Eileen Lu stared at her computer screen. There were no new emails, which was a relief. A lot of emails would be an indication that she had been exposed. It would be dangerous if people on the Internet, as well as the CPOC, knew that she had spread the leaked videos from the Uighur concentration camps. The world needed to know what was going on, but Eileen loved living too much for the CPOC to know that she had exposed them. All governments hated when the people exposed their crimes, but the CPOC hated it more than most.
Eileen looked at the asylum request that she had written to the American government. She was certain that they would grant her request because of her relative fame as a human rights advocate. But if she sought asylum in the USA, she would abandon her people and become a mouthpiece for American propaganda. Eileen didn't want to help the USA against her mother nation, she wanted to liberate the Chinese people from Jing's tyranny.
Eileen made up her mind. She threw her asylum application in the bin, and she prepared herself for today's seminary. Open dialogue and genuine discussion were the only ways to progress humankind and Eileen wanted to play her role. Eileen closed her laptop, put it in her bag and started walking towards the Downtown Conference Centre in New York.
As Eileen left her hotel, she noticed the man who observed her from across the road. He was athletic, had long blonde hair, and he looked like your run of the mill superhero from a superhero movie. Eileen would have loved if he approached her in a cocktail bar, but having him stalk her at 8 AM was outright creepy. Had someone sent this man to hurt her? Eileen shook off the notion. The man didn't look like he a Columnist Party henchman, and besides, he stood out too much to be a suitable assassin.
Eileen stopped staring at the man, and she set out to walk her conference. She got to a pedestrian crossing, and the red light stressed her. Eileen was giving a presentation in the morning, and she would hate to be late. Worse yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling that people were following her.
*Splash*
Someone bumped Eileen from behind and splashed warm latte over her white blazer. 'Fucking hell, why today out of all days?' Eileen thought and turned around. What she saw petrified her. The blonde man, which she had noticed before, was the one who had bumped her.
Jared:
- I am so sorry, how clumpy of me!
Eileen shook her head and sneered at Jared:
- Clumsy? I saw that you were checking me out when I left the hotel. Is this how men try to connect with women in New York City?
Jared leaned in and whispered:
- I am sorry, Eileen. My name is Pond, Jared Pond, and I need to talk to you. It's important.
Eileen wouldn't have it and she replied:
- Okay, Mr Pond Jared Pond. I have to give an important presentation in one hour. And you ruined my blazer. Buzz off and book an appointment like everyone else.
The light turned green, Eileen slapped Jared, and she rushed to cross the street.
Eileen's rejection left Jared dumbfounded. Eileen's slap had stung but the rejection had stung more. Had he lost his touch with women after all these years, or where Eileen a special case? On the bright side, she had told him to book an appointment so that was what he would have to do.
***
Jared Pond was sipping an Espresso Martini in the upmarket cocktail bar, The Aviary NYC. His tailor-made tuxedo emphasized his great physique and sophisticated style.
"You cannot enter this establishment with those clothes. Please refer to our dress code." Jared heard the doorman say to some uncultured peasant. Jared looked in the direction of the entrance and he realised that the uncultured peasant was his appointment for the evening. Somehow, Eileen Lu thought it was suitable to enter an upmarket venue dressed in jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt with a cartoon character.
Jared ran towards the entrance and intervened:
- It's okay, Michael. Eileen is with me. Please let her in.
Michael the Doorman:
- Sorry, Mr Pond. I need to uphold the dress code of this establishment.
Jared:
- But don't you have any suitable attire for the lady in the coatroom?
Michael nodded and ran off. A minute later he returned with an expensive ladies' fur coat.
Michael:
- Please wear this, Ms Eileen.
Eileen shook her head, but she agreed to put on the fur coat, which had been there since the winter months.
Jared:
- Can I get you a drink, Eileen? This place has a great selection of champagnes and cocktails.
Eileen:
- I would like a peppermint tea. I won't be staying, and I don't drink when I need to work the next day. Thanks for offering Mr Pond Jared Pond.
Jared:
- It's just Jared Pond.
Eileen:
- Why didn't you say it like that before then?
Jared:
- Never mind.
Jared walked up to the bar and he ordered two teapots with peppermint tea. He couldn't recall the last time he drank tea, but he had to be flexible and drink what the situation required.
As the waiter arrived with the tea, Jared poured tea for himself and Eileen. As Eileen sipped the tea, she spoke:
- So, Mr Pond, who are you working for and what do you want?
Jared realised that he had lost his touch and he decided to give an honest reply:
- I am working for RAKI and I am investigating whether you are a credible source when it comes to the Uighur camps.
Eileen:
- Excuse me for not knowing every abbreviation in the spy community. RAKI?
Jared:
- Royal Australian Kangaroo Intelligence.
Eileen:
- For future reference, you should probably use the full name instead of the abbreviation.
Jared didn't comment on Eileen's statement. Although it was a bit hurtful that she didn't recognise the fame of his workplace, he had to focus on the mission.
Jared:
- So, the videos you uploaded. Who is the source and do you know what the CPOC injects prisoners with?
Eileen:
- I do trust the source but I won't reveal him to any spy. There is no reason for me to trust that the Australian wouldn't sell him out to Jing Xi, as your spineless prime minister is licking Jing's boots. As for the injections I have no idea. But I doubt that it is for the benefit of the prisoners.
Jared reflected over Eileen's statement. That she didn't trust Australia's prime minster Scurry Morisset, also known as Scummo, proved that she was of sound character and a sane mind.
Jared:
- Very well. I think this is all for today. Let's keep in touch. While I cannot speak for our prime minister, I am an advocate for protecting the Chinese people against Jing's tyranny.
Eileen shook her head:
- I rather not keep in touch. I don't want the Columnist Party to use my connections with an Australian spy agency to discredit me. Thank you for the tea, Mr Pond.
*Pow*
Jared was about to reply when a punch knocked him off his chair.
Seeing the stars, Jared recognised his opponent, Marcel Blanco, a drug smuggler for the Colombian Juarez Cartel.
Marcel yelled at Jared:
- Puta de Madre. Why did you fuck my wife!
Jared reflected over Marcel's statement for a second. He didn't know who Marcel's wife was, but presumably, the act of copulation was to satisfy his own raging masculine needs.
Jared sprung to his feet and replied:
- I am sorry, but who is your wife?
Marcel screamed:
- You motherfucker! I'll kill you!
Having said this Marcel swung a bottle after Jared.
Jared dodged the bottle, and then kicked Marcel at the side of his knee. This dropped Marcel down a crouching position. Jared picked up a chair and swung it at the head of Marcel, knocking the Colombian unconscious.
Jared shouted at the unconscious Marcel:
- I still don't know who your wife is, Marcel!
After this, he corrected his bowtie and ran after Eileen. He caught up with her at the elevator.
Jared:
- Oh yeah about that. How are you spending the rest of your night?
Eileen:
- As far away from you as possible!
Jared:
- I just saved your life. That man attacked us.
Eileen:
- He attacked you. I had nothing to do with it. You are nothing but trouble. Goodnight, Mr Pond.
As Jared was driven to police custody he reflected over Eileen's words. Was he the greatest agent that Australia had to offer, or was he sex-addicted jerk that ended up in stupid fights? He couldn't come up with the answer to that philosophical question, but he did know one thing. He had a terrible headache.