Meeting the Team

We pulled up to 10385 Vista Sorrento Parkway later than I had intended. After the sex incident, I spent a very restless night on the couch and, unfortunately, Jack had to wake me up at nine-thirty, thereby guaranteeing that I wouldn't make it to the San Diego Field Office before eleven, not that I was even sure who would be here on a holiday.

"Shit, you actually meant it when you said you were a spy," Jack commented as she looked up at the Office.

"I don't much feel like one right now," I muttered to myself.

"Are you going in there?" she asked, almost surprised by the notion.

"Yeah. Uh, thank you for the ride, Jack, and I really am sorry about what happened last night."

With a frown and a shrug, she said, "It happened, we can't change that. Just don't do it again and I'll convince Ben that this is just another thing to make a wild story of his college days when he gets old and fat."

"Bye, Jack," I said, heading to the security check.

Fortunately, my boss had sent this Office a notification about my arrival yesterday and the security didn't hassle me as I came in. They just pointed me to the elevator and wished me luck in finding someone on the holiday.

When I located the offices I was directed to by security, I was surprised to find several people sitting around, as though impatiently waiting for something.

At the center of the mishmash was a small black man wearing an earphone on his left ear with a microphone extending towards his mouth. In front of him was a pair of computers and a quartet of monitors, apparently for maximum simultaneous monitoring of something I couldn't see.

To his left, sat a painfully bland white guy who looked like the poster boy for beige, meaning that he could probably blend in anywhere, save for simultaneously spinning two fidget spinners that he might have stolen from a kid twenty or even thirty years his junior.

Behind them paced a shorter Latino woman who probably would have turned a lot of heads, if not for her impressive scowl.

I was trying to figure out how to announce my presence when they were all so obviously involved with something, as a short man came up behind me and whispered, "They're waiting for confirmation, just give them a minute."

I nodded and waited... and waited. It took twenty three minutes of waiting there silently, before the black man quietly said, "Confirmed. Moving to stage two, Butterfly."

A moment later, he leaned forward, typed a few keystrokes on the computer to his right and then threw up his arms and shouted, "Hoo-rah! She's in. Who's the man? Who's the man?"

The bland man responded in an equally bland tone, "MJ rules. Go MJ."

The woman swatted the man with the folder she was carrying and said, "It's Meyers-Jimenez that did all the work. Stop claiming her victory for yourself, Marian Jackson."

The man who had stood back and watched with me said, "Hey, I'm David Gonzales, DEA. You the transfer from New York?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm Alex Douglas. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Now, lets go introduce you to the three team members who are in the office," he said, gesturing for me to approach the others.

The black man, Marian, apparently, turned to David and said, "My man, David, who's the man?"

Without pause, David replied, "Based on that last sentence, it seems that I'm the man."

Marian complained, "Man, why do you have to leave me hanging like that? I did you a solid with..."

David cut in, "Yep, you're the man, Marian, you're the man. Just don't finish that sentence."

Mister Bland pocketed one fidget spinner and rose to shake my hand, "Welcome, I'm Goodrich, but you can call me Badger."

I shook his hand, and wondered if a nickname could possibly get less apropos, and again said, "Hi, I'm Alex Douglas. It's nice to meet you."

"Right, from the New York Office, under Andrew Glover. What's it like working for a legend?"

"It's, uh, really something... he kinda lives up to the hype," I lied, not knowing what exactly my boss had done to earn the title of living legend, but instantly knowing that Darrell would love digging up that kind of dirt and making a mental note to put him on the trail.

Marian greeted me next, "Marian Deshawn Jackson, but you can call me MJ. I handle surveillance, signals, and radio."

"It's nice to meet you, Alex Douglas."

Finally, the woman greeted me, "I'm Maria Sanchez, and the agent in charge of this taskforce. And you must be the one from New York agent who works financial crimes."

"Yes. I'm Alex Douglas."

"So I heard as you said it to Jackson and Goodrich," she said, which seemed obvious, but I wondered why she would comment on it. She continued, "I'm going to be frank, Douglas, I don't know why I was given you, instead of someone from the this office who would be more familiar with local affairs."

I was taken aback by the fact that,

A: I had apparently been assigned to a task **** a long way from my office, and

B: My temporary superior didn't want me.

Hesitantly I replied, "I'm sure that my boss, Andrew Glover has his reasons."

In a somber tone, David interjected, "Actually, I'll explain the reason she's here when we go over the latest missing persons," which pretty well killed the celebratory mood.

"Okay, let's get that over with," Maria Sanchez said, heading for a conference room as the rest of us filed in behind her.

As Maria and David connected a laptop and setup the projector, Badger told me, "We have two more members as well. Our youngest member is Gracie Meyers-Jimenez, who, as of four minutes ago is officially undercover, meaning that it'll be a while before you meet her in person. Additionally, someone decided to grace us with one of spooky division's shamen. Have you worked with a paranormal before?"

"Not since I took Jean Devereux' class at Quantico," I answered.

"Ah, Devereux, I think they'll probably have that fossil there when they teach the agents of twenty-seventy-five. Anyway, shamen are different. They have a connection to some sort of mystical spirit or something like that. Ours has a connection that gives her an affinity for dragonflies; she can talk to them and train them better than the dogs in our K-9 units. Just, when you're introduced, don't comment on her name, she'll have heard it before a hundred times. Poor girl must have been teased relentlessly during grade school; maybe that's why she befriended bugs."

Maria interjected, "You can catch the finance girl up later; David is going to go over the latest batch of victims that have been taken."

And, while it annoyed me to be called "the finance girl", if David was going to talk about my sister's abduction, he would have my full attention.

{if false}

Gracie Meyers-Jimenez, Undercover asset, butterfly.

Marian Deshawn Jackson, MJ for short. Surveillance, signals, radio.

Stewart Dwight Goodrich. Call him Badger. Engineering, mechanics, vehicles.

David Gonzales. Cartel operations and snuggling.

Maria Sanchez. Prostitution, sex trafficking.

Katja Reinders. When you meet her, don't say the first thing that comes to mind, it'll be insensitive and she will have heard it before a hundred times. Poor girl must have been teased relentlessly. Maybe that's why she befriended bugs.

Alexandra Douglas finances and going undercover. Codename Ghost.

Dropped
Lewis Dee, call him Negative Nancy or Ladder.

Mike Kim, call him Special Agent Kim or Grumpy Pants.

{endif}