep your identities secret.” There was a muffled beep from Delta’s hip. She pulled a small black rectangle from her belt loop.
“We need to get you back to position; the Time Alter can only hold the moment for about an hour.” She stood and became the Head Agent again. She opened the door and Jessica rose from the chair, collecting herself. Agent Delta gave her a meaningful look, a look that was truly sorry about the circumstances.
“I trust you will contact me should you have any more trouble.” That was Delta-code for, “I’m here for you.”
“33!” She barked, and the blonde was back. Jessica followed him out the door, back to the known reality.
~ ~ ~
“What was that?” Tina turned to look at Jessica.
“Nothing, just a bee.” She looked over at the top of the building, deep in thought.
-
It’s hard being visible, so I’ve made myself invisible."
Danielle Steel -
(The Baron.)
The moon was full. She took a deep breath and exhaled silently. The temperatures were reaching below zero, but beads of sweat formed on her temples. This wasn’t going to be easy, and she knew that. Crouched below the window, she surveyed the expanse of wood she had just made her way through. She was pretty amazed that she hadn’t even been heard, knowing full well there were at least forty guards posted in the western forest barricading Baron Krushla’s villa. A gruff moan came from the lit window. A mix of revulsion and anger flashed across her face as she tried not to picture what the Baron could be doing to one of his many—illegally acquired—underage sex-slaves. That’s why she was here. The Baron had been running an underground child-pornography ring for years, and had evaded the CIA’s hold countless times. When the dealings had spilled into the Agency’s jurisdiction, they wasted no time. She tightened her grip on the cold metal in her hand. A surly voice in Russian echoed out towards the snowy woods, something along the lines of, “Out! I’m done,” then a door slam. He was alone. Poised, she waited a few more moments until she could make out the creaking of the bed springs. Once she was sure, she made her move.
-
I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me."
Ralph Ellison -
(Famous.)
She awoke to the familiar bluish-white fluorescents of the medical center of Headquarters. It took her a moment to realize why she was there. She thought of moving her right hand to the wound, but it wouldn’t comply. She must have managed to look confused, because a tiny hispanic doctor came over with a lipsticky smile.
“We had to put you out to get the bullet; you won’t be able to move for a little bit.” Her reddish brown curls swayed as she gestured to the various tubes leading from plastic bags to Jessica’s hands. The small woman had a comforting accent. Jessica thought hard about smiling back, hoped it came through, then closed her eyes in exhaustion.
—-
“Agent 19?” a clear masculine voice called Jessica into consciousness. She was in her own room now, as sterile and plain as any other hospital room. As she opened her eyes, she did a mental check. She felt great, and decided to sit up to find the source of the voice. A young man with bleach-blond hair was standing at the foot of her bed, wearing a regulation navy suit. She noticed he had a small gold hoop earring in his left ear.
“Ma’am? I’ve been instructed to return you.” She was amused by his formality—he couldn’t have been much older than she; they might have been peers in the civilian world. She jumped out of bed, grateful for whatever connections the Agency had in getting top-of-the-line medical supplies, including amazing painkillers. He handed her a replica of the shirt she had been wearing, sans-bullet hole, and turned around respectfully. Jessica stifled a laugh as she removed the flimsy surgical gown and donned the double. She took a moment to examine the wound—if you could still call it that. Either it was a fantastically clean shot or the surgeons were magicians. She traced the dark raised lines that were the only evidence of the event.
“All set.” She shrugged as he turned back, and he nodded. His hands were clasped behind him. She studied his face. “Hey, lighten up!” She gave him a cheerful grin.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he looked his age for a moment, searching for words. She waited. “You’re the reason I joined the Agency,” he blurted, then his ears began to pink.
“Me? Really? How did you even-“
“My parents are agents, so I went through all the Privacy & Protection classes. Then some of the kids started talking about this girl who was our age, cleaning out all of these cases that they’ve been working on for years, and standing up to the General!” She could see it now, he was definitely a teenager, maybe no more than eighteen. His face was animated as he described the stories he’d heard about her escapades. Now she was blushing.
“I’m sorry, you must get this all the time.” He took a step back, smiling sheepishly.
“Actually, no. I had no idea there were stories about me.” She looked off, wondering.
“Um…can I ask you a question?” His voice was quieter. She thought he was going to ask for her autograph or something.
“Shoot.” (She made a mental note at the irony of the slang.)
“Well…we’ve all been kind of wondering…do you know what happened to Agent 36?” His last words were almost inaudible; obviously there were stories about her and Bobby going around as well. She closed her eyes—even in the Agency, there’s no privacy.
“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” He looked worried.
“No, it’s ok. I understand your…concern.” Curiosity was more like it. There was a knock at the door. The young man jerked and resumed his stiff agent stance. She hid her smile and reached for the knob. The door swung open.
-
(Brisk.)
After the briefing, Jessica suited up and went aboard the jet. She was excited; she’d been looking forward to this job for months. They explained the “Mental Heat” technique to her, but she felt she could handle it. Once on the plane, another agent showed her to the cab where she would undergo the new process. Jessica strapped herself in, very well accustomed to the flight procedure. When they were at a safe height, a little blue light blinked and she undid her restraints. No sooner had she stood than a blast of icy wind came at her left side. It nearly knocked her off her feet. Jessica tried to remember the instructions and started doing exercises to keep her blood flowing. The blasts were coming from all sides now. Her eyes were watering, but she kept moving. She began doing the new moves she had recently learned from Agent 14, under whom she now had private instruction.
It seemed endless. For her safety, they did not display the temperatures of the blasts, which were gradually dropping. The knowledge of the final numbers might have shocked her into hypothermia. (Hence the process’ title, “Mental Heat”). Russia would be no warmer than about 5 degrees Celsius right now, refrigerating the heavy snow blanketing the Baron’s compound. The process was developed to help agents stay mobile and alert in extreme conditions.
It worked. The frigid air was a welcome warmth to Jessica, who landed safely in a soft snowbank. Three hours of the treatment made her feel like she had just arrived in sunny Miami, not frostbitten Moscow. By the time she had made her way through the dark forest surrounding the Baron’s property, she was sweating bullets…
-
Ninety-nine percent of who you are is invisible and untouchable."
R. Buckminster Fuller
