2

Carys stared unblinking at the papers burning in her waste basket. She pushed them around until the fire licked every part, waited several minutes before pouring the ashes into a bowl filled with water and emptied it down the drain.

Delicate information was best disposed in many ways but fire and then water was always advised. No one was going to waste their time drilling her pipes open to retrieve soggy paper maché.

The thrill of her new job kept her bouncing on her toes, she was ready to get in and do what only she did best, but another quick glance at the wet sink deepened the feeling of dread in her stomach.

Nothing about this job was going to be easy, and running in blind or unprepared was going to cost her everything, including her life. The Valachi brothers were high on every terrorist list, not because they were dealing in anything out of the ordinary, but because no one had any concrete evidence against them.

These men walked freely and lived largely, they could sell illegal arms in broad daylight and no one would bat an eye. The craziest part was everyone had given up on ever bringing them to justice due to the brutal killing of any rat they discovered.

Women were always given a swifter death after light torture, but the men didn’t fare well in the videos Carys had watched. It was comforting to know her fate if she was ever caught. She would only get a few finger nails pulled out, a few bones broken and if she gave them the information they wanted, a bullet to the head as the ending scene.

A quick shiver raised goose bumps on her arms and she concentrated deeply to reduce the ragged sounds of the men begging for their lives. Carys had come face to face with death on numerous occasions and had managed to get cleared by the psychologist Brent forced on her.

Matters of the mind were a quick fix if one knew how to properly compartmentalize. Did she get stabbed multiple times in the thigh until she passed out? Yes. Was that going to be a problem? Pfft, no. Had she been shot, and had her head held under water, while a hot iron rod was used to seal the wound, with the bullet still inside?, Yes. But did she reach for her shoulder or flinch when the shrink had asked her how she was? No, she had nodded somberly and shrugged.

A week later she was back at her desk with a file in her lap. Brent knew she didn’t break easy but the shrink was a nice touch to check for cracks in her armor. On some days she tried to forcefully address her demons, but they avoided her the same way she did them.

Releasing a sigh, her whole body turned when her phone rang, tugging her feet in the direction of her bedroom. Only two people had her number, and she groaned when she saw the word ‘mother’ mock her.

“Thank God, talking to your answering machine was getting exhausting” There was never a normal greeting with her mother, whatever she thought was what her mouth produced.

Taking the phone to the living room, Carys winced when she saw the notification on the machine that her mailbox was full, and deleted the messages her mother had left. “Hello, mother, my answering machine is there for you to leave messages, but it would be nice if you left one and waited for me to get back to you.”

“You never get back to me like you say, so here I am reaching out to you again.” There was no bite behind her mother’s words, but she heard the hurt laced in them.

“I promise I will try to do better, work has me in a chokehold-”

“Thought you were resigning or something?”

With eyes squeezed shut, mouthing a curse, Carys realized her error. “Yes, I am. It’s not a fast break though, I still need to sign a few papers, they’ll give my profile one last check and then I will be truly free.”

“That sounds like a really long process.” Shannon’s voice dipped lower. “I know you’re going to be mad when I say that I told everyone you would be here for Christmas. I got super excited when you told me and kind of told everyone.”

There was no easy way to tell her mother she was not going to be there for Christmas so she didn’t address it. Shannon was a chatterbox whose love language was obviously talking, but Carys had grown up in a quiet, cold house and classified her mother as beautiful noise.

“I’m not upset. I’ll be there if they let me go early-” Her phone buzzed and she moved it, grateful that her escape had come from a text from Brent. “-speaking of going, duty calls. My boss wants me to come in to review some cases I need to hand over.”

“Sure, call me when you ca-”

The guilt of ending the call with her mother mid speech vanished when Brent’s voice came through the speaker. Going straight to the point, he began “I assume you’ve read everything. You will be on your own when your flight leaves in three days. You know the drill.”

This was the last time they were going to speak and the last time she was going to use this phone, it made IT’s job of hiding her identity easier. “I don’t like children, so I hope this one doesn’t make my job harder, and what am I supposed to teach her?”

Brushing up her knowledge on middle childhood was not something she would do in her past time, even if she had a gun to her head.

“She’s at the stage where whatever you teach her won’t be the foundation for further learning. You’re allowed to mess up some a,b,c,d’s”

Carys didn’t like messing up anything, but she hummed along. “What’s my mode of communication when I’m in?”

Brent didn’t respond immediately, and the fine strands at the nape of her neck stood. A second passed, and another, and anoth-

“Unlike the other jobs where you were able to reach me, I won’t be able to pull you out if you blow your cover.” Brent’s words were like a blow to the gut. “You will be searched when you get to the gate of the estate, and every call that is placed on the grounds is closely monitored. Morse code won’t work; men and women have tried that smart tactic and met their end.”

He added, “The estate is impenetrable. If your cover gets blown, you’ll have to fight your way out.” That was a code for ‘put a bullet in your head’ “You wanted excitement? This is the best you’re going to get, and if you succeed, our names will forever be marked in history.”

If she didn’t succeed, her death was not going to be easy or painless, but her name would be marked in history, added, under the long list of men and women whose screams and pleas begged her to reconsider and run.

Run away from danger or towards it? Carys didn’t know