Living Lies (10 page)

An interview with the CDD. This could be something.

Melanie’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Quickly she quartered the letter and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hi.” It was Danny, standing … no slouching outside her door. “Mel, can we talk?”

Danny led her out into the hall, closing the door behind them. Somewhere down the hall a stereo blared. Brian Stetzer jamming on his guitar in another apartment seemed dreamlike as Melanie looked into Danny’s somber eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Mel, I leave for New York on Monday morning.” His eyes would only briefly make contact with hers. “I only have one final and I’ve already made arrangements. I want to be first to meet the team and get situated.”

“What about graduation?” Melanie asked, struggling not to sound hurt.

He shrugged.

“Danny?”

“It’s just that I’ve been preparing my whole life for this moment,” he jumped right to the point, hands shoved into his pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Melanie waited, too scared to move or breathe, but instinctively knowing what was to come. He was breaking up with her.

“Things are coming together better than I’ve ever dreamed. I’ve made it to exactly where I want to be and I can’t screw it up.”

“When did you decide all this?” She thought back to any clues she might have missed. The truth was she hadn’t been paying attention.

“It’s been coming for a long time.”

“A long time?” she echoed his words softly, seeing if they made more sense in her own voice.

“Mel, I’m sorry. I know you had plans.”

“No, Danny,
we
had plans.” How much time passed? “You’ve known since the beginning that we weren’t going to make it?” It sounded incredulous.

Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “No. I mean, yes and no. In the beginning it was the plan, but as I fell in love with you I wasn’t sure what to do. You have to know this is hard for me, too. I know you’ve been going through stuff and I haven’t been there for you. I’m close, Mel, I can taste it. This is the chance of a lifetime and it’s within arm’s reach and … I have to choose the game. I’m sorry.”

His voice was monotone, so unlike Danny’s, it sounded – and felt – final.

He reached for her hands but Melanie thrust them into her pockets. Her first impulse was to plead, beg, cry and force him to change his mind. But the elevator opened and she held her tongue long enough for the chirpy girls to reach their apartment. Long enough to search his face.

She couldn’t bear to add to his burden. Melanie reminded herself that she wanted the best for him even if that wasn’t her.

As much as his words devastated her it was her decision that caused the searing pain. A wave of nausea rose to her throat and clouded her head, and she placed one hand over her mouth and steadied herself with her other hand against the wall.

“Are you all right? Say something, react, hit me, anything,” Danny pleaded.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her eyes watery. “You’re going to be great,” she managed to choke out before her lips and chin started quivering so hard she couldn’t continue and the tears started to flow.

Her mind was screaming, she couldn’t breathe.

“Melanie?”

She stepped up close and held his face, his skin warm beneath her cold shaky hands. Tears streamed down her face as she kissed his stubbly cheek. She didn’t close her eyes. She wanted to remember every moment she’d spent with Danny. She wanted to remember the feel of his skin.

“I love you, Danny.”

“Melanie,” he called as she turned away, brokenhearted, and entered her apartment.

She slumped against the door, her legs unable to support her, and crumpled to the floor.

“Mel, what’s wrong?”

“Danny broke up with me.” She couldn’t believe the words even as she said them. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Melanie spent the weekend in bed, the covers pulled up over her head, quietly weeping.

“OK, Missy, enough is enough. You have an interview today and you’re not missing it.” Carla pulled the blankets, sheets and all off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked, walking into their bedroom from the bathroom.

“Mel! I about had a heart attack when you weren’t...” She pointed to the empty bed.

Melanie almost grinned.

“I’m glad to see you up. When’s your interview?” Carla asked, changing her tone and throwing the covers back onto the bed.

“In an hour.” She coughed trying to dislodge the lump that had taken up residence in her throat.

Carla gave a disapproving look as Melanie laced her tennis shoes and pulled the hem of her T-shirt out from the waist of a pair of faded jeans.

“Do I look horrible?” Melanie asked, thinking her eyes may still be swollen from the weekend of crying.

“You look great.”

The world seemed heavier and the air thicker than before, Melanie noticed as she drove Carla’s wreck to the Marriott. Maybe it was the weight of her sadness, or maybe the earth’s gravitational pull had increased during the past 72 hours. Either way, Melanie was not looking forward to an interview. In between sobbing fits of losing ... she couldn’t bare to think his name ... she had wondered about the means the CDD would take to ensure she accepted their position. Could they have been the reason she hadn’t received any employment offers? It all seemed very egotistical, but it explained the “glitch in the system.” Throughout the weekend she had convinced herself, but she was out of tears, out of sorts and out of options. And the small, hateful, voice kept repeating “bank, insurance, bank, insurance” was getting louder the closer she got to the hotel.

At the Marriott she knew there would be no sign for her to follow, no welcoming committee. She went directly to the front desk.

“Anything for Melanie Ward?” She asked the lanky teenager behind the counter.

“What’s the name?”

“Melanie Ward. W-A-R-D.”

The pimple-faced kid handed her an envelope. Inside was a note that simply read, “711.” As the elevator rose to the seventh floor Melanie examined her reflection. Her sullen, puffy face had dark circles under dark, flat eyes.

“Carla lied.”

She let her hair down, hoping to cover at least some of her grim face.

Facing three black numbers on a white door Melanie knocked twice, took a deep breath and walked in. The surprise was the 10 people who abruptly stopped talking to size up the new applicant.

“Ah, Ms. Ward, right on time, very good.” It was one of the men she had met in December.

What was his name?
She searched her memory.

“
Hello, Agent Jackson,” Melanie greeted him.

His smile grew wide when she acknowledged him by name. “I am very pleased you made it this morning.” Melanie shook Agent Jackson’s outstretched hand. “We’ll be meeting in an adjoining suite.”

The conversations that had hushed when she entered resumed as Agent Jackson led her through double doors.

“These are all agents?” Melanie asked, checking out their casual dress, khakis or jeans. She fit in perfectly.

“Mostly,” Agent Jackson looked at her and added, “You seem to have the knack of a chameleon. Exactly what we’re looking for,” he chuckled.

Melanie grunted. That hadn’t been the statement she’d hoped to make.

In the other suite two men and a woman sat at a table littered with cans of Diet Coke and a box of doughnuts.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Ward.”

Melanie knew his voice. “Nice to see you too, Agent Collins.” She shook hands and smiled away the sharp pain that stabbed her fragile heart. Agent Collins was the one responsible for bringing Danny to her door that cold January evening.

She took a seat at the table across from Jackson and next to the woman.

“Let us start with congratulations on your upcoming graduation,” Agent Collins said.

“Thank you.”

“Top of your class – that’s impressive.”

Melanie shrugged. She was no longer sure what it meant.

“You did exceptionally well at our winter trials. Best I’ve seen in years.”

“I don’t understand. Winter trials?” Melanie looked from Collins to Jackson.

“Let me explain,” Agent Collins began. “We’re a clandestine branch of the National Security Agency and each year we recruit a few, select individuals we find worthy and capable.”

Melanie was trying to wrap her brain around what Agent Collins was saying.

“So, Malik…?” She asked, unsure.

“Yes, Malik,” Collins laughed, scrutinizing her before looking to Jackson, who nodded, slightly.

Collins opened a door and called out into the other room, “Thomas?”

Melanie leaned forward to get a better view of the door.

“Melanie, I would like you to meet Agent Thomas Mitchell.”

A young man in his twenties, dark hair and glasses strode through the door, smiling. Her puffy eyes widened. It was Malik.

What the…?

In flawless English, devoid of accent, Malik – Thomas Mitchell - said with a grin, “Hi, Melanie. How’ve you been?”

She was stunned. “You?”

“Oh, so the lady like this better?” As easily as that, Malik Razul stood wearing jeans and a white polo shirt. “You miss your Malik, baby?”

Melanie let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. “You do that very well.” She stared at Thomas. “You had me fooled. Was everything a setup?” She looked at Collins with wide eyes.

“Not exactly a setup. An assignment, a test.”

Her gaze returned to Thomas. She’d kissed him. Weird. “So, how many times were you Malik this winter?”

“Seven.”

“Wow,” she said, shaking her head.

“Baby, you know Malik only had eyes for you.”

“Thanks, Thomas,” Collins sighed, opening the door in an obvious gesture.

“Really, Melanie, it hardly seemed like work.” He chuckled out the door and Melanie wondered if she’d been insulted. It could go either way.

“He meant that in a good way,” Collins said. “He had only good things to say about you.”

“I’ve been doing this for 33 years, got recruited just like you,” Agent Jackson piped in, smiling at her. “Most of the people in this room were recruited out of college. Ms. Ward, today the world is a different place than it was 20 years ago or even two years ago. Our job here is even more important and even more dangerous. For this reason we want only the best of the best and that, Ms. Ward, is why we conduct Winter Trials. To seek out top people.”

Birds chirping outside distracted her momentarily as Agent Jackson continued.

“Each year we select about 100 candidates to test. We set up one scenario and watch the outcome. Oh, we vary the situations to accommodate men and women but basically everyone is on a level playing field.”

“How do you select your candidates? Why me?”

“Our profile, yes. Well, we look at the overall person, skills, background, GPA and lifestyle. The folks at other federal agencies snatch up the techies or the multi-linguists, but we’re interested in problem solvers, clever people who can fit into any situation and find their way out of a crisis. We research each of our 100 participants extensively, then we conduct our trial. We expect about half to decline our request and another 40 to break confidentiality. Of the remaining 10, we expect only a third to complete the task with any competence.”

Melanie was surprised. “Only three of us got the job done?”

“You’ve reason to be very proud. We’re excited at the prospect of having you on our team. You’ve shown great qualities.”

Collins piped in, excitedly, “We’re inviting you to join our elite group, Ms. Ward.”

Staring directly into Agent Jackson’s barely blue eyes she lied, “I’m flattered, but I do have other offers to consider.”

“Melanie the decision is yours, obviously, but do you really believe you could be happy working for a car rental agency, checking gas tanks and selling the extra insurance?” Collins said, with a enlightened smirk.