Itake a deep breath, then decide to just get right to it and say, “There’ssomethingIhaven’t told you about me thatIreally want you to know,” at the same time she says, “Okay,Ihave to say this beforeIchicken out.”
Then, at least partially hearing whatIsaid, she asks, “Wait, what?”
“Youcan go first.”
Annettepauses, holding her breath, before she shakes her head. “Youcan.”
Sheis so beautiful.Thelook on her face is one of wariness, though, and it might’ve made me hold back ifIdidn’t want so badly for her to know everything. “Ihave things about meIwant to tell you, andInow have permission to do so.”Thatsentence didn’t lessen the wary look on her face at all. “Itold you thatIwork at a business solutions company.LancasterBusinessSolutions, specifically.”
Shenods as she absently petsSpark.
“That’sour cover name.”
“Covername?” she asks, her hand freezing mid-pet.
“Iactually work for theClandestineServicesAgency.It’sa top-secret government intelligence agency.”Isearch her expression, whichI’mpretty adept at doing, yetIcan’t guess what she’s thinking.
Thenshe laughs.It’snot a happy laugh, though, and it makes her stand and walk a few steps away,Sparkfollowing her, before she turns back to say, “Now, see?Thisis why we need to talk.Ineed to be able to trust what you tell me.”
“Iknow,”Isay, pleading with my eyes for her to come back.Shemust sense my earnestness in wanting her to know whatI’mabout to say because she sits back down, turned toward me. “Afterhow much we’ve joked about me being a spy,Iworriedit wouldn’t sound believable.SoIbrought this.”Ipull my work lanyard and badge from my bag and hand it to her.
Shetakes it in both hands and inspects it. “Huh.Thislooks pretty legit.”Sheturns the badge over, runs a finger across my name, theCSA’semblem, the hologram, and the watermark, touches corners worn from years of use, and the fraying part of the lanyard that rubs against my desk whenIlean in.Sparkclimbs over her to check it out, too.
Iwait until her eyes meet mine beforeIsay, “Thisisn’t one we’d use in the field, of course.It’sstrictly for in-house purposes—accessing locked areas and the like.”
Ipull out my business phone. “Thisis the phoneIanswered the day we tubed downDoomslideSummit.It’sfor work, and it’s encrypted.”Itap on the screen untilI’veopened my email from thePersonnelSecurityDivision. “Ihave permission to show you this.It’sthe formIsubmitted to let them knowI’minterested in pursuing a relationship with you.”
ThenItap on the reply. “Andhere’s their response, saying that you’ve been vetted and cleared to be read in on my title, basic responsibilities, the name of the agency, and any other information necessary that does not require a security clearance.”
Ihand the phone to her, and she looks at it, her eyes moving quickly enough that she’s probably only catching a few words here and there as her mind whirls. “Theyhad to clear me before you told me?”
Inod, and she keeps staring at it.Eventually, she hands the phone back. “Wow. ‘Secretagency’ was not one of my guesses.Yousaid you work in graphic design?”
“Well,”Ishrug, “graphic design of the face.Sometimesthe whole body.”
“Thisis huge.Wereyou always in that department?”
Ican’t even guess how she feels about any of this, thoughIam trying. “No.Ispent many years as an intelligence operative.Ionly moved to my current department whenIretired from field work.”
“Youwerea spy?”
Ihide my flinch—years of practice—and say, “Yes.Basicallya spy.”
Shestudies me. “So, did you really have ‘Covertinfiltration’ training?”
“Yes.”
“Youdidn’t tell me all this becauseIsaidIneeded excitement in my life, right?”
Ichuckle. “Idon’t know about you, butIthink we’ve had plenty of excitement since we met, even without this.”
Iknow she agrees because, for the first time tonight, a bit of a smile crosses her face.She’squiet again then shakes her head. “Thisexplains a lot.Butnot why several of theLancastersdidn’t seem to recognize you.”
“Yeah,”Isay, grimacing, “my occupation isn’t the only thingIneed to tell you about.”She’sstudying me again, all her focus on my face. “Ithink it’ll be easier to show you.”
Ipull from my bag the case that stores my facial appliances.Then, one at a time,Ipeel off the pieces affixed to my face that make me look a little older, a little more wrinkled, my eyebrows a bit bushier, and place them in the case.Annettewatches in disbelief.Iremove the cap and wig that make my hair appear more balding and whiter.Myhair is actually a dark gray with light gray at the temples.Iput it all in my bag and run my hands through my hair becauseIknow how it probably looks.
Annettegapes at me, more shocked than whenItold her whoIwork for.Iget it—it’s disconcerting to see someone’s appearance change right before your eyes. “So, yeah,”Isay. “Thisis me.”
