13: Spies Among Us

For a long moment, the two men simply sat there staring at one another. Farrell’s expression was one of slight amusement. Alex was on the verge of being extremely angry though no one would have been able to tell. His expression was cold, as if carved in stone, but his eyes burned with an inner fire that belied the calm exterior.

"Well? Get on with it," Alex demanded. "I’m late for fencing and I don’t want my cover blown. We shouldn’t even be talking."

"Then I will be brief," Farrell said. "What have you to report?"

"Excuse me?" Alex retorted, allowing his anger to show. "Since when do I report to you? I’m the agent in the field. I report to the D.D. and to no other and I report when I deem it necessary to do so." He stood up to leave and Farrell raised a hand.

"So far, you’ve done nothing and others are worried."

"Worried? Worried about what? I’m supposed to be under deep cover. It’s what I do. I’ve gone under for months on end without contacting anyone. I’m here for two weeks and all of a sudden everyone’s worried? C’mon, Farrell. What’s really going on? If the D.D. didn’t trust me to do my job she should have sent someone else either to bring Elwood in or to terminate him with extreme prejudice."

"And can you do that?" Farrell asked with a frown. "He was your mentor...."

Alex was on him in a flash, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and hauling him up to face him. "I know my job, Farrell," he hissed in a harsh whisper. "If Elwood has gone rogue he’s a danger to us all. He knows too much. But I’m not wasting a man just because of the Nervous Nellies back in D.C. I’m the agent in the field. It’s my call. Not yours. Not Maddy’s. Not even God’s. Mine. And I will do what I need to do."

He pushed the man from him and turned away in disgust, already dismissing the other agent from his mind. He was nearly at the door when Farrell spoke up again. "It’s been decided that Elwood is too dangerous for one agent to handle, even you. I’m your back up and there are others in place. And while you may be the agent in the field, as of now, you report to me and I expect a report on your progress every week. You can send it via a secure email to this address. I’m sure you have all the security codes in place."

He fished out a card and handed it to Alex who reluctantly took it. "This is highly irregular," he said. "I’m contacting the D.D. to confirm this."

"And she will tell you what I’ve just told you," Farrell said. "I expect a report by noon every Friday."

"Or?"

"Or you will regret it," Farrell said. "I’ve been at this a lot longer than you, son. I’ve forgotten more tricks of the trade than you’ve ever learned. Don’t make the mistake of thinking otherwise."

Alex reared back at the not-so-veiled threat. He narrowed his eyes and his expression went completely feral. "We’ll see about that."

He did not allow Farrell time to respond, but flung open the door and stormed out of the room. He decided not to bother changing his clothes as he’d originally intended but instead headed for the phys. ed. center. By the time he got there the class was already under way.

"Sorry, I’m late," he muttered to Phil Gordon. "I was unavoidably detained."

"Get suited up then," was all Gordon said.

A few moments later, Alex was working out defensive moves with his partner, all the while imagining he was skewering Farrell with his foil.

****

Serindë Voronduriel, known to the Mortals at the Academy as Sarah Brightman, sat quietly in the back of the reading room hidden by one of the stacks, listening to the conversation between Alex and Farrell. The room was not large and one could easily tell at a glance if anyone was there, but there was an odd alcove that was not readily noticeable and anyone not familiar with the reading room’s layout would not notice it or know to look for it. The students called it the Nook and it was comprised of a built-in cushioned bench that nestled between the stack and the wall. There was a small window that looked out onto the quad, providing natural lighting. The Nook was often used by couples wanting a private moment. An unwritten code had somehow developed wherein when the end book on the third shelf from the bottom was removed and placed leaning against the stack, this was the signal to others that the Nook was already occupied.

Serindë had wondered when she learned of this informal code what would happen if someone actually took that particular book out to read, but upon examining its title — Language and Social Change in Java: Linguistic Reflexes of Modernization in a Traditional Royal Polity — she realized that only someone truly depraved would ever want to read such a book. She suspected that it was one of Daeron’s.

Thus, she happened to be sitting in the Nook, quietly enjoying her free time reading one of her favorite books — Plato’s Republic in the original Greek — when Farrell and Alex stepped inside. She recognized their voices and went completely still, barely breathing, listening to their conversation with mounting horror. When Alex stormed out of the room, she continued being still, listening to Farrell’s breathing. She heard the Man stir after a moment and then he was speaking in a low tone and she realized he was talking on his cell phone to someone.

"He’s not happy with the new arrangements," she heard him say and then pause as the person on the other end spoke.

"I don’t trust him to take Elwood out. He was Elwood’s protégé, after all. He’s bound to be sympathetic to the man whether he’s gone rogue or not... No, I understand... Yes, ma’am."

She heard him sigh and walk away, the door opening and closing, leaving her alone once again. For a long moment she sat staring out the window, her book forgotten, mulling over the words she’d heard. When she deemed it was safe to move, she got up and left the room and made her way to where the Academy’s administrative and faculty offices were located, knocking on a particular door.

"Come," she heard Glorfindel say and went inside. The golden-haired Elf-lord looked up and gave her a warm smile that fled when he noticed her expression. "Tell me," he commanded softly in Sindarin, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

And as she took a seat, she did.

****

"Farrell is unknown to me," Amroth said, having been summoned along with Daeron to Glorfindel’s office once Serindë had told him her tale, "but I can’t claim to have known everyone working for the Agency."

"That’s all we need is more spies running around loose," Daeron muttered in disgust. "Just whom can we trust?"

"No one," Glorfindel said categorically.

Daeron snorted. "You sound like Fox Mulder," he commented.

"Well, I’m not Dana Scully," Serindë retorted with a grin and the ellyn all chuckled, but the light mood was short-lived when Serindë turned to Amroth. "Do they really mean to kill you?"

"It is one option, of course," Amroth said with studied equanimity.

"And they want Alex to do it?"" she asked with a frown. "But he’s so nice. How can they expect him to do something so terrible?"

Amroth gave her a sigh. "Child, Alex is anything but nice. He’s a trained killer. I know because I trained him, I and others. You see only what he wants you to see: a pleasant young man with a ready smile who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but underneath that boyish innocence is a trained agent of espionage who will terminate a person without compunction if he deems it necessary to do so, though I believe he feels genuine regret whenever he’s had to take a life. It’s something I taught him so he wouldn’t lose his humanity, as so many agents tend to do after a while."

"I still can’t believe you would ever be a part of that," Glorfindel said with a shake of his head.

Amroth’s expression became unreadable and when he spoke his tone was cold and remote. "I was given no choice and I did what I had to to survive."

"As have we all," Daeron said. "Let us not start pointing fingers at each other. What we need to concentrate on is Alex and Farrell. Alex I think we can leave alone for now. He’s finally settling in and we will simply wait and see what he does next. Farrell and whoever else he has in place disturbs me. I would feel better if we could somehow neutralize him."

"Neutralize how?" Glorfindel asked with a raised eyebrow.

Daeron shrugged. "Not really sure, but I would prefer that he not have any influence over Alex. We need to find a way to sever that particular tie, get Farrell off Alex’s back."

"Alex is made of sterner stuff than you suspect," Amroth said. "He won’t take orders from Farrell no matter what. As he told Farrell, he is the agent in the field, and that means he has complete autonomy, especially when he’s under deep cover. I do not like that Maddy Washburn is flouting one of the prime rules of the Game. No one messes with the agent in the field."

"Well, short of kidnapping Mr. Farrell or arranging for a fatal accident, I’m not sure just what we can do to send him on his way," Glorfindel said with a wry look. "And since Alex is supposed to contact him via email, Farrell doesn’t physically have to be anywhere near Wiseman and he can still be pulling the strings."

"I wonder what he could do to Alex if he doesn’t comply to his demands?" Serindë said, looking troubled.

"I suspect that Farrell has his own set of orders where our Mr. Grant is concerned," Amroth said darkly and they were all wise enough concerning the ways of Mortals to know what he was implying.

"This just gets better and better," Glorfindel opined with a shake of his head. No one felt inclined to disagree.

****

Alex, of course, was unaware of others discussing him and Farrell. When he’d calmed down enough to think things through, he set out to implement his own plans. He ignored Farrell altogether during the time he was at the Academy pretending to be a part of the accreditation committee. Alex was wise enough to the way the Agency worked not to wonder how Farrell had managed to be part of the committee and dismissed it from his mind. The first thing he did after the fencing class was to return to his room, open his laptop and send an email to the D.D. consisting of two words:

"Back off."

He was pretty sure Maddy Washburn would not appreciate the message, but he was a senior agent given carte blanche with regards to his assignments. This was no different and he highly resented the interference, especially when he had barely begun. Something was up but he was at a loss to figure out what, so he decided to continue as he had.

On Friday, at 11:55, he sent an email to Farrell that was slightly longer than the one he’d sent to Maddy:

"Nothing to report."

He smiled ferally as he closed down his laptop and went to lunch, happily joining Derek and others at the table and spending the time until they had to leave for their nature walk joking and laughing with his friends, unaware that others who were in the cafeteria were surreptitiously watching him. Serindë, eating with Elrohir, kept an eye on the young Man, trying to see a cold-blooded killer behind the boyish façade that he presented to the world and simply couldn’t.

Elrohir, noticing how her attention kept drifting towards where Alex and his friends were sitting, leaned over and whispered into her ear, "He is a warrior, meleth nîn, even as I am. Don’t ever mistake him, or me, for that matter, for anything else."

She looked into his eyes and saw that behind the bright surface there lay a darkness that she didn’t want to explore. She knew his history, but parts of it were alien to her. Born in the early years of this age, she had no direct knowledge of Elves fighting, only the tales that her parents had told her. She nodded, more to satisfy him than because she understood what he was saying, for she didn’t understand and did not think she ever would. Yet, were they not all preparing for battle? Wasn’t this what Elf Academy was all about? She sighed to herself and resumed eating, patently ignoring the spy sitting two tables away.

****

While others were lunching, Amroth sat in his own office, pondering many things. A part of him was angry at himself for allowing himself to be photographed at all. For fifteen years he’d been very careful. He’d planned his death down to the very last detail so that there would be no questions asked. He’d also just as carefully constructed his new persona, Ryan McKinley, disappearing over the Blue Line into the heart of the Adirondacks of New York State, buying a small house in Jay where he tended a garden and in a fit of pure mischief, applied to work as an Elf at Santa’s Workshop, a theme park located in the village of North Pole, just down the road from Jay. It had been a lot of fun and never in his wildest dreams did he think that he would end up in Alaska helping Mortals to be Elf Guides, but somehow he wasn’t too surprised at the turn of events. He’d learned a long time ago that there really were no coincidences in this world.

And finding the love of his life again had simply been a bonus.

But now, all that was being threatened and he knew that he had to do something about it. Glorfindel was right in that it was his decision, but Daeron was equally correct in that he had to do something sooner rather than later. Yet, at the same time, he knew that if he made his move too soon, all would be lost and he could very easily lose his life. He did not fear for himself so much as for others, especially Nimrodel. It would be beyond cruel if they were separated now and he feared that she would simply follow him to Mandos were he to die and he did not want that for her.

So, what to do?

He knew the young man who called himself Alex. He knew what Alex was capable of, for he had taught him everything he knew about espionage. Amroth grinned wryly at that thought.

"But I didn’t teach him everything that I know," he said out loud with a chuckle.

Farrell, on the other hand, was an unknown. It was unlikely that it was even his real name, so no help there. And then there were supposedly others in place. He pondered on what that might mean. He would have to check to see who might have been recently hired by the college or the Academy and would then have easy access to the campus. Or it might be someone who’d moved into Wiseman within the last month.

He grimaced at that thought. He no longer had the resources for finding out such things that he’d once had when working for the Agency. Still, he had to start somewhere and it was always good to start close to home. So, he would check with Glorfindel and Daeron about who else had access to the Academy. It would be someone whom most people would never notice because they were always in the background.

He smiled thinly as he realized just who fit the bill: the janitorial staff and those who handled such things as laundry or even the cafeteria staff or those who oversaw the well-equipped gym on the second floor. Any of those people would never be noticed by the students or, he admitted ruefully to himself, even by other staff and faculty members, including himself. He snorted in disgust at his own sloppiness.

"Only fifteen years away from the Game and you’re already forgetting what every rookie agent knows," he said out loud to himself. "If I were Mortal I could at least put it down to senility, but since I’m not, I have no real excuse except complacency and an agent, even an ex-agent, should never grow complacent."

He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts. Well, he now knew where to start his search for the other agents. He got up and went down the hall to Glorfindel’s office, but found the room empty. Muttering a rather pithy curse in Arabic, he went in search of the Elf-lord.

***

"You want to do a what?" Glorfindel asked Amroth, frowning at the former King of Laurinand. They were in the small reading room where Amroth had found him happily reading a new mystery by one of his favorite authors.

"We need to know who could possibly be an agent," Amroth said with a thin smile. "I don’t like the implications that ‘others are in place’, as Farrell put it. We need to find out if there are people here in the Academy who could be possible spies."

"And what would we do with such information?" Glorfindel asked.

Amroth gave him an amused smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If you mean, would we take them out? No, but we could neutralize them in other ways. We just need to find out who they are."

"Well, as far as I know, everyone on staff now has been here since Elf Academy first opened."

"There have been no new hires?" Amroth asked.

"Not that I’m aware of," Glorfindel replied, his eyes narrowing in deep thought. "We don’t have any control over those who come from outside but are hired by the college at large, like the laundry service and such."

"What about the janitorial staff?"

"Again, they are contracted through the college."

"But there is a permanent staff here," Amroth pointed out. "The college may foot the bill, but they work exclusively for the Academy; they don’t clean any of the other buildings. So, is it possible that someone new has been added to the staff?"

"Without us knowing about it?" Glorfindel gave him a skeptical look.

Amroth shrugged. "Why would any of us notice if there was an extra cleaning person sweeping the floors and emptying out the trash? Do you actually know the names and faces of everyone who works here, especially those with whom you rarely if ever interact? When was the last time you even saw one of the janitorial staff to speak to?"

Glorfindel sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "You’re right of course. I’ve done my best to be aware of all who come and go here, but it’s all I can do to keep tabs on the students, let alone everyone else. I’ll have to do better from now on."

Amroth snorted in disbelief. "Honestly, Glorfindel. No one expects you to know everyone who wanders these halls. That’s impossible, unless you’re a Maia, I suppose, but the last time I looked you weren’t a member of that vaunted society."

Glorfindel grinned. "Not yet," he quipped, then sobered. "You’re right. Let’s go find Daeron. He’s in charge of personnel, so he can give us the files on all the people working here. We may find something, but I’m not exactly holding my breath."

"Nor am I," Amroth said as they left the reading room, "but we have to start somewhere and we may just get lucky."

"If you believe in luck," Glorfindel shot back but not having an adequate reply to that, Amroth remained silent.

****

Words are Sindarin:

Meleth nîn: My love.

Laurinand: An earlier name for Lothlórien.

Note: The ‘Blue Line’ is in reference to the color used on early maps showing the border of the Adirondack National Park. On modern maps, the border is usually in green but the phrase has stuck and anyone in New York will know what is meant by it. People live either inside the Blue Line or outside it.

There is indeed a North Pole, New York, and Santa’s Workshop, which is the oldest theme park in America, has been in existence since 1949. You can visit their website at www(dot)northpoleny(dot)com.