Mark Summers, espionage expert, spy extraordinaire, felt bad for Debbie Clifton.
She had done absolutely nothing wrong, and Lincoln had decided to put her in a job where she would most likely suffer. From everything Mark knew about her, she did not like to be kept idle. Mark would go so far as to say that she liked being idle even less than she liked being kidnapped, and that was saying something.
"What is he planning to do to you?" Mark wondered aloud.
He sat at the dining table in his living room, going over all of the information he had gathered about her. Everything was there: where she had grown up, when she had met Alex, even the first time she and Alex had kissed.
I miss the days of patent espionage, he thought. At least that was simple work. I didn't have to profile the people I was spying on. I just had to find plans and designs, and hand them over before they could be patented. Why did Lincoln make me start spying on people?
He picked up a picture of Debbie. This one had been easy to come by. It was on her LinkedIn profile, one of the first places he looked at when he was gathering information on new hires. That was what Lincoln wanted him to do with new hires: scour their professional social media to "find a reason to make them stay."
Of course, that meant "Find a way to blackmail them into staying with the company so that our professional secrets don't get out."
Mark was responsible for a lot of good people being stuck in jobs they weren't suited or, and it was all because he was great at getting hte dirt on people.
It's so disturbing that this is my job, Mark thought, biting his lip. I never thought about how creepy or invasive the spying profession is.
Mark had thought about leaving the profession, or taking an early retirement and trying to find something else to do, but something was keeping him from leaving. He had a strong suspicion that that something was a someone. Someone named Lincoln, who couldn't afford to let his most prized possession, his best spy, leave.
At times, it almost seemed like it was too late for Mark to get out. He slouched in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.
I would have to really screw up, Mark thought, for Lincoln to realize that it's time to let me go.
He sat upright. And idea had occurred to him. He looked down at everything he had gathered about Debbie. He had spoken to her a handful of times, but with the amount of information he knew about her, he felt like he knew her on the level of a best friend.
He stood up and started pacing around his living room, talking as he paced. He spoke in a low voice, he could never be sure if anyone had placed cameras or microphones in his home.
"Maybe," he thought aloud, "if I try to show Debbie that her job isn't what she thinks it is, she'll take the initiative and get out. Lincoln won't like that, so he'll try to stop me. No, it's worth it. It will be worth it!"
Mark stopped pacing. He had made up his mond. He was going to get Debbie, and himself, out of Enrichment, and Lincoln Ambrose's employment.
*****
Debbie was quickly becoming bored at her new job. A job, she had been promised, was within her capabilities. A job that required doing nothing. Not that Debbie couldn't do nothing, she liked doing nothing on occasion, but whenever she tried to actually work, or do something that justified her being there, someone or something would always stop her. At least when she was working for Alex, she was actually doing something, even if it was just managing money that he didn't know how to spend.
So she sat at her desk with her head in her hands, dressed in an expensive pair of suit pants with a ruffled blouse. She had spent a much longer time on her make up than she normally would have, and it had made her late for work. She rushed in through the doors, apologizing for being late, but nobody called her up on it. Lincoln just shrugged and told her it didn't matter. Debbie wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or if it was a red flag.
If she was going to be paid to sit in her office and do nothing, she might as well look beautiful doing it. It had been a couple days, and she couldn't shake the feeling that people were whispering about her behind her back. She tried her best not to let it bother her. Truth was, it put her on edge, so she was trying to put together a routine in order to look busy. She took a coffee break every two hours, scrolled social media, and rifled through papers as though she was looking for something important. It was stupid, but it gave her something to do that wasn't nothing.
At 10am, there came a knock at the door.
"Come in!" she said, flying into her little routine. She dropped it when Mark walked through the door. He was wearing a brown sweater vest over black pants and a white shirt. He looked a little dorky.
She allowed herself to relax at the sight of him, and dropped the stack of files she used to make it look like she had things to sort through.
"Bad time?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
"No," she said in a tight voice. "Perfect time actually. I'm really glad it's you."
"That's good to hear," he said, smiling. "I just wanted to check in. It's been a couple days since we last spoke."
Debbie shrugged. "I suppose I'm okay."
Mark inclined his head toward her. "Nothing strange going on?" he asked.
"No?" Debbie said, confused.
"No strange emails or phone calls," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "No strange tone in the background whenever you receive or make a call?"
"This conversation is strange," Debbie told him. She gave him a flat stare, and he nodded.
"There's something I have to tell you. Can we sit down?"
Debbie nodded, and they sat down on opposite sides of the desk. She folded her hands on top of the lacquered desktop, feeling slightly more professional.
Please don't be a confession of love, she thought. I really can't take that right now. It would be too much.
"I know things about you," he said. "Like, not intimate details, but things."
Oh gosh, she thought, alarmed. It's a confession to stalking!
"I know how this must sound," he said, "but here me out. It's part of my job to know things about people. It's a little, well, my job is complicated. But I know Alex Ambrose took you on a hiking date a while ago. I know that you and Yvonne were close, and that you regret everything that happened."
The alarm spiked even further in Debbie as he continued to list things.
"What I'm saying," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Is that-"
The door to Debbie's office slammed open and Lincoln strolled in. He stopped next to Mark and glared down at him. Then, he turned to Debbie.
"Is he bothering you?" Lincoln asked.
Before Debbie could say anything, Lincoln barked, "Out!" Mark flew to his feet and dashed out of the room.
Lincoln gave Debbie a stern look, then left her to go on about her day.
Mark tried again at lunch time. Debbie sat in a coffee shop, a book propped open in front of her as she ate her smoked salmon bagel and sipped her latte. He slid into the seat opposite her, holding his own coffee and smiling in a friendly way. Debbie's hackles rose when she looked at him.
"We never got to finish our conversation," he said knowingly. "And it's something I think we need to finish off."
"I was really enjoying my book," Debbie said, holding it up so he could see the cover.
He looked at it. "Looks interesting," he commented, then he looked at her. "So anyway, I'm-"
Lincoln appeared behind him.
"Is this man bothering you?" Lincoln asked Debbie.
Before Debbie could reply, Lincoln grabbed Mark by the shoulder and steered him out of the coffee shop to the surprise of several onlookers. Some of them cast sympathetic looks at Debbie. She hid behind her book, her face turning red with embarrassment.
At the end of the work day, Debbie slid into an Uber. It was a ride share, so the driver waited for a few minutes for the second passenger. She didn't want to walk home. A long day of doing nothing could really wear a person out. She reclined in the back seat, closing her eyes and taking a quiet moment to compose herself. Someone slid into the seat on the other side of the car, and the driver pulled out onto the road.
"Finally, some privacy," said Mark.
Debbie's eyes snapped open and she turned to look at him.
"I know how this looks," Mark said apologetically. "I'm really sorry, but I need to tell you something."
"Make it good or I'm throwing you out the door!" she growled, holding up a fist.
"I'm a spy," Mark said quickly. "I've been in Riley Naysmith and Lincoln Ambrose's employ for years, gathering intel. Started out doing patent espionage and the like. Boring work, but well paid. Then, they moved me, had me spy on Alex and you for years."
Debbie lowered her fist, unsure of what to think.
Okay Debbie, don't panic, she thought. The random guy who's been trying to corner you all day has just slipped into the Uber you ordered. And he happens to be the guy who booked it as a rideshare. And he told you that hes been spying on you and your ex-boyfriend for years. Yes, it's creepy, but you can handle it. You're a big girl. You've got this!
"I'm sorry," he said. "A job's a job, but I don't want to do it anymore, at least not for Riley or Lincoln. If there's any way you can forgive me, or at least get me into Alex's good graces, I promise you-"
"Stop right there, Mark," she said as the car pulled up to a traffic light. "Don't come near me, don't speak to me. I don't care if you want redemption, you're still a spy, and I want nothing to do with you."