Chapter 12

The rain had stopped, but Sally Hutchins was soaking wet. Wearing a black raincoat, rain boots, and a black hat, she looked like an apparition from a Charles Dickens story. Agnes had come downstairs in jeans, her black boots, a cashmere sweater, and her hair in a bun. She had brought her leather jacket and purse, just in case. She had been a spy once before.

Sally waited outside, although Agnes did have a lobby in her building. When she walked outside, she was smiling like a little girl, but did not hug Sally, although this is all she wanted to do.

Sally was business as usual but looked relieved to see Agnes.

“Agnes, gosh...well, here we are again. It has been a year, the heat from Ezra’s death, and Danka deflecting has subsided...some. Now, I need you to be my number two here in New York.”

Agnes stared at Sally, taking it all in before she responded.

“Oh, of course, but... here, in New York, I—”

Sally interrupted her before she could say it, “Grant is alive, and he is very much in London, but right now you need to be here. There is no way around it. You will live in Agnes.”

Agnes knew very well she would live, but this was the thing that had kept her going. Leaving New York. Going back home. Back to Grant… Now what? I don’t know if I can shift gears again, she thought to herself. But this is what you do girl.

Sally put her hand on Agnes’ shoulder, “You will need to continue working in your current, normal job, it is a great cover, and wait for me to contact you. There is a meeting with the UN special ops branch next weekend, I need you there with me.”

Agnes gulped down and nodded. Ok Agnes, you can do this, it’s not like you have a horrible life… right?

Sally walked away, down eighth avenue, making a right on sixty third. Agnes, you idiot, she thought, what did you think, you would go get a coffee with her, like Danka and you used to do?

Sally was no Danka, and now, Danka had become the enemy. Agnes did not expect to feel this way, already defeated, weary. She knew this was part of the deal, spy life was not predictable, nor was it for everyone. Shake it off Agnes, go upstairs, get some sleep, you have to love your normal life tomorrow.

She walked back into her building. It was nice, inviting but not too fancy. The doorman smiled at her.

“Good night miss.”

Up the elevator she went, not thinking about the exciting prospect of working with the UN special ops branch, possibly going to save the world in more ways than one. No, she thought of the last time Grant had kissed her. How his lips felt on hers, how he had looked at her. His hands on her waist, keeping her close to him. Was it all a dream? Well, none of this matters now Agnes. This is what you signed up for.

By the time she had gotten into bed, she had three hours left before she had to wake up, and pretend to be a working woman, single, in a business setting, ignoring all of her instincts, her desires, and her wants. But, as she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, she realized this wasn’t pretending. This was the truth. She was alone, working in a real estate company, waking up every day in the same place, and going to bed safe and sound.

Sleep Agnes, she told herself. Just sleep.

…………………………………………………….

7:45 in the morning. Agnes was making her bed, as she remembered that this morning she had the usual team meeting at work. After seeing Sally, and having been reminded of who she was, or wanted to be at any rate, all of the stress and anxiety she had started to feel at her nine to five job, washed away. This weekly meeting would rattle her, becoming all-important, time consuming and a waste of energy truly, yet, today, she was calm, Ok, let’s just show up, sit down, and answer emails, Agnes told herself. The residents were nice enough, her coworkers were supportive most of the time, and the work could be fun. Negotiating with difficult brokers, haggling with contractors, fighting the urge to stop the elevator mid floor and scream at the top of her lungs. I guess everybody feels this way, Agnes told herself.

She did like getting dressed for work, since Danka had first helped her and since then, she had bought more pieces, and had updated her wardrobe. Fashion was one, if not the one thing, that made her happy in the mornings. Owning beautiful clothes reminded her, there was more to life than just work. You could be pretty, and simply, enjoy yourself. Agnes had begun feeling this, this quiet comfort slowly. It had started when she had been at her job for about six months.

Corporate office, in midtown Manhattan. Her only experience in this world had been by watching movies. Not really the best compass for reality. But it gave her the basic idea: stay in your lane, look good, and be assertive. Agnes adhered to these rules, but then… nothing. Nothing happened. There was nothing blowing up, there were no explosions, no car crashes, no mistresses in need of help in the back alley of a club in London. She was liked, even admired, but nothing else happened. She went in, sat at her desk, did work, and then left.

Agnes looked at her watch. 7:55. In her closet, she had separated her wardrobe by type: skirts and pants, dresses, work dresses and blazers, blouses, and sweaters. It was chilly, but not really cold. She picked her black smoking trousers, and a blue silk button-down blouse.

Black flats today, but she would put on some makeup, and wear a good perfume. She liked feeling good for herself now. It was a pleasure new to her. She put on her simple diamond studs, the ones she had worn the night she shot Ezra and looked at herself in her bedroom mirror.

She had never looked more put together, nor was she more fit, yet she was unused to the silence. The peace and quiet that had come with her new life. Again, change. Nothing ever stays the same. Agnes, you know this already, she reminded herself as she fixed her eyebrows.

8:10. I need to move it, girl.

She grabbed her black work tote, her leather jacket, and closed the door behind her. She locked it, checked it, then went to the elevator bank. Agnes did not know any of her neighbors but would see the same people coming to take the elevator down with her, around eight fifteen in the morning, going to their normal, mundane job. Just like hers. A man with a black backpack, black leather jacket, and black pants would always be there around that time. He wore a beanie, regardless of if it was hot or cold. She always noticed he would stare at her feet, or her hands. Interesting fetish, she thought.

The doorman was so sweet, like the dad she never had ( really ).

“Good morning miss.” His name was Freddie. She would nod, and smile at him, remembering Reggie the whole time.

If the weather was nice, she would walk. Her office, when she worked from Manhattan, was in Bryant Park. Today she would be there, so she decided to stroll down Broadway. A grey sky overhead, this time she didn’t want to jam her earphones in and listen to her latest “ Manhattan” playlist. Instead, she just walked, and stopped imagining another place she wanted to be. Because, here she was, in the greatest city of the world. And she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn’t that she was mad, well, yes, she was peeved at Sally, but it was a deeper problem. That night, she wanted to make a decision, and thought Grant had given her that impression. In one year, she could go back home, back to him, back to London.

But, apparently, not.

It was crowded, always, especially getting into the Times Square triangle of the avenues crossing. Broadway and 6th avenue, from fiftieth street to fortieth, was a nightmare for all New Yorkers, or city-dwellers. She was in between these two types. The rains had made everybody hermits, but it seemed now, the contrary was true. Ever since the rain had stopped, everyone and their mother was walking to work, getting a coffee, taking selfies, and enjoying the normalcy once more.

Agnes knew how to behave, and knew when she was in danger of exploding, feeling too much, and wandering off to pretend to land in her mind. This would happen from time to time, especially when, sitting at her desk, in the Manhattan reality, flashes of London, Grant, the desert, her dreams, her mother, her brokenness, would permeate her soul as she was doing something as easy as checking the daily reports from her property. It was common and ordinary, even pleasant, reading the maintenance updates, the emails from her brokers and her colleagues. Fun, if you looked at them the proper way. But Agnes had been bred for adventure, for challenges. Gunfire and pain. I mean, right?

She reached her office building after nearly running over three German tourists who did not seem to see a human being walking towards them, while they looked up at the famous Times Square ball drop. Agnes was used to just pushing by, making no eye contact, and most people would move. Yet, they just stood there. Agnes had to shift into heavy tourist aversion tactics, “Please move, excuse me, hello!”, and made her way.

They looked back at her, in some shocked state, yet Agnes, not even blinking, or upset, walked through the swinging doors.

It never failed, every time she walked in, she thought of walking into the boring, government-looking building HQ was in, back in London. It had that same feel, greyness to it. Fashion-wise, it was certainly lacking that panache, that subtle yet sexy vibe all the agents and assistants had walking in, waiting for the elevator, going down basement levels. Was that building still there?

Agnes pressed up, and a ding sounded behind her. There were six elevators, three on each side, so she turned, and standing there, was Ben Amos.

He stood there, tall, lean, darkish brown hair, short cut, with some whites coming in ever so slightly in the front. He had a South American family, but she had never spoken to him, and had given up on trying anymore. She had lost her schoolgirl giggles around attractive men.

“Hi Ben.” She walked up, stood next to him as the elevator doors opened. He smiled, looked her directly in the eye, and searched her for something. What? Agnes thought. Is my eyeliner out of place again? Damn. She wanted to check, but then he held the elevator door, and waited for her to go in first.

“Hola,” he said.

She went in, looking at the floor, then straight ahead as the doors closed. Agnes had been in an “office” romance once before. She was not going to make that mistake again. Not that she was getting ahead of herself, but for her, he was a non-entity, a person. She would not even entertain her attraction for him. He probably had a girlfriend, fiancée, some model from Spain. Agnes, no, just no. You have been burnt enough. Realize it, being single is the best thing for you right now. She stood still as the elevator moved up. They had to go all the way to the forty-fifth floor.

Ben cleared his throat, then looked at Agnes.

“Did you have a good weekend?” He had a thick Spanish accent, his teeth were white, and he had a slight gap tooth. She didn’t mind it.

“Sure, nothing exciting, laundry, workout… you?” Agnes tried not to make too much eye contact. She had learned that when she had first come to work in this place. Don’t stare, people don’t want to look at you, they just want to stare at their screen.

Ben paused, shook his head.

“My dad came to visit, but nothing, just spending time with him. “

Of course, he was a nice guy, Agnes, and he is the one you can’t flirt with!

Agnes nodded.

“Oh, that’s sweet. Do you live alone?” Agnes! she thought to herself, what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t ask that question?! This is not an interrogation, please stop talking!

Ben smiled, a bit knowingly, then nodded, looking at her.

“I do, yes.”

She didn’t even acknowledge his response, trying to pretend she had not asked that question. The elevator was at thirty-five, it seemed like the longest ride in the world. And Agnes had been in elevators down to basement level fifty-one back in HQ.

Ben now took out his phone, looking at a text. Agnes’s eyes snooped over, yet she tried not to look. Her spy instincts were always on. It was from his dad, “Cenamos juntos? Te espero.” His dad was asking if they should have dinner together.

And then, Agnes had a thought enter her brain, straight from her heart, that she had not experienced before then: “I wish I had a family to go home to.”

What is happening to me? She had one of those momentous desires to stop the elevator midfloor and start screaming. But Ben would probably not appreciate that. Instead, she decided to take her phone out, and look like she was doing something critical. Alas, she did have a message from Sally.

“Call me at noon.”

Agnes had thought she would at least be excited to be in the spy business again. But, somehow, the magic was gone.

She put her phone away as they reached their floor. Ben also put this phone back in his pocket. She took her lip gloss out of her bag, and started putting it on as the doors opened, and she got out first. Ben walked behind her. They had to flash their security cards for the receptionist to open the door for them.

“Have a good day Agnes,” Ben said as he made a left, into the men’s room.

She glanced, and slightly nodded. Just being nice Agnes, move it along.

…………………………………………………………….

9:15.

Agnes had answered most of the emails for the first round of the morning. People were still coming in, some colleagues within her own portfolio, others from other departments within the company. She wondered about their lives if they had love in their life. She thought about that a lot.

Her own department was a nice group, they were a type of “solo” artist. When they were on, they worked their apartment renting skills to the max. It had not been a hard job to learn, although there were some learning curves. Mostly, her inner workings. Her emotions, and passion, which had been so perfect for the spy missions and type of environment, but contained, like Danka had taught her. Danka, where are you? Agnes thought to herself.

She stood up and walked to the small kitchen area. Coffee always helped sort it all out.

Agnes walked by empty desk areas, towards the coffee maker. It was not like the London office. She thought about John, how he would offer her coffee, how lovely it had all been. She missed it so much. In the drawers there were little pods for coffee. Agnes opened one up, and was putting one in the automatic machine, when Ben came and stood next to her. As if out of thin air.

“Cafe, of course. I need some too.” He was trying to make small talk with her.

Agnes glanced at him, smiling.

“Yeah, although this really doesn’t do it for me. I need real coffee.”

Ben looked at the counter for a split second, contorted his thoughts, then asked, as calmly as he could, “Well, do you want to go get some real coffee then? Or do you have a meeting this morning?”

Agnes listened as the machine poured the tasteless, coffeeless coffee into the company mug, steamed the water, then stopped. She thought for a second, shook her head, and laughed.

“I have nothing going on this morning, sure, let’s get some real coffee.”

He seemed surprised yet pleased with her response. She went to her desk to get her purse, and her jacket. Her colleagues didn’t even look up from their screens. Agnes walked to the entrance, hoping nobody would notice her waiting for Ben. Absolutely nobody noticed anything she did or did not do.

Ben came with his coat, and a grin from cheek to cheek. Agnes did not react; she really did not think anything remotely romantic was going to happen. She was only made for platonic relationships, and bad timing. Ben was a nice guy, he probably just really wanted coffee. She went to open the door, but he beat her to it.

“Ladies first,” he said. Agnes smiled. Cute Ben, she thought.

They went down the elevator, into the lobby, and walked out the building. Chilly, but less grey out. The sun wanted to come out but needed some coaxing. Late summer, almost October.

Ben stood in front of Agnes.

“So, where should we go? Do you have a preference?”

Agnes was never a snob when it came to coffee, but since he was asking, she decided to be picky.

“Well, the cart on the corner usually does it, but my favorite if I could go, is Cafe Bari, a couple of blocks down.”

Ben nodded, touched her arm.

“Then Cafe Bari it is.”

He led her by the forearm and left his hand there for a few seconds. Agnes did not mind it but laughed at him. He smiled.

“What is so funny?” His accent was quite charming. For a moment, she thought of Ezra. But Ezra had never been kind to her, Ben was a completely different man. She shook that off.

“Nothing, it’s just, you are so...nice to me.”

Ben took his hand away from her, put both in his pant pockets, a bit ashamed.

“I am just polite, and you are nice too. Sorry.”

Agnes wanted to kick herself. Damn! Was she only used to bad boys? Ugh, fix this Agnes, fix it right now.

They walked for two blocks, going down sixth avenue. She was quiet for a bit, but then put her hand on his arm, as they reached a corner.

“Ben, I’m sorry. I like it, that you are nice to me. I’m… not used to it. But I like that about you.” She smiled at him and looked him right in the center of his eyes. They were a light brown, almost greenish. He blushed.

“Ok, vale. Vamos.”

He took her by the arm and led her across the street. She got closer to him, a simple touch of her hand on his. The coffee shop was just there.

It was slower now, nine thirty, the rush had passed. There was a counter with booths by the window, but smaller tables in the back. Ben went up, looked at the menu.

“Very nice, ok, what do you want?”

Agnes smiled at the barista; she knew her by now.

“Hi, there, um, can I have… an americano…”

Ben looked at the glass box full of pastries: spinach croissant, chocolate, almond, some muffins, and chocolate brownies. He looked at her as she ordered, “Agnes, want to split something with me?”

She looked at the delicious morsels. Agnes had not eaten anything really, and was starving, as a matter of fact.

“Umm…..bueno…. Maybe a croissant?”

Ben nodded.

“Ok, so she has the Americano, then we’ll share a croissant, and I’ll have a cappuccino. Thanks.”

Agnes started to take her card out to pay for her drink, but Ben beat her to it.

“Your money’s no good here.”

Agnes smiled. They went to a table, he pulled the chair out for her, and waited for her to take her jacket off before sitting down. The barista prepared his cappuccino, the sound of the espresso maker filling the quiet space. She sat and looked at Ben. He smiled, then she laughed.

“Que? What did I do?!”, she laughed at him smiling and laughing. What was happening here, she felt like she was on a first date.

“No, it’s nothing. It’s nothing, “Ben cleared his throat, then took his phone out.

“Just in case they text me from the office. But I doubt they will.”

He put it face down in the middle of the small table, even she could reach it if he wanted her to. Agnes crossed her legs and sat back in her chair.

“Well, lucky you. I am not that important, don’t need to check my phone… yet.” Ben laughed at her “You are lucky, trust me. Sometimes it is just… white noise. Nothing more.”

The barista came over with their coffees and the croissant.

“Thanks,” Agnes said.

Ben admired the croissant.

“So, how do you want to split it?”

Agnes took it with her two hands, split it, and gave a piece to Ben.

“There, easy.”

Ben took the soft and flaky piece of pastry from her hand, and slightly lingered as the tip of her fingers touched his. She looked at him, and he returned her gaze. She blushed this time.

He put the piece in his mouth and hummed with delight.

“Super rico,” then took a sip of his coffee.

Agnes nibbled at her piece, and the taste infused her with joy. She put it down, wiping her fingers against the napkin under her cup, and took a sip of her coffee.

“Si… so, Ben. Tell me.”

Ben put his cup down, then his elbows on the table.

“Tell you what,” as he smiled.

Agnes tossed her head back and played with her cuff.

“Tell me, about you, what are you doing in New York, where are you from, your most intimate hopes and dreams… anything.” Agnes spoke jokingly, but she really was curious about him. After all, he had asked her for a coffee. What was his angel?

“Bueno, I’m from Argentina, came to school here, university, Duke, on a scholarship… I played soccer… then, I found a job in finance, then got this offer. I live alone, I’m thirty, love sushi… que mas?” then he laughed, taking another piece of the croissant.

Agnes smiled, then took a sip of her coffee.

“Cool. Are you seeing anyone?”

Ben took a gulp, then wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“No, I’m not. You?” He sat back, drinking a long sip of his cappuccino.

Agnes shook her head.

“No, not dating at the moment.”

He put his cup down, nodded, then crossed his arms.

“So… “

She sat back and crossed her arms in turn. He smiled at her, watching her react to him. She tried not to smile, but really could not help herself. He had something that made her relaxed. Happy. Not passion, or stress, she didn’t want to impress him. Agnes actually wanted to see how she could shock him, make him go away, make him not like her… test him, to see what he wanted from her.

Ben leaned forward, and almost whispered to her, “So, let’s go out to dinner then.”

Agnes opened up her eyes wide, but in a funny, pleasant way. She giggled, and looked at her hands, playing with the tips of her nails.

“Oh, well. That’s an idea.”

Ben’s phone vibrated, a text came in. She saw it. “Papa”

Ben didn’t pick it up, but put his hand next to his phone, almost touching hers. She sat up straight, letting his hand touch hers for a few seconds, then moving it.

“I eat dinner, sometimes, dale.”

She got her phone out of her bag and let out a little shriek.

“¿Qué pasó?” Ben asked her.

Agnes laughed, nodding her head, answering the text.

“The day I think I am safely invisible, is the one my team needs me to take the lead on a project. They want to know where I am.”

Ben laughed.

“Let’s go then,” and he stood up, going over to pull her chair out.

Agnes stood, put her phone in her bag and let Ben put her jacket on for her. Nobody had done that, Agnes thought...ever. Not even Grant, the London gentleman. They walked out, back to the office.

Ben paused as they arrived at the front of the large, midtown complex. The sun was coming out, some rays getting through the buildings, making the moment somewhat beautiful.

“Let me get your number, then we can figure out the time. I have to meet my dad tonight, and this week I have some meetings, but how about Friday?”

Agnes nodded, anxious to get back upstairs, yet so giddy she could jump up and down. But she actually knew how to play it cool now. She took his phone, and added herself in.

“There. Text me later.”

They both blushed, smiled, then walked back in. Took the elevator up, grinning and looking at each other softly. Kind. He is so kind, Agnes realized. She liked him, so much. But, let things unfold Agnes, she reminded herself. It was a bit complicated now… Sally Hutchins had hijacked her life last night.

She remembered Sally as the elevator doors opened, and then walked back into the office. Agnes quickly searched for her phone, a bit frantic. What time was it?

Ben stayed at her side, he needed to pass her desk to get to his.

“You ok?”, he noticed her attitude had changed. She nodded, still looking into her purse, walking to her desk.

“Yes, fine, just remembered I have to do something. But see you later,” she added in a low tone at the end. He winked, and went to his desk, a few rows behind hers.

She looked at the time on her phone. 10:20. Okay, she needed to work her bum off, then at noon call HQ. Just like old times.

……………………………………..

Agnes stepped out of the office at 11:55, took the elevator down, and walked out the building. She needed total anonymity and the appearance of normalcy as she called Sally. Now more than ever, since her actual job, with actual people working there, were in the mix now. She needed to protect them, and herself, from any exposure.

Noon on the nose, she called Sally.

“Where are you?” Sally immediately answered. Agnes was standing outside on the corner of Bryant Park and fifth avenue.

“I’m at a distance from my cover. What is the news?”

“This Friday night there is a benefit happening at the French consulate embassy to the UN. We need to be there, to make contact with the Paris agent attaché, who is also making headway in the UN special ops branch. It is a delicate evening, and I need you to work your charm, distract the big wigs, and then, join me in meeting our liaison.”

Agnes half heard what Sally said, especially since she said Friday night. She did not respond, just stood there, watching the traffic go by, families smiling and laughing, couples actually walking together. Was New York always like this?

“Agnes, are you there?”

Agnes snapped out of it.

“Yes, but… there is a conflict. That night, I—”

“No Agnes, this is not an optional or negotiable mission. We will rendezvous at the French embassy at half past nine. Gala attire.”

Agnes did not respond.

“Agnes, if you fail to report in, you will not only be jeopardizing your status here in New York, but also, the safety of all of our lives… including Grant’s. He is waiting for you, in case you were wondering.”

And she hung up.

Agnes wanted to scream out at God. Why is it always one thing or another, why can’t there be an easier way of living on this earth? Agnes could feel tears brimming in her eyes. No, do not cry Agnes, you can do this. Think of this whole year you have been dreaming of Grant, of going back to work as a spy. How could she possibly feel so differently now? She needed to get back to the office. As of right now, her real life and her pretend life, were walking hand in hand.