Covert Coffee (The Serena Wilcox Dystopian Trilogy Book 2)

Covert Coffee Chapter 3

3

Lora put her purse on the belt and allowed herself to be patted down. She didn’t mind the “wanding” but the frisking got a little out of hand. She leered at the guard. “Enjoying yourself?”

The guard ignored her.

Oh, so that’s it, then, I’m not good enough to talk to? Lora bristled. She knew his type. He probably had a plain wife sitting at home, chasing after his freckle-faced sticky-fingered rug-rats, cooking his dinners, and watching the clock for when he would be home. Well, Lora would never be that wife: she was good enough to touch, but not good enough to marry. Story of her life. She scooped her purse off the conveyor belt, opened it as she walked away from the security check-in, dug for her signature vial of Tic Tacs, flipped open the plastic lid, popped one in her mouth, and returned the Tic Tacs to her purse, all without missing a step.

“You can’t go in there,” said a female Special Agent named Carla Keefer. Keefer’s red hair bobbed upon her shoulders in coils of thick curls while unruly tendrils framed her face. So sweet and lovely was she that it was difficult for her to be taken seriously as an agent.

Lora scoffed at her now. “I’m just going to sit down.” She darted for the row of chairs situated behind the ropes. Keefer snatched her by the arm and yanked her elbow behind her back, dragging her back within the confines of the holding area.

“Hey! You didn’t have to do that!” Lora yelped.

“Stay behind the ropes,” Keefer said simply. She locked eyes with Lora, but did not engage her. Her stare-down was firm, no-nonsense, and dismissive; a combination that asserted her authority over Lora in an instant. Of course the show of force had already paved the way for that.

Lora gave her no more trouble; she waited in compliance, standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, sighing every few seconds.

“Come with me,” said Keefer. She led Lora down a long tiled corridor. Lora’s high-heeled pleather fashion boots clicked with every step, announcing her arrival long before her slender frame reached the conference room. Keefer opened the door for her, gestured for her to go in, nodded to the agents inside, and left, leaving Lora behind. More than one agent stared out the windowed door at Keefer’s curvy figure as she turned away. Lora rolled her eyes. Men are all the same, she thought.

“Sit down,” said Agent Browning.

Lora slid her long manicured fingers along the top of the back of the only chair at the table. When her fingers reached the end, she eased her body into the seat of the chair, imagining her movements to be slinky and sexy. She then studied her fingers, admiring the fingernail art on each painted nail.

The agents were unimpressed. Browning pulled a second chair up to the table, directly across from where Lora was perched. “Do you know why you are here?” he began.

“The President wants to have me to dinner?”

“Is that your final answer?”

“This is about my e-mail? It was a joke.”

“Before sending the message you consented to the contract between yourself and this office. When you added your virtual signature, your consent to our terms was recorded and verified.”

“I didn’t read it.”

“Your signature indicates that you have waived your right to object to any inquiry we may make into the source, content, or intent behind your message.”

“I didn’t sign anything.”

“You selected the option allowing this office to assign a virtual signature to your message. It was required before the message was allowed to be sent. Whether you remember doing it or not, we have records of you having done so. Would you like to see our records?”

“No,” said Lora dejectedly.

“Do you understand that the purpose of this inquiry is to establish the intention behind your message? Do you also understand that you are here of your own accord and can leave at any time?”

“I guess so.”

“Please describe your message and explain why you sent that message to the Town Hall forum, to President Ann Kinji, recipient.”

“It was a joke – Kinji is Kinki – everyone does it. It’s yesterday by now, not even funny anymore. Thought it was funny when I wrote it. Do I look like a terrorist?”

“Why did you write it?”

“I told you, it was a joke.”

“What made you decide to send it?”

“Someone dared me. I can’t remember who. It was at a bar. I sent it from my phone.”

“Who told you to do it?”

“I said, I don’t remember who.”

“Does that happen often, that you don’t remember who you are talking to?”

Lora threw her head back to give her hair a good toss. “What do you think? They know my name there.”

“Are you saying you were intoxicated when you sent the message to the President?”

Lora snorted. “Yes! I’m saying I was wasted. Can I go now?”

“Yes, you can go now. Agent Keefer will escort you out. But Ma’am?”

“Ma’am!”

“Miss?”

“Better.”

“No more drunk-dialing the President.”

On that note, Lora left the heart of American government behind her as she clicked and clacked her way down the long corridors and back out into the outside world, where a cab was waiting for her. She got in without saying anything to the driver, ignored the seat belt, and flipped open her phone.

“Vic? Yeah, it’s me. Yeah, I did it. No, they didn’t see me. I attached it to the table, underside like you said. No, they didn’t notice, too busy staring at my chest. Nobody’s listening, Victor. Okay, okay, see you soon.”

Lora looked down at her fingers. The nail art on her left ring finger was down to one layer, like all of her other fingernails. However, before she entered the interrogation room, that nail had had two layers. One was nail art, like now. The top layer had been a tiny film, containing a microchip, which was now recording everything said in the interrogation room.

Why Victor wanted her to do this, she didn’t know. But he was paying her good money and that was all she cared about. He had paid her at the bar to send the message, and he had promised her more money today, at the hotel room where she was going.

What Lora was about to find out was that Victor had no intention of seeing Lora again, and when his people were done with her, no one else would ever see her again either. So it is unfortunate then that Lora didn’t enjoy the view from her cab passenger window, because it was the last time she would ever see the great city that she loved, or anything else for that matter.