Here’s the first chapter in an exciting series of spy chronicles written just for Her Campus Eckerd! Follow Jane Doe as she struggles to escape from the Company, an assassin training school–where she was the top student–and as she attempts to piece together the story of her past, dodging a few bullets and making some unlikely friends along the way.
I glanced over the top of my novel, scanning the hurried street for the face of a possible informant. Not that it would have been obvious since the Company would never be that stupid. They knew they had trained me too well.
A teenage waiter appeared at my side, asking if I wanted to have another latte.
“Yes, please, and one of those cranberry muffins as well…has my guest arrived yet?”
“No, miss.”
“Let me know when he does,” I dismissed, turning back to my observations outside. With my peripheral, I watched him cautiously as he disappeared through the kitchen. Couldn’t be too careful, I thought.
Breezing my fingers along the papered edge of the book, I toyed with the note sticking out of the back cover. I had received it four days ago on the door of the cheap motel room I had been occupying at the time. I’ve read it a hundred times since, committing the words to memory. Curiosity and hope for, perhaps, a better life convinced me to follow them, despite my need to be cautious.
“Annie’s Café. 1000 hours. Come Alone. –JS.”
I had been on the run from Company for four months, traveling all across the country in the beat-up white truck I had been able to jump start, getting money where I could. It was a hard life, but it was better than the alternative. It was better than killing.
Setting the book aside and sitting back in my seat, I took another sip of my coffee only to have a few drops pass my lips. Damn.
I sighed and thought back over the events that placed me in this clichéd game of cat and mouse. The mysterious men crashing into a high school gym, forcing all of the students to line up in rows. Each of them looking identical and insignificant. One of them coming up to me, tilting my head and scanning me with his eyes. I was chosen. I was thrown into the back of a van. Darkness. Months of training. Being forced to kill. Realizing what I had become. Falling. Swimming to shore in a storm of bullets and shouting. Running through the Smokey Mountains until I knew I had lost any trackers they might have set after me.
I had been trained to be an assassin: intelligent, cutthroat and the least likely of suspects. However, I was an assassin who refused to kill, a liability, a target.
“Jane Doe?”
I looked up into the face of the handsome stranger, strong jawed and with thick brown hair falling into his dark brown eyes. He held out his hand, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to the elbows. I scanned over his tall, lean form in search of some sort of threat.
“JS, I presume?” I asked, not taking his hand.
An amused smirk came across his thin lips as he helped himself to the seat across from me. The waiter approached and set my order in front of me before turning to the mysterious JS.
“And what can I get you, sir?” he asked.
“Coffee. Black,” he said, not taking his eyes off of my blue ones. I noted his British accent. The waiter quickly scurried away. JS offered his hand again.
“John Smith.”
I looked from him to his hand, wary of what could happen. Assuming no risk, I reached out my hand and grasped his firmly.
“Now talk,” I demanded.
He chuckled, releasing my hand and leaning comfortably in his seat.
“Patience Janie. I’ve only just arrived,” he said.
“You were the one who called me here.” I slipped the letter from the book and slide it across the table.
We fell into silence, only interrupted by the waiter returning with John’s coffee and his first sip from the white coffee mug.
Finally, he spoke.
“So, a Company Cutie gone rogue. You’ve made quite a splash Doe…and my employers have definitely taken notice,” he said.
I smiled, playing up the innocent charm that I had perfected. “I’d be flattered if I knew who it was you worked for.”
He took a small business card from his shirt pocket and set it in front of me. My eyes widened as I recognized the gray letters: Ghost.
“I’m not interested,” I demanded, crumbling the small slip of card stock and tossing it at him, watching it hit his chest. He calmly picked it up out of his lap and tucked it back into his pocket. I glared at him as the words from my training echoed in my head. Don’t trust anyone, but especially not a Ghost Agent.
“Now Janie,” he croons, as if I were a child. “Don’t be that way. You haven’t even heard my proposal. From what I understand, you don’t have many options.”
“You really need to stop with the Janie thing because you obviously don’t understand my reputation.” He laughs.
“Oh, I know your reputation.” He props his elbows on the table and leans his face closer to me so I can hear him whisper. “The assassin that refuses to kill. The Company’s greatest liability. The girl who proved them wrong. I know all about you Miss Doe. More than even you know.”
I could feel my face harden at the last statement and brought my face forward until we were nearly nose to nose. I could smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath and see into the black pits of his eyes. “What do you know?” I asked in a quiet, even tone.
He crooked another one of his annoying grins he seemed to be fond of as he lifted his hand to play with a lock of my long black hair that had escaped from the confines of the ponytail. “Oh my little Janie, where would be the fun in that.” He pulled away, letting the strand flutter back down onto the black t-shirt I was wearing.
“Besides,” he continued. “I need some kind of leverage, don’t I? After all, I have a job that needs to be done and you’re just the girl I need.”
“I don’t kill.”
“I’m well aware,” he smiled, taking another sip of coffee. “But you were the top of your training group at the Company. I’m sure a little sabotage would be another day at school. We’re willing to pay you…”
“I’m not interested in money.” I take a sip of my latte.
He arches one of his eyebrows. “Fine,” he says, reaching into one of his pockets to reveal a letter envelope and holds it out to me.
Curious, I take the offering and pull out its contents. My breath catches in the back of my throat.
It’s a school picture of a girl. She looks young, probably about three years younger than me, 16. She looks fresh faced and happy with braces decorating her teeth. He dark red hair is long and wavy, falling just below her shoulders. She looks like….me.
I turn over the photograph, hoping for more information, but find nothing except the picture.
“You were a charming little thing, weren’t you?” he said, just as the waiter placed a check on the corner of the table. John put a black card on the little tray and handed it back to the boy who was oblivious to the situation at the table.
I held up the picture to him. “Where did you get this?” I demanded.
“All in good time, Janie. If you accept my offer that is.”
I looked from the picture in my hands and back to the triumphant look on his face. He knew that he had an offer I couldn’t refuse. I took a deep breath and smirked back at him, trying to show no uncertainty. No weakness.
“Very well, Mr. Smith,” I say, watching the boy place the receipt in front of my new acquaintance. “Tell me more about this venture of yours.”