Agent Vargo sent for Alain moments after she arrived at her desk the next morning. She placed her satchel under her desk and Zell appeared in her line of vision, hopping up on her desk and bowing his head. There was a yellow Post-It note on the scruff of his neck, decorated with Vargo’s plain block handwriting. Young, See me ASAP. –Vargo.

Alain pet Zell for a moment, letting him rub his chin on her fingertips and listening to his low, rumbling purr, before standing. With the note in her hand, she walked to Vargo’s office.

She didn’t have to knock. Vargo, sitting behind his desk, had watched her walking and was waiting for her. When she arrived as his door, he lifted his hand and crooked his fingers.

“Young,” he said brightly, “come in, sit down.” She did. “I heard you accepted the job from Smith.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, “and he told me that you would have my paperwork this morning?”

Vargo handed her a packet of papers held together with a plain, tan folder. “Of course. You have to read and fill out the first three forms. The rest is information that you may need, along with a Liberty City Guide. It should answer all of your questions about the city. The guide will also have a classified section, with apartments for rent. You choose whatever you want and the Bureau will compensate you for the expenses immediately, as long as you have proof of your spending.”

Alain nodded, clutching the packet to her chest, and started to rise.

“Oh, and Alain?” She paused, looking at Vargo. “Fill out the forms truthfully. Smith doesn’t take well to dishonesty. When you’re done, he would like those forms delivered to him in person.” With that, she was dismissed.

***

The first form was a disclaimer, stating that the Federal Bureau of Investigations was not responsible for any injuries, deaths, etc., that may or may not be caused directly or indirectly by any missions or assignments, but that their insurance would cover any and all injuries received while on Bureau time. The legal jargon made Alain’s head swim, but she read it slowly and signed her name.

The next form was an inventory sheet, asking for a correct number of weapons and shields being taken on the mission. It also asked if any other people were accompanying the agent on the trip; if so, who and why. Alain paused at this section, chewing on her pen cap, and briefly thought about skipping it and conveniently ‘forgetting’ to fill it out, but Vargo’s words repeated in her mind: Smith doesn’t take well to dishonesty. Alain used T Money’s real name, the one she refused to answer to, Fiona Lee, and wrote that her roommate refused to not come along when told that Alain had to relocate to Liberty City. It was a partial truth.

The third form was already half filled out by Smith; it was an interview sheet that Alain had to sign, stating that Smith had interviewed her for the position and had explained all of the things that could go wrong and what she should do if something unexpected did happen. He had not, of course, gone over this with her, but she signed it anyway; she had to return the forms to him in person and she resolved to ask him about it then.

When she had these filled out and signed, she set them aside to examine the rest of the packet. There was no information about the people she was supposed to be tracking down or how she was supposed to get started tracking them. Instead, it was information about Liberty City in general, about the active crime life, gangs, and notorious criminals living there, plus the guidebook and a large, foldout map. With interest, she picked up the guidebook and started flipping through it.

From the pictures, Liberty City looked like a dirty, grimy city, not unlike New York City, with a large population of four million people. It differed greatly from New York City, though, in the aspect that Liberty City was composed of three small islands; Portland, an industrial district, Staunton Island, the business district, and Shoreside Vale, the suburban distract. Connecting these districts were bridges, subways, trains, and tunnels. On Shoreside Vale it had a decent sized airport, Francis International Airport, which she would be arriving at. The guidebook also described the local amenities (hospitals on each island, police stations, etc.) and places of interest. She glanced over these quickly but moved on.

What captured most of her attention was the classifieds section toward the rear of the guidebook, listing ads by local businesses, job opportunities, and most of all: apartments for rent. With great difficulty, she tore herself away from those, shutting the guidebook and slipping it, along with the rest of the file, into her satchel. She would take it home and look through the apartments listed with T Money.

Noting that it was getting close to noon, Alain took the files and headed toward the ninth floor.

Agent Smith was out when Alain brought the forms to him.

“He’s gone to lunch,” Perdita told her coolly, popping chewing gum loudly. “I’ll be sure to give these to him when he gets back.” By that time, Alain had already forgotten what she was going to ask him, so it didn’t much matter that he wasn’t in. Before she was out of the door, though, Perdita called out to her.

“Wait!” She was rummaging through the clutter of papers and files on her desk. “He wanted me to give this to you when you dropped those off.” Alain paused, holding the door open with one hand. With a triumphant smile, Perdita held up a thick file.

“Here,” she said, walking to Alain, “you’ll want to read through this. It’s the information about the people you’re looking for and there’s a note from Smith. I think it’s about deadlines and plane tickets, but I’m not sure.” Her gum cracked as she handed the file to Alain. “If you have any other questions, contact Agent Vargo. He’ll be able to help you.”

“Thanks,” Alain said, noting the thickness and the weight of the file. It would not be light reading.

Perdita didn’t reply as the door closed behind Alain.

***

Young,

Sorry I was unable to speak with you directly. I gave Agent Vargo all of the pertinent information about this case in the event that you had any questions you needed answered directly. See him if you need help.

This file contains all of the information we currently have about this case. There are recorded telephone calls we managed to intercept, descriptions of the information that is being leaked, and a direct file on the person we believe is receiving the ‘leaked’ information: Joshua Ramirez. Be sure to heed the warnings about this person and take great care to keep your true identity concealed once you are in Liberty City. He is a dangerous criminal mastermind and will already be on guard if a newcomer arrives in the criminal scene. I do not want you to feel the full force of his wraith if your mission is discovered.

Once you arrive in Liberty City, you will be on your own. I have arranged for a ‘contact,’ someone to help you along if you find yourself in need of help getting started. However, I have reason to believe that you will have no problem getting introduced to the criminal society of Liberty City. If this is true, you will have no use of the contact. One less person who knows about your true identity, the better. Remember this, if nothing else, once you arrive in Liberty City: always be on your guard and never let anyone know who you are and what you are doing.

As I told you yesterday, the Bureau division in Liberty City will be of no use to you. Do not, under any circumstances, visit their headquarters on Staunton Island. Not only do we believe that the leak is a corrupt agent, but by showing up at the Bureau you will be making yourself a target for those opposed to officers of the law. And, believe me, in Liberty City, there are many who do not care for justice or those fighting for justice. If, for whatever reason, there is an emergency and you need help, use the contact I mentioned previously. There is a telephone number listed at the bottom of this letter. Call it if you absolutely must; the contact will know who you are and will be able to provide help.

There may be occasions when I have other ‘missions’ for you while you are stationed in Liberty City. In preparation for this, I have left a cell phone for you with Agent Vargo. I am the only person who has the number and I strongly suggest that you do not make any outside calls with the phone, even if the calls are regarding the contact I mentioned. This is for your best interest. If, for emergency reasons, you find yourself in a position where you need to speak with me directly, use the cell phone. A direct, unlisted number to me is on speed dial: just hold the number one for five seconds and press ‘send.’ You will instantly be connected with me.

As Vargo has already told you, the Bureau will be covering all expenses while you are in Liberty City. If you have not already familiarized yourself with the guidebook, I suggest you do so. In the ‘classifieds’ section there is a listing of living accommodations. Pick whichever you feel will be most beneficial to you. There are no spending limits. As for covering the expenses, Agent Vargo will also have a Visa credit card for you in his office. It is registered under your name instead of the Bureau’s, for aforementioned purposes, and it has no limit. Feel free to use this card, but be careful as to what you purchase; the bill will be coming back to me. Use it for what you need, not what you want.

Last, but not least: in the event that your identity is uncovered, I have made arrangements for you to receive an immediate, private flight, which will take you to an undisclosed location (for your safety). Again: if you find yourself in need of this flight, phone the ‘contact.’ They will provide you with the rest of the information at that time.

Now, I suggest you speak with Agent Vargo to pick up the items I mentioned and discuss your departure date. He will provide you with plane tickets when you have decided when you will be ready to leave.

Good luck,

Smith

Alain folded the letter blankly, her mind reeling. Being discovered as an agent had not seemed like such a big deal to her, but the letter made it out to be something to be highly wary of.

Although she was tempted to look through the file and examine the evidence, she sat it aside, tucking the letter neatly into the folder, and, for the second time that day, went to visit Agent Vargo.

Again, he seemed to be expecting her; he waved her in calmly.

“You’ve read the letter?” he asked, expression blank.

Alain nodded as she sat down. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said, and reached below his desk. He pulled up a medium sized cardboard box. “Here are the items Smith mentioned and the gun he requested that you take along. It’s a Glock 21, .45 caliber. Smith normally doesn’t loan Glocks, out; you must have made a good impression for him to cater to your likes.”

“I certainly hope so,” Alain said, picking the box up. The items inside of it rattled lightly. “Is this all?”

“Yes,” he said, picking up a small schedule and flipping through it. He stopped on the month of October. “Have you given any thought to when you’ll want to leave?”

“Not really,” she admitted, setting the box next to her chair, on the floor. “I figured that Smith would give me a concrete date.”

“Well,” Vargo twisted the cap off of an expensive black pen, “when would you like to leave? One week, maybe two? Less?” It was the twenty fifth of September; Alain had expected an early October departure date.

“One week would be fine,” she told him, “maybe the third of October?” The third was a Friday; it would give her time to unpack explore the city over the weekend and give T Money time to meet her ‘contact’ before seriously getting started on her search.

Vargo scribbled something on his calendar. “That would be fine. I’ll have those tickets for you tomorrow, Young, if you want to stop in a pick them up after you clock in.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. With a glance at the clock, Alain realized that the day was late, almost over, and she still had some paperwork to finish before the weekend. “If that’s all, sir—?”

Vargo was surprised. He shut his schedule and asked, “You don’t have any questions for me?”

Her mind was spinning with questions but every time she pinned one down, it slipped away. There were too many things she wanted to know all at once.

“No, sir.”

Vargo still seemed surprised. “Alright, then; I suppose that’s all.” He took a breath, almost as if he was going to say something else, but didn’t. Alain waited. Finally, Vargo just shook his head. “That’s all, Young,” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” she collected the box and walked back to her cubicle.

With a quick glance in either direction, Alain made sure none of her coworkers were heading her way, she turned to the box and carefully pulled the thin cardboard lid off.

Lying on top was the .45; she picked it up, checked the clip (it was loaded), checked the safety, and just held it for a moment, trying to familiarize herself with the new weapon. She didn’t like it, regardless of the brand, but she would take it with her, as Smith directed. There was one extra, loaded clip in the box, and a small box of bullets. The bullets were in an unmarked, white box, and she was almost certain that they were special made to Smith’s request. They resembled hollow point bullets but something about their shape was off. Alain dismissed the weird feeling the bullets gave her and sat the box and the gun down on her desk.

A plain, black Nokia cell phone was the next item that captured her attention. She turned it on, watched the screen light up, and turned it back off. A wall charger was lying next to it. She assumed Smith would want her to keep it on all of the time, in case he needed to get in touch with her, once she was in Liberty City.

The last two items in the box were small; a shiny Visa credit card that she automatically turned over and signed, and a slip of paper with a single phone number written on it: 555-9968. She examined each before placing them, along with the cell phone and gun, back in the box and put the lid back on it.

Her mind was still spinning with chaotic thoughts and half questions when she put her paperwork aside and left for the day. The taxi ride to her apartment was slow, rush hour traffic making the normally short trip long, but although she stared out of the window, she saw nothing. Her eyes were unfocused and her thoughts were a myriad of everything, all at once.

Alain’s body worked on autopilot when she arrived at her apartment. The mail was checked and what bills were in the box were slipped in her satchel. She unlocked her door, stepped inside and slipped her satchel off her shoulder, balancing the box in the crook of her other arm, still deep in thought. When T Money stood abruptly from her spot on the couch, Alain snapped back out of her thoughts.

“Hey,” she began, before spotting the man who was sitting on the couch. “Oh, hi — sorry, T, I didn’t know you had company.”

“No, no, it’s cool. Come in and shut the door behind you. I want to introduce you to my man, M Dog. M Dog, this is my homegirl, Alain.” ‘M Dog’ stood, holding one hand out silently, and Alain stared at the man. He was short, several inches below her own five foot eight figure, and hefty. He had dark, curly hair that poked out of his red Cincinnati ball cap and a dark mustache that matched his hair.

“Hello,” Alain said slowly, shaking his hand. She gave T Money a quizzical look, but T just grinned in return. “How are you?”

“Good, good, and yourself?” Her eyes widened. M Dog’s voice was high, with a lilting Italian accent.

“Fine, thanks,” she said, releasing his hand and carrying her box to the kitchen table. She sat it down and returned to the living room.

“Alain, M Dog knows some people in Liberty City. He says he can get me hooked up with some nice people, some people that’ll take care of us if we need them.” T Money beamed.

“What do you want in return?” Alain stared hard at the short man. In T Money’s line of business, people always expected something in exchange, no matter what they were giving.

M Dog looked at T Money, a measuring look, before answering. “A few lines would be nice,” he said slowly, “but if not, that’s fine. I’ll accept an IOU.”

“Hey, hey,” T Money held up her hands as she stood, “I can work with a few lines. You know I don’t like IOUs.” As she walked to her room, to presumably ‘get a few lines,’ Alain started making a mug of Earl Grey tea.

“How good are your ‘people’?” she called out casually, measuring water and adjusting the settings on their microwave.

M Dog appeared in the kitchen entrance. “D Ice is my main man. He’s the leader of a street gang, the Red Jacks. He knows a lot of people in Liberty City. If nothing else, he can get you hooked up with the more powerful gangs.”

Alain leaned against the formica counter, waiting for the water to heat up. “And you’re sure he’s not going to conveniently forget about you when we go to meet him?”

M Dog smiled and his eyes darkened. Chills ran up Alain’s spine and she shivered. “Oh, he won’t. Trust me. If you have trouble, just mention his ‘Jaunt of Terror.’ Even though you don’t know what it is, he’ll know. And that’s all that matters.”

T Money stepped into the kitchen, holding a bag of crisp, white powder, and the weird moment was shattered. The microwave beeped and Alain busied herself with hot water and tea bags as T started drawing out lines on the kitchen table with the powder and a shiny, silver razor.

Alain passed, cupping the warm mug with both hands, as M Dog snorted a line through a dull, green dollar bill. She winced, the sound making her fingers prickle, and headed for her bedroom.

“T,” she said, “come and talk me later. We have to look at apartments.”

T Money nodded and gave a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.” Alain stepped into her bedroom as T took the dollar bill.

***

© 2003 Brianna Jackson.