"I can do that!" I told her confidently. She let out an involuntary shake of the head as she looked at me.
"Actually, you can't," she began. "They have a kid called Sean there. The boy is fourteen—Don't laugh!" She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.
I was listening to a cautioning tale, that too for a fourteen-year-old?
"Sean hacked into the system of one of the largest banks and transferred ten million dollars into his own account. This was a year ago. No one could trace it back to him because he had spread the money in small denominations across the globe. This boy is a genius," she gave me a pointed look.
She must have noticed my impressed state of mind as she was smirking in response to it.
'Hacking a system of that level of protection at the age of thirteen was a big deal. How did Anthony get his hands on this gem?'
"And you can outweigh his genius?" a dark chuckle escaped my lips as I asked threw out the question at her.
"No. I can't. But I'm better than you," she cleared her throat and took a fleeting glance around. We were standing in front of a small café. She pulled me inside in spite of my protests.
"I do my work here," she whispered to me.
Several people were sitting across the café silently reading, writing, working, and just thinking by themselves.
"They make excellent hot chocolate here. Want some?" she asked with a warm smile. I shrugged.
Daisy called the waitress over and ordered for both of us. She dug into her bag and pulled out a thick file.
"I'm not going to apologize for snooping around. It's my job. So, I was looking through the records of your past missions, and I was surprised. You're excellent in recording all the data, but what you don't know is that you should use more of yourself in your work and less of your . . . assets."
"What are you trying to say?"
"You dive in head first. I think you aren't using your resources to their fullest extent." She quirked an eyebrow, expecting me to come back with a snarky comment, but when I didn't, she continued with her deliberations. "Murray is well known for seeing through people. If he already hasn't seen through you, then it will take him a few days to understand that you are up to no good."
"Why are we having this discussion, again?" Her underestimation of my capabilities was getting on my nerves. "What are you, my boss?" I sniped.
"No." She cleared her throat. "I'd rather be your friend."
I almost laughed at that.
"Your point?" Defiance laced my voice.
"Well, you need to penetrate their system. I can work with computers, but I need the information to start doing my job. You need to bond with the people—don't roll your eyes. I know you hate them, but that doesn't mean that you can shirk your responsibilities. We need this hacker-boy on your side. Murray is, no doubt, most important, but we need the boy."
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"I know how important this is for you," she said in a hushed voice. She was fidgeting in her seat. Maybe, she didn't like to comfort people.
"You do?"
"As I said, I snooped around. While you were very particular about your missions you never wrote anything related to your family. I know everything."
"How dare you dig up on my personal life? You have no right-" she cut me off.
"Listen to me! It's a good thing, believe me. It just makes you that much stronger. Yes, you can get emotionally weak, but you can turn your emotions into your power! I'm not sure what you were told about your mother's death, so I pulled some strings and got this report. I have your father's report, too." She handed me two black folders with a sympathetic look on her face.
'Hell, I don't want your bloody sympathy. There's no reason to pity me!'
"My father's report?" my voice shook.
He'd been in a car accident. I couldn't see him for the last time. The organization had some weird notion about it being problematic for my current mission.
'Damn the mission!'
"Just go through it. I hope you'll get some answers."
"You know a lot, don't you?"
I had closed my eyes by that point. I couldn't take it. I wanted to open the damn folders and read them already, but I knew that I would breakdown. I didn't want to appear weaker than I already did.
My eyes snapped open when a shrill voice told us that our order was ready.
"One last thing . . . Um, I was asked to deliver this to you personally." She handed me a watch.
"Is this a joke?" I couldn't help but laugh. C'mon, it was a blue watch with a Mickey Mouse head on it!
"This is one of the most important weapons you have. This cute little thing has a chip that records your location. It also records all your conversations and has a self-destruction mode." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable.
"Why is this sounding like a suicide mission?" I narrowed my eyes, doubt clouding my brain.
"This is not a suicide mission. If you feel that there is no way out and you want an end, push the little red button on the side. You can make a password and save it. If you say that password, the timer will start. A liquid will be ejected in your body . . . you won't feel a thing. And then the watch will self-destruct five minutes later, killing all your enemies effectively."
"You talk too much!" I groaned. "Okay, I understand."
I could see that she was still nervous. I'd say that I was infamous, but I had a feeling it was something else. What is it?
"Why are you so nervous?" I asked, not being able to keep my curiosity at bay. She looked startled for a minute but then took a deep breath to compose herself.
"You will find some rather shocking things in those files. I'm not sure how you'll take it." She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.
"And you are concerned because…"
"You've obviously never worked in a team. I feel the need to socialize when I'm working; it makes work easier." I snorted at her angry comment. "You should try it!" she hissed.
"Alright. Are we finished here?" I asked her with a roll of my eyes. She sighed, got up from her chair, and slung the bag she was carrying on her shoulder.
As she was about to leave, she looked at me for one last time and smiled at me.
"A good mystery never reveals the story in the first few pages… the urge to know keeps us from putting the book down. And if the book is worth it, the reader remembers it long after they have finished reading. We are no different. Don't let your 'secrets' out. Your body is a holy place, if you let your secret out before its time, you will be forgotten and put away like a bad mystery. Think about it."
And then she was gone. I stared after her and then looked down at the mug on the table. I picked it up and sipped as I considered her words.
"Good point, well made, Miss Daisy."
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