Prologue
Newly assigned to the Norfolk Division of the FBI, Milton Chambers had Above Top Secret Clearance. Fearless and well respected, he moved brown boxes into John Hillman’s former office. John had announced that he was retiring. It was a rather quick departure. They all figured that it had something to do with office politics. No one knew for sure and nobody wanted to be next on the chopping block, so the stern man with broad shoulders gazed around his new space. The light grayish blue color suited him just fine. He didn’t like distractions. His attention would soon settle on his targets.
In the long hallway, Milton had nodded in greeting to Special Agent Jan Martin, who was trying to get a sense of this new handsome arrival with a trimmed mustache. With dark hair that was graying, he looked distinguished. He also exuded a sense of formidable power and authority. Word around the water cooler said that the new Assistant Agent in Charge was well respected and friendly, but he could stay focused like a pit bull that doesn’t let go. She had high hopes for him.
Though the other agents were just as curious, he’d get to know everyone the following morning in a staff meeting. A few scurried about nervously, wanting to put their best foot forward and make a good impression. That would have to wait. Milton shut his door, opened a file and stared at the photo of an attractive brunette with the tantalizing name of Ninon Gage. It was as if an invisible target over-layed her image, because he was determined to get to the truth. And like it or not, the Supervisory Special Agent, Scott Page, was damn sure going to help him. There were no bones about it.
Another person of interest was Ryder Wetklow, who seemed to be her handler. He, too, was on his radar. Unfortunately, he didn’t expect much cooperation. If not, he could at least put pressure on him to make him be less interested in manipulating Ninon. After all, if reports are ending up on his department desk, they aren’t exactly clandestine and that doesn’t bode well for either of them.
Amidst the dim glow of his desk lamp, Milton Chambers meticulously combed through files about The Finders. With so much redundancy and not much new, Ninon Gage surfaced as a promising candidate in which to get to the bottom of things; her dossier intriguing, yet alarming. Speculation loomed. Was she unknowingly part of a past mind control experiment? And if she was out of the cult, why did she end up working for the CIA anyway?
Ryder Wetklow, what have you created?
Trying to get a sense of this intriguing woman, he noticed the large eyes which snatched a hold of him, as if questioning some torment. Perhaps she was wondering why people do the horrors that they do. He himself had questioned that too, but never found the answers. Sighing to himself, the man in the dark suit put the picture back into the file and silently promised himself that he wasn't done with his searching. But at that moment, he had other matters to take care of. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only case, though Milton kept her file along with the other urgent matters on his large desk. He would be looking into this case whether people liked it or not. Even though a headache emerged and work piled up, he felt that this landed on him for a reason. Time would tell what would become of it all, if anything. But he intended to be thorough.
Chapter 1
After recent events (see previous book, The Finder’s Game) Ninon Gage tried to create a new life in a cozy apartment, which was situated above an office in town that had gone out of business. Cream colored and brick, the two-story building gave her more privacy than larger complexes within her price range. Because of that, she didn’t mind that the interior was outdated. To be honest, there wasn’t really too much to complain about; not even the faded blue rug or the stained bathtub. That, she could deal with. More than anything, she liked the blank slate of the place and not having any memories associated with it.
Though a little cramped and having rather small windows, at least the tiny balcony out back made the unit feel less claustrophobic. If needing more sense of space, she could simply look out the glass door onto the quiet street below and watch occasional cars pass by. People watching suited her lately. And if she needed to leave home to run errands or to relieve boredom, located only a block away was a coffee shop and a few antique stores, as well as a corner drug store, but overall, this section of the street was unused and boarded up, besides her place. Privacy mattered to her. And by moving here, a change of scenery added to her positive outlook. What might that bring?
Lately, she contemplated getting a new job, but she stayed at The Brew Box for a while longer. Part of her felt that she didn’t get the closure that she needed. Too often, she searched the line of customers, wondering if Scott Page would come by. He never showed. Due to that, a pain settled in her chest from heartbreak. It was foolish to think that he’d show up. He probably never wanted to see her again after the pain she evoked. Besides, dealing with the FBI like him only brought trouble.
That evening, she had a flashback about the last time that she saw the agent. His angelic face still haunted her. It was the time after he was made to believe that her memory was wiped and he went back to his family in an attempt to forget any connection to her as well. This is what happened the last time that their paths crossed:
As time went on, Scott heard that Ninon moved somewhere else. He didn’t inquire where. Nor would he try to find out. During one dark moment, he did stop by that old Oak tree, where a smiley face was found drawn in chalk. His fingers traced it. Not sure what she intended it to mean, he just hoped that they both would somehow be happy. That is what mattered to him even more than the truth. And that was something that he had to reconcile within himself. Interestingly, while he worked his day job at discovering the truth in all matters, she worked a side job filled with lies, yet she chose to embrace her dark truth. He didn’t.
Dismayed, Scott left the tree, where she once left codes, and headed back toward his Bureau car. He’d pour himself into his work and into his home life, hoping this would all disappear eventually. He’d push it deep down, far away, and become the “rock” that he used to be at work. That is what made sense to him. The tall agent with brownish blond hair then disappeared.
At the same time, the pale woman in pink Converse, hiding behind a smaller Oak tree further away, watched him go. Part of her wanted to run after him, but that wouldn’t help matters. She’d only remind him of things that his mind wasn’t ready to accept. Until then, she’d wait. After all, Ninon promised him that she’d always care about him and she intended to keep that promise. It was the last real thing in her life. Besides, their destiny was entwined somehow, whether from trauma or secrets, and it would play out how it wanted to anyway. How much was truly a choice?
“He will text me again,” Ninon whispered. “I know him. He can’t ever let something be unfinished.”
Now that she put that out into the universe, she just had to wait to see what would unfold. Perhaps, in the end, all life is just smaller games within a larger Great Game. Maybe you just have to pick your sides, fight your battles and hope for the best. If you lose one game or want to escape another, just hit the play button and hope for a new chapter. One is bound to present itself until your individual game is over. Then, she wouldn’t be around to care.
A little depressed from all of these thoughts, Ninon exited the empty woods. When she got home, which was now an apartment above a heating oil office, she Googled herself. Nothing showed up. It was as if she didn’t exist. Maybe she wanted to exist, at least for a little while. The only way to do that was to weave yourself into the memories of others, but who remembered her? Maybe someone was trying to see her….Time would tell who that would be.
In fact, no text from Scott ever came. That really hurt. She was all alone and wanted to see him again; someone familiar. She secretly wondered if she ever crossed his mind. Unfortunately, he had been angry with her and rightly so. He didn’t want to face his earlier connection to her and to the secret government program that had been wiped from his mind. And really, she didn’t blame him. How could she? That kind of horror was hard to live with and no doubt left scars. As far as she knew, he chose to lead a normal life without facing the past ever again. She kind of envied that peace.
As for her, no normal life was possible. That ship sailed long ago. But for her own sanity she had to move on from what happened as best as she could. So to keep her mind off things, she made this new space her own, and that is what she focused on. believing that it was the small touches that mattered, which gave her moments of joy. For instance, she put a new glass lamp on a square table by the front window. A soft light would feel warm at nighttime when she was all alone. She put a lot of thought into it.
Each new addition made this apartment feel a bit more like home, including a few potted flowers and a chair for the balcony, which she always wanted. Seeing it finally transform into a welcoming space, Ninon liked to step back and take it all in. She gazed around the main room from the green couch to the cozy table for two by the side window. Upon it, fresh tulip flowers filled a slender vase. She really enjoyed having a hand in designing the setting for her life. That is how she liked to view it.
Her attention then flowed to the right. Next to the corner dining area, the kitchen consisted of a stove, microwave, sink, and a few dark cabinets. Though rather sparse, the place was functional. Staying motivated, she unpacked a few more boxes, deciding where to put the last of her decorations. A few peach candles for the coffee table and then a painting of a city landscape gave the bare wall a nice touch. Really, she didn’t need much more than that. A sense of satisfaction appeased her.
Now more than ever, she longed for an ordinary life and to be one of the faceless people that no one ever noticed. She’d keep to her routines and enjoy quiet moments, where the simple things kept her happy. Even a dazzling sunset with lots of pink and orange took her breath away. These little things made life worth living. That was what she needed right now. A rare smile emerged on her pale face as she realized how far she had come from her dark past.
Unfortunately, moving upstairs had been hard work. With muscles starting to hurt, Ninon took a break from all of the unpacking and sat down. She almost fell asleep in the plush Lazy Boy chair, lulled into oblivion. For a moment, she tried to forget everything that weighed her down. It almost worked until a knock came on the door, reminding her that her Will was not her own. Does that take away some of her guilt? Probably not.
An ex-Special Forces adrenaline addict, who did contract work for the CIA, waited for the door to open. He used Ninon for his underworld exploits. Ryder Wetklow had been her handler for too many years, though he started to question her value in recent months. To echo that fact, the tired-looking brunette in jeans and T-shirt greeted him. Older and sloppy with regard to her safety, she started making mistakes and he feared that she might compromise a mission. Always with a chip on her shoulder, this woman had been a ticking time bomb, though recent events with the FBI made things worse. But for now, he needed her despite the risk. That knowledge soured his mood.
Though worn out and wanting out sometimes, a barista's salary only got her so far. Ninon contemplated that. She needed to save up so that she could disappear when the time was right. That wasn’t today, so she let him in. The gruff man in dark clothes stared her up and down and then frowned.
“Get dolled up. I have an Iranian diplomat who I want you to compromise for me.”
Fighting back her disdain, she forced a smile, revealing fairly pointy teeth.
“Sure. Why not?”
While the muscular man with the goatee and mustache sat down on the couch and texted someone on his phone, the dark-haired woman sauntered to the bare bedroom, which only contained a full bed and a nightstand. A few unpacked boxes lined the floor, but her closet held an assortment of her favorite gowns and high-heel shoes. She called them her “implements of destruction.” Her admiring fingers brushed by a silky silver dress and then a Navy blue gown with sequins. Neither seemed quite right. Then her hand settled on one in the back and she smiled.
Putting on a mini slinky red dress, The Mynx Sleeper, as she liked to call herself, prepared for her date. While checking her image in the mirror, she noted a thin woman with dark waves and piercing green eyes. Then she gave her body a critical eye. The fabric hugged her curves in all the right places and her breasts were average, but firm. To top off her outfit, she threw on a pair of heels so that she could sashay around Ryder to get his approval.
I almost believe that I can survive this, she told herself.