Scott caught Ninon's rare smile when their eyes met from across the marble counter, but it turned into an instant frown when Jan inched up beside him. Silent accusation and feelings of betrayal was followed by angrily slamming empty cups on the counter as she robotically filled orders as fast as possible, though didn’t wait on them. She let someone else do it. Neither spoke to her, though Jan waited for her at closing time. She hopped out of the car, and Ninon wasn’t sure if Scott was still out there. It was dark out.
Ninon took off her black apron and glanced around as if looking for Scott. Then she faced Jan, whose no-nonsense stance made her roll her eyes. She wore a blue nylon windbreaker with FBI emblazoned on it. Being mighty official, she thought.
“Hello, Ms. Gage.”
“What do you want?”
“I just want to talk to you and make sure that you are okay. A kidnapping attempt can be traumatic. We just want to close the case. You can help us. Let’s just get that settled.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Jan touched her arm in a comforting manner, but the woman jerked it away as if assaulted.
“I’m sorry,” the blonde muttered, “I’ve been trying to be patient. I’m honestly just here to help, but time is running out. Give me something or I’m done here. And there might be no one left to help you.”
Ninon reached out and awkwardly returned the gesture that Jan had attempted by patting her arm as if mimicking her. Maybe she didn’t have much experience in affection or how to show it.
“Wait.”
“I’m listening.”
“There was no crime. It wasn’t a real kidnapping. They called it a game and I was supposed to escape it by whatever means necessary. These so-called games were to gain experience in something.”
“Who is ‘They’?”
“No comment.”
“Are you playing a game with me?”
“Life is a game.”
Ninon just didn’t want Scott to be in on it. Unfortunately, he got out of the Suburban and approached them. Jan moved more to the background. Probably a difference in power.
Ninon crossed her arms. In her mind, he was suspicious of her and would never believe her tale. She knew that.
“Tell me about these games. I can help you.”
“You think so?” she snapped, in disbelief. That false hope drained her. “But in order to tell you, I’d need you to be open to a great darkness that will swallow you up. Trust me. It is better to keep that door closed.”
“Try me. I’ve seen the worst that humanity has to offer.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to.”
Exhaling loudly, he lost his patience and rubbed his forehead, planning his next move. Before he could say anything, she backed away. He questioned whether she was planning on running. He signaled to Jan to be ready just in case.
“Listen,” Ninon told him. “You are obviously some married, Conservative, gated living, former Military, College graduate G-Man. We have nothing in common.”
“I wouldn’t be a Supervisory Special Agent if I wasn’t good at my job.”
“Well, I’m a barista and I suck at my job.”
“Stop with the bullshit, Ninon.’
“I don’t want you on your high mountain looking down on me. You can pat yourself on the back for claiming that you want to bring me justice, but it changes nothing for my ordeal.”
“I want you to seriously consider coming in for an interview. We’ll let whomever you are more comfortable with conduct it.”
“Forget about me,” she pleaded, gesturing helplessly. “Whatever happened is long over. I’m not breaking any laws.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened to you in that cult? You were young at the time and might not remember.”
“Why do you care? Curiosity? Entitlement?”
“I can get you justice.”
“You really believe that?” she demanded to know with a forced laugh, and then added, “That ship sailed long ago.”
“Listen. I can help you, if you let me,” he told her. “You might need protection.”
She gave a slight smile. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she shut it again. Helpless, hopeless, she turned away. It is as if there is a scream frozen inside her silence.
“So you aren’t going to help me?” He asked.
“I don’t think I need any help.”
He held out his card, not knowing if she’d take it.
“Think about it. I don’t want to give up on you.”
She accepted it, letting her fingers brush against his, and put the card in her pants pocket. Then she spun around and walked the other way.
Scott went home to Alice and embraced her when she came to greet him in silk pajamas. He needed to feel warmth after the cold heartbreak that emanated off Ninon. He breathed in her scent, which had a hint of vanilla and smiled at her.
“Tough case?” she asked.
Nodding, he sighed and told her, “I just don’t understand some people, and it is my job to do just that.”
Reaching over to touch his face, Alice told him, “Anyone is lucky to have you batting for them.”
He leaned down and kissed her. She pecked him back.
“It's unbelievable what I come across,” he sighed. “Man’s inhumanity to Man never ends.”
“Come, sit with me for a while. I’ll make us a drink and we can just enjoy the night.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“After a long day, there is nothing like family.”
Instead of smiling, Scott turned serious as if deep in thought.
“What?”Alice asked, becoming concerned. “Something wrong?”
“You just gave me an idea.”
“No, Scott,” she pleaded. “Come on. This is our time.”
“Let me just make a call,” he said, rising to his feet and leaving the room.
“Maybe I need to start hanging out with North Korean spies to get some attention.”
“Alice! Just give me a second!”
When out of hearing range, he dialed Jan, who was walking her labrador at that moment, but she said she was okay to talk.
“What’s up?”
“Hey, do me a favor,” Scott said, “Have someone locate Ninon's uncle. I think he might be able to provide some answers.”
“All I know is that his name is Mark Wilkowski. I’ll see what else we can find,” Jan said, “I did try to see if her mother, Wilda Greer, was still alive, but she died of a drug overdose a while back.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” he replied. “I’d be interested to know where this Mark is right now. Get someone to interview him if you can locate him.”
“Will do.”
“Any updates on that vehicle?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Call me if anything changes.”
Scott ducked back into the living room, stating, “Make those drinks and we’ll pick a movie to watch.”
“How about La Femme Nikita?”
“Is there some secret code in why you are picking that?”
“Maybe.”
“If you said Breach, I was either going to smack your ass or open a file on you.”
“But not with Nikita?”
“Not until after you have your way with me.”
Alice grabbed a decorative pillow off the couch and whacked him with it.
“Come here.”
“Is that an order?”
Chuckling, Scott pulled his shirt over his head and settled back against the cushions. He opened his arms and
pulled her onto his lap. She nestled against his warmth. Rested her head against his neck and shoulder. Once situated, he stroked her long hair, barely interested in a movie.
When Alice fell asleep on the couch a couple of hours later, tired after a long day of being up all night with Matthew, Scott retreated to his beige office. Behind his desk hung his college degrees as well as various awards. Bookcases lined the wall, where he also had a locked filing cabinet and a gun safe. He planned on clocking some hours on the range soon.
He put on a news channel out of habit while he did some more digging on his computer. Most of the FBI documents on The Finders were repetitive, but he found a few strange discoveries. For instance, tunnels were dug under the classrooms. Because it seemed so unreal, he had to read that twice. Where did they lead to? He questioned if an underground base had been nearby. Then he chided himself for even considering that.
There were other weird and disturbing facts. One of the classrooms had a lock on the outside of the room, as if to keep the kids locked in. There were even metal cages. Were they for animals? He paused, feeling his chest tighten. He imagined a little girl with brunette hair in one. It was beyond inhuman. Potential horrors played out in his mind. What happened to Ninon back then and potentially to the other children? And why would a family member allow a child knowingly to be put in the situation. To be fair, he wasn’t sure that they knew, but someone should have been looking out for their well being.
Deep down, he didn’t know who the bad players were or even if anyone in the government knew what was going on or how they might have been involved. It didn’t seem like something that would be sanctioned. Was it a rogue operation or something linked to drug and human trafficking groups? Were there really Satanic cults hiding in the shadows? He dealt with a lot of strangeness in his days, but this would qualify for a real “X-File,” if such a thing existed.
Running his hand through his hair, he felt emotionally worn out by this case. He got up and paced. Something about her got under his skin. And he needed to be unattached and unaffected by her, but that was proving to be difficult. He poured a Scotch and sat on the porch, listening to the chorus of crickets and cicadas. The alone time helped him brainstorm a plan. Unfortunately, his mind went to the feelings this odd woman evoked in him. Maybe it was just the alcohol, he assured himself. He never thought of himself as the type to stray and he told himself that he never would, especially involving someone so troubled.
His phone dinged and he got an anonymous message. About to ignore it as spam, he had a second thought and opened it. It said, “Get the Smiley App. H179.”
Spotting that same code that she used on the tree, his heart began to beat faster. What is a Smiley App? He had never even heard of that app. The name Smiley made him think about the fictional spy named George Smiley. As if on a mission, he found that app, downloaded it and texted the number back, saying “H179?” He waited for her move.
She texted back, “How about a booty call?”
“Ninon?”
“Chill, Scott. I’m joking. This is an anonymous app so that we can talk privately.”
“Did you forget that I’m FBI?”
“Doesn’t matter if you are NSA. We can speak freely here.”
“Okay. Sure. What do you want to tell me?”
“Good-night.”
“You have me get a secret texting app just to tell me that?”
“Yes.”
Scott shook his head. Unbelievable. Hopefully, he at least opened a channel for communication.
The following day, Scott called Ninon on his work phone, leaving a message that he’d like to speak to her. He chose to do everything the correct way. Around eleven, he showed up at her house, but parked by the curb where weeds grew tall. No one else seemed to be there. She lived with an elderly woman who rented rooms to make ends meet. Lately, she seemed to be in and out of the hospital a lot, so Ninon and sometimes a young Military man stayed there, though he was out to sea at the moment.
Scott peeked in the window, didn’t see any movement, and rapped lightly.
Within moments, Ninon opened the door, surprised by the man in a blue baseball cap and shades towering over her. Her mouth dropped open. Her phone had been off, so she never got the message.
“A little early for a booty call. Isn’t it?”
Wearing pink pajama shorts and matching top, she squinted from the sunlight. Smelled of alcohol.
“I think you need to start leveling with us or I’ll find someone who will,” he flatly told her. “I’m looking for your uncle.”
“So am I.”
A realization struck him.
“You aim to kill him?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
“I’m on your side. Confide in me, Ninon. What happened to you?” Scott asked, his index finger trailing the side of her face. It was an impulsive move, but arose out of compassion.
“I don’t know.”
She took his hand off her face and held it. They studied each other, not sure how to read into things. He tried to be understanding and patient. Worry etched into his expression, but so did skepticism.
“What can I know?”
“The fact that I like that you are real and not a bad memory.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not when I’m someone’s puppet.”
“Cut the strings.”
“How?”
He did not know either.
“Do you think you could handle someone controlling you?”she asked. “It isn't easy.”
“Help me understand.”
She led him inside. He strolled past her and took in the details. Simple and cheaply decorated, it seemed functional and homey. The couch was plush with claw marks on one of the legs. He looked around for a cat.
“You might as well have a seat.”
They both awkwardly settled on a cushion.
“I’m trying to help you feel seen and heard. That’s all. The rest is up to you.”
Confused like the little child she once was, lost and then found, she probably never got over whatever happened to her. Pain started to rise, but she kept it at bay. She wanted to trust him. She opened her mouth as if to speak. It hurt so much to try.
“Take your time.”
Scott glanced around the room again, noting few pictures or decorations, though it seemed fairly clean, though dusty in spots. He hoped to see more to get a sense of things.
“Where is your room?” he asked.
“Have a warrant?”
“No.”
Rising to her feet, she tried to pull him by the hand, saying, “Forget your job for a moment. Just be yourself and maybe I’ll show it to you anyway.”
“This isn’t a social visit.”
“Let’s go get high. Don’t you ever want to walk on the wild side?”
She seductively swayed back and forth.
With a smirk, he asked, “And give up everything that I’ve worked hard for?”
“But think what you would gain,” she teased, toying with the neckline of her blouse. “I’m sure that you never have any fun. All work and no play.”
He gave her a silent warning, but then said, “I’m sure you can’t help but make a statement like that.”
That stung and her expression showed it.
“Why? Because I’m damaged goods?”
He struck a nerve. He got in her face to make it sting even more. Her brows narrowed even more.
“Don’t forget that I work for the government,” he warned.
“And you think that I don’t?”
She gave him a shove. He got back in her space as if daring her to try that again. Feet spread, arms loose. He’d probably take her down.
“You are trying my patience.”
“Why can’t you leave me alone, government man?”
“You were brought to my attention as an alleged attempted kidnapping victim. Should I have ignored that?”
After some hesitation, she finally said, “No. But now that you know that it was a game, you can.”
He didn’t know what to believe. He was here now, so he pressed for information.
“Okay. Tell me about the chalk marks on the tree. You used the same number on the app.”
“The code?”
“Yes.”
“It is gematria,” she said. “Sometimes I use 179 for signing my name, ‘Ninon,’ or ‘I’m coming.’ That would be using Hebrew gematria. I might put an H to show which calculations to use. If I use English gematria, it would be an E, or if I used Simple gematria, then I would use the letter S to show my handler which one I’m using. I memorized a list of numbers that I can use in order to get a message across.”
He wasn’t familiar with gematria and was trying to understand what she was talking about. He found it a potentially useful, though not fool-proof method for passing a message, as the meanings could vary. Then again, they would be harder to decode. An agreed upon list would help.
“I’ll show you,” she said, motioning him toward the wooden dining room table, where a vase of fake dusty blue flowers sat in the middle.
She fetched a pad of paper and a pen. He watched her scribble some notes. Then she unlocked her phone and showed him a webpage.
“See. You pick a word and take the value of each letter. Use the chart here to put a number with each letter. Then add it up or use the online gematria calculator, like I do.”
“Interesting. I never would have guessed that that was what you were using.”
That seemed to please her. Her face lit up. He wondered if he finally reached her. She opened up like a wilting rose that found new vitality. Maybe a new reason to reach for light in the darkness.
“Look at this.”
“What are you going to show me? Whoa.”
She lowered her top slightly and showed him her upper chest, where she had the number 3795 tattooed on her chest. Concerned and a little surprised, he gently touched it. Made him think about people in concentration camps, though they had it on the arm, gripping him with shock and sorrow.
“What does it mean?”
“In Hebrew gematria, it means ‘There is no one to trust. Everyone is brainwashed,’” she said, with a shrug, “But it also coincidentally is the number that I was assigned when I was kidnapped as a child. I used the calculator to find phrases that equal 3795 to find hidden meanings. And I just happened to like that one.”
“They tattooed you?”
“Yes.”
“Ninon, I’m so sorry.”
“They don’t do it on the arms anymore.”
“I need to find others to validate what you are saying.”
“Why bother? They can be removed or covered up. Does your wife have a tattoo?”
“She has a butterfly tattoo on her chest, but that doesn’t imply anything. They are common.”
“Do you have any tattoos on your chest?”
“Just a couple of scars. One from a childhood collarbone injury.”
Ninon coyly picked up a Sharpie and said, “Come here. I want to give you a message in code.”
He complied and stood still, watching her intently. Not sure what she was up to. She hesitated. To his surprise, she lifted his polo shirt and wrote a series of numbers on his chest - 3795 - right over his heart, though she briefly touched his scar. His breathing changed, more labored as he fought back any reaction. This made him uncomfortable. He got goosebumps. She must have noticed. After a pause, she lowered his shirt and backed away, though she found herself attracted to him. Her face reddened while he looked more confused. She struggled to find the words she wanted to say and gestured with her hands.
“As I showed you, each letter has a numeric value and you add them up. You look for other words and sentences with the same value, which some say makes them linked,” she explained. “For instance, the phrase ‘I will love you always’ is also valued at 3795. The point of Gematria is to look for connections in words and meanings.”
His lips curled slightly. He found it a sweet gesture. He stepped toward her and kissed her forehead, knowing that this could mean the end of his job if he got attached to her. He was just trying to be kind, not romantic. But he felt he was straying into a gray area. Had he crossed the line? Were they about to? Squashing these worries, he put his hands on her shoulders, aiming for an authority figure or parental vibe.
“I wish you’d let me help you with all of this. Confide in me and we’ll resolve it.”
She shook her head.
“Just don’t forget those numbers,” she begged, pulling away to look him in the eye. His intensity gave her stomach flutters, which she tried to ignore. “Promise me. One day, you will see these again. I know it. And you will remember me…even if you aren’t supposed to.”
“I promise,” he said, a little worried, but letting her stand on her toes and brush her soft lips over his, not knowing what she was implying by that statement. And this was even more unsettling. Breathing accelerated, and against his better judgment, his lips parted.
She was dangerous, some femme fatale he might be underestimating. Despite knowing that, he was mesmerized. Leaning down towards her, his hands went to her back and he pulled her against him. Their lips sought each other out, prepared to cross the dark abyss between them, no matter the hellish consequences. The kiss slowly, tenderly deepened. The attraction had been smoldering in the background for a while. Wanting to go further, his tongue slipped into her moist mouth, probing as if seeking her mystery. Her body trembled in his hands. Maybe with a mix of fear and arousal, this desperation tempted them to fall into a black hole, sucking them away from their senses. They were falling for each other just as Jan feared.
With a great concentrated effort, he pulled back slightly from the kiss that gave him shivers, saying, “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“If I take advantage of you, I’m no better than all the others who might have taken advantage of you.”
“Why do you have to be better?”
“I have to live with myself,” he told her, trying to tell himself all the arguments in case they might get blurred out. He put his hands on her shoulders.
“But this is my choice,” she explained, inches from his mouth. “This is something I want.”
“How do you know it's your choice and not just some pattern or expectation?”
“Because I know what I feel.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me? Get me in a compromising situation with you?”
Hurt and a little angry, she backed away.
She crossed her arms and said, “Forget it. Be self-righteous. Maybe I just wanted a moment where I could pretend you cared about me. It didn’t have to be real after that. It never is.”
“Wait.”
“No. Let me ask you one question. Would you ever be seen with me? We are of two different classes. I’m sure you’d be ashamed of me in your social circle. I don’t fit in your world. Can you deny that?”
“Look, Ninon,” he explained, “It was a mistake. I’m married, so it makes no sense playing that game in your mind.”
She rolled her eyes. Miffed, she studied him. Handsome, confident, the world made sense to him, because he followed the rules. As for her, she only followed the rules that made sense. And not much really did.
“If you see H416, that is my code for running.”
“You are planning to run?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Don’t kill your uncle. I’ll bring him to justice if he was involved in any way.”
“We both should only make promises that we can keep.”
“Give me a chance to try.”
After hesitation, she said, “Okay. For now.”
“I have a meeting. I’ll be in touch. Don’t do anything rash until then.”
One of the analysts, Jeff Marky, joined Scott, Robert and Jan in a large, gray conference room to let them know what he found on the Dark Web. Apparently there was a chat group devoted to finding the original cult members, many who were dead now. Most were kids looking for Urban Legends or men in their sixties smoking pot and mulling over conspiracy theories. But after a little scrolling, they came across someone called “The Mynx Sleeper 1035.”
“I checked the ISP address,” curly haired Jeff told the group, “And well, it belongs to Ninon.”
“She didn’t mention that,” Scott said, getting frustrated that Ninon hasn’t been more forthcoming, “But she told me that they use gematria to create codes. I assume that is where the number plays in. We need to find out what she is using that number to mean, if anything, besides the value of that avatar.”
To demonstrate, Scott used an online gematria calculator webpage and found out that the number 1035 also equaled random words such as Venus in the Jewish Gematria. In Simple Gematria, “Mynx Sleeper” equaled 156, which was a number associated with the Whore of Babalon. He wondered if she chose it on purpose. There were hidden meanings in numbers, and he wasn’t sure what she was alluding to.
“I’ll see if anyone else is speaking back to her in code,” Jeff suggested, always excited to play with numbers. And this gave him a lot to work with.
Unfortunately, there was too much to unpack.
“Mynx Sleeper? What do you make of this?” Robert wondered. “Sleeper agent? Is she trying to be funny? I’m sure it is just a game to her. Maybe a name for a videogame avatar.”
“Makes sense,” Jan offered, jumping behind a computer. “I’ll see what games she plays and also check out Discord.”
“Probably just a joke. She’s angry,” Scott told them, pacing toward the windows, “She’s acting out and I think she might do something stupid.”
Jeff cleaned his reading glasses while saying,“I’ve been talking to some contacts. Her potential kidnapping might have actually been teaching her how to evade capture for the people she works for and who want to use her overseas.”
“I agree with Jeff,” Jan chimed in. “It appears that she could be doing dirty work for someone. Maybe in exchange for help in finding members of the original cult? It might not be a Finders’ Game involving the whole cult, but an individual Finder’s Game. Vigilante justice?”
“We need to find evidence of that.”
Jan announced,“Well, there is that record of Ninon stabbing her uncle when she was nine, which is around the time period when fell through the cracks with Social Services.”
“Here is a weird question. Is someone trying to use her as an assassin?” Jeff wondered. “Isn’t that part of the whole Finder conspiracy? They trained kids?”
“Kids grow up. Where are they all now?” Jan asked.
“From what I can gather, it might just be courier stuff, but if she finds the others…I don’t know what she will do. Payback?” Robert suggested.
He got a few nods as well as shrugs.
“Okay, then,” Jan said, “Let’s not let her give us the slip again. I’m not sure how this is going to play out, but we need to be ready.”
Scott nodded in approval and said, “Good job. Keep at it.”