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His Majesty hath dubbeth you Dubb

      July 28th, 1973 - 12:10 hours

     "Say, Cunningham...seen your mystery date yet?"

      Wendy's eyed darted up from the typewriter and squinted at the lieutenant. Her gaze remained fixed on him as he sauntered over to her desk with his hands jammed in his pockets. When he didn’t explain his bizarre greeting right away, she resumed her hammering away at the report form wrapped around the platen of the aging Royal. On arrival, he yanked a chair over from Carter's desk and spun it around and dropped himself into it so that his chest lay flat against the backrest. The coil in the chair gave a chirp as he leaned far forward and nearly into her face. She looked over sideways at him without moving her head. She was alone in the room with him, and he usually took this opportunity to start a conversation with something insipid before he moved on to matters more interesting to him than to her.

      "Well?" Lucas prodded, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. His jaw wrenched away at a tiny blob of Juicy Fruit in anticipation as she slid the pencil out of her mouth so she could verbally shoo him, if possible.

      "Nobody's been around to tell me what the hell that means, Lucas...and if you aren't gonna spit it out, then lemme get back at this. Jarvis said I could have the rest of the day if I got it done by the end of lunch, and it's too hot to sit hear and watch you sit here coming on to me like a teenager at the malt shoppe..."

      “Goody goody...” Lt. Cocksure cut in before she could embarrass him further, “I get to tell ya’ first. We gotta sharp dressed somebody downstairs asking for ya’. Black suit...black tie...crappy taste. ‘Says he's from Central Intelligence."

      Lieutenant Wendy Cunningham wondered for a split second what it would be like to watch Lucas' expression as she rammed her number two in his eye. After the fantasy faded, she leaned back and waited for him to continue.

      “Captain's down there right now, trying to squeeze a few more credentials outta him. He said that he wanted to talk to you about the encounter last night.”

      Wendy allowed one of her eyebrows to levitate in interest. “The test flight crash?”

      “Uh huh...yeah. Test flight. Experimental jet engine. Whatever. You can cut the crap with me, ‘Ham...I know all about the little green man.” Lucas brushed a straight, black swash of hair out of his face, hugged the backrest to lean back himself, and regarded her next expression...still chawing away on his little bit of resin in exaggerated, wide mouthed little chaws.

      “Get on with it, Lucas...what does he want to see me for? Fitz was there last night too....he should be talking to him, not me”

      Before Lucas could lean back in and continue, there was a resounding thud as the double doors were parted with some degree of attention-getting force. From Wendy’s viewpoint, it seemed as if they had burst apart to get out of the strangers way, and not on any exertion of his own. Wendy had to admit that there was something immediately intimidating about him...and Lucas turned in his chair to have a look just as the black clad figure strode down the aisle between the desk, looking around indifferently before focussing his attention on the only occupied desk in the room.

      He was nearly six feet high, dressed entirely in an ordinary, but immaculately maintained black suit, complimented with a solid black tie, black shoes and even, she suspected, black underwear beneath the dark threads. His hair was dark and his face was rather crevassed, with a world-worn expression that gave Wendy the impression that he had probably been born with a slight, permanent scowl. She decided he was somewhat good looking in an uptight kind of way.

      "Lieutenant Cunningham..." His voice rang boldly in the large room, suggesting a slightly southern accent that was saturated with authority. As he closed in and scuffled to a halt just behind Lucas, a trace of a good natured somewhat-smile was on his heavily lined face, and Wendy eased up a bit on seeing it. Black Suit locked his gaze with her, waiting for her to confirm her name while Lucas was already rising and turning to face the stranger, who did not shift his attention to the newly presented target.

      "Say-hey, Mistah Gee-man..." the young male lieutenant began, stepping slightly into the stranger’s view, "I'm sure you've been told that our alert status and security has changed a bit since a few recent..ah...happenings. And all of that mysterious spook act you rehearsed so well in your bedroom last night isn't going to impress anyone here. I hope you have the steam you say you have to be strutting around here like any of your government crap means anything."

      For a few moments, it appeared as though Lucas hadn't existed at all. The suit and tie maintained his gaze on Wendy, who's own eyes were flickering back and forth between the two men. Then his head simply snapped up at the Wrigley's Chewing Gum Man and regarded him with the same almost-smile. Lucas answered this with his widest and most insincere grin, and raised eyebrows up tauntingly. He was a couple of inches taller than the stranger, but certainly not more formidable.

      "Well that's good, son..." Suit and Tie replied evenly "...and I'm glad to see that the U.S. military has progressed to a point where I can spend only a fraction of a minute convincing your superior that my steam is everything I say it is...only to have to come up here and take a bunch of meaningless horseshit from some rat's assed, two striped, potato-peelin' Beetle Bailey such as yourself."

      Suit and Tie let this simmer for just as long as he seemed to think Lucas would stand there blinking stupidly at him before he would think of something to say by way of reply, and act upon it. He had even frozen his madly paced chewing. Wendy had been keeping a poker face all the way up to this point...but the Beetle Bailey estimate of Lucas' military presence forced her into a slightly choked snicker. Lucas glanced at her briefly as Suit and Tie kept his gaze fixed on the spot Lucas' eyes would have been if he hadn't moved them, and when his head snapped back to the stranger, eyes were locked once again...but Suit and Tie rode his verbal winning streak against Lucas to it's finale before the young buck could manifest a retort...

      "Now why don't you trot yourself downstairs and express to your supervisor that same precious sentiment that you just filled me in on before I have him come up here and make you do pushups while he kicks you in the ass each time you count off. Maybe that'll tell you something about my.... steam."

      Wendy found herself almost disliking the stranger for making her like him so much. Lucas gave a couple of anxious chews. He really had no where to go from here.

      "You sure have a way with words, Gee Man." he offered lamely.

      "Miss Cunningham..." Gee Man paused to stoop and yank the empty chair over "...is going on a lunch break. Why don't you take one too? Not here."

      Beetle made his way for the door, not having much of another choice. "I'm going to have a talk with the captain and just see what he has to say...so don't go nowhere."

      Lucas didn't exist again. And once again, the stranger’s eyes were on Wendy. He was already crouched into the chair, fishing around inside his jacket for something. A flat card and a pack of unfiltered Camels were withdrawn, which he separated with his thumb. The card was offered to her just over the Royal, and when she took it, he pulled a cigarette from the pack.

      "Is it okay if I suck one down here?" It sounded like a genuine question, and Wendy felt that he would replace the cig’ if she asked.

      "Are you sharing?" she countered with a winning smile, "I lost the last of mine this morning at the start of this report here."

      Another stick was already sliding out of the pack. He used it to point at the card she held in her hand, but hadn't looked at yet.

      "Ya hear me, Gee-man?" Lucas' voice suddenly echoed from past the closed doors and far down the corridor. Wendy's smile broadened at the lieutenant's pointless attempt to save face. A black, enameled lighter was in the stranger's other hand, firing up the tip of his Camel. He conveyed that across the desk as well, the flame still sputtering. When she took it, his hand was reaching, yet again, into his jacket...and out came a small, silver box, about the size of a box of Chicklets, and with a single, red light on the top. He held it up to the empty air for a second, and the light changed to green, at which time, he sank it back into the breast pocket of his suit.

      “Okay,” Wendy broke in, “You win...I'm curious. You can tell me what's going on already. And you can start with that little gadget, if it's all right with you.”

      “This keeps our conversation private.” Suit and Tie said plainly, using his own cigarette this time to gesture at the as-yet-unviewed card in her hand. As she lowered her gaze to examine it, the stranger began to speak again.

      “Everyone else on this base is going to know me as CIA Special Agent Richard Manheim.... But I want you to call me Agent Kay...”

      The laminated ID did, indeed, proclaim the stiff, humourless portrait in the corner as Agent Manheim of the Central Intelligence Agency...and Wendy could spot the best of forgeries. This particular specimen was not one of those.

      “My people work for a branch of the government that keeps its eye on extraterrestrial life,” the man now called Agent Kay continued. “I'm here to talk to you about what you were a party to last night.”

      “Extra.... you mean aliens?” Wendy looked up at Agent Kay. “You watch the skies for Martians?” She sent the card back over, which he returned to the confines of his suit. She had meant the Martians comment to poke fun at him somewhat, and she hoped it would encourage him to get to a more serious point.

      “Martians, yes… on occasion… but not on Mars. We monitor them here on Earth. I’m not here to talk to you about visitors from Mars specifically, of course.”

      More than a small amount of nervous caution now seeped into Wendy's stance as she tried to appear casual in lighting her cigarette, Just as she tried to keep her hand steady as she returned the lighter. Agent Kay was definitely here to get information on the crash last night. The crash that had involved a flying machine that, in her own opinion, not only didn't belong to the United States armed forces of the sky, but, in fact, wasn't likely to belong to any foreign power on the planet. She had already been through a grueling military de-briefing about the encounter...and a rather scary one at that. Now here sat some mysterious government spook from nowhere prying into it as if it were an afternoon tea chat.

      “Why am I going to be calling you Agent Kay?” she finally managed to say when she felt the nervousness in her voice was ironed out, “...and what makes you think I'm going to tell you anything about what I saw last night?... assuming that there was anything to see…or talk about, for that matter.”

      “Agent Kay's my real name...and if you don't mind me saying so, you aren't very good at pretending that you don't know what I'm talking about, though that can be remedied with training. As for your own experience...I'm just here hoping my own honesty will inspire you to do the same for me.”

      “And you say you watch them on Earth...not from outer space.”

      “That's right.”

      “You're telling me that aliens are here on Earth...right now.”

      Agent Kay simply submitted his expressionless expression. It seemed to confirm what she was prodding him about.

      “I don't understand...” she began again, not knowing where to go with the conversation at this point, “...why you want to talk to me, of all people. I mean you must know damn well that my supervisor can give you a lot more about last night. I was just a tag along, you see.”

      “Well let's go on a real lunch break, then.... you and me. I have a feeling that this privacy isn't going to last much longer.” Agent Kay leaned forward, “Wanna go for a ride?…and a bite to eat? My treat, of course.”

      Wendy shrugged playfully. “Have any more of that steam left to get me a good hour or so for lunch?… from Captain ‘Back to Work' Fitzgerald, that is? I have a feeling we're going to need at least that.”

      “You betcha.” Agent Kay replied, reaching out and wrenching her report out of the typewriter with a mechanical whir that left the platen spinning. Wendy offered a short prayer in the hope that he meant to check spelling and grammar, and then another for an explanation as to why he would join it with the remainder of the report stacked on her desk, crumple it into an enormous, fluttering wad, stuff it into the steel wastepail at his feet, and touch his ebony lighter to it. He watched the flame flicker and grow, spouting grey smoke upwards, and then doused it with what was left of her coffee...which was cold by about an hour. With the dripping mug, he then stirred the wet, black leaves around in the pail...and then dropped in the mug to keep the mess company. Wendy kept her eyes on the pail for a moment as he stood up and brushed imaginary debris off his jacket, and then looked up at him balefully.

      “This is just going to get more and more interesting, isn't it?”

      “I knew I couldn't sneak anything past you. Ya’ like Chinese?”

      “Should I be surprised that you happen to know I do?”

      Now there came a genuine smile from the agent, albeit a rather subtle one. And along with all the other impressions she had been given about this person, there was annexed to those, the feeling that he didn’t allow the muscles on that creased face to pull upwards very often. She wondered why that might be, as she reached for her own jacket. As she slid it on, she reflected that Lucas would probably be tripping on his own feet to get to offering her coat for her, which she rather disliked because it was all part of the Jimmy Lucas sophistication routine. But she found that she was mentally kicking herself for expecting Agent Kay to do the same…and he seemed content to stand like a statue with his arms at his sides and allow her to go through this brief ritual without any indication that he had ever been coached on how to conform to society standards meant to make a woman feel that she was at least as important as a man. She grabbed her bag of stuff and wondered if he would open the door for her. One thing she knew for sure: this craggy mystery man had taken every measure to make her curious about him, with his openly bizarre answers and his strange influence over the rest of the staff…and she was determined to explore every possible way to find out what made him tick. When he accompanied her, wordlessly, to the exit, he did indeed open the door for her.

      Wendy felt her teeth clenching together as she spotted Lucas prancing towards them from the opposite end of the corridor. No doubt he was looking for another round in the ring with the man who had shooed him away like a puppy who had pissed the rug. Her mind scrambled furiously at trying to compose a way to detach him quickly so that she would be free to get to know the silent strider behind her. James Lucas then took care of that problem for her.

      “Hey hey, ‘Ham…takin’ off already?” He barked brightly, smiling his killer smile at her first, and then glancing at Agent Kay, “Who’s ya friend?”

      All three converged in the middle of the corridor and halted. Wendy stared directly into Lucas’ eyes and mentally transmitted the command: What the hell are you getting at, idiot?… you know perfectly well who he is! Why don’t you push your luck with him one more time… I could use some more entertainment.

      “Special Agent Manheim, CIA, lieutenant, “ Agent Kay broke in, extending his hand upwards in a somewhat mechanical indication that he expected a handshake from Lucas. “I’m just gonna steal away your partner in crime here for a few and talk a little career advancement.”

      “Oh yeah? CIA? How ‘bout that?” Lucas yabbered, just as enthusiastically as before while giving the Agent’s hand what looked to Wendy to be an earnest shake that reflected none of the friction between the two that she had witnessed not five minutes ago. “Is she in trouble? ‘You catch her sneaking secrets to the Reds?”

      Wendy gave up. At first Lucas had been going nose to nose with the secret agent, undermining his potential credits, swaggering like a young lion about to oust the veteran alpha male from the pride, and now they were probably going to trade baseball cards. Instead of attempting to figure it out, she merely watched it unfold.

      “ I only wish it were something that exciting, Lieutenant,” replied Agent Kay, dropping his hand to his side. “No, the CIA is just interested in maybe getting some women on the team, and the field agents have been asked to select some candidates from the military branches. In fact, I’d love to blab more about it, but I’m already in trouble for being late. So is it all right if I just let her explain it to you later?”

      “Sounds good enough for me, CIA guy.” Idiot Boy shot back with his idiot’s smile as he then turned on Wendy. “’Ham…I guess you’ll be telling me about your righteous career as a secret agent when you get back, yeah? I’ll keep my fingers crossed for ya.” He leaned in on Agent Kay unexpectedly, who’s head turned to face Lucas as robotically as his hand had risen to shake, “If I were you, though, I’d keep an eye on her. I can’t prove anything, but I really do think she’s been selling secrets to the Russians.”

      “We’ll be sure to torture that out of her.” Agent Kay said, face deadpan.

      “Good man…right on.” Lucas administered a light pat on the back of Kay’s shoulder, which Wendy was sure to register on the agent’s face. Agent Kay nodded and gave enough of that krypto-smile of his to convince Lucas to weigh anchor. The lieutenant shuffled past the outbound pair and strode back to the office with a shake in his back porch that was somehow meant to draw Wendy’s eye. Wendy and her new escort took the opportunity to resume their own just as Lucas called out one last time.

      “Keep me posted, Cunningham…and hey, CIA guy…”

      Kay and Wendy stopped and swiveled to face him. He turned to do the same just as his rear bumped the door open behind him. Both his hands jabbed out at them like twin pistols.

      “Love that suit.”

      “All right, then…” Wendy began as she and the man in black moved past the checkpoint and out the door to the parking lot, “I’m taking this really well, I think…all the fast-paced weird stuff, I mean. Sure, I’m curious…and I’ll stay that way as long as I can get some answers that make sense…”

      She stopped where she was and turned around to the agent, “Wait a minute…your car or mine? I don’t know where we’re going.”

      “Mine.” Said Kay, offering a weak wave of his arm to indicate the direction of travel recommended. “You were saying?”

      “Well, I just want to know if I should bother to ask what that was all about?”

      “What would that be?”

      “All that intuitive agent response stuff from before, and now you suddenly don’t know what I’m talking about?” Wendy walked in the direction she expected was intended, not knowing where his vehicle rested, or what it looked like, for that matter. She stole sideways glances at him occasionally to see if his expression ever changed. Or if he was having fun with her. “You know all right…that little exchange between you and First Lieutenant Jackass that was so uncharacteristic, considering your first dance.”

      “Do you like it when he calls you ‘Ham’?”

      “No, I don’t… and don’t change the subject, dammit. What’s with the bosom buddies routine, hmm? I know he doesn’t like you. I could tell… well, before all the handshaking, I could.”

      “You’ll have what you’re looking to hear soon enough. My promise. But let’s talk about some other things first…and then I’ll explain my little trick.” She had been taking his lead in the walk to his vehicle, and he had guided her around the corner of the building. He provided another of his floppy arm gestures when the corner was made. “This’ll be it here.”

      Wendy wasn’t quite sure which was supposed to surprise her more…the fact that the agent’s vehicle turned out to be a Lincoln Continental that had to be at least ten years old, or the fact that the gleaming, black monster appeared as if it had just rolled pristinely off the assembly line. Her well-trained eyes flickered about its lustrous surface checking for scratches or tiny dents that didn’t exist. Insects on the headlights….dust on the windshield… anything. And yet nothing. She was examining the antenna for the smallest kink when she noticed an older man leaning against the passenger side with his arm up on the roof and an amused grin on his face. Her walk slowed and she smiled politely. She noticed right away that he and Agent Kay kept the exact same tailor.

      “She certainly is pretty.” Wendy commented to what she assumed might be the guardian of this Detroit dinosaur. “’You guys use a magnetic force field to keep the dirt off it?”

      “Just polishin’ her up now.” The older gentleman replied amicably, rubbing the arm of his suit in a circular motion on the car’s crown to prove his point.

      “Say ‘hi’ to Agent Dee, lieutenant..” Again with the lazy, sweeping arm gesture. “My own particular partner in crime on this particular assignment.” The lieutenant had worked her way over to the passenger side, presuming that introductions would commence.

      “Pleasure’s definitely mine, Ma’am.” The other hand came up and the shake was soft and pleasant.

      “And you’ve definitely got a lot more spirit than your partner here…” said Wendy, widening her smile to the point of tooth exposure, “But you’re not really not going to call me ‘Ma’am’ are you? I’ve still got a few good years left in me before I have to give permission for that, don’t you think?”

      “You’ve got an old man hangin’ his head in shame, Miz Cunningham. Let’s say it never happened, eh?” The temperature of his smile translated to no offense as far as Wendy was concerned.

      “And you’ve actually managed to make me feel guilty for bringing it up, Agent…um…Dee, did you say it was?” She looked over to Agent Statue, poised at the driver’s side with his hand on the door. “Agent Dee and Agent Kay? Did you guys pick your name from the alphabet because it was all your agency could afford? I’m not tossing around criticism, of course. Whatever your branch lacks in providing up-to-date transportation, it certainly makes up in maintenance.” She looked down at the Lincoln again, nearly pretending to admire it to ward off any insult she might have unwittingly delivered.

      “I knew I was gonna like her.” Agent Dee dropped in, smile ever present. “ I like all the new ones that make the alphabet joke. Never heard it spoke so artistically before, though.”

      “Should I get in the back seat?”

      “Agent Dee’s gotta date with some of our other strapping lads.” offered Kay, taking the effort to bring his arm all the way up to point over the roof of the Lincoln at some other vehicles parked further along the building. It was a small cluster of utility vans and Continentals, all as black as midnight just like their sister sedan resting faithfully before them. Other gentlemen strode back and forth purposefully. Black suits. Black ties. Black everything. Someone had a sale on black somewhere, it seemed. And Wendy made another decision… She didn’t need to know everything all at once. She even reserved the conversational ‘Don’t you guys hate those dark jackets in July?’ for another time.

      “See you on the factory floor, Miz Cunningham.” Dee said in parting. He gave the car a gentle thump on the roof as he turned away to the bustle at the compound’s back door.

      “You’re penance is paid, good sir knight.” Wendy called after him. “Think you can call me Wendy?” Dee nodded, saluted and spun on his heel to continue on.

      Kay was already in the driver’s seat. Wendy took shotgun. She did her lady-composure, tug-the-skirt, pat-the-jacket, straighten-the-pins thing and then peeked at Kay, who kept his eyes directly forward as he conveyed ignition keys from his pocket to the steering column. His safety belt was secure, so she did the same.

      “I like him.” She said, mentally approving of the honest way it had sprung from her mouth. “What does he mean when he said ‘new ones’?”

      “What’s say we resist piling on the questions until we’re rolling in the direction of a restaurant… deal?” Kay replied. The car turned over in a manner to suggest that the engine was as well kept as the exterior of the vehicle. “ A lot of them will have a bit more meaning when we reach Headquarters, I’m willing to bet. And even more after we’ve had something to eat.”

      “You’re the boss.” She put her hands on the dashboard as the road yacht bolted in reverse, and then tightly into her lap when it surged forward and around the corner of the building. What the hell was under the bonnet of this beast? “How long is this lunch break going to last, anyhow?”

      “You mean if everything goes the way I want?”

      Both hands jumped off her lap and into the air for a second in an exasperated female equivalent of a shrug. “Whatever.”

      Kay pulled up to the gate and sailed right through without stopping to be checked by the guard there, or apparently needing to, considering the indifferent disposition of the guard after their passage. His eyes snapped quickly from left to right, checking the intersection, but instead of streaking out onto the road as she expected, he turned to look her right in the eye.

      “’Till you die. Or whatever comes closest.”

      Wendy was pretty certain he was supposed to have smiled when he said that.

      Lieutenant Cunningham had forgotten the name of the oriental eatery her newfound friend had chosen, but she certainly remembered that the food had been magnificent, and that she had genuinely enjoyed herself. The secret agent man had selected and moved to claim his own table, drawn the attention of a Chinese gentleman with a small ponytail on his head and a shockingly clean, white linen on his arm, and had spoken something in the man’s ear as he bent over. Wendy’s precision hearing detected Manchurian. Actually, she was guessing at that, although she had heard Manchurian before, and had meant to learn it if she could… but her brain overrode that particular puzzle to set itself upon the task of determining how an obviously ambiguous and underpaid government agent would come to know such a dialect. Whatever the real answer was, a member of the restaurant’s staff was counseled, and perfect cuisine arrived on shiny, spotless platters in less time than it would have taken her to obtain a cheeseburger from fast-food.

      Her approval of the meal’s quality helped him to segue into questions that either he or someone else had obviously prepared beforehand. Whichever the case, he was casual enough in his delivery, and she was compelled to provide resolutions that were equally as casual. Did she enjoy her military career? How did she think she was being treated as a member of the fairer sex in a man’s world? Was she perhaps looking for a little action? [she assumed that he meant combat] Her mind was itching at the fact that he seemed to be avoiding any questions about the wreck of the craft that she had helped to sift through the evening before, and she was beginning to calculate whether she should suddenly bring it up, or avoid interrupting his line of query and hope that he would eventually work his way there. She wanted to tell him that she had been present by happenstance, and that the officers on the scene probably considered it too late to try and convince her that is was nothing important. If she hadn’t been able to get Lucas to believe it was a crashed Navy test vehicle, they sure as hell weren’t going to sell it to her. Test planes weren’t supposed to have tentacles dangling out of the cockpit. Considering Agent Kay’s awareness of the incident, she was anxious to know if he had anything to say about that particular aspect of the encounter.

      Sooner than desired, however…and the appropriate time would probably have been ‘never’…Agent Kay began asking questions she wasn’t so comfortable considering, or casual in answering, either. She had given him sufficient details when he had asked what had happened to her father, instead of simply asking where he was and what he did for a living, which wouldn’t have signaled a direct giveaway to indicate that Agent Kay knew that her father was dead. Afterwards it was ‘How about your mother?’ and ‘Anything on your three brothers?”

      “Okay, dead, dead and dead.” She spat hotly, suddenly disappointed that the meal might be ruined because of this strange interrogation. “Is this going somewhere?”

      “Not anywhere except as part of a standard background query.” He replied mechanically as ever.

      “’Standard background query’? Jesus, you really are a dyed in the wool, bureaucratic government drone, aren’t ya? What does my family having been swept away by cancer and the Vietnam conflict have anything to do with a goddamn flying saucer that I obviously wasn’t supposed to have seen?”

      “All right…let’s move onto that, then.” His response came right on the heels of her last spoken syllable. He had all his bases covered, all right.

      Another Cunningham evaluation wrote itself into stone, and likely the only thing she thought…or rather hoped, that she would actually not like about this man. He wasn’t predisposed towards offering apologies for social blunders. That is, he wasn’t sorry about being such a prick when he started pushing for answers to questions that even her few closest friends had been too embarrassed to ask her. But in considering this new evidence, she worried that the man’s hard-assed personae might actually be unintentional, or that he may have regretted the fact that he had offended her, but didn’t have any conceivable way of expressing it. He didn’t bluster or stumble when she had gotten irate. He had simply passed on to the next thing without so much as a twitch on his cheek.

      There it was, and there it lay…the first psychologically uncovered, but vocally unrevealed secret about this character. He was intensely bitter about something. His Fridayesque ‘just the fact’s ma’am’ stage act was just a dropcloth for something about his own life that he didn’t like. And so she had moved from disliking him for liking him to not liking disliking him, or at least that facet of him.

      “You know, I think that I actually overreacted, just then,” Wendy began again quietly. “Other people have lost their families, and I don’t see where I had any reason to tear your head off about it. The Army asked me the same questions, after all.”

      “The Army probably isn’t as direct about it as I am.” Aha…self-awareness. Maybe he wasn’t so cold after all. “But about the crash… my sources tell me you had something interesting to tell the officers at the scene.”

      “Yes….I advised against the regulation autopsy… after I learned that there was such a thing, that is.”

      “What’s your importance in all this? I would have thought they would have carted you away so they could deal with it themselves.”

      Wendy leaned back and pulled her napkin off her lap. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. They told me that I had a good intuition for an advisor. The Army retains me in a position that I can provide input on things that I’ve researched… flying objects being my forte.”

      “Hence all the UFO literature you keep in your desk.”

      She reined in the impulse to ask him how he knew about the books, knowing the answer would probably give her a headache, assuming he would provide an answer at all.

      “It’s just a little research.” She replied with a little shrug.

      “Mm hm. Every little bit helps… right?”

      Wendy looked at him for a moment, and then decided to see if she could make this a little less drawn out.

      “What am I here for, anyway? And who do you really work for?”

      The krypto-smile made it’s return to his face. He put his beer down and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table, and lowering his head. After a few seconds of consideration, he lifted his head and squinted at her.

      “Back a little after you were born, a person not unlike yourself made suggestions to some officials in the U.S. government that if an alien or party of aliens were to make contact with the people of Earth, that any number of things could go wrong. Cultural differences…misunderstandings, xenophobia… any number of X factors that could lead to…well…trouble for everyone else living here. You had your half of the advisor staff that gave this idea some consideration and assigned merit to conjuring a manner of avoiding such an incident…and you had your other half laughing their asses off at the poor bastard. In the end, you learn that it isn’t hard to convince the government, or more specifically, the military, that a potential danger to the Stars and Stripes is worth taking precautions to avoid, no matter how silly they may sound at first or afterwards. I’m sure you’re aware that the military can be an exercise in silliness itself, after all.”

      A chair scraping in the room pulled Wendy’s attention to the side for a second. The end of her double take revealed that the restaurant was now completely empty, save the ponytail, who was moving furniture about to position a busboy’s cart.

      “The hell?…” She leaned around looking for people hiding, as if she had caught on to a birthday surprise. Her brain then reminded her that while it was certainly unusual for what she remembered to be at least a dozen people to suddenly not be there, the answer to this next enigma was likely to lie with the man across the table. She turned her gaze slowly upon him. He was chewing on something while examining the cheque and stirring around in his pocket, presumably for currency.

      “Before you accuse me of trying to impress you with all the shadowy stuff,” he explained without taking his eyes off the slip of paper “Try to remember that this is all part of the procedure. You’ll get used to it, I’ll bet.” He placed the bill in his jacket and stood up.

      “Why did you burn my report, Agent Kay?” A change of subject might at least make it look like he wasn’t making her dizzy all the time.

      “Because the report wasn’t necessary. It was classified documentation on an alien ship that buried itself in the Earth. No one in the Army needs a report on something that didn’t happen.” He moved over to the oriental gentleman and patted him on the back. The gentlemen nodded, smiled, and stole a quick glance at Wendy. The agent then gestured to the exit for her.

      The man in black was silent until they got back to the car. Once strapped in, he continued about an agency formed by the government designed to contact and begin proper relations with alien life. He didn’t explain why he had destroyed a report on an event that he must have known to have happened, so she suspected that he would tell her in time. According to his tale, the agency wasn’t taken very seriously, and was shut down some time later… just before the remaining members of the team arranged to meet the very aliens that the government had finally dismissed.

      Wendy listened quietly as he made his way into downtown Manhatten, enjoying the occasional cigarette and pointing out little tricks of his trade, such as the technologically assisted brainwashing of Lieutenant Lucas and the reason for the other black vehicles on the compound. She was beginning to get it. Whatever the Army had witnessed, and were trying to get a handle on, they were being cut out of it, as thoroughly and as quickly as possible. This rather justified the scorching of the report on which she had spent nearly four hours. Agent Kay slowed the Lincoln just as Battery Park was coming into view, and he brought the heavy vehicle around a bus and to a stop at the curb.

      “And so, you find yourself wondering about how serious I really am about all this…” he said as he removed the keys and lap belt.

      “I suppose I am, a little. It’s only natural…isn’t it?”

      “’Wantcha to meet some friends of mine.”

      “Are they as cryptic as you are?”

      He jabbed his thumb to the outside a couple of times and climbed out.

      “…This here’s Ohwhe’ghak…” Kay’s hand hovered above the single, enormous, bobbing eye of the leftmost, squirming sunflower/octopus beast. “…and this’ll be Bob.” The hand moved over the orb of the creature’s twin. “Or is it the other way around?…Eh, fellas?” Both hands suddenly shot out above what was approximated for their heads, and began switching frantically back and forth. One of the stalks arced it’s unblinking orange globe around to fix itself on Kay for a few seconds before it wandered back to aim at the massive, opaline Buck Rogers T.V. set that seemed to keep the attention of everyone in the room. “They run the Observational post here at the ranch.”

      “Does it bother them when you tease them like that?” Wendy had to lean in and lower her voice to be subtle.

      “’Course not… didn’t you see Bob smile?”

      “ I guess I didn’t. Is his name really Bob?”

      “Hell, no…we just call him that to avoid puttin’ a kink in our tongues. His given name takes nearly ten seconds to pronounce. I think it was chosen based on the fact that there’s a ‘bob’ in there somewhere. I’ve only pronounced it right about twice myself. His full name, that is. You were worried about offending them, seems like. Extraterrestrial sensitivity…that’s good.”

      Wendy looked about the cavernous atrium a bit more, feeling her eyes growing nearly as large as Bob’s and Weeky-Whatsisname’s. She found it hard to comprehend that the lumbering, slithering, bobbling visitors milling around at the far end were actually living creatures. She also almost had the impulse to request the chance to sit and watch them for a few minutes. Or a few hours or days maybe. Wendy turned to Kay, who seemed satisfied just to close his mouth and let her soak it in.

      “You run this operation?”

      “Oh no.” was Kay’s response. He looked past her and pointed with both index fingers She swung around to track them.

      Striding purposefully up the aisle between the perfectly spaced desks in front of the mega-monitor was another older, stocky, unsmiling, bureaucratic character…also attired in the omnipresent black ensemble. In fact, he not only seemed to have the art of the scowl refined beyond even Agent Kay’s mastery of it, but it was also immediately evident that he had taught the other agents a thing or two hundred about exuding an intimidating presence. He reminded Wendy of a well dressed grizzly bear. His straight, dark hair was combed back to form widows peak over numerous hard worry lines and other craggy facial features. The horizontal slash that must have passed as his mouth was crowned with a near-handlebar mustache. He also seemed to be the only man on the planet not wearing sideburns. Hovering along his flank was one of the dozens of jacket-less, bustling lackey-drones, furiously setting dictation from the man’s gravelly but resounding voice. This person detached himself as the larger man made his approach.

      “Kay.” the man said sedately, evidently preferring monosyllabic greetings that also served to acknowledge one’s name. “What’s the score?”

      “This is Lieutenant Cunningham…as in Wendy. She’s got a bright, shiny service record, just the right attitude, and she already has Dee calling her by her first name… or so she thinks.” Kay glanced briefly at her. “She also doesn’t like to be called ‘Ma’am’.”

      The old bear nodded once and said nothing. He appeared to be looking at neither her or at Agent Kay, but at some point in-between. Kay let a heartbeat elapse before moving on, which rather suppressed Wendy’s instinct to offer her hand and a greeting of her own.

      “I’ve been reeling her in gently enough, but I wouldn’t say that she was in the boat just yet. Maybe if I can convince her that we mean to put her in the tank, and not on the skillet.” Wendy rose an eyebrow at this suggestive, analogical jargon.

      “So you haven’t popped the question yet.” said the frown below the mustache.

      “Not yet, chief. Just letting her make a few natural emotional adjustments.”

      Another short nod. The heavy eyebrows then drifted upwards, evidently to make room to allow his eyes to wander up to look at the display behind them. Then the eyes were upon her. This rather multiplied the uneasiness Wendy had felt at not having had an opportunity to speak for herself throughout the entire exchange.

      “You can call me Zed.” the bear said finally. “My job is to coordinate the watch of nearly eight hundred aliens from twenty stories underground. My job is also to find people qualified to help me do it…and at this point, I’ll bet you can guess why you’re here.”

      Wendy decided to experiment. “To offer me a job while I stand her and wet myself?”

      “One cupie doll coming right up.” came the response. “Guess you were right on about her being bright, Kay. Does anyone have a mop?”

      Sense of humour… not a trace of a smile. Was that a job requirement for this organization? Wendy provided her own demure smile, either way.

      “Kay, put a team together, and plant ‘em, just in case.” Zed suddenly announced. “Then get a copy of our crasher report over to E for the Sigma archive, and another for the lieutenant. It’ll give her a good idea of how the whole thing works.” Kay nodded and moved off, patting Wendy once on the back as he passed.

      “Me and the latest victim are gonna have some coffee and talk.” Zed gestured back the way he had come with a sweep of the arm, and then walked right beside Wendy when she followed the cue.

      “You don’t have to say yes or no just yet,” he said as they walked, “but it would help to know that you’re interested, at least.”

      “Should I bother asking what happens if it turns out that I’m not?”

      “Then we have to kill ya.”

      Wendy was pretty certain he was supposed to have smiled when he said that…

      …She was also beginning to wonder which black suited G-man was going to be the next to use a straight face to bring up the subject of her death.

July 29th, 1973 - 26:30 hours

      Agent W abandoned the attempt to pretend that the necktie would actually work with the rest of her attire, and began prying the knot loose with her thumb. She yanked the loose, black strip of fabric off the back of her neck and turned away from the inadequate mirror they had provided, just as Kay stepped around the bank of lockers to evaluate her appearance. W wished, just once, he would put his hands in his pockets, or fold his arms at his chest, or lop off both arms and store them in a knapsack until he needed to use them to gesture at something…anything but stand there like a tailor was still fitting him for his suit with his hands at his sides. Just once.

      “’You ever knock, Smiley?” Agent W pondered out loud while adjusting something imaginary in the mirror. She heard a hollow rapping on one of the lockers, and decided not to give him the satisfaction of catching a reaction. When she turned to him again, brushing her skirt down, Agent Dee was there as well.

      “You men have absolutely no fashion sense” she said, cocking her head to the side and holding out the necktie. “There isn’t a country in the world where this male accessory is going to look anything close to normal on me.” Kay strode up to her, sweeping his gaze up and down her figure like a brush at a car wash. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have suspected he was taking this opportunity to gawp at her, hoping perhaps to find one of her curves inside the black, puritan assembly.

      “Well, we don’t want you to stick out in a crowd, Killer. Our work calls for us to be somewhat more than just a little inconspicuous.”

      “She looks just fine, fer Chrissake.” Dee said, wandering up and relieving her of the necktie. “Screw the tie…we’re not trying to disguise her as a fella.” He tossed the cotton snake into the laundry bin near the end of the lockers. ‘Kay, remember to get logistics in here with a construction crew. Zed wants one woman on the force, he’s gonna want more…so we should get some girly stuff in here pronto, before they overrun the place.”

      “Girlie stuff?” W put on her pretend offended face and pretend scowled at Dee.

      “Yeah…” replied Dee, putting on his pretend macho stance, “Somethin’ ta powder yer nose with.” His warm, telltale smile was just beginning to emerge when Zed charged importantly into the room and spun ninety degrees to examine his new acquisition.

      “No tie. Good. Told ya’ Kay.” Zed seemed to be able to measure her entire appearance by fixing on one, completely indeterminate spot on her person. “Briefing in thirty…then another after that. You’re in on it, Dubb. Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.”

      “Why don’t you bring the rest of the alphabet in here and I’ll dance for you guys.” Agent W hazarded, hoping to warm up to the director with good humour.

      “Well…” replied Zed, “…at least it will get the entire staff to show up to a briefing on time.” And with that, he was cruising out the door.

      “Was that a compliment?” W asked while watching the door swing shut.

      “As close to one as you’re ever likely to get, even if you perform brilliantly on an assignment.” said Dee. “Enjoy it while you can.”

      “ I think he just called me Dubb. The boss just dubbed me.”

      “His most holy majesty hath dubbeth you Sir Dubb.” agreed Dee. “Or would that be Lady Dubb?”

      “I ain’t calling ya double-you for the rest of your life.” Kay added.

      “I’m gonna get that ol’ bear to smile, one of these days.” Dubb announced.

      “I think one of us is going to have to show him what a smile is used for, first.” came Dee’s comment.

      Kay brought an arm up from his side to gesture at the general direction of the exit.

      “Time to go to work, kids.”

      Dubb beat them both to the door in order to rob them both of their manly urge to open it for her.

Copyright © Harrison W. Lansing

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