Simpler Times
1047 Words
14
Simpler Times
The walk back to the office was not an easy one. The growling in her stomach had stopped, but was now replaced with a feeling of vulnerability. A senior leader in one of the most feared terrorist organizations in the world knows who I am. And Jana knew, if the terrorists knew her identity, they probably know far more about her than that, like where she lived. Suddenly, just the thought of getting on the train for the commute home frightened her. What if they’re watching me right now? No, Stone would know. He’s got eyes on me right now, right? I mean, surely some pair of FBI eyes is always nearby.
She clutched her purse with both hands and scanned in all directions. How would she ever spot someone following her? The streets of New York are filled with humanity at this hour. It would be like finding a needle in a stack of needles. Not to mention the fact that even if she scanned the faces all around her, looking for those of Middle Eastern descent, that wouldn’t help much either. New York is a melting pot—every race and skin tone is here. Racial profiling, Jana thought. This is how it starts. The paranoia creeps in and you start looking for that stereotypical picture of what you think a terrorist would look like. Darker skin, black hair, black eyes, a thick, unkempt black beard, and perhaps wearing a thawb, a commonly worn ankle-length garment, similar to a robe, with long sleeves. It was all starting to sound like something out of a Hollywood movie.
Jana shivered. Her own mind was playing tricks on her and it wouldn’t be wise to allow the racism and paranoia building in her veins to continue. As she speed-walked down the sidewalk, she stopped in the doorway of a small neighborhood market to extract herself from the full-paced walkers all around her, then pulled out her phone. She typed out a text message to Agent Stone.
I want a weapon, and I want to be trained how to use it. And, Dad? I’m not asking.
She sent the text and then deleted it from her list of messages. Calling him dad; I’m sure he’s going to just love that one, she thought as a smile eased onto her face. Not to mention me demanding a weapon.
Once back in the office, Jana found she had trouble concentrating. She logged in to another brokerage account, this one an offshore account located in the Cayman Islands, and shook her head. Offshore, red flag for the SEC. Even if I stop these terrorists, I’m going to lose my broker’s license. She discreetly placed the thumb drive into a USB port on the laptop and recorded the financial transaction complete with date, time, amounts, account numbers, and the institutions involved. She closed her eyes and her thoughts wandered.
In her mind’s eye, she found herself back in the second grade, back in the principal’s office, the sheriff’s deputy telling her that her mother had died. The swirl of emotions that came with the news was overwhelming. That night, she slept at her teacher’s house, and in the morning woke to the smell of freshly cooked waffles. When she went toward the sound of Miss Hancock’s voice, she found that her own grandfather was sitting at the table in the eat-in kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand, and her grandmother was hovering over Miss Hancock, ladling scrambled eggs onto her plate. Jana knew she would go live with them on their farm in rural Tennessee.
She had always loved the farm, and she truly loved her grandparents, but the thought of leaving everything she knew was frightening.
It had been only a month later that her grandmother, too, died. From that point on, it was just Jana and Grandpa. He had become her whole world. Some of the best times in her childhood were suppers spent with her grandfather as they ate on the porch. When she was little, she would sit in his lap as he reached around her to cut her food. Then when she was bigger, they still enjoyed eating on the porch and watching the sun as it dipped below the tree line across the expanse of farmland, then set.
The sun’s amber glow was still strong in her memory. And now as an adult, Jana longed for those days, for their simplicity, their honesty, and the love she felt.
Jana’s world had changed so much since then and she wondered how everything had gotten so confusing. The stress inside her was building toward eventual eruption, and Jana wondered how much longer she could keep this up. She removed the thumb drive from the laptop and tucked it just inside her bra, obscured from view.
“What are you up to, Jana?” came a voice. She startled, then found Jeffrey Dima staring at her. Did he see? she thought as her heart leapt into her mouth.
“Oh, nothing. Just working on your project.” She prayed that answer would suffice.
He walked to her desk and his eyes wandered to what pleased them. “I think you should give me another chance.”
“And why is that?”
“I’m not such a bad guy.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
“You’ve been asking around about me?” he said through a pearly white smile. “See, I’m not so bad. Come on, admit it. You’re attracted to me.”
“I’ll admit nothing of the kind.” It was a flirtatious answer and one Jana would later parlay into accepting his advances. But, she had to get certain things organized before she would willingly set foot in this sleazeball’s apartment.
“Come on, this Saturday night. I’ll cook you a meal you won’t believe.”
“Jeffrey, we’re coworkers. This can never happen.”
“It’s America, Jana. Anything can happen. It’s a date then.”
Jana processed the situation. She didn’t have much time to prepare, but then again, with the timetable on the terror attack closing down, she had to act as quickly as possible.
“No,” she said with innocence in her eyes.
“No?”
“I’m busy Saturday. Make it Friday and I’ll think about it.”
His smile widened and his eyes again wandered across her form. Although Jana was repulsed, she made no outward signs of it.
Now, it was time to give Agent Stone a critical assignment, one that would prepare her for Friday night.
- Writer
