Black, No Sugar

Margaret Gray entered Central Park at the North Woods entrance and sat on the first bench she saw, not realizing the trajectory of her life would change in exactly 20 minutes. She’d walked from her home in SoHo, stopping only for a coffee and the Sunday Times. The early June day was warm and cloudy. She kept the paper on her lap and sipped her coffee as she surveyed the other people in the park. One couple entwined on blankets, another couple playing Frisbee with their German Shepherd, a steady trickle of bicyclists on the path. Yes, plenty of people around. She knew she was being followed and she’d picked this area of the park to make her stand.

Minutes later a man approached and said, “Mind if I sit?”

She looked up and took his measure in one swift glance. Margaret suppressed a startled expression when she saw the scar that ran down the left side of his face. She continued her rapid assessment. Six-three, muscular, square jaw, hair cut short. FBI?

She pursed her lips, “You might as well since you’ve been following me for three days.”

“Impressive. Wouldn’t have thought it possible your parents underestimated you in any way.” He brushed a few spring buds from the bench and sat a foot away from her.

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my parents?”

“We were friends.”

Margaret considered this. To her knowledge, neither ever had a close friend.

“My parents weren’t part of any social scene.”

“For the sake of accuracy, they were more like work friends.”

“You work for the NSA?”

“Strictly speaking, no, but neither did your parents.”

Margaret whipped her head around and looked at him, alarmed and suspicious.

“Look, mister. . .”

“Harrison. Harrison Bryce.” He offered his hand.

Margaret didn’t take his hand. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I saw your name on a piece of paper in my father’s study in 1978.”

Harrison raised his eyebrows. “Your mother told me you had uncanny memory recall, but that is astonishing.”

“One of my many talents, she said.”

“Do you remember anything else written on the paper?”

She closed her eyes again. “Just your name and a phone number.” She concentrated. “301-688-1400.”

He was stunned. She’d just recited his NSA dummy phone number. He hadn’t used it since the early eighties. He said, “Do you think that’s why you’re a computer genius? Because you can remember anything, including number sequences.”

Margaret stiffened. Who in the hell was this man? She did see his name on a piece of paper on her father’s desk, but neither parent ever mentioned him. She had no memory of him visiting their home. “What makes you think I’m a computer genius?”

“Your parents told me quite a bit about you. All of us wanted to recruit you.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m sure my parents didn’t want me to work for the NSA. She stopped short. That was more information than she ever shared with anyone. She was still rattled from last week’s personal nocturnal activities. Now here sat a stranger out of nowhere who’d been following her for three days. He claimed to know her parents. Her parents who lived secretive, constructed lives until they died. They weren’t chatty and forthcoming, even with their government friends.

Harrison observed the picnickers and bicyclists and then said, “No. Not the NSA, but they wanted you to work for the ESA with them.”

“The ESA. What the fuck is that? Look, Mr. Bryce...”

“Harrison.”

She took a breath. “Mr. Bryce, I don’t know who you are or what you want, or how you knew my parents, but I assure you they did not work for any company called the ESA.” She looked away from him and considered her escape options. Best to go out the same entrance and melt into the sidewalk throng. She could take the B train home.

“Of course, they never told you. They couldn’t. Any more than you tell anyone you work for the CIA.”

Margaret stared straight ahead. Who in the hell is this? She pulled her rogue mission three months ago. She’d planned every detail. She was positive no one saw her. Do they know? They must know.

She said, “And just what is the ESA?”

“It stands for the Espionage Satellite Agency.”

A puff of wind fluttered the page of the paper on her lap, and she clamped her hand on the thick bundle. She said, “Uh huh. Well, that would have made my mother laugh. What an asinine name. Sounds like it is from a cartoon show.”

“I assure you it is not.”

“Fine. What is it that you want from me? How do I know you haven’t hacked into my parent’s files, so you can pretend you knew them?”

“You told me two minutes ago you saw my name on a piece of paper in your home years ago.”

“Maybe they had your name because you were a potential danger, not a friend.”

Harrison had expected this resistance and had come prepared to convince her of his legitimacy. He said, “Margaret, you chose to go with the CIA just after Goldie’s birth. Your parents consulted with me because they thought your particular genius would be better put to use with the ESA unit we were in. They couldn’t talk to you about it, that’s how deep cover we were and still are. We all decided we’d have to wait to recruit you to our unit. You were hell bent on working for the Directorate of Science and Technology, and no one at DST knew we existed.”

“How can that be? I have top secret clearance, and I’ve never seen anything about an ESA division.”

“Very few know about the ESA, he said, “and certainly whole divisions don’t know about us, including the DST. Anyway, your parents abandoned the idea until nine months ago. We all decided we could use your expertise. They intended to bring it up when they returned from their last assignment, but they died before that could happen.”

“That’s a lot for me to swallow, Mr. Bryce. I know they worked for the NSA. They even took me to their offices when we lived in DC. I met some of their co-workers.” She pulled up the memory.

“Yes,” he said. “Their cover was that they worked for the National Security Agency, and of course the NSA cooperated with us. We threw plenty of nuggets their way.”

“What can you tell me about their deaths?”

“How much do you know?”

“They went to Lebanon. They never came back.”

He lowered his voice even though the closest people to them were ten yards away. “I can tell you it wasn’t Lebanon.”

She stilled her hand and turned the sheaf of newspapers upside down and took a deep breath. “Did they suffer?”

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

His answer was swift. “No. They were ambushed. They didn’t suffer. I assure you.”

She sat immobile and stared at nothing. “What else do you know?”

“About your parents, nothing. And you know as well as I do that if I did know anything else, I would not be at liberty to tell you. Margaret, listen to me. We need you on our team. There are two people in the CIA who know about our division. That’s where we get our funding. If you join us, you’ll still work for the agency in a technical sense. They will still be paying your salary.”

“And what would I be doing for your ‘team’?”

“We need your skills to uncover what we believe to be an extensive money laundering operation. We also suspect it is tied in with human trafficking. The company is Wells-Berkeley. She flinched and scrambled for a way out of this. She said, “This can’t be done. Wells-Berkeley is a domestic company. That’s for the FBI.”

“Nope. We have proof this is an international operation. That makes us authorized to investigate.” He paused, then added, “Not that we need authorization.”

She gazed at the normal, carefree people enjoying the early summer day and envied them. What would it be like to have nothing better to do than play Frisbee with a dog?

“Mr. Bryce. This has been illuminating, but I’m not interested. I like my job. I’ll be going now. Thanks for the offer.” She gathered her paper to her and started to rise off the bench.

He said, “Miss Gray, we haven’t finished our conversation. Please sit down. It has come to our attention that you might know more about the owner than anyone else on this case.”

She lowered herself to the bench without looking at him. Jesus. How to play this? Her left foot tapped the ground; she put her hand on her knee to still herself. The information she had gathered was incidental to her real purpose. She aimed for bored, casual. “Wells-Berkeley pops up once in a while, but just on the periphery. I’m sure I don’t know any more than your people do.”

Harrison leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, clasped his fingers together, and stared straight ahead. “Margaret, I know everything about you. You need to come work for the ESA. We need your expertise. And we need the extensive background info you’ve uncovered.”

Margaret leaned forward and mimicked Harrison’s pose. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Not at all. I’m trying to protect you.”

“Why would you protect me? I don’t know you. For that matter, I don’t need protection.”

“You do need protection. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

She watched as the breeze took the Frisbee and it sailed into the stream.

“What does the job entail?”

“Much of what you’re already doing. Some overseas assignments.”

“How many people know about me?”

“There’s only four of us in ESA. Six until your parents died. Other than the director and one other, no one in the agency knows we exist. As for your division, you’ve maintained a low profile, but the higher ups are well aware of your expertise and your discretion. So, there are a handful of people who know you based on your computer savvy. Just the ones that count.

“Who’s in this little elite unit? Have I worked with them on anything? Did they know my parents, too?”

“Yes, they knew your parents. But no, you’ve never met them. They don’t know you, but they are aware of your credentials and accomplishments.”

“Are they aware of all my accomplishments?”

“No. I’m the only one aware of all your capabilities. And activities,” he added. “

They sat in silence for several more minutes. It was clear this guy knew her every secret. Or, at least he knew she had gathered a lot of intel he needed. It was possible he didn’t know why she had dug so deep, but she was starting to doubt that. She was more concerned about the whole “ESA” line. Margaret conceded the plausibility that her parents were that secretive, but she wanted to be sure. “You’ve been following me since I left my house today. Have you ever been to my parent’s house in SoHo?”

“Yes, and I’ve been to the library on the third floor. I oversaw the special installation, including the sensor installed under the carpet.”

Margaret heard the light whistle song of a Fox Sparrow. Her eyes searched the ground until she saw three of them under a thicket, scratching and kicking leaf litter in search of food. Other than her parents, no one but the agency workmen would know about the sensor. If Harrison Bryce wasn’t the real deal, then he was some kind of insane super spy, which she didn’t believe. She checked in with her gut. She sensed he was honorable. As honorable as anyone could be in this line of work. He seemed to be a square shooter, kind even. On the same token, given the size of the scar on his face, not one to be messed with. “Fine. When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. It’s all taken care of.”

“Sounds like I never had a choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“You’ve been saying all along if I joined your team. If I decided to take the job. Now you’re saying you’ve already put everything into motion. You’ve been deceptive.”

“Misleading perhaps. I didn’t plan on leaving this bench until you knew your starting date.”

“Mr. Bryce, in your vast store of knowledge about my life, did you run across the fact that I don’t play well with others?”

“I’m aware you prefer to work alone.”

“I do hope you don’t expect me to work closely with or interact on a regular basis with you or the other three.”

“It will be unavoidable at times, but not for the computer aspect. No one will interfere or question the electronic information you get or how you got it.”

“You know damn well that how I get something has to fit the legal and politically correct narrative, or I may go to prison.”

“You won’t go to prison.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can promise that. Our resources are deep. We can hide anyone in plain sight anywhere in the world.”

Margaret slipped her hands under her thighs and rocked forward. A vulnerable position she tried to avoid under most circumstances. Not the ideal posture to assume if one wanted to draw a gun, but she didn’t think she’d need to shoot him.

She said, “Would those deep resources extend to hiding my parents?” Her voice was calm, but her muscles remained tensed. Her stomach fluttered. My god, a possibility she’d not allowed herself to entertain. What if they weren’t dead?

Harrison noticed her body posture and softened his tone. “No, I’m afraid not. Had it come to that and they needed to disappear, we could have arranged it. But they didn’t survive. I’m sorry.”

She swallowed hard several times, then said, “I see. Is that all? I have some errands to run.”

“There’s just one more thing. You’ll have to take the parachute training. I know about your fear of heights, but this is SOP. We need you overseas. You are fluent in five languages.”

“I haven’t kept my language skills honed.”

Harrison ignored her diatribe. “You’re somewhat of a language savant. You’ll be at peak proficiency within weeks. I wouldn’t have approached you if I thought otherwise.”

“Mr. Bryce, language aside, may I remind you my skills are limited to electronic surveillance.”

“You’re about to acquire a new skill set.”

For the first time since he joined her, she turned and looked at him full in the face. She didn’t like what was happening, but she saw in those eyes an inexplicable depth of compassion and empathy. A certain amount of coldness, too, but she sensed he wasn’t a danger to her. Without question, he knew everything about her. Still, she believed he wasn’t judging her. It rattled her to realize she didn’t want him to judge her, either. She faced forward again and said, “I have reasons for everything I do. Just want you to know that.”

He stood up. “I’m sure you do.” He handed her a business card. “Call me at eight tomorrow morning. I’ll give you instructions.”

She looked at the card. “Is Harrison Bryce your real name?”

His eyes twinkled. “If I told you my real name, I’d have to kill you.”

She suppressed a smile. The inside joke. Her parents used to bat it around, too.

She said, “I’ll call you in the morning, Mr. Bryce.”

Before he walked away, she said, “One more thing.

How’d you get the scar?”

“Would you believe I cut myself shaving?”

“No.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

She sat on the bench until dusk, long after the families and the dogs had made their way home to dinner. She sipped her cold coffee and thought it as bitter as her thoughts. She still didn’t know the circumstances of their deaths. The cryptic answers the mysterious Mr. Bryce had given her told her nothing except the place of death wasn’t Lebanon. She wondered how many more lies of omission her parents engaged in. Hell, maybe I’m adopted. Maybe they found me in a basket on the doorstep. It was pointless to consider. Pointless to allow regret and bitterness to infiltrate. Even if they were still alive, she had no idea how they would advise her. She assumed they loved her. Loved her in some odd, abstract way. She wondered now if they would have loved her enough to help her refuse this offer from Harrison Bryce. The so-called offer that was in reality a done deal. She balled up her hands and dug her nails into her palms. Up until now, she’d reconciled her decision to work for the agency as a legitimate trade-off. Her overriding goal was to shed her physical weaknesses and vulnerability. They taught her how to be armed and dangerous. They taught her how to be the hunter, not the hunted. She supplied them with the electronic evidence they needed to thwart national security threats. She gave them the information they needed to protect others in the agency. She was fine with that. But, she wasn’t fine with the agency’s overseas clandestine anti-democracy operations. Now it looked like she might get roped into some scenarios she considered unethical. She did not consider her private retribution activities on the same level. On the contrary, she believed she’d done society a favor when she eliminated that piece of scum from the pond.

The rain that had threatened all day began to fall. The drops splattered on the still unread paper, jolting her out of her reverie. She poured the cold coffee on the ground before heading home to an uncertain future.