Grand Romantic Delusions, Chapter 27: The Attack

     "You already know, Seth," said Katie. "Think about your dreams."

     "So you think they really are repressed memories?"

     "Not merely repressed," she responded. "I think maybe LaBelle intentionally deleted some of your memories."

     "But, why? And how?"

     "I'm not sure about the how of it, but I'd guess the why has to do with the fact that they canceled the tests. Well, that and the secret and probably illegal nature of the whole program."

     "You mean this TIER thing?" Lewis asked. "Why didn't they wipe my memories, then? And why don't I remember this O'Keefe guy at all? Oh, wait … " His voice faltered.

     "You two have probably never even met before now,"  replied Katie. "I doubt they bothered with your memories, Wright. You were only involved in one small, failed trial. Seth was recruited for the larger program—Strange Animal, I mean—not just TIER."

     "So what is Strange Animal?"

     "It's an enhanced combination of two other programs. TIER was one of them. The other was called WEIRD."

     "Weird Tier," interjected Mary. "'Tier' is German for 'animal', so …"

     "Exactly," said Katie, though she pointedly refused to look at Mary. She was focused on Seth.  "The government has a funny sense of humor when it comes to naming black-box projects. And they love acronyms."

     "So what, exactly," asked Mary, "was WEIRD all about?"

     "Warfighter Enhancement Incorporating Recombinant DNA."

Grand Romantic Delusions, Chapter 26: The Intruder

     "Bricked? You mean, like …" Nita started, then thought better of it. "What the hell, lady? You have your phone set up with a code that bricks it? Who the fuck are you?"

     "I told you," smiled Katie in a way Nita found infuriatingly smug. "May name's Kathleen."

     "No ID, no keys, no cash, but you have a phone that deletes itself instantly. I want to know a whole lot more than just your bloody name. Out with it!"

     "I'm afraid I can't do that, Ms. Herrera." Katie smiled again. "I mean, unless you just want to know about my taste in food, favorite places to shop, that sort of thing. Though I'm guessing from the knife in your hand and the pulsating bulge in your forehead that you're not wanting to make friends with me."

     "Oh, so you think you're funny, too, huh?" Nita waved the knife about casually and turned to Lewis. "Looks like we've got ourselves a couple of comedians, here. We'll see how funny they think they are when the police get here." She leaned in close to Katie's face. "Assuming they're still breathing by then."

     "Right. First of all, though this would all go far more easily for me if the local authorities actually were on their way, I very much doubt they are." And here Katie gave Nita a particularly infuriating smile, before adding, "Secondly, I don't respond well to threats. So, you might want to put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 25: The Questioning

     "What's your name, creep?" Nita pushed Seth into the living room chair.

     "Umm, I'm uh … Hey!" He gave Nita a scandalized look. "I'm not a creep!"

     "Then, why," she asked, "have you been sitting there watching our house?"

     "I wasn't—"

     "Shut up!" Nita scowled at him. "I'm in no mood for lies, pajero."

     Lewis went to the open door, looked up and down the street, and closed it behind him. He said, "I don't see anyone else around. I hope you didn't freak any of the neighbors out too much."

     "I couldn't care less," replied Nita. "Let 'em call the police, if that's what they want. I'll just hand this asshole right over to them."

     She turned back to Seth, "It'll take them a bit to get here, though, and in the mean time, you're going to answer some questions."

     "But … you just told me to shut up."

     "Shut up with your lies, I mean. And don't speak unless I tell you to."

     "Yes, ma'am," Seth said, trying to collect his wits.

     Lewis went into the kitchen and returned with a roll of masking tape.

     "Lewis, honey," began Nita. "I need duct tape, not that."

     "Sorry," he replied. "It's all we have. I can go check the basement."

     "No," she sighed. "It'll have to do. This won't be long, anyway."

     "You!" She pointed at Seth. "Lean forward, hands behind your back."

     "No," said Seth. "You don't have the right—"

     Nita grabbed Seth by the small hairs at the back of his neck and pulled him forward,"

     "Ow! Ow! OWW! "

     "I wasn't asking you, cuca. I said DO it!"

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 24: The Watcher

    Katie decided that before reporting anything more to Hanlon she would take a day or so to see if Seth did anything unusual in the aftermath of their date. Then again, with Seth, how could one tell what was unusual?

     She also reasoned it might be a good idea take precautions to be sure she could find him. He had proven to be wilier than she had expected, after all. She had considered tracing his cell phone, but didn't want to go through the hassle that would entail. She settled on placing a tracker on his car, instead. Perhaps she could manage to finagle a second date out of him, eventually, or—if he was serious about not wanting a relationship—at least get a chance to friend-zone him and an opportunity to visit his home. She hit her downtown hotel room and picked up some fresh clothes, along with the equipment she needed, before heading over to Cortona Road, doing her now customary loop around the neighborhood so as to be ready to exit as quickly as possible without turning.

     As Katie pulled around the corner, she stopped in front of a large tree on the opposite side of the street, but a bit further around the corner than the last time she'd been here. Curiously, there was a different car in the driveway this time: an ancient Toyota Tercel hatchback. This new vehicle was painted in a dirty brown that looked like rust—though parts of it appeared to be the genuine article. As she watched, Seth arrived in his Camaro, and a man stepped out of the brown hatchback. 

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 22: The Morning

     O'Keefe awoke to the sound of his phone issuing a text alert. He looked around the unfamiliar surroundings, confused, until the memories of the previous night began to assemble themselves in his pounding head. That'll go away, he thought. Just need to find some aspirin and some protein. That had been quite a night. He was surprised how it turned out. He hadn't intended to sleep with Svetlana, but he had no regrets. He'd really grown fond of her, and well, maybe that was just the emotional release he'd needed. She hadn't seemed to mind, either. The part of him that worried he may have taken advantage of her drunken state was quieted by the recollection that she had somehow appeared to be quite a bit more sober and in control than he had been. Russians! Guess their notoriety for putting away the vodka is well-earned.

     His phone beeped at him again, so he picked it up, and tapped his code on the screen. It was a text from Gary which read:

               found her!

               Mary Dagfridchen

               Hillard  ph 555-2336

               u want address?

     Oh no! Mary! What had he done? How could he say he loved her after he'd slept with another woman? He would have to make amends. The first thing to do was to get the hell out of this hotel room. Where was Svetlana, anyway?

     He stood quickly, scrambling around for the clothing he'd so hastily and eagerly shed the night before. He heard the sound of water running from behind the bathroom door. Must be showering. What should he do? Should he just leave? That was just too classless. He would have to face her, tell her last night had been a mistake. It was the right thing to do—the only thing to do. He hoped she hadn't fallen for him too hard. This was going to be awkward enough without that.

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 21: The Dreams

     The cab arrived, and they piled into the back seat together. Having planned for the possibility that she'd have to seduce O'Keefe, Katie had prepared a room at a rent-by-the-week motel that was about halfway between his house and her downtown base of operations. This was the address she gave the driver.

     During the ride, she leaned into Seth, head resting on his chest, listening to the rhythmic sounds of his heart and his breathing. She wondered about him. He really was unlike anyone she'd ever met before. He was confident and cheerful one moment, then worried and paranoid the next. He could be flirtatious, and he clearly liked her—no, he clearly liked Svetlana—but, he declined to act on his feelings beyond a certain point. She supposed he must be like her—living a double life. He must be. But how could he be so good at it? How had she not broken through his façade? She revised the balance of her mental calculations: he wasn't quite the fool he had initially appeared to be. So was that all an act? Could he be playing her the way she'd planned to play him? Was he really that good?

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 17: The Café

     Another day. Another café. Sometimes—when on the job—Katie felt as though all she did was go from one coffee shop to another; talking to different people in each one, exchanging notes or packages. She could imagine a worse life—sometimes she felt as though she'd lived several worse lives already—but it grew tiring at times.

     This one was quite busy; unlike the book store she'd spent the evening in with O'Keefe. She suspected Lewis Wright had known it would be busy. He had been more than a little skittish and didn't want to meet with her at first, but when she had said they could meet in public and even let him pick the location he finally relented. Why is my life so full of fearful, paranoid men?

     The table he'd designated wasn't open when she'd arrived, but she had watched and waited like a vulture and snagged it as soon as the occupants had left. That was one of many reasons why she always arrived early to these things. 

     She wore a dark blue pin-striped pantsuit with a white lily pinned to the jacket. This was how she'd told Lewis to identify her. She had her hair tied back in a tight bun and wore a pair of wire-frame glasses with non-prescription lenses. All of this, of course, helped her get into her May Parker: Serious Scientist persona. 

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 16: The Subject

     "Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was hoarse and slurred. Who would be calling at 5 o'clock in the morning?

     "Doctor Jacobs?"

     "Yes, this is Doctor Jacobs. Who is this?"

     "This is Lewis Wright. You might remember me from a few years ago—"

     "Yes of course, Lewis. How may I help you? Is everything all right?"

     "I'm not sure."

     "Can you come into my office later today? It's very early, you know. I believe I can squeeze you in later this—"

     "Um, no, I'm afraid not."

     "Now, Lewis, I know you weren't always fond of our work together, but we really did make a lot of progress."

     "No, Doc, you don't understand. I'm out of town. I can't get to your office. I'm in Ohio."

     "All right. Well, perhaps you should begin by telling me what issues you're facing, and we'll talk through the problem."

     "Please, Doc, just listen!"

     Silence.

     "I need to get in contact with Celia—my wife. My ex-wife, I mean."

     "And you're calling me?"

     "Yes," Lewis replied." I'm sorry, Doc, but I'm running out of options."

     "Lewis, if she's broken off contact with you, I'm sure—"

     "Listen to me, Doctor Jacobs. Please! I think she and Izzy might be in some kind of trouble and I really need to speak with her, OK? Do you think I wouldn't have tried another method—any other method—before calling you, if this wasn't vitally important?"

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 15: The Hacker

     Gary Harold was a man of big ideas and small ambitions. He enjoyed figuring out complex systems, whether they were the mechanics of games or the rules by which international trade was conducted. He also enjoyed impressing others with his esoteric knowledge, but he lacked the drive needed to make any practical use of that knowledge. He also really liked smoking weed. These facts were probably related.

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 14: The Doctor

     Katie left the book store and went straight back to her hotel suite. She always kept a stash of burner cells on hand in order to make untraceable calls when needed, and she didn't want any record of contact between her and the psychologist who had worked on the Strange Animal project.

     She still wasn't sure what to think of O'Keefe. He was paranoid, sure—but she happened to know there were people watching him. Goofy though he was, he seemed a nice enough guy. Deception was a core part of her job—of who she was, even, she'd been doing it so long—but she almost felt bad having to deceive him. What was it about this poor hapless janitor that made her sympathize with him? Well, clearly he was more than just a janitor—his service record was proof enough of that. She wondered if she could get him to talk about his time in the navy. Obviously that was a secret he didn't want shared, if not even Labelle knew about it. Or were they involved in keeping the secret, too?

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 13: The Confluence

     "I don't give a damn about your stupid football team," Nita said. "Something strange is going on, and I want to get to the bottom of it."

     "So sorry," replied Mary. She grabbed the remote off the coffee table and shut off the TV. "What's the matter? How did you find that book?"

     Lewis sat back down on the couch without a word. Something was definitely bothering Nita, and it made him anxious. His head swam from standing and sitting so rapidly—he hadn't had this much to drink since before his nervous breakdown.

     "I know you don't want to talk about it, Mary, and I hate to pry," began Nita as she pulled the armchair around the coffee table to face them both. "But, I need you to tell me about your trip to the BMV yesterday. I know there was a guy—or some people, I guess—who got on your nerves. Tell me about them."

     "Why?" Mary was annoyed by the question. She hated when Nita got all schoolmarmish on her—especially since she was a year younger than Mary. "What business is it—"

     "This is important," Nita interrupted. "Honestly, Mary—I wouldn't ask if it weren't."

     "OK, fine—there was some guy in line that kept trying to talk to me. I tried to use that book as a prop—to keep myself looking busy so he'd leave me alone."

     "But he didn't."

     "No he didn't."

 

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 12: The Call

     "Why you think I would know of such things?" Katie asked, after several pregnant seconds of pause.

     "Well," Seth replied, "because you're from Russia. Isn't the government pretty much always surveilling everyone there?"

     "Is not always way things seem in American media."

     "How do you mean?"

     "You are thinking of Soviet Union," she said. "And not even under communists was it as bad as Americans always think. Or so my parents tell me. I was born in Soviet Union, but grew up with glasnost and under Gorbachev and Yeltsin."

     "But what about Putin? I hear he's a control freak."

     "Putin cares for power," Katie responded. " He does not concern about peasant goings-on and the like." They sat for a moment, sipping their coffees, before Katie asked. "Why do you ask this?"

     "Oh, no reason."

     "I think you have reason, but do not wish to be sharing." She pouted.

     "Oh, all right," Seth said. "I suppose I can tell you." He paused and looked around the café as though he were expecting someone to be listening in on them. He nodded to where Nita was sitting and whispered, "I think she might be listening to us."

     Katie turned to look. Nita was busy looking busy. "I do no think she has been paying us any mind."

     "Someone has been watching me. It's the government, I think."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 10: The Contact

     The late-September sun shone through a break in the trees, nearly blinding Katie as she sat in her car watching a group of young men playing disc golf. They were laughing and drinking beer, which was, she was fairly certain, illegal in the park—the beer, that is, not the laughing. Or the disc golf—though watching the way these men behaved gave her the idea that maybe it should be. Or perhaps that was just the effect the beer was having on them that made the whole lot seem so intolerable.

     A black convertible roadster wound its way slowly down the gravel drive. She flashed her lights just as it crossed her line of sight. The car pulled up next to hers, facing the other way and the driver rolled down the window.

     Katie rolled her own window down and, without looking at the man in the other car, sent a text to the number she's been given by Gavrilo. It read, "That you, Fritz?" She could hear a tone go off from the other car.

     The man sent her back a message reading simply, "Miss Cavell." Katie turned in her seat to face him.

     "Thanks for meeting me here, DuQuesne," she began. "I believe you have something for me from Gavrilo."

     "Yes, Miss Cavell," the man replied. He was a man of very dark complexion and slight build with a close-cropped hair-cut. He was dressed in a dark coat, black shirt and hot pink tie. He turned to Katie and regarded her through his reflective cop shades. "And I believe you have something for us, as well."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 09: The Roommate

     "Why can't I come along?" Lewis was using his anxious voice. The one which usually got him his way where Nita was concerned. 

     "Because," Nita replied, "I really need time to focus." She wasn't having any of his guilt-trip tactics this time.

     Nita's was the kind of room that left one with a feeling that just another couple of feet in one dimension or another would make it work. It wasn't cramped, exactly, but it wasn't quite big enough, either—especially for two people to share. There was a queen-sized bed, a tall dresser, a bookshelf and a very old desk and chair. None of this furniture matched. The state-of-the-art flat-screen TV on top of the dresser certainly looked out of place, as did the pychedellic paint job and the posters featuring bands from the 1960s and '70s.

     "I can be quiet. I'll just sit," he said. "And be quiet."

     "No, you won't." Nita had had far too much experience with Lewis to believe him. "I know you'll mean to, Honey, but I don't think you're actually capable." She could tell he was about to get into one of his down moods. She really couldn't afford to babysit him tonight, though—she had far too much work to do.

     "But—"

     "Listen, Lewis," she interjected, before he could really get going. "This is really important to me. Besides which, I want you to do me a special favor." 

     "Wait." Lewis was a bit surprised by this development. "What sort of favor?"

Grand Romantic Delusions—Perspectives: Mary Sue Dagfridchen

     I first met him while waiting in line to renew my license. He had disheveled dishwater-blonde hair worn below the ears, but not long enough to hit the collar of his t-shirt, and a stupid little "soul patch" under his lip. I have no Earthly idea how or why I caught his attention, because I definitely wasn't trying to. I'm nothing special look at and I was wearing scrubby clothes—just an over-sized grey sweatshirt and faded jeans. I was wearing my old granny glasses, too. I had lost my regular glasses, and I hated wearing contacts, so I only put them in for job interviews or special occasions.

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 03: The Meeting

     "You are sure this is the best way to handle it?"

     "This is the only way to handle it."

     "But, isn't the process untested—at least on human subjects?"

     "True. It might not work."

     "Aren't you worried it might kill him?"

     "It might, but that's a risk we're willing to take."

     "Assuming he survives … how will we know for sure?"

     "We'll have to keep a close eye on him."

     "Close?"

     "Extremely close."

     "You have a plan for that?"

     "Of course. We have plans for everything."

     "So I've heard. How does this one work?"

     "We'll have to keep him here."

     "Wait … keep him here? Are you serious?"

     "Deadly serious."

     "But, isn't that kind of risky?"

     "Extremely risky."

     "Then, shouldn't we, maybe, try something else?"

     "There is one other course of action."

     "Termination?"

     "Yes, that's the one."

     "But not the one we want?"

     "Considering the investment we've put in to date, no."

     "But isn't the whole thing a failure?"

     "No, not entirely."

     "What could you possibly salvage from this?"

     "We aren't sure yet, but there are … possibilities."

     "So, you don't want to do anything permanent."

     "Yes, precisely."

     "What about contingencies?"

     "We have a plan in the works."

     "Already?"

     "Plans have been made. Documentation has been prepared."

     "You think it's as simple as that?

     "Of course not."

     "What else, then?"

     "People have been consulted. Other people have been put into play."

     "What people?"

     "The right people. Also, things are in motion."

     "But how?"

     "We keep several moves ahead."

     "Ahead of whom?"

     "Ahead of the others—the competition. We keep several moves ahead of whomever it is we need to keep ahead of."

     "But how do you know they're not ahead?"

     "Wheels within wheels."

     "Wheels within wheels?"

     "The gears are in motion."

     "What's that even supposed to mean?"

     "Nothing, really. It's just meant to sound … I don't know."

     "Mysterious?"

     "Deeply mysterious."

     "So that's intentional?"

     "Of course it is."

     "You're full of shit, you know that?"

     "Completely full."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 07: The Book

     "Hey, Anita!" Mary entered through the back door into the kitchen.

     "Yeah," came the reply from somewhere in the front of the house. "What's up, Mary?"

     Mary dropped her over-sized purse on the kitchen island and went to pull the book out. Unable to find it, she grabbed her bag and went into the living room where Nita and Lewis were sitting on the couch. Nita was sitting upright, with her feet on the coffee table, supporting her laptop on her knees. How she maintained this awkward position and still managed to function well enough to use her laptop Mary didn't understand, especially as Lewis's head was resting in her lap—he lay on his back, filling the rest of the couch, his knees propping up his own laptop.

     Mary sighed. "Well, I lost your stupid book." She dropped the purse on the coffee table with a loud thump. Lewis, startled, sat up, bumping his temple on Nita's computer.

     "Ow!" He exclaimed, "What the hell?" Mary stifled a laugh behind her hand and quickly turned her best glare on Nita.

     "That was seriously some of the goofiest New Age bullshit I've ever read, and I only read a dozen pages of it."

     Nita glanced up at Mary briefly, but immediately focused her attention back on her computer screen.

     "Lewis! You're losing aggro!"

     Lewis quickly turned and sat upright, likewise returning his attention to his laptop. 

     "Yeah, I got it, I got it ..."  He rubbed his right temple gingerly as he went back to his game.

     Nita replied, "You can call it goofy or whatever you want—and I'm not saying I agree with all of it.—but, you know, it does make you think."

     "Funny," said Mary. "I thought it had the exact opposite effect.  Although, to be honest, I'm not sure what was worse: the book, or the idiots at the DMV who kept trying to talk to me about it. That thing must be some kind of retard magnet."

     Lewis chuckled quietly. "So, you … what? Decided to pitch it out the window on your way home?"

     "No," Mary replied. "I just lost it. I … I guess I must have left it at the DMV."

    "You're in Ohio, dear," said Nita vaguely. Most of her attention was focused on keeping Lewis's game character healthy. "We call it a Bureau here, not a Department or Division."

     "Whatever."

     "So … are you gonna go back and get it?" Nita smiled slyly. "I mean, I'm an upright citizen these days. I don't need a lost library book on my record."

     "Yeah, I suppose I will, but I want to wait a while."

     "Whatever for?"

     "I just want to wait for the queue to clear out. There were people in it I'd rather not see again."

     "OK, what's his name?"

     "What? Who's name? What are you talking about?"

     "It's fairly obvious," continued Nita. "Some guy in line at the BMV—despite your best efforts at avoiding male attention—noticed you, and you want to avoid him."

     "You're crazy, Nita."

     "Am I?" Nita smiled more broadly. She turned to Lewis and said, "Rogue's down. How long you think you can hold on? Should I res him, or are we doomed to wipe again?"

     "We can get this!" Lewis tapped away furiously at his keyboard. "Go ahead and res him, then spam heals on me, quick!"

     "I'm on it." She made a few quick taps on her own keyboard, and spoke to Mary again, but her eyes remained fixed on her screen, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Every time a guy pays any attention to you, you run away and for the next few weeks you give yourself a reverse make-over."

     "Revers— what does that even …"

     "You know what I mean. You wear the frumpiest clothes you can find and halve the number of times you wash your hair."

     "What? How?" Mary blushed. "Why would you even notice something like that?"

     "I'm an observer. I observe. We have lived together for nearly three years now, after all. It would be hard not to notice."

     Mary let out an exasperated sigh and went back to the kitchen.

    She yelled through the doorway. "How abut I just pay for the damn book?" 

     Mary opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents. She grabbed a pizza box and a can of Mountain Dew and closed the door. She dropped the box on the table, opened it, grabbed a couple of rectangular pieces of pizza and threw herself into a kitchen chair, cracking open the soda can with her other hand and taking a drink.

     "I'm not actually done with that book," yelled Nita from the other room. She followed up with, "There's still some pizza left from last night, if you want it. It's in the fridge."

     "Found it, already." Mary took a couple bites of cold pizza. "And why the hell do you still need it?"

     "It's for my research paper."

     "Wait, what? So, you're doing a research paper that requires the use of that stupid thing? What's the paper about, failed prophecies? Or just made-up bullshit in general?"

     "Well, sort of. It's about the social phenomenon of conspiracy theories. I need that book for my section on apocalypticism."

     "Did anyone ever tell you that you've made some odd academic choices?"

     "Says the woman who majored in Medieval and Renaissance Studies."

     "Touché." Mary sat with her eyes closed, chewing on her cold day-old pizza. There was another thing she never understood: square-cut pizza. Ohio was a weird place.

     After getting a shower—reverse makeover, indeed—Mary dressed and grabbed her cell. She looked up the number for the BMV.

     "No, ma'am, there's no book here by that or any other description," the woman on the line said. "You say you left it here today?"

     "Yes," said Mary. "I was there around noon. My name's Dagfridchen. Mary Dagfridchen. There was a guy there with two little girls just ahead of me, and an annoying man that had to mind them while their father had his picture taken. Any of that ring a bell?"

     "You know …" the woman paused, annoyingly. "Come to think of it, I do remember you. Did you know there was a man asking about you after you left?"

     "What? What man? Why was he asking about me? There wasn't anything wrong with my forms, was there?"

     "No, it was nothing like that. It was the guy behind you in line, actually. The one we had to watch the kids."

     "Wait, he … he … he was … asking about me?" Marry stammered. "What do you mean? What did you tell him? What did he ask?"

     "He wanted to know where you lived," the woman replied. "Name and address—that sort of thing."

     "Jesus! You didn't tell him any of that, did you?" Mary was starting to feel a little panicked.

     "Of course not! BMV data is private," the woman said. "Well, except when the state decides to sell it to marketers, I guess."

     "Well, thanks for that, at least." A terrible thought occurred to Mary as she continued, "You didn't happen to notice if this man had a book with him, did you?"

     "I think maybe he did."

     "Oh great," said Mary. He didn't have one while we were waiting in the queue, so he must have picked up mine."

     "Sorry to hear that. Important book, was it?"

     "Not really, except that it wasn't mine. My roommate had it checked out of the library. So … maybe this guy was just wanting to return the book to me. I guess I should call the library and see if he returned it."

     "Yeah, you could try that, except, I don't think it was the book he was worried about."

     "What do you mean?"

     "Well, this guy seemed on-edge. He came up to the counter after you, like I said. But he never said anything about a book."

     "What did he say?"

     "He came right up and told me that he needed to find the woman who was in line before him and started going on about destiny and how you were meant to be together."

     "Seriously?" Mary shuddered. "He actually said that?"

     "Sure did," came the response. "I told him this wasn't some kind of movie and if he wanted to go running after you, he'd have to wait in line again. So he renewed his license and went on his way. It was a big line."

     "And you're sure he had a book with him?"

     "Pretty sure, yeah."

     "I have a feeling I'm going to regret this, but … I don't suppose you can give me his name? Even though he probably has my book?"

     "Nope. His information is just as private as yours was."

     "All right, well, thanks, I guess." She touched her phone screen to disconnect the call.

     "Columbus Metropolitan Library—how may I help you?"

     "Hi. I lost a library book that I think someone else picked up and may have returned it for me," said Mary. "Can I check on that?"

     "Sure," said the man on the other end. "What's the account name and number?"

     "I don't have my library card with me, but the name's Anita Herrera."

     "Oh my God! Was the book Twilight of the Gods, by any chance?"

     "Yes. Yes, it was. How did you know? Did someone return it?"

     "Well, someone came in with it," said the librarian. "He was trying to use it to track you down … well, your friend, anyway."

     "My friend? Wait … what did he look like? What did you tell him?"

     "Calm down, Miss." The librarian started to chuckle. "I didn't tell him anything. You should have heard him, though!"

     "Why? What did he say? Who was he?"

     "He was about average height, maybe a bit overweight. He wouldn't stand out in a crowd or anything … light brown hair, or dark blond, maybe, with one of those little beardy things under his lip. He was wearing blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Anyway, he said he needed to find out who had checked out the book. I told him I couldn't give him that information. Then he started going on about how your friend was probably the love of his life, and he was desperate to find her. Did you loan the book to a friend, or something?"

     "Um … yes. I, uh … I loaned it to my roommate." Mary felt a chill crawling up her spine. "So … you have the book now?"

     "No. He took it with him." The man started giggling again.

      "What? You let him leave with it? What's so damn funny?

     "You see, I tried to tell him he had to leave it, but then he flew out of here like a bat out of hell." The librarian was just outright laughing now. "What's funny is that he kept stumbling and dropping things the whole time. It's not like we were chasing him, or anything, but I watched him out the window. Once he got to his car, he nearly hit a couple of people on his way out. Thankfully no one was hurt!"

     "So, you saw him get in his car?"

     "Yeah. That was part of what was funny. He was driving some old beater—like a Camaro or something—with a terrible half-done paint job and stickers all over the back of it."

     "What color?"

     "Oh. You know, I probably shouldn't have told you that."

     "Please … he has my book. And I think he's stalking me. My friend, I mean. I think he's stalking my roommate."

     "Well, OK, I wouldn't want something bad to happen to you, and it's not like I have any personal data on this guy. It was like a light blue … kind of metallic-looking. Big parts of it were covered in grey, though … like primer, I guess."

     "What about the stickers?"

     "Oh, there was a Metallica one and … let's see … Slayer, Iron Maiden … AC/DC, I think. Just, you know … rock bands. Oh! And there was a Labelle Research sticker. I think he must work there, because of the plates?"

     "You got a plate number?"

     "Oh my. Yes, I did, but I feel like maybe I shouldn't … Oh, what the hell? It was 'SECRETS' … but, with, like, numbers for some of the letters."

     "So, 'SECRETS' plus the Labelle sticker …"

     "Yeah. You've probably heard the rumors about that place. They're always working on some top-secret government projects and stuff. So, I figure this guy must work there. Although … as weird as he came across, I sure hope he's not working on something important!

     "Yeah," replied Mary. "You and me both."

Grand Romantic Delusions Chapter 05: The Agent

         Katie abruptly left the registrar's station after pretending not to have the required paperwork, or to even understand what was going on around her—the language barrier and all. What was with that guy? How had she missed with him?

          After all her careful preparation, working on her "chance meeting" with the target, he had completely blown her off. Her "Svetlana" character had never failed to hook a man before. Usually her eyes and smile alone were enough to get a man to at least talk to her. Hell, every other man in the BMV was making eyes at her. Could he have known? Impossible! Hanlon had been very careful—they never met at the lab, so O'Keefe would never have seen her there. Besides, the man struck her as kind of goofy—she doubted very much that he even so much as suspected he was being watched.

          O'Keefe had seemed to be obsessed with the frumpy woman ahead of him in line. Maybe he was just realistic enough to know he wouldn't have a chance with a woman that looked like Svetlana. She had practically thrown herself at him, though—that had always been enough to make men lose logic altogether. So why hadn't it worked with him? She might have to try a different tack.

          Sergeant Michael Hanlon, USMC, Ret. was everything one would expect in a former Marine. That is to say, he was clean and neat, he had perfect posture, and he was utterly diligent in his duty. He was an honorable man who did his job to the best of his ability, and even at his age he could probably kill you before you even had time to fully form the words, "Oh shit!" in your mind, let alone say them out loud. Unfortunately, very few of the people around him had anything like his sense of professionalism. Frankly, he thought most of them were idiots, though he would never say so out loud.

          Katie McEllern stood stiffly before him. She had never served in any armed forces, but she knew this meeting was nothing less than an inspection.

          "You came highly recommended," he began. "But I never heard of you before last week."

          "That's the way it is in my line of work, Mr. Hanlon. If I do my job right, very few people know I've done anything at all."

          "So how am I supposed to tell the difference?" He paced around her where she stood. "And you will address me as Sergeant, Sgt. Hanlon or Sir. Mister Hanlon is my dear departed father, God rest his soul."

          They were in the middle of a hotel suite. The meeting had been arranged for here because Sgt. Hanlon didn't want Katie to come into contact with the target before she had all the details.

          Katie stepped outside and quickly scanned the parking lot. There he is. Seth O'Keefe was getting into an older model Camaro. It was light metallic blue and rusty, the driver's side door coated in primer. The license plate was "S3CR3TS" and on the back were several bumper stickers—most of the Heavy Metal Band Name variety, and one which read: "Labelle Research: We Know What We're Doing, So You Don't Need To."

          He backed out of his space and drove towards her. Quickly she turned to her left and walked past a flower shop and then a music store. She stopped and watched the reflection in the window while pretending to look at a collection of instruments. She noted that the hood of O'Keefe's car was also covered with primer. West-siders, she thought. Do they ever finish what they start?

          Once he passed her, she made her way across the parking lot to her own car: a late-model white 4-door Honda Accord—about as inconspicuous a car as one could find. They'd sold hundreds of thousands of the things, after all. She would have to catch O'Keefe's attention some other way. Perhaps after casually bumping into each other one or two more times she might convince him that Svetlana was his "destiny" or some such nonsense. She'd have to play it carefully, though—if he suspected he was being watched, running into her too many times too soon might set off alarm bells in his head.

          As she pulled to the end of the parking row, O'Keefe suddenly sped by, going the opposite direction from the one in which he'd left. Hmm … curious, that. What's his hurry? He hadn't so much as looked in her direction, so she decided to tail him—all the way to the library right next door to the shopping center where the BMV was located.

          "We think we may have a security leak at Labelle Research. That's something I will not tolerate."

          "And so you want me to plug your leak?" Katie replied, "I can do that."

          Hanlon handed her a folder. "O'Keefe is the name. Seth Davis O'Keefe. He seems to have taken an unusual interest in the labs."

          "And curiosity is not something you encourage—at least not outside the scientific staff." She took the folder and sat on the couch. "Please, make yourself comfortable … Sergeant." She motioned to the chair across the coffee table from her.

          The sun was just rising, but her room on the 14th floor faced west. The red-gold light was beginning to stream between the other, taller buildings in the area and create an intricate interplay of shadows and reflections on the river. It was a beautiful autumn day in the Midwest, with bright skies and just a few large puffy clouds floating about. Katie could get lost on a day like this, were she outside, but for now—down to business.

          She leaned forward on the couch and opened the folder on the table in front of her. There was a picture of an average-looking guy with medium-length blond hair, sideburns and a soul patch. He had light grey eyes that gave his face a sort of empty look. There was a data sheet attached:

Seth Davis O'Keefe

2500 Cortona Rd.

Columbus, OH 43204

Birthday: September 24, 1983 

Sex: male                    Race: caucasian

Ht: 5'10"                      Wt: 170

Marital status: single

Education: 2 Years at CSCC, no degree

Department: maintenance

          O'Keefe parked his car out away from the bulk of the cars in the lot. What? He's afraid to get a scratch on that beat up old piece of shit? She noticed that the passenger door was a darker blue than the rest of the car—the rest that wasn't primer, that is. She watched as he checked that his doors were locked and then made his way to the library. He had a large book in his hand. It appeared to be the book that O'Keefe and the frumpy woman had been discussing in line at the BMV. Holy Shit, she thought. He's trying to track that woman down!

          Katie parked her car nearer the building and went inside.

          O'Keefe was standing at the counter arguing with a library clerk. It seemed the library didn't just give out information on who had checked out what books.

          "But this is important," he was saying. "I think this woman's friend is the love of my life. Don't you understand? Don't you have a single romantic bone in your body?"

          "I'm sorry sir," replied the librarian. "My hands are tied."

          O'Keefe slumped. "Fine then." 

          He turned to walk away when the librarian interrupted him.

          "Sir!"

          O'Keefe turned back, hopefully. "Yes? You changed your mind, and can help—"

          "No," he replied. "But I can't let you leave with that book. It's library property and you're not the patron who checked it out."

          "How do you know that? Did you look in the computer and see who did check it out? Who was it?"

          "No, sir. You just now told me you didn't."

          "Oh … yeah." He turned and bolted for the door, the librarian yelling after him.

          Katie stifled a laugh and hurriedly turned towards the nearest display shelf. She doubted O'Keefe would notice her in his desperate rush for the door, but she didn't want to take any chances.

          She turned to watch him push his way out the door and stumble into the parking lot. He dropped the book in the process, doubled back, picked it up and ran for his car. 

          Katie walked back outside, casually. O'Keefe almost fell once again and then spent several seconds fumbling for his keys and dropping the book once more in the process. He unlocked the car and dropped the keys, as well, before picking them back up, along with the book and getting into his car. He almost slammed his own leg in the door, he was in such a rush. And he never once stopped to look around him. If he had, he'd have realized that no one from the library was chasing him.

          The car started and O'Keefe pulled out of the lot with a squealing of tires. He screamed by the library and into the shopping center parking lot. Someone in a pick-up truck had to swerve and stop to avoid him as he pulled out on to the main street and headed west as fast as he could, the blare of the pick-up's horn behind him.

          What an idiot, Katie thought. Could he really be involved in industrial espionage?

          "Wait … this guy works in the maintenance department?"

          "He's basically a janitor," said Hanlon, finally sitting down. "We know we have a leak, and believe it or not, he's our most likely suspect."

          "So … he never graduated college, never married, and he's native to the area. Seems an unlikely candidate."

          "Well, it all seems to check out. We run down records on everyone who applies to work for us. Though …"

          "Though, it's always possible his records have been doctored," she finished for him.

          "Yes—that." Hanlon continued, "And it's always possible someone else got to him after he came to work for us."

          "A competitor, you mean. Like another research lab?"

          "Maybe. Or, possibly even a foreign agent."

          "So … you think the Chinese or the Russians or someone might be using the janitor to get top secret information out of your government-contracted research facility?"

          "Or, the Israelis, yes."

          "The Israelis?"

          "Oh, yes. There are projects at Labelle that would definitely interest them."

          "Such as what?"

          "Well, obviously, I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. To be honest, I'm not exactly privy to all the goings-on in the research department myself."

          "Aren't you the head of security?"

          "Yes, but there are some things even I'm not allowed to know."

          "I see."

          They sat in awkward silence for several minutes. Katie shifted uncomfortably on the couch, looking over the target's file, while Hanlon sat in his chair, still as stone.

          Finally, Katie said, "Well I would suggest I start by either making contact with him or running my own background check."

          "However you wish to handle it. My sources tell me you know what you're doing."

          "Your sources are correct. You know my fees and expense arrangements?"

          "Yes—they're fine."

          "All right then. I'll take the job." They both stood and reached across the table to shake hands. "I'll have the contracts sent over this afternoon and will begin work in the morning."

          "Thank you, Miss McEllern."

          This day had been nothing but a waste of time. Perhaps it was time to do a little more background work.

World Domination, part 2

"OK," said Vicki. "How do you propose we do it?"

"Well," I replied. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Everyone looked at me as though they expected me to say something. This went on for a good couple of minutes. I think maybe they thought I was composing my thoughts before explaining a plan to them. I wasn't.

"Don't look at me," I said. "I just came up with the solution. You guys need to figure out the details."

"Hurngh we sh'pshta fighuhr zhaddout," asked Mumbly Joe. "Wehrr jsht reggl'r peeplsh. Ain't gotsh anarshneller annythinh."

"True," I continued. "But I think you're looking at the problem from the wrong perspective. We don't want to use physical force. We need something clever ... a silent, unrecognizable coup d'etat. We need to take over without anyone realizing we've done it."

"Oh," said Crystal. "You mean the way big business already did it starting in the eighties."

"Yeah ... something like that," I confirmed. "But I don't want to take two or three decades to do it."

"So the Pearl Forester Method is right out," giggled Jerry. Once again everyone went silent, as we all turned to look  at him. "You know, from Final Sacrifice? When she decided to rule the world one person at a time?"

"Oh, yeah," I laughed. "I remember that one now."

Joe added a hearty "Rhowshhdowrrrr!"

After a few minutes of laughter, followed by wiping the tears from our eyes, I tried to get the group re-focused. That was going to be the problem with this bunch: keeping them on-task. "Herding cats" didn't even begin to cover it ...

"All right, all right," I said. "Let's brainstorm. I think we mostly know what we'd do once we took over, the question before us is how to do it. Let's hear your ideas - just start throwin' 'em out there."

"You know," said Jerry, "The most direct way to gain power would be to take it from someone who already has it."

"Go on." I replied.

"Well, we could kidnap a Senator, or a General, or something. Or maybe the President."

Vicki jumped in: "I like the concept, Jerry, but the execution is probably beyond us. People like that have big-time security."

"That's OK, though," I added. "We're just spitballing here. Keep throwing out ideas, and we'll see what sticks. Just put that one to the side for now ... we'll probably want to revisit all of these ideas, once we have them out there. In fact, someone oughtta take notes. Gary? You always seem to have a notebook, do you mind?"

"All right. But don't think this makes me your personal secretary or anything."

"Not a problem, Gary."

"And while we're at it, I have an idea for the list, too." Gary reached into the satchel under his chair for a notebook and a pen. "It would be easier to kidnap the CEO of a big company, probably. They don't usually have the kind of security a public official does, and - as Crystal pointed out - they have all the real power, anyway." He began scribbling down notes.

"All right. That's good. Keep 'em coming." I looked at Vicki. "You have anything?"

"Hmm ... give me a minute, I'm thinking."

"OK." I turned to Crystal. "You got anything?"

Crystal arched an eyebrow at me. "You know, I think I just might. We could take over a news outlet and just put out fake news. Cause a panic about ... say, some food additive or vaccinations or something ... then propose a solution that only we could provide. You know how quick panicked people are to give up power."

"That's true," I said. "I might also mention something about a man with a hammer viewing all problems as nails."

Crystal squinted her eyes at me. "What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing. It's actually not a bad idea. It's just funny that this would be your plan, considering your fields of study."

"Actually," added Jerry, "Speaking of fields of study: why don't we take over the internet? Once we do that, we can tell people all sorts of things, and a good twenty to thirty per cent will likely believe anything we tell them, no matter how crazy it is. From there, it's pretty much the same as Crystal's plan. The two plans could easily work in concert."

"There!" exclaimed Crystal, feeling vindicated. "Count yourself lucky. If I had a hammer ..."

"Calm down, Crystal. I didn't mean anything by it, honestly. It was just an off-hand remark." I looked around the table. "OK, anyone have anything else? Come one people! Ideas! No matter how crazy they seem."

"I think I have something." It was Vicki. We all went quiet. "No matter what the final plan - or combination of plans - is, we will probably need money to pull it off. A lot of money."

"OK. So I guess the first step is what," asked Gary. "Win the lottery?"

"Or hack someone's bank account," suggested Jerry.

Vicki shook her head at these suggestions.

"OK, then, what," I asked. "You have a plan for getting a lot of liquid cash in a way that won't draw too much attention?"

"No," she replied. I have a way that will draw quite a bit of attention, but it won't matter."

"Well, what is it, Vick? What's your plan?"

"Yeaagghh. Whashotta ideeaagh yogotsh, Wicki," added Joe.

"I suggest we find an extremely wealthy bachelor or bachelorette, and seduce them into marrying one of us."

We all gave her with a What then? look.

"Then we have them committed. Gain total control of the estate. After that, we do the other plans. Or even all of them. Throw everything at the wall, until something sticks. Crash the internet. Cause a health panic. Kidnap the President. Run one of us for office, as well. Blow up a dam, or something, I don't know. Just go nuts."

"And then," I continued for her, "when people are good and panicked, we offer them hope of salvation from all the insanity."

"Exactly," said Vicki, wearing the most wicked grin I had ever seen on a woman. 

I'd never been so turned on in my life.