by Parker Wren
There were many things bothering me with this whole interaction, but something in particular wasn’t sitting right.
“Wait,” I said. Manuel turned and grinned; it was as if he was anticipating my response.
“How did you find me again?” I asked. “What brought me on your radar?”
Manuel looked disappointed. He must have thought I was going to express interest in the job.
“Oh, you know, we do all sorts of nationwide searches. Your name came up. None of us live private lives, you know. Your background—all our backgrounds—are out there, leaving an electronic footprint. It doesn’t take much work to dig this stuff up.”
Manuel stood by the table for another moment. “Have a good day. I hope to talk to you soon.” He nodded at me, his eyes crinkling.
He walked away from the table, and I watched as he politely opened the door for a woman before leaving the restaurant. Once he was outside, he took a left, and walked past the window where I was sitting, not looking at me.
I turned over Manuel’s business card in my hand. I went back to drinking my coffee and let the card flip through my fingertips, back and forth and back again, until I didn’t even notice that I was making the motions.
CHAPTER 3
Finally, I stood up. My chest felt like it was going to burst. I left Bodo’s Bagels and started walking quickly back to my apartment. I was nearly there when I took out my cell phone and dialed. An answer came on the second ring:
“Hello?”
“Hey, Monika,” I said. My voice sounded normal, strong. Monika was another PhD student in the program. She was two years ahead of me, but we were the same age, and she had been my closest friend.
“Hey, Ariel,” she replied. “How are you?” Monika’s voice was full of sincerity. You knew she actually cared about how you were.
“I’m alright.” I paused and considered telling her about the strange encounter with Manuel, but I decided against it.
“Jason and I broke up,” I said, matter of fact.
Monika’s surprise was palpable. “Oh no! Are you okay? Do you want to talk?”
“Sure, how is tonight?”
“Yes, of course.”
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That evening, I went to meet Monika at our favorite restaurant. It was a bit further back from the main street and the hustle of the Corner and more of a grad student scene than an undergrad one.
I ran up the stairs to our spot on the second floor. She was already there when I arrived, sitting at a booth. I dropped my bag next to the chair across from her and sighed. Monika had a beer in front of her, but she slid it to my side of the table and smiled. “Here.”
As usual, she looked gorgeous. Her olive skin needed very little makeup, and her jet black hair was long and smooth. And I think it was because of her kindness and goodness, but—somehow—her beauty seemed more pronounced.
“You’re not having anything?” I asked, taking a sip of the beer as I slid into the seat across from her.
“Nah”—she shook her head—“I’m good. But I figured you could use it.” Monika leaned in, her forearms on the table. “So, tell me about Jason. Are you okay?”
I gave her the short version of the story, recounting how I had found the email on Jason’s computer. I told her about the mean comment I had made to him before leaving, and she laughed.
“Did I ever say that about him?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, “not you. You’re too nice to say something bad about a boyfriend of mine, even if it’s true. Just others who told me they didn’t like him. You know, Jordan and Amanda—they can never keep their opinions to themselves. But it turns out they were right.”
“Aww.” Monika gave a small smile with a sigh. It was one of those things she did when she wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, I am really sorry to hear about everything that happened. How are you doing? I know it must be hard.”
“I’m fine.” I finished the last of my beer, which I drank quickly. I shrugged and looked back at Monika. “It sucks—don’t get me wrong—but it’s not worth wasting my time over.”
“Well, you deserve a great guy. Just know that.” Monika reached over and squeezed my hand.
I smiled back at her. “Thank you. But I feel so silly. Going on about Jason and not asking you how you’re doing?”
Monika shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous! I asked about Jason. We can talk about me another time.”
I cleared my throat. “So…there is one other thing I was hoping to get your advice about.”
“Sure,” she said. “Shoot.”
I paused and tried to decide how much to tell her. “I have a job offer for this summer. Doing—um—consulting work.” I didn’t know what to call it since I still had no idea what the job entailed, so I just used the same term that Manuel had. “I don’t know much about it, but this man approached me at Bodo’s and asked if I would be interested.”
Monika shook her head, a confused expression on her face. “Wait, what happened?”
I explained how Manuel had approached me at Bodo’s Bagels and gave her a summary of the conversation.
“That’s so weird,” Monika said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I feel like I should say no, but part of me wants to say yes. What do you think?”
“I think it can’t hurt to learn more about it,” she said. “I mean, you’re not committed to anything, right?”
I absentmindedly swirled my thick ponytail through my fingers, thinking. “Yeah. You’re right. It can’t hurt to learn more about it. I can always say no.”
Later, when we parted, I gave Monika a tight hug and waved goodbye as she crossed the street. We promised to talk soon. I also realized in my gut that, for the first time in a while, I wasn’t confident that I knew where my life was going.
When I arrived home, I decided to conduct some research on Select Recruits and Manuel. I curled up in my usual spot, an oversized chair in my living room, and turned on my laptop.
I did a quick internet search on Select Recruits, which revealed a website, though it was even vaguer than Manuel had been in his description. I checked the Better Business Bureau, which—of course—had nothing to report, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to make sure this organization wasn’t a fraud. A street view of their address revealed a normal-looking office building in downtown D.C.
I then turned my attention to investigate Manuel Gonzalez. He had graduated from Princeton, lived in D.C. with his wife and three kids, and appeared to be a legitimate person—although I couldn’t find anything on his career background.
I decided to let myself sleep on it. I turned off the laptop and headed to bed, hoping I would be able to fall asleep quickly.
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The next morning, without giving the issue another thought, I pulled the business card out of my bag and dialed the number.
“Manuel Gonzalez,” he answered, his voice friendly and professional.
Suddenly I didn’t know what to say.
“Um, hello.” I cleared my throat. “This is Ariel James.”
“Ariel! How nice to hear from you,” Manuel replied. “Have you given my offer some thought?”
“Yes,” I said. “I still don’t know what I think, and I don’t like the way you approached me, but I admit that you have me intrigued.”
I don’t know why I continued to be so rude to Manuel. Maybe it was something with the file that he had on me. But today I had called him, and I silently chastised myself for my lack of manners.
Manuel didn’t seem fazed. “I’m pleased to hear that. When would you be able to come up to D.C.?”
I quickly ran over to my laptop and pulled up my calendar. “Hmm… Thursdays are generally pretty good for me,”
“Great!” Manuel replied. He seemed very enthusiastic. “How about this Thursday?”
“Oh, wow…well, that’s soon,” I said.
Manual could sense my hesitation. “Only if that works fo
r you.”
It was last minute, but I wanted to get this out of the way. Once I had sated my curiosity, I would likely realize that the job offer wasn’t for me, and I could get it out of my head. And, this was a good week for me. It was nearing the end of the term, but I had just completed a couple of projects, and my students’ finals weren’t due for another week or so.
“Okay,” I said. “What time?”
“I know you have a bit of a drive, so let’s say one p. m. I will text you the address. Is this a good contact number for you?”
“Yes,” I replied. Then I thought to myself that Manuel probably already had my number.
“Great,” he said. “See you then.”
“Okay. Bye.”
I hung up the phone, still unsure about how to feel. But I was just going for a meeting in D.C. What was the harm in that?
CHAPTER 4
I set off around 9:30 on Thursday morning to give myself plenty of time in case I hit traffic. The drive was usually around two and a half hours, but the beltway around D.C. was always unpredictable. I drove up Route 29, enjoying the peaceful scenery. Fortunately, traffic wasn’t too bad, but there were still many cars on the road and I nearly missed my exit. Once in the city, I drove through the maze of one-way streets, and parked in the garage Manuel had recommended in his text.
Since I was about an hour early, I decided to grab some lunch at a nearby café. I had brought some of my students’ papers to read, and I edited them quickly as I ate my sandwich.
At about ten minutes to one, I walked over to the office building with the address that Manuel had specified. It was a different location than the one that the Select Recruits’ website had provided. Slightly suspicious, I thought.
When I entered the building, I noticed it housed various offices. I looked at the directory and found ‘Select Recruits’ in small letters next to the ninth floor. I stepped into the elevator. As the elevator slowly made its way up, I smoothed down my cream-colored blouse and black slacks and hoped I looked professional enough but not overdressed. I pulled my silver locket in my hand, made a fist, and squeezed.
I stepped out onto the ninth floor and found a reception desk in front of me. For some reason, I was surprised by the simplicity of the office. It was modern but sparsely decorated with simple wooden furniture. The receptionist smiled at me.
“Hello.” Her voice was cheery. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to see Manuel Gonzalez.”
“And your name?”
“Ariel James.”
“Please have a seat right over here.” She gestured to a row of nondescript chairs.
I sat down and crossed my legs. I noticed there was nothing hanging on the plain walls, which struck me as odd. Someone didn’t plan on staying in that space for too long.
It didn’t take long for Manuel to come out and greet me.
“Ariel!” A smile spread across his face as he extended his hand.
People here sure are friendly, I thought.
“Hi.” I shook his hand.
“Come on back,” he said.
I expected to be brought to an office, but instead I was led to a different type of room. It appeared to be some type of meeting room, with a huge oak table and big, comfortable chairs surrounding it. Large windows looked out over the city, and glass walls faced the hallway. There was a fancy projector system, though at the moment it wasn’t turned on.
“Please take a seat,” Manuel said. “Did Scarlett offer you anything to drink? Would you like something?”
“Oh, no. I’m fine, thank you,” I replied, sitting at the end of one side of the table.
Manuel went to take a seat next to me at the foot of the table, which made sense because had he been sitting directly across from me, he would have seemed miles away with this massive table.
I watched as he took his seat. He still seemed as ordinary as the first day I had met him. He was impeccably dressed in an expensive gray suit, crisp white shirt, and blue tie, but he still looked like a generic businessman. I watched as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. For some reason, I had always found this fascinating. Why is it that men’s suits are designed so they have to button their jacket every time they stand up and unbutton it when they sit down? It seemed like such an inconvenience. But the older the man is, the less conscious the action becomes. I imagined that Manuel probably didn’t even notice the buttoning and unbuttoning action anymore.
“So,” Manuel started, leaning his elbows on the table and knitting his fingers together. “First, I want to say thank you for meeting me.”
I shrugged, still not wanting to look like I was that interested. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to find out more.”
“Well, I’m very glad you did,” he said. I was starting to like him a little bit—even if he did have that file on me. He was straightforward, and I could appreciate that at least.
Manuel took out a stack of files from his briefcase and placed them next to his right arm, but he didn’t refer to them as he continued speaking.
“Why don’t we do this,” he said. “I will tell you a little bit about this job I would like to offer you. I can’t give you too many details, but feel free to ask whatever you like. I just may not be able to answer all of your questions.”
“Okay.” I was hoping he wouldn’t be too vague, or else what was the point of me driving there?
Manuel cleared his throat.
“As I told you in Charlottesville, we do consulting work. Well, perhaps more accurately, we do consulting work for contractors. In essence, these companies are often hired by the government, and then they ask us to complete certain jobs for them. Sometimes we also do other types of work for government-affiliated private clients. We don’t always know who the client is, though we usually like to.”
Okay, I thought. I could follow so far. My job in the military didn’t involve interacting with too many contractors, but I knew how frequently they were used. I also wondered if the government knew about this second-hand contracting or if this business was more under the table.
I was starting to think the latter.
Manuel continued. “We offer various services. I can’t get into everything. We pride ourselves in our discretion. Unfortunately, that often means many of our employees are unaware of the larger picture, but we believe that protects both them and us as a company.
“The kind of job I am interested in hiring you for—it’s a bit unique. I will let you know right now that it will involve deception. It will probably be unlike anything you’ve ever done. But I am quite confident that you will be excellent at it.”
I was getting wary of where this was leading. “Deception…” I let the term sink in. “Deception how?”
Manuel got right to the point. “In short, you will get to know a group of strangers. You will have some information we want you to obtain. For the most part, you can be yourself. We encourage our employees who take on this type of job to be honest in all matters not relating to the mission. This will make things easier for you and means that you will be less likely to get caught.”
His words sank in.
“So… you want me to be a field agent?” I could feel a lump forming in my stomach. How did I end up here? Would my father be laughing right now if he knew? Or would he just shake his head?
Manuel chuckled. “Yes, that is one way to look at it. But Ariel, this isn’t… secret CIA stuff. These missions…well, they are important, but we’re not talking about the level of espionage that would require years of training. Our missions are usually very simple. Find out some information, then exit.”
“And who are the victims? Or should I say targets?” I folded my arms across my chest.
Manuel gave a low laugh again. “Ariel, let me assure you, we are the good guys here. We’re trying to catch criminals.”
He saw my eyebrows raise, and he shook his head. “No, no. Nothing like that. Mostly white collar crimes. Nothing that should put you in danger. There is al
ways that risk, but it’s very small.”
I chewed over this in my mind.
“So… like a type of corporate espionage? How do I know the information is going somewhere good, like the authorities, and not just someone out for revenge?”
“You don’t,” Manuel replied bluntly. “You will just have to take my word for it.”
I didn’t say anything. Manuel stayed quiet as I thought for a minute.
I finally spoke. “Hypothetically, then… I would—say—go work for a company, then try to spy on someone—like the CEO—and collect information on any possible illegal activity, then report back to you?”
“Yes,” Manuel said. “That is an excellent example.”
“Is that legal?” I asked, suspecting that it wasn’t.
Manuel paused, choosing his words carefully. “We… walk a fine line. Let’s just say that we often work in a vast gray area.”
I thought about the idea of working at some corporation for the summer. It sounded incredibly dull.
Manuel seemed to read my mind. “But the example you gave isn’t what you would be doing. Your mission would be far more interesting.”
“Explain,” I demanded.
Manuel smiled and shook his head. “Unfortunately I can’t say much more without you signing some paperwork.”
“Oh, of course,” I said sarcastically, then sighed. Why was I being rude to Manuel again? I didn’t know, other than that his evasiveness was frustrating me.
“Here.” Manuel lifted a pack of papers from one of his folders. “You don’t need to sign everything just now. All that I ask is you sign a non-disclosure agreement. You are not committing to anything; you are merely just agreeing that you will not discuss anything that we go over in this room with anyone else.”
I uncrossed my arms. “Okay. Let me take a look.”
Manuel slid over a few pieces of paper and a pen. He sat quietly as I read over it.
I made sure to read every word. I wasn’t the best with legal writing, but I had read enough contracts in my life to follow what it was asking me. The terms were fairly specific: I was not to discuss anything related to Select Recruits, including my meeting with them, to anyone. If I did, I could face legal repercussions.