Crossing the Line

by Meghan Rogers

  • • •

  True to his word, Simmonds sent the IDA’s resident physician, Dr. March, to give me a daily Gerex injection while they finished running tests on the drug. Dr. March was tall and sticklike, but warm and maternal even to me. I wasn’t in good shape when she came to me the first day. It had been over twenty-four hours since I had injected, and there’s a component to the Gerex that makes going without it physically painful. It felt like a fire was spreading through my veins, suffocating me from the inside out.

  Dr. March had found me curled up in a ball in the corner of the room shaking with my crazy curly hair plastered to my sweaty forehead and tears running down my face. All from the pain of missing my injection. I was barely aware of it when she pulled me to her, holding me tight as she held out my arm and pushed the drug into me. “It’s okay,” she said as I continued to shake, waiting for it to kick in. “You’re going to be okay.” She kept a hold on me until she was sure I was stable, and even then she seemed hesitant to let go. She didn’t say much else, and she didn’t stay too much longer than she needed to to do her job, yet somehow I felt safe with her. She had taken care of me in a way no one else had in a very long time. And even though I knew logically I shouldn’t trust anyone at the IDA at this point, I couldn’t help but feel better when she entered the room.

  Which was why I was relieved when she came in with Director Simmonds three days after I had arrived. Dr. March took a seat on one side of the table and indicated I should do the same. Simmonds stood behind her. His expression seemed softer toward me, but still had an underlying suspicion.

  “I’ve done all the tests I can think of on the Gerex you gave us,” Dr. March said. “Between that and what I’ve seen from you I can honestly say it’s like nothing I’ve ever come across before.”

  I sat up straighter. “Are you saying you can’t get me off it?”

  “No, I’m pretty sure I can, but I think it’s going to be extremely difficult and painful for you.” She met my eyes briefly before continuing. “Usually, in a situation like this there are medications that help with detox and lessen withdrawal symptoms, but in this case—with a drug this strong and complex—I’m afraid to put anything new into your system.”

  “You think I can be easily addicted to something else?” I asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “But it’s not a risk I’m willing to take. You’ll probably have cravings for some time after your detox, but I’m looking into some alternative techniques to relieve those. In the meantime, if you want this, we’re going to have to do it cold.”

  “I can take it,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I could. I was so close to being free I would have agreed to almost anything. “I need this out of me.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Dr. March glanced up at Simmonds, who nodded. “We’ll have you moved to the medical wing and get you started today.”

  That was when the realization slapped me in the face. I had already had my last dose of Gerex. I balled my fists to keep myself under control, and reminded myself that this was what I wanted.

  • • •

  Simmonds led me to the medical wing through a series of underground tunnels. It made sense that he would want to keep my presence a secret until he knew more, one way or the other.

  Dr. March showed me to a sterile white room, complete with a bed. She knew I had a few hours until I would feel any symptoms and left me to get settled.

  But I couldn’t settle. I paced the room anxiously, trying to push down the fear and prepare myself for what was coming. It had been years since KATO had truly denied me Gerex. I tried to convince myself that I could handle it, but it didn’t work.

  I felt the shaking start just before the pain did. Dr. March appeared shortly after the symptoms set in. She held me while I screamed until I eventually passed out from the pain and exhaustion of the struggle. I felt like my eyes had barely closed before the same excruciating burning sensation that had knocked me out jolted me back awake.

  I lost all track of time, screaming and crying and fighting to breathe. I wanted the Gerex desperately, and it took everything I had not to give in—not to tear the building apart looking for the bottles I had brought in with me.

  After a while, the suffocating fire died inside me, and left me sore and aching. That was when the sweating and vomiting started. Nothing I ate stayed in my stomach. Even the water Dr. March forced into me was too much to keep down. The number of times I had fallen asleep sobbing was more than I could count. And even though I was sweating, I couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Dr. March had brought in extra blankets to try and make me as comfortable as possible, but nothing she did helped.

  Toward the end of all of it, I finally started to level out. I still craved the Gerex fiercely, but I didn’t depend on it to exist like I used to. It probably helped that my body was beyond exhausted, and I found myself floating out of consciousness without meaning to.

  Despite this, there were several occasions where I would wake up from a dead sleep in a cold shaking sweat, panting and needing the Gerex in my blood. Dr. March helped me fight through it a few times before trying an acupuncture technique she had researched. Each time she did it, my symptoms faded within minutes.

  “I think,” Dr. March said to me one day about a month after I’d first arrived at the IDA, “you are officially clean.”

  I bit my lip, afraid to believe what she was saying. “Are you sure?” I asked.

  She put her hand on my shoulder and smiled. “I’m sure.” She sounded calm and confident and after everything I couldn’t help but trust her completely. “Remember, these symptoms will probably stick with you for a while, but your appetite has improved, you’re keeping food down, and for the most part, you’re sleeping through the night. At this point, I’m comfortable releasing you to Director Simmonds.”

  Before Dr. March let me go, she scheduled a series of regular check-ups with me. She also made me promise I’d come to her for acupuncture whenever I needed it.

  I agreed to everything easily. It had taken a month, but for the first time in seven years I could finally be considered sober.

  Chapter Three

  INTEGRATION

  A security member took me down a floor, and deposited me in a room. I breathed deeply the whole way, feeling like the air was the freshest I had ever taken in.

  “The director will be with you momentarily,” the security officer said, shutting the door soundly behind him.

  Director Simmonds’s office was the size of a small conference room. There was a desk to the left of the door and the wall behind it was lined with several monitors. Only one of the monitors was on. It displayed a map of the world with twelve blinking dots at various points. Most of the dots where either green or yellow, while some were open white circles. I didn’t know what the colors meant, but I could guess that the dots themselves indicated the locations of active missions.

  The reality of the situation started to sink in. I was a KATO agent standing in the director of the IDA’s office. It was enough to make me feel suffocated, caged, and anxious. I had survived my detox, but I had another fight ahead of me. I needed to convince Simmonds I was on his side and do everything I could to keep myself out of KATO’s reach for as long as possible. I wasn’t deluded enough to believe I’d ever completely escape them, but that was a confrontation I couldn’t think about.

  I found myself craving the Gerex and shook away the thought, refusing to give it power.

  The door opened behind me and I spun around, briefly meeting Director Simmonds’s eyes. He seemed considerably more relaxed than he had been the last time I’d seen him.

  “Jocelyn.” His voice was gentler than I was expecting. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  He sat behind his desk and I eased into the chair across from him, resting my elbows on the arms and casually lacing my fingers together. I tried to act like this was
just another job.

  “How are you doing?” he asked. I was a little thrown by the genuine concern in his voice.

  “I’m—better,” I said, not looking to go into any more detail.

  He scanned me briefly, then nodded and pulled a file—my file—closer. He studied it for a moment, then leaned comfortably back in his chair. “I’d like you to tell me everything you know about KATO.”

  I blinked a few times, replaying the question in my head. If he was really asking me for information, then it could only mean one thing. “You believe me?”

  He nodded solemnly and I saw pity on his face for half a second before he hid it. “I’ve seen detoxes before,” he said. “But yours was the most difficult and painful I’ve ever had to watch.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “You were there?” I didn’t remember seeing him.

  “I was.” He met my eyes. “And I can’t imagine a KATO agent who was truly brainwashed would put themselves through that. You had to want it.”

  I gripped the arms of the chair, trying not to think of how good it felt to have the Gerex in my blood.

  “So,” he said, bringing me back. “What can you tell me about KATO?”

  I moved to the edge of my seat, preparing myself. I didn’t waste time asking what he already knew. Instead I told him everything I could, starting with KATO’s original intentions. The organization was designed to be a division of North Korea’s intelligence agency with a special focus on utilizing the skills of younger agents. The program was so successful, it quickly became a priority to recruit potential agents as young as possible. The younger KATO could get their claws into someone, the more power and control they would have, which was why kids became their target.

  Some parents gave over their kids willingly, thinking they were giving a great service to their country, while others were blackmailed into the situation. They got the rest of their agents by taking advantage of easily manipulated orphans. As far as I knew, I was the only kid taken to send some kind of message.

  I also told Simmonds where their headquarters was, and how they operated. I told him about some of the things I had stolen and the people I’d killed, but I kept it limited to the bigger assignments. I’d done far too much damage on KATO’s behalf to list everything. The whole exchange took hours, and it was as equally freeing as it was terrifying.

  Simmonds listened attentively, and waited until I had finished to speak. “I can imagine they told you some tales about the IDA?”

  I nodded. “They spent the first four years drilling into me how meddlesome, intrusive, and evil all of you were,” I said. “They did everything they could to make me hate you, but it never felt right.” I rubbed my palms anxiously on my knees. “When they thought they had me, they told me my parents were IDA spies. I didn’t believe them at first, but they had video and other evidence. It was supposed to motivate me against them and against the IDA even more. They wanted me to feel betrayed that my parents not only lied to me, but were working for the people I was supposed to hate. But ultimately, it made me feel like I had a way out.”

  Simmonds studied me momentarily, then shifted a little closer. “You should know that I’ve been trying to get you back since they took you. It was six years before they put you in the field, correct?”

  I nodded, my face tight and focused, unable to hide how much he had just surprised me.

  “Once they did, you were so well trained that I couldn’t get to you,” he said. “And based on what we know now, it seems it would have been hard to persuade you to leave.” He shook his head. “I had hoped when you were finally retrieved you wouldn’t still be tied to them.”

  A small humorless laugh snuck out of me. “I’ll always be tied to them.” His expression didn’t change. “Did you work here when I was kidnapped?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Then you knew my parents?”

  His eyes darkened a fraction. “I was very close with them.”

  I swallowed hard and ignored the weight that dropped in my stomach. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

  He held my eyes, preparing me. But I was prepared. I’d been prepared for years—since KATO first told me the truth. “Your mother is.”

  I sat up a little straighter. “And my—my father?”

  “He’s alive,” Simmonds said with a small smile. “At least, as far as we know. He left the agency after he lost you and your mother, and he made sure no one could find him. We don’t have any idea where he is or how to get in touch with him, but we’ll get someone on it.”

  My gut turned in an unexpected way and I shook my head. “It’s okay. Given the situation it’s probably better if he’s left alone.”

  Simmonds’s face twisted in confusion. “He would want to know.” He sounded so sure, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how he could understand. “And he will be very unhappy with me if he finds out you’ve been recovered and we didn’t try to track him down.”

  I gave him a small insincere smile, fighting the impulse to push the issue. “Can you tell me anything about them?”

  Simmonds smiled lightly. “Your parents and I were some of the first spies this organization had. They were on their way back from a vacation in Paris with you when my predecessor asked them to make a stop in South Korea. It was supposed to be a safe, quick job. That’s the only reason they agreed to it, especially with you along for the ride. Your mom was going to stay in a hotel room with you while your dad went to pick up a package. You wouldn’t have been on the ground for more than an hour.”

  “KATO found out,” I said hoarsely. It didn’t matter that I was eight at the time, or that ten years had passed. I still remembered being dragged away from my mom by a man in a mask.

  “They did.” He leaned forward. “They took you and killed your mother. It took us a while to find her body, but once we did, your father left the agency and made sure he couldn’t be tracked. He didn’t want to be around when you were found.”

  “You mean when my body was found,” I said.

  Simmonds didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t need to.

  I leaned back into my chair, doing my best to turn off my emotions. “So, what happens now?” I asked, desperately needing to change the subject. “I get to work on stopping KATO’s recruitment?”

  Simmonds continued paging through my file. “Yes,” he said. “And I will help you where I can, but we need to be clear on how the IDA operates. Our goal is drastically different from KATO’s. We don’t run on a direct political agenda. We were formed to combat agencies like KATO, which means that while we do have ties to the U.S., Canada, and the core counties of the European Union, we aren’t officially affiliated with any one government. This gives us a larger reach since we’re not bound by a single diplomatic or foreign policy, but it also means we have no military backing. Everything that goes on here is solely on us, unless we can persuade another agency or government to get involved.”

  “What are you getting at?” I asked.

  “I’m saying, I don’t have a problem moving on what you’re planning, but I am not in the business of sending agents into the field until we have a full and well-developed plan based on credible intel. You can’t rush this.” He held my eyes evenly, like he was trying to stress the importance of this.

  “Trust me,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I know I don’t have nearly enough resources to pull this off yet. It may take a while, but I’ll make this happen.”

  “Okay, then.” Simmonds nodded. “Now, as for your in-house cover story. None of the agents, outside of myself, Dr. March, and a handful of others, will know you’ve been sent here as a KATO spy. We’ll tell everyone exactly what KATO expects us to: That you were kidnapped from this agency as a child, and now we’ve gotten you back.”

  I shook my head, doubtfully. “That’s not going to go over well. I’ve spent the last four years fighting a
gainst this agency. I almost killed some of your agents—”

  “But you never did.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “A few times I came pretty close.”

  Simmonds leaned forward. “If KATO ever gets a hold of an agent and that person says something—” He didn’t need to say what KATO would do to get the truth out of someone. “It would jeopardize you, your mission, and this agency’s ultimate goals.”

  “I know,” I said. “I just think it’s going to be a hard sell.”

  “It will be,” Simmonds said. “But we both know it’s necessary.”

  I rubbed my forehead, irritated that this was the best option. But I knew what I was getting into when I showed up on campus. “Okay, you’re right. What else?”

  “Your KATO contact.” He turned to another page in the file. “You’ll communicate with them as they requested, and we’ll talk before and after you do. I’ll be telling you what to say to them and how we’re going to handle this whole situation,” he said. “Did KATO ask anything specific for your first contact?”

  “Yes.” I sat straighter, and began to feel more comfortable. We were discussing an assignment, and there was nothing I was more familiar with. “They want me to find out everything the IDA has on them.”

  Simmonds pursed his lips in thought. “Very well. I’ll come up with something you can tell them. We’ll go over everything before you get in touch.”

  “Okay,” I said. My palms started to sweat at the thought of making that contact. I wiped them on my pants and did my best to focus on Simmonds, who had moved on.

  “You’ll have unlimited access to Dr. March,” he said. “She’s told me you’ll need it.”

  “And what’s the cover story there?” I asked.

  “That you’ve spent ten years in a North Korean facility and you’re drastically behind on the necessary medical care.”

  I nodded. He seemed to have thought of everything. “Anything else I need to know?”