by Melissa Aden
Beat down by fear, anger, and doubt, the feelings escalated until, one day, I simply couldn’t do it anymore.
“I quit, Sal! I want off the case,” I fumed to Emmanuel Salvatore, PORTAL’s Agency Director. He was like a second father to me, though he was a good decade younger than my own dad.
“What?” Sal looked up from his desk, half startled.
“Take me off Sophie Cohen’s case.” After yet another lunch hour watching Hagen and Sophie laugh, flirt, and gaze into each other eyes, I had finally snapped. I felt like I was losing my mind.
The look on Sal’s face smothered my anger. Lucidity returned to me and I took a step back realizing what I’d done. Barging into his office unannounced on an anger-driven whim was enough of an offense, but I’d also told him what to do. Sal’s twelve guards caught up to me then, profusely apologizing to him as they painfully twisted my arms behind my back and grabbed my legs to carry me out.
Knowing I’d disrespectfully overstepped, I braced for Sal’s reprimand, but it never came. Instead, he laughed. The guards froze, bewildered.
“Rett, the look on your face when you stormed in here was priceless.” He chuckled to the guards, “Let him go, guys. Please return to your posts and be a little more vigilant next time.” As soon as we were alone, he asked, “What’s ruffled your feathers?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling insecure and foolish for coming at all. “I want off Sophie’s case,” I said, sounding like I was asking a question.
Though Sal’s ocean-blue eyes were kind, his face was serious. “Have a seat, Rett.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable under the heat of his eyes. I always got the sense that Sal could see deep into my soul when he looked at me, that he saw more than what physical eyes could conceive, into the very heart of me.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“But I came unannounced. I can come back another time.”
“Why do you doubt my admiration for you, Rett? You know my door is always open to those I love. Please. Sit.” As I did, Sal went on. “Sophie’s case is highly classified. I can’t give it to anyone. Something must have happened to make you feel this way. What is this really about?”
I always wondered why he posed questions he seemingly already knew the answers to. I thoroughly regretted coming in right then. What was I to tell him? That I’d fallen madly in love with Sophie? Though it wasn’t outright forbidden, I couldn’t foresee that going well.
“This is about Benson,” Sal said gently. The comment caught me off guard. He put down the pen he’d been using, and leaned back in his chair, watching me with knowing eyes as if he was reading my thoughts. I somehow didn’t mind as I trusted Sal’s intentions were pure. “Rett, I know accepting this mission without him has been hard for you. Quite honestly, I pleaded with Dio to give the assignment to someone else, but when it came down to it, he chose you. Do you know what this means?”
It was as if he knew me better than I knew myself. I shook my head, in awe that I hadn’t thought of this first and that, once again, Sal had hit the mark. “What does it mean?” I asked, knowing it was easier for him to tell me.
“Dio said that no one could do a better job at protecting Sophie Cohen’s life than you. No one has the natural skill or instincts that you do. Why are these things true?”
“Why?”
“Because Dio, in his infinite wisdom, began preparing you long ago for the task he knew he’d one day assign you.” Sal leaned forward in his chair, his eyes more piercing than before. “You know Dio always gives us a choice, but he doesn’t make mistakes. You’re one of the best that I’ve got, Rett. No other agent can fit in at Brightman as well as you. And as you know, this mission is the very reason Benson and you were placed at Brightman over two years ago.”
“I can’t do it, though. I’m not good enough.” My voice caught as my true feelings bubbled up and out. Sal was right. This had everything to do with Benson. “I’m half of a team. I’m operating at half speed, half function, and half power. I feel so handicapped — so lost — without Benson.” I paused letting these new revelations sink in. “I’m so sick of feeling broken. I can’t do it anymore.”
The compassion in Sal’s eyes then — on his face and in his voice — hung heavy on me, almost too much to bear. I felt I would crumble under the weight of it. Knowing this was a safe place to fall apart, I let go, my sobs shaking me to the core.
Sal let me cry awhile before saying, “When I gave you this mission, I knew it would be hard on you. You knew this going in, too. But please understand that you’re learning and growing. Being stretched is never a comfortable experience, but you’ve done an excellent job of looking over Sophie the past six months. Dio knew what he was doing when he placed you in this position. Don’t doubt his perfect wisdom or timing. You know as well as I do that Dio’s plans and strategies are flawless. He foresees much more than you and I.”
His next words resonated through me, chasing away all doubt and fear. “You are one of the most naturally talented agents I have ever come across. You have great potential and wonderful instinct. Dio has given you many powers to work with. Rely on him to lead you and you’ll be sure to find your way. If it’s any consolation, you have the entire PORTAL task force behind you. Tell me what we can do to help and consider it done.”
Knowing his offer was my only ray of hope, I took advantage. “There’s this guy at Brightman. Hagen Dibrom.”
Sal nodded, laughing lightly. “I’ve seen your reports on him. You don’t like him.”
“No,” I agreed, knowing it was pointless to lie to Sal when he clearly knew the truth. “He’s dating Sophie. I have a feeling he’s bad news, but no matter what I do, I can’t find anything to prove it. You say I have good instincts, yet I’m starting to feel like my suspicions are unfounded.”
“Regardless of the lack of evidence, what do you feel is an appropriate plan of action?”
I was floored that he trusted me so completely when I didn’t even trust myself, but I didn’t have to think twice to know the answer. “Since he’s close to Sophie all the time, I think it’s necessary to figure out who this guy is. What family he comes from. His background. Best case scenario, he’s just a punk rich kid, but worst case scenario, he’s somehow connected to Divaldo.”
“I agree. I’ll put my best research team on it. Anything else?”
“No,” I said, dumbfounded it was that easy. I shrugged, feeling validated. “That’s it.”
“I’ll instruct the research crew to give this task top priority. In the meantime, stop doubting yourself and your talent. It’s your biggest asset. Dio didn’t make mistakes when he created you.”
Thanking him, I left feeling lighter somehow. I realized internalizing so many things and refusing to reach out or ask for help had paralyzed me. Knowing that Sal was behind me eased my anxiety about Hagen. Relishing the peace I now felt, I regretted not asking for help sooner.
Though I was still stuck looking in on Sophie and Hagen, I felt better knowing Sal — and especially Dio — were on my side and that I wasn’t alone in this after all. I determined to move forward, no longer doing things in my own power, but trusting Dio every step of the way.
Chapter 19
So Close
Now that PORTAL’s research team was working on unearthing Hagen’s background, I was left with renewed vigor for my mission, as well as more time to explore aspects I’d yet had a chance to.
From the beginning, Hagen and Sophie rarely saw each other on evenings or weekends. When they were together during the week days, they were hardly alone, usually surrounded by an ever-evolving crowd of admirers. I had always found this strange and often wondered what Hagen did when not with Sophie, and now, I had the capacity to find out.
About that time, PORTAL’s research team informed me that Hagen Dibrom didn’t exist! No wonder my repeated attempts at researching him had failed. Their search for information, like mine, came up void. I’d suspected that Hagen was too
good to be true because, in fact, he was. None of the information derived from his Brightman records checked out, including his parents.
Hagen Dibrom was an imposter, a made up character, a facade, leaving many questions, like who was the guy so seamlessly playing the role of devoted boyfriend? And why did he do it? Did he honestly like Sophie or was his relationship with her a cover for something else?
I’d been right about sensing something wasn’t quite right about Hagen, leaving me reading into the other hunches I had about him as well. But… Hagen Dibrom couldn’t possibly be an operative for Divaldo, could he? It would mean he’d have gotten past Brightman and PORTAL’s many safeguards. Though, the night I’d welcomed Sophie to Brightman’s campus, someone had hacked into the Academy’s computer system. Maybe Hagen had something to do with this.
It was unprecedented — a far fetch — but I couldn’t shake the knowing feeling that Hagen was somehow connected to Divaldo. It was unlikely but — the stakes now higher than ever — I had to be certain.
Trailing Hagen was uneventful the first few weeks. When he wasn’t doting on Sophie, he drove into town with friends to loiter or grab a bite to eat, watched TV in Brightman’s commons area, or worked out at Brightman’s gym. But as I was accepting he was a regular teenager, he slipped up.
It was a Wednesday night. Hagen uncharacteristically stopped by Sophie’s dorm about eight p.m. before leaving at nine p.m. looking angry and unkempt. Instead of heading for his dorm, he walked outside.
Hagen’s rebellious decision to leave campus after hours was noteworthy. Dr. Smitherson mandated all students be on campus by nine p.m. and in their room and accounted for by ten p.m., so my curiosity was piqued as I watched Hagen stalk down Harmony Hall to the parking lot. First off, what happened with Sophie to make Hagen so upset? Secondly, where was Hagen going at nine o’clock at night? His ignition revved to life and his headlights flashed on just as I made it outside. I sprinted to my beat up Trailblazer, parked on the other side of campus.
For a moment, I thought I’d lost Hagen. I sped through Annandale and down Elm Street praying I’d cross paths with him. I sighed with relief when I caught up to his big, black truck — hard to miss with its flashy guard rail and ridiculous “VIOL8R” license plate. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He was such a loser.
I trailed Hagen’s truck into the parking lot of a bar called JB’s before watching him walk in. I debated what to do. Ill prepared, I had no way of disguising myself. Figuring the place would be dark inside, I settled for donning a ball cap that I found in the backseat, pulling the collar of my jacket up around my ears for safe measure.
Entering the bar, I was thankful to find myself in a dark room, the only light radiating from neon signs of different beer logos lining the walls, their citrus glow highlighting the acrid swirls of smoke in the air. Hagen glanced at me from a far corner of the room containing four pool tables, just as quickly looking away — I hoped because he hadn’t recognized me. Finding an especially dark spot that gave me the perfect vantage of him, I pulled up to the bar, then noticing Hagen wasn’t alone.
He talked intently to a squatty figure in a long, black leather jacket with a large hood pulled over his head, concealing his face in purple shadows. He was dressed in all black, except for bright red flames on the toes of his black boots. He talked to Hagen, wildly moving his hands with animated motion before pausing, scanning the room, and repeating the cycle. Every time he looked around I sank a little lower in my chair, feeling increasingly self-conscious. And then something caught my eye.
The guy had a blotch of color on his left hand. I focused on it, slowly making out a tattoo of a snarling animal baring its teeth. The man finally stopped talking and reached his hand out to grab a mug of beer beside him. It was then that I identified that the animal was a Rottweiler.
I didn’t like this guy one bit. Hagen was menacing but, with his grim reaper attire and nervous energy, this other guy was on a level all his own. What was Hagen doing with a guy like this? They were up to something.
“Hey, handsome.”
I about jumped out of my skin. I looked over at the pretty girl with long blonde hair standing beside me. “Hi, Sarah,” I answered, spotting her name tag.
“You don’t look like the type to be here this time of night,” she observed, looking me up and down. “Especially in the middle of the week.”
I looked down and realized she was right. My preppy sweater and designer jeans didn’t exactly help me fit in with the rest of the bar’s clientele. I zipped my jacket.
“You don’t look like the type of girl who should be serving drinks at a bar… at this time of night… in the middle of the week,” I retorted. Something about her was striking in a wholesome, girl-next-door sort of way.
She laughed and smiled sweetly. “You got me, but I have to pay for college somehow. It’s either this or working at a restaurant, and honestly, the tips are better here. I’m able to pay for my tuition, so I stay. But enough about me. What can I get you to drink?”
“Um… give me a minute to think about it?”
“Sure, but a word of warning: we don’t do fancy drinks here. Your options are beer, beer, or beer.”
“Got it. Thanks, Sarah.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” She smiled again before attending to some men at the other end of the bar.
I returned my attention to Hagen and his friend. Besides the fact that Hagen was a minor in a bar, everything seemed normal, yet the more I watched them, the more I identified their anxiety. They were upset. Something was wrong. I strained to hear what they were saying, and then laughed at myself for thinking I’d be able to make out their words over the Willie Nelson song blaring from the nearby juke box. But did their words honestly matter? The fact that Hagen was here was suspect enough. It was time I finish this once and for all.
I’d just walk straight up to them. Though not the wisest thing to do, they’d probably be so shocked that they’d remain perplexed for a time, and I was confident I could take them both should they choose to fight. Hagen was already under scrutiny at PORTAL, so Sal couldn’t be that mad if I dragged him and his creepy friend back to headquarters for interrogation. I rose from my seat before sitting again. Remembering my vow to no longer go it on my own, I knew what I had to do first.
Shutting my eyes to help me focus, I thought, Help me, Dio. Give me direction. I know you assigned me to Sophie and led me to follow Hagen here tonight for a reason. But why? I need answers. Please.
“Can I see some I.D., son?”
A tall, stalky man with a toothpick protruding from his bushy mustache stood behind the bar, looking at me like I was from Mars.
“No alcohol for me tonight,” I said, trying my hardest to sound older than I was. “Just a soda, please.”
“I still need to see an I.D.,” the guy replied. “Alcohol or not, I don’t sell to minors. This is a bar. You know that, right?” He looked incredulous. “If you can’t comply, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He extended a fully tattooed arm waiting for me to hand over my I.D.
“Hey! You look like you know a lot about tattoos,” I blurted, trying to buy some time.
The man glanced at his arm before saying, “Ya’ think?”
“That guy over there with the hood—” I said, nodding in Creepy McCreeperson’s direction.
The man looked over. “Yeah?”
“Have you seen the tattoo on his hand?”
“Yeah!” His mood visibly lightened. “It’s pretty sick.”
“Sick as in good or sick as in bad?”
“Both,” he chuckled. I kept silent and stared at him and he eventually kept talking. “The tattoo is of a mean lookin’ Rottweiler. Its teeth and face are all bloody. There’s also a bloody figure that goes down his arm. I actually asked him about it when he came in tonight and he rolled up his sleeve and showed me. The bloody figure is this muscular angel dude and the Rottweiler has torn its throat out. I’m into all sorts of tattoo
s — whatever floats your boat — but there’s something deranged about it if you ask me.”
“Hmmm… ” I nodded, hoping he’d go on.
“But we get creeps in here all the time so it’s nothing new.” His face hardened again. “Now, about that I.D.”
“So you’ve never seem him before tonight?” I asked, ignoring the request.
“Nope. And I never forget a face.”
“I can’t see his face from here. What does he look like?”
The man’s frown told me I’d gone too far. “I.D.! Now!” he barked.
For a split moment, I thought about trying to persuade him I was of age and had forgotten my I.D., but, not wanting to make a scene or draw attention to myself, I decided against it. “Why? I’m not the only minor here.”
“What? Who are you referring to?” The bartender’s eyebrows raised into a pile of creases on his forehead.
“The guy talking to the tattooed guy,” I said, tipping my head Hagen’s way.
The man glanced over and shook his head, the alarm leaving his face. “Like I said, son, I pay close attention to every soul that comes in this place, and I don’t sell to minors.”
A siren went off in my head. “So he’s of legal age?”
“Of course he is,” the man replied. “Adam Sorento. He moved here a good three months ago. He comes around ever so often.”
I gaped, realizing this was the lead I’d asked Dio for. And he’d placed it right in my lap. I was so elated I could have kissed the bartender then. “Where’d this Adam Sorento move here from?” I was pushing my luck, but knew it was worth a try.
“Look, kid,” the man said, reaching his limit. “I need to grab some clean mugs from the kitchen. When I return, you’d better be gone or it’s going to get ugly.” He turned, grumbling as he walked away. “Stupid kid, what the heck is he thinking coming in here and… ”
Either Hagen was of drinking age, he had a fake I.D., or Adam Sorento was another one of his aliases. Or maybe it was all of the above. I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I conspicuously took a picture of Hagen and his friend with my cell phone before racing back to my car, thanking Dio all the way.