Chapter 6

HQ, London, England, 6 months later Agnes had passed the test. Ezra, the man who had chased her in a hummer and put a gun to her head, wasn’t a crazed French terrorist. He was a spy, stationed incognito anywhere around the world. The more Agnes separated herself from the world she thought was normal, the more she realized these people lived in an alternate constellation, with their own planet and moon. What you think is normal, pleasant, luxurious, or dangerous… sitting in that car, Agnes thought...not really, nothing is how I thought it was.

………………………...

Recruiting a new spy, a rookie, was not a usual necessity. There must be a good reason to not only try to find someone remotely capable of wanting to transform their lives, but also, someone who has nothing to lose. Very particular characteristics demonstrate to the seeker, that he, or she, could be the one. HQ wanted Grant to find a female agent, for reasons that were revealed to him not in their entirety, a mission involving… betrayal. But this too shall be revealed.

“Rookie” was the code word HQ, and the agents would use, in a simple text message. Code name for HQ was “Aunt Sally”, so that moment when your Aunt Sally sent you that delightful text, your primary objective was to filter out people, and maybe, just maybe, you would find someone worthy, and game, to play the role of a lifetime. Grant had been working on infiltrating a human trafficking ring, out of San Diego, and was about to go back to London, when he saw a young woman being berated in public, by a fat, sweaty, rude Australian man. Grant was getting into his car, but he couldn’t help but listen in.

He had stopped to get a coffee in some coffee shop, and had parked in the spots in front, when he heard this irritating voice, repeat the same phrase over and over again, “Just tell me now, just tell me now, I told you my partners were sending your paychecks, is that all that matters to you? I told you, I told, you, you are making me so angry! So angry! What is your problem?”

Grant glanced across the street, and saw him, and Agnes was standing next to him. Hand crossed in front of her. Taking it all in. She was a bit disgruntled, but still had a fresh, young look, although unpolished. He was a pudgy, despicable man, he could feel it in his veins. Preying on an obviously inexperienced, sweet girl. What lie did he tell her to get her to be his, what, girlfriend? His assistant?

But he continued to watch her. She was different though.

Any other person would cry, break down, or just walk away out of self-preservation and dignity. He could tell she was stuck with him for some reason. The only thing would be debt. He watched her wait until the man finished his ridiculous rant. Then, she sassed him, took a deep breath, and got in the car. He went around to the passenger seat, and off they went.

Intriguing.

He followed them. He already figured out this man was a con artist, it was obvious. The stores they would go into, and the daily change of motels, hotels, was just too easy to read. Expensive. And, at the cashier, or at the concierge desk, who would take out her credit card? Bingo.

Agnes.

That Australian man did not have the income to shop at Armani, he wore old V-neck t-shirts and ill-fitting khaki shorts. She, Agnes, was a bit more upscale, Grant could tell, the way she carried herself, her posture. Had she been a dancer? But her outfits and self-care were lacking a bit. No wonder, she had a human parasite sucking the life out of her. Grant observed them. How long would it take for her to either figure it out, or, for him to leave her since she was so strong, waiting it out, daring him to not pay her. Daring him to hurt her. She was truly unique.

The night he followed her into the road, a few hours before, he had seen her outside a gas station, on the way of San Diego. She sat inside her car, crying. Stalking would be the correct verb in this situation, but for a purely altruistic and positive end result, Grant was stalking her. He had found out her name after she had left the motel she and that pig had been staying in.

Grant had walked into the cheap, small lobby and asked the man standing behind the desk, if he might have seen a young lady, looking a bit blue.

“I’m her boyfriend, trying to surprise her… She has no idea I am in town.”

The man was skinny, hairy, and missing a front tooth. He spoke in a deep Southern accent.

“I reckon she was in room seven, but she and that man she had been staying with left. He left before her too, gave her quite the shock.”

Grant needed to see something with her name on it.

“May I see their last credit card payment? I promised myself I would take better care of her and track her spending habits. Poor dear, she just follows all of her whims.”

Our front desk clerk did not think much of this, and since he believed there was no such thing as intrusion of privacy, only concern, he looked up the bill, printed it out, and gave it to Grant.

“Yes sir, my wifey, she needs some discipline’ from time to time too. I reckon the belt is a good way of lettin’ em know who’s boss.”

Grant gulped dry, tried not to make a face, thanked the clerk, and left.

Agnes Villanova. Classy.

He knew she would have taken the interstate towards New Mexico; she was leaving California behind her. He looked at his watch, then opened his car door. Took a deep breath, turned on his black Mustang, and put on the radio. Some Led Zeppelin came on, he usually preferred electronica, but he left it on. Stairway to Heaven. He couldn’t help but think of this girl he now started to chase down, screeching tires, burning rubber, on the road to somewhere else. He easily caught up to her, then texted Aunt Sally:

“Rookie.”

Ezra responded almost instantly.

“I’m in”.

Whoever is closest in proximity to the spy who found the rookie is expected to be the right hand in planning, executing, and evaluating the test. It’s like a bachelorette party, of sorts. The venue would be the location for the “mission”, the invitees are the players for the scenario, the food and band can be the props and special effects for the whole production, and then, there are the games. Which in this case, are the steps required to pass the whole operation, what the rookie will need to do. If they pass, then, they get to get married. The marriage of them, to the life of a spy.

Agnes sat in that hummer in total silence, arms crossed, sunburnt, tired, and stinky. Ezra drove into the small road, then onto the interstate.

“I’m Ezra.”

He turned to see if she would say something. She looked ahead, in a catatonic state. He was very different from Grant. Expression and emotion were a part of this human make-up. Agnes did not give a flying fig if he was the kindest man in all of planet Earth, she had just been punked.

“Um… would you like some water?”, he asked kindly.

Agnes turned to look at him slowly. Water. He had… water?! What was this?!

He reached in the backseat, and sure enough, he handed her a large, fancy looking bottle of water.

Agnes almost choked on it, that’s how fast she drank. She made a mess all over her shirt, but who cared! Agnes was over it. She looked like a survivor from the Walking Dead.

“Slow down, you’ll shock your system,” he told her.

Agnes ignored him and finished the whole bottle. She did not look at him, given that he had pointed a gun to her forehead, left the mark now turning into a bruise, choked her, and now, was trying to be her best friend. No.

“Don’t kid yourself, I’m good”. Right after saying this, out came a hiccup from her mouth. Great, Agnes thought, it’s official: I’m a walking circus.

Ezra was desperately trying not to laugh at her.

Agnes took one deep breath, and then stopped breathing. She placed one hand on her chest, the other on her belly, and stopped all movement. Ezra was perplexed. He had never in his life seen this reaction to the hiccups, but what he found most disturbing, was his instant physical attraction to her. Why, in God’s name? This woman barely looked human? He started listing all the ugly things about her in his head: this idiotic behavior, her horrible burnt hands (but he could heal her, and she would be so gentle and sweet afterwards… no!). There must be something totally horrendous about her. There was a greater plan in this whole test, another objective he had to remember, someone’s life or death was in his hands. This girl was just a target.

Agnes let out a deep grunt, then took a deep, deep breath in, and lifted her arms up. And...there it was… her pungent onion, two day without showering, being in the middle of the desert amidst explosions, fast cars, and death threats...smell.

“If you don’t put your arms down, the smell will make me crash this car, and then where will we be.” Ezra was turning purple.

Agnes blushed. He shrugged his shoulders softly, looking at the road. She put her arms down, slowly. At least her hiccups were gone now.

“You reek.” Ezra could not help looking at her and making a funny face.

Agnes scoffed, and laughed at the same time. She crossed her arms in front of her.

“Wow. Of course, I love wandering around the freakin’ blazing, hot, no man’s land, without showering, eating, or going to the bathroom!!! ” She let out a scream.

Ezra didn’t react, just focused on the road.

“Sorry.” Agnes said after a beat.

She remembered; she had the envelope with the codes in her pants. She shimmied up and took it out.

“So, what do I do with this?”

Ezra kept looking at the road.

“ Wait for Grant.”

She looked at it, then put it in her pocket again.

Ezra reached up to his vizor and pulled it down. The sun was going down and hit his eyes. The sky was looking orange and fuchsia.

“We’re driving to Santa Fe. There, we’ll rendezvous with Grant, then you’ll fly to London.”

“London! But, that’s… far.”

She knew she had left her whole past behind, but… London? Was she really going to go through with this? Her brother, her mom, would she ever see them again?

“Do you have something else waiting for you Agnes?” he asked her.

He made a good point. Nobody had cared enough about her when she had gone to California to fight her out of doing it, or follow her, or keep in touch with her really. She had put up a good front of independence, so, most of her friends, and shortly after, her family, left her alone. Agnes wanted to prove she would make it big on her own. This was not how she thought it would happen.

Agnes lay against the seat and looked up.

Ezra knew this was a part of the process, the questioning, the wondering if this was the right thing to choose. He needed to make sure she wanted to be here, doing this...with him. He needed to have her trust him and attach to him.

“Rest Agnes, or should I say… Saint Agnes.”

She smiled.

“That was truly, amazing. I am not at liberty to discuss anything in an official capacity until we get to Grant, but..”

He looked at her..

“You were amazing.”

She sighed and whistled.

“Yup, I know,” then she laughed.

………………………...

Agnes remembered that car ride as she rode in the elevator down to basement level 20. She was a different version of herself, different, maybe the person she had always wanted to be, but it happened almost overnight.

How did she do that? Agnes astounded herself. After utter failure, pain and despair, Ezra had appeared like some guardian angel, and taken her away to a new life. She thought of the night they finally arrived in Santa Fe. She laughed. That girl was gone now.

They drove for another day before reaching Santa Fe. Ezra drove for hours and let Agnes sleep before stopping to get gas and some refreshments. He pulled into a pit stop around eight. It was dark, not many drivers were on the road.

He turned off the car and looked at Agnes. She was out like a light. He knew he had to wake her up. Her hands were scabbing now from the burns. A wonder she had not cried like a little girl when that happened, he thought to himself. She must be made of some seriously tough stuff. He leaned into her and tapped her shoulder softly.

“Agnes”.

She did not move. He did not want to startle her, she may forget where she was, who he was, punch him in the face. He tried getting closer to her ear. He looked at her face. Her nose was lovely, small, yet wide and round, like a Roman princess. Her hair, unruly and uncombed at the moment, was a nice texture, brown. Her cheeks were beautiful, high, like red apples. An idyllic face. He stopped himself from feeling sorry about why he had chosen to do all of this, it was not his choice, he had none! She would understand, this was all a part of why they were recruiting her. Agnes fit the profile for the mission they would offer her, soon. And he would be the one to have her.

He had not realized he left his hand on her shoulder, with his whole weight on it. Agnes opened her eyes, and she jumped.

“What are you doing,” she gasped.

Ezra took his hand off her and backed away.

“I was trying to wake you up without startling you.”

Agnes wiped her face with her hands, waking herself up.

“Ok… where are we?”

Agnes looked around. Nighttime, pit stop, middle of nowhere. Reminded her of the night she drove from city to city, motel to motel, with the Australian.

“Let’s get some food, and I need to fuel up,” Ezra said lightly.

He opened his door, turned to her, but she did not move.

“Agnes, come on.”

Agnes didn’t want to say it, but she lifted her hands, presenting herself.

“Ezra, I… I look like a crazy person.”

He laughed.

He still remained handsome and sexy, his French accent and dark romantic look melted all the hearts of the women he would encounter, and made the men want to be like him. People wouldn’t even notice the red stain on his shirt. But, Agnes… they would all run away.

“Come on, let’s find the restroom.” He jumped out of the car and waited for her.

Agnes took off her seatbelt, opened up her door, and splat.

Fell to the floor.

Ezra ran around to her side of the car and found her laughing.

“What happened?” he asked, helping her up.

Agnes let him help her, held his hands in hers.

“I forgot I was riding in a tank, just stepped down and boom… you know?”

Agnes looked at his hands in hers. Ezra quickly let her go. She looked up at his face.

“Let’s get you decent, Saint Agnes.” He walked toward the minimart.

She followed him, feeling funny, flirty, what was this?

…………………………………..

The elevator reached basement level 20.

As the elevator doors opened, Agnes got a text message from Grant:

“Are you taking the stairs today 009? Coffee please, two sugars.”

Agnes smiled. After everything, all they went through, and how she has changed, he still treated her the same. Well, he is consistent, I’ll give him that, Agnes thought. She walked out, put her phone in her bag, and ran her fingers through her smooth, clean hair.

The lobby was pure white, white marble floors, white marble walls, but all of the furniture was black. The cleaning bill would be astronomical! Miranda, the main HQ operator greeted her from her lobby desk post. Lovely girl, short reddish hair, always wore some combination of beige and black. Today, black satin blouse, beige skirt.

“Morning 009”, she stood up, smiled.

Agnes nodded.

“Miranda,” Agnes said nicely, then walked on, straight to the kitchen area.

Miranda remembered something, shouted at Agnes before she was out of earshot, “008 is looking for you, and he said not—”

Agnes responded as she made another sharp right, “Coffee with two sugars, yes…”

Could she first go to the restroom? she asked herself.

“Really,” she muttered as she pushed open the door.

The ladies’ room was relaxing, invited you to forget for a second, you were a perfect secret agent. More white walls, with black marble countertops, and a circular lounge area with black loveseats and a mirror. A lovely table with a vanity, make up remover, and water awaited the female 00’s, and Agnes just needed a minute. She sat on the black cushioned bench in front of the vanity, and started to go through her bag, but stopped, and looked at herself again. She paused, and remembered, this was not the same woman. The woman Ezra had, and the woman Grant brought, were two very different people.