by T. R. Harris
For the record, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I had spent six wonderful years in Army special ops and I could spot a set-up when one slept with me the night before – as well as the following morning. There had always been something about Miranda Moore that didn’t sit right. She was too confident, too poised, too unflappable in the face of the shock that everyone felt when first arriving on Sylox. Hell, even I’d felt the shock. But not her, not this twenty-six-year-old recent college graduate, who according to her story, had just spent four years getting a degree in something as nebulous as Galactic Affairs – no pun intended.
And now this unpaid intern was occupying a lavish apartment reserved for kings – again, no pun intended.
And she had just seduced one of the most well-connected Humans on the planet, if I did say so myself.
I watched as Miranda’s face turned harder than I’d ever seen it. Her eyes burned into me. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Jason,” she said sharply.
“I don’t have to jump to shit; you’re CIA! And if not that, then NSA or some other obscure acronym I’ve probably never heard of before. Does Jennifer know?”
My last question shook her hard demeanor. “No she doesn’t, and I’d really like it to stay that way.”
“That’s not up to me, sweetheart. It all depends on how far you want to push this thing.”
“Look, Jason, all I’m asking for is information, just information. I’m not asking you to go out searching for it. Just keep your eyes and ears open as you go about your day and play your softball games. You know so many people and they all trust you—”
“And I intend to keep it that way! Don’t get me wrong, I’m a patriot – hell I spent six years serving America in the Army. But now I’m on alien world and I have no idea what I could possibly learn that would be of value to you and your handlers.”
“What about the true reason the aliens came to Earth?”
“What true reason?” I asked.
“Exactly.”
“What?”
“What, what?”
“What exactly is the true reason the aliens came to Earth?”
“That’s what we want to know,” she said.
“So you don’t know?”
“No, do you?”
“No!”
“Then don’t you want to know?” she asked.
“Know what?”
“Why they came in the first place!”
“Maybe it’s what they said.”
“And what was that?”
“Shit, woman, we sound like an Abbott and Costello comedy routine! I don’t know why they came.”
“Well, neither do we, and that’s what we want to find out.”
I stood up from the table. “I’m leaving now, before my brain explodes. I want to thank you for a lovely evening; it will certainly rank among my top ten.”
“Top ten!”
“Well, maybe the top three. But the bottom line is I’m not a spy, for you or anyone else. I have a pretty good life going here and I don’t want to do anything to screw it up. You do know they expel spies here, don’t you? What do you think would become of my business, my house and all the other crap I’ve accumulated here if that happened?”
I headed for the door with Miranda right on my tail. “Jason, wait! I’m not asking you to spy.”
“You’re not?” I turned back to her just before opening the door.
“No, just for you to talk to me. Let me know what others are saying, both Human and alien. If you can do that, then we can continue to see each other.”
I considered her lovely face for a long moment. She was indeed a world-class beauty – except on the world of Cryus, where she’d be considered hideous, something to scare children with at night. “So if I don’t do this we can’t see each other again? Was I your assignment, your mark?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Listen, sweetheart, I really don’t think you’re cut out for this line of work. Sure, you’ve got an incredible set of assets, but I think your closing technique needs work. In fact, by this time you should have me begging to spy for you. Maybe you need to go back to school; is the CIA farm still at Camp Peary? Is that where you got your degree in Galactic Affairs?”
I accented Galactic Affairs with finger quotes, which was probably what pushed Miranda over the edge, because she reared back and slapped me hard across the face. Now I don’t care how others in the movies may react to that happening to them, but in real life it hurt like hell!
“Just get out!” she yelled. “All I’m trying to do is help my people – our people – learn more about the alien threat.”
“What alien threat?”
“Exactly!”
“Let’s not start that again. I’m out of here. Have a nice life, Bond, Jane Bond.”
I thought that last line was rather clever. Unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to see Miranda’s reaction to it due to the slamming door in my face.
Chapter 10
Two hundred ten thousand dollars.
I kept chanting the number over and over again in my head as I drove back to Zanzibar to meet with the Wilsons. That was the commission I’d earn if I could get their ten-point-five million-dollar offer accepted on the home in Sterling Bridge South. The property was worth it, maybe a little more, and the commission would be just enough for me to get the Noreen II. That’s all I should have thinking about at the time: how I can put the deal together. So I kept chanting: Two hundred ten thousand dollars.
It also helped to keep me from slamming my fist through the thin plastic of the windshield.
What a disaster last night had turned out to be. Now I felt dirty, not because of the sex, but because of how I’d been used. Did she really think I was so weak and horny that I’d do anything just to keep seeing her? Hell, I’m Jason King. I’m rich, successful, and according to many of my past girlfriends, not that bad on the eyes,. The fact that they were all past girlfriends did put a damper on my little pep talk; however being out here in fantasyland did complicate a lot of my relationships. So it wasn’t entirely my fault when things hadn’t worked out. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
As a matter of fact, since coming to Sylox, I hadn’t seriously considered a long-term relationship to be my future, at least not until I returned to Earth. I knew that would happen one day, but just not any time soon. And with the sands of this alien existence always shifting, I had to stay agile and free to act when opportunity knocked, both personally and professionally.
Like the Noreen II.
If had a wife or steady girlfriend, I’m sure she’d be completely against me spending so much money … on a toy. But it’s a damn starship! A private starship! How many guys do you know who have their own starship? This was a childhood fantasy come true.
I soon turned off the ribbon and drove up the wide, freshly-paved roadway that led to the huge terraced waterfall near the security gate, where the words Zanzibar Enclave were emblazoned in twenty-foot-tall, gold-embossed letters, strategically placed on a prominent island in the middle of the water feature. I laughed when I read the smaller words on the marquee, which proclaimed: A Human Deed-Restricted Community.
Humans! You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them. Yet in some cases, you could legally kill them. Boy, I missed those days….
**********
The site office for Toll Brothers Builders was located at the entrance to the Sterling Bridge subdivision, along a row of five perfectly staged model homes, and in the garage of one of their smaller models, the 2552 Cambridge.
The huge Danbury model, which the Wilson’s had selected, was not one of the model homes. It was their largest plan, and this particular home had been a semi-custom build. The previous buyer had been one of those Diplo-Corps people who couldn’t hack the whole alien world scene and split for Earth before closing on the home. However, before doing so, he had added a number of expensive upgrades, such as diagonally-laid 20-inch ceramic tile
in all the public areas, a built-in wet bar in the forty-by-forty foot great room, a third zoned air conditioning unit, as well as the coup de grace – a forty-five-foot-long, twelve-foot deep, freeform pool complete with over a thousand square-feet of cream-colored cool-decking.
In fact, the entire backyard area was a masterpiece of flamboyant, over-the-top design, built exclusively for entertaining. Off the main home was a thirteen-foot deep, by forty-one foot long lanai, covered by the contiguous roofline of the home. The lanai featured built-in radiant heating in the flooring, along with six broad-bladed ceiling fans. There was also a built-in summer kitchen with tapped-in gas and a small refrigerator – everything an up-and-coming Undersecretary would need to impress the brass and humble the lower-ranking.
Along with six-thousand square-feet of living space, this magnificent home was also located only a half-mile from one of the Enclave’s nine high schools, as well as one of its fourteen combined elementary/middle schools.
That was another thing I loved about my job: the product often sold itself. As mentioned before, real estate is not an impulse buy; there’s just too much time from contract acceptance to closing for the wishy-washy to back out. A buyer had to truly want to buy the home or the deal was destined to disaster.
But homes like these were a piece of cake to sell. After all, who wouldn’t want to live in a home like this?
As it turned out, that person was Mark Wilson.
**********
The entire family was waiting for me when I entered the converted garage that served as the site office. Nine-year-old Jonathan was playing with a toy house the agents had given him that served to show sold homes on the large plat map on the huge, circular table that took up the center of the foyer area. Sixteen-year-old Heather sat in a chair behind her stepfather, nose buried in her omnipresent smartphone.
Six-year-old Melissa ran up to me.
“Jason! Look, Jason’s here.” She took me by the hand. I looked down at her and grinned, wondering if she was going to ask me to spy for her, too? As far as I knew, it was something that ran in the family.
I greeted everyone, including the Toll Brother’s agent Bridget Rothschild. Unbeknownst to her at the time, Bridget was about to become my rebound affair. We’d hooked up a couple of times in the past, so now it was time to resurrect the relationship. As they say, the best thing to do was get right back on the horse – and the tall, slightly chunky blonde was about to be ridden with a vengeance.
As I sat down at the conference table, I noticed Jennifer Wilson’s furrowed brow.
“Are there any last minute questions or concerns before we get started?” I asked, sensing some tension in the room.
Mark Wilson took the property flyer that was lying on the table in front of him. “Honestly, Jason, I’m not comfortable with the price, or if we actually need such a large home. We’re only going to be here for three years, maybe five at the most. It just seems like a huge investment for such a short time.”
So there it is. It’s not like this was the first time I’d heard this objection. I looked over at Bridget, who carried an expression mirroring that of Jennifer Wilson. She knew that large homes like this one didn’t sell as well as the smaller ones – there just weren’t as many qualified buyers around for the more-expensive properties. And she’d already lost one buyer, even after putting in all the extras. She really needed to sell this property.
“I understand your concern, Mark, but you have to think about Sylox real estate trends and not those of Earth. Three to five years is plenty of time to build up some pretty impressive equity, mainly from appreciation.”
I knew that the husbands usually approached these things from the money side, while the wives tended to look more at the amenities.
“But over ten million dollars? I admit it’s an impressive home,” Mark looked over at his wife, who still carried the sour expression, “but do we really need six thousand square feet? And what about furniture? We didn’t bring anything with us – we couldn’t. It’ll take a small fortune to furnish a place like that, and then we’d just have to leave it all here when we rotate out.”
Poor Jennifer Wilson, she had been so adamant about not wanting to buy in the one of the Human Enclaves, but now she was sold. This home was to be her foundation, her rock, something to cling to and call her own on this scary, alien world. And besides, the kids loved it.
In reality, I wasn’t too concerned. Mark Wilson was just marking his territory, showing who was in command of the transaction. I looked over at Jennifer and sent her an understanding smile. Mark Wilson didn’t know it yet, but he was outnumbered and overmatched. And he was definitely mistaken as to who was in command here.
“Toll Brothers has an incredible furniture rental inventory available for just this situation, even for homes of this class,” I said, countering one of his points.
“That’s right,” Bridget said, stepping into the conversation. She slid a brochure over to Mark. “Since it’s not practical to ship household furniture all the way out here from Earth, most of our clients rent their furniture from us. And we also have an Executive’s Club for people like you, our top-of-the-line buyers in Sterling Bridge South.”
Good girl, Bridget, stroke his ego.
Now I continued: “And over the past five years, the Human Enclaves have experienced an average appreciation of twenty-four percent per year. And for the upper-end properties, that number is closer to thirty to thirty-five percent. And that’s per year.”
“So we could make money off the home?” Jennifer asked, grasping.
“At your price range, you could make a small fortune. In fact, I’ve seen others like you make as much from the appreciation alone to equal the total monthly payments for the time they own the home. That means you could effectively live in your home for free, when all is said and done.”
“And with the BAH, it’s even better than that,” Bridget added, as we tag-teamed poor Mr. Wilson.
I saw Mark raise his eyebrow. A crack was forming.
“That’s right,” I said quickly. “Even though your payment will be around fifty thousand per month, your BAH is forty-two. So your out-of-pocket will only be around eight thousand. That’s not a lot to live in a home like this.”
“And the schools are close, and with only Humans. The kids won’t have such a shock to deal with,” Jennifer pointed out.
“They’d still go to the same schools if we bought something cheaper,” Mark countered.
“Actually, Rand Paul is one of the best schools in all the Enclaves,” Bridget said. “And the teacher-to-pupil ratio is the lowest for all the high schools.”
“Mark,” I said, leaning in a closer to him, “sure you can buy a little cheaper home, but just look at it this way: the government’s paying for over eighty percent of your house payment. And with the appreciation we get around here, you’ll leave Sylox with a huge chunk of money, and after living in one of the biggest and best homes in the entire Enclave. And another thing, your home is more than just a place for you and your family. As an Undersecretary, you’re required to entertain dignitaries and corporate types, and this home was built to impress. Just look at it as an investment in your career.”
By now Mark Wilson was done and ready for the garnish. He looked around at all the anxious eyes around the table. “I guess in the long run, it could be a pretty good investment. Okay … let’s do this. Bring out the papers.”
“Thank God,” Heather Wilson said from behind her stepfather. “That was rather tedious.”
From the mouths of babes….
**********
Once the paperwork was complete – and Bridget and Mark were going over some of the furniture inventory Toll Brothers had available – Jennifer Wilson came up to me.
“Thanks, Jason. I really thought he was sold on the home before we got here. You know we’ve only been married about a year and we’re still getting to know each other’s mannerisms. This has been a big step for all of us.”
“No worries; it happens all the time.” I smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Besides, he really didn’t have a choice, now did he?”
She smiled back. “Not really, I suppose. And I also want to apologize to you. You were right about living here in the Enclaves. It just makes so much more sense then what I wanted to do.”
“Again, it happens all the time. It’s just that each person has to discover things at their own pace. Now … I expect to be invited to your housewarming barbeque!”
“Of course you’re invited. And by the way, how did things go last night with Miranda?” Even though she and her cousin had a natural female competiveness working, she was still curious how things were going.
I guess the sour expression that crossed my face was all too obvious.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jennifer said before I had a chance to answer.
“Hey the dinner was great; it was afterwards when everything went to shit.”
“Should I ask?”
“Let’s just say she’s a great girl, but I don’t think we have that much in common.” Like she’s a spy and I’m not.
I left it at that. I didn’t feel like spilling the beans on her two-faced cousin; it wasn’t my place to do so.
Jennifer gave me a sad, yet understanding look. “You know, she’s my dead stepfather’s sister’s kid. In fact, I didn’t even know I had a cousin until about four months before we left for Sylox. And during this time, I’ve found her to be rather immature and aloof in a way.”
Instantly, the cockles rose on the back of my neck. Let’s see: A newly-discovered relative, only four months before the family was heading for the capital of the galaxy … and who just happens to be a spy. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Jennifer Wilson was also being played for a sucker, just like me. But at least I had been kissed before I got screwed.
Speaking of that, where did Bridget run off to?
Chapter 11
The Wilson closing took place only three weeks later, since the home was standing inventory and Mark’s GS ranking – plus his family’s wealth – made the loan a rubber-stamp affair. During all that time, I didn’t see Miranda again, either at the home inspection or for the closing itself.