The young woman turned and flashed a brilliant smile. "Yes, Captain Jackson is the leader of the second unit."
Emily hesitated before asking, "And you… you're part of it too?"
"That's correct." The woman pushed the door open and smiled again. "Please come in. We rarely have visitors here; it's an honor to host you."
A spy? Jack froze in place. He recalled how Lilian had once berated him over a misplaced badge with such intensity it left him feeling utterly humiliated. Yet now, Captain Jackson openly displayed a "Special Operations Unit" plaque on the door. Was this all leading to some sort of cover-up—possibly ending in their elimination in twenty minutes?
"Come in, come in!" Captain Jackson appeared with a beaming smile, extending a hand to pull Jack inside. "Ah, what a humble place this is, but I'm glad it's good enough to host you and…" His gaze shifted between Emily and Jack, lingering slightly before Jack introduced her.
"This is Emily, my girlfriend."
"Emily! It's wonderful to meet you," Jackson said warmly, taking the gift Jack had brought and placing it on the desk. "And you brought a gift? Really, that's too much! Jack is one of us, not just a colleague but a brother. There's no need for such formality." Guiding Jack's mother further inside, he said, "Please, have a seat. Emma, would you make some tea?"
Turning to Jack's mother, he continued in a cheerful tone, "Jack is an excellent worker. Although I'm not his direct supervisor, I've heard a great deal about him—dedicated to his job and always willing to help his colleagues. A rare find!" Glancing at Jack's stiff expression, he added with a chuckle, "Relax, Jack. Lilian's out on assignment, so I'll handle hosting duties today. Haha!" Then, looking at Emily, he said, "You're Jack's girlfriend, right? Wonderful! When you two get married, our entire second finance unit will come to celebrate."
Emma, bringing in tea, paused briefly at the remark but quickly composed herself.
"Things have been quiet around here lately," Jackson continued, still smiling. "Lilian gave Jack some time off, which I approved. But to think this warranted such a formal visit… it's really…" He trailed off, still radiating his usual charm, though Jack remained stone-faced.
Emily gathered her courage and asked, "Isn't Jack based in New York?"
Jackson nodded. "That's correct, but the headquarters are here. He travels between the two when necessary. Our organizational structure is unique… Jack probably hasn't mentioned it, right? That's because it's part of the regulations. Haha, regulations." Jackson turned to Jack, puzzled. "Jack, why the sour face?"
Jack met his gaze briefly, sighed, and said nothing.
Jackson didn't press further, instead engaging Jack's mother in more conversation. "Unfortunately, most of our team is out conducting audits right now. It's getting late, so how about staying for dinner? Just something simple at our cafeteria. I'll have them prepare a few dishes." He signaled Emma to assist Jack's mother out while he lingered behind with Jack. Once alone, Jackson whispered, "What's with the long face? Did I owe you money or something? I'm doing you a favor here!"
Jack frowned and pointed at the plaque on the door. "It's not that. I'm just trying to figure out how to explain that."
Jackson glanced back, his expression darkening. "Emma!" he barked.
Emma rushed over. "Yes?"
"What is this plaque still doing here?" Jackson demanded. "Didn't I tell you to replace it? Do you want everyone to know we're a special ops team?"
"Replace it?" Emma looked confused. "I never heard about that. All I knew was we had visitors today."
Jackson scanned the area. "Thompson! Where are you?"
"Here!" A large, stocky young man came running over, arms full of various materials. He was sweating heavily. "I was just getting the new plaques made…"
"What's the point of new plaques when people are already here?!" Jackson exploded, grabbing Thompson by the collar. "Are you trying to make me look incompetent?"
Thompson looked baffled. "You told me to get finance plaques made, but you didn't say why. I had to go all the way to the city to find a place that could do it. This was the fastest I could manage."
"Couldn't you have taken the old plaque down first?" Jackson roared, pointing at the offending sign.
"How was I supposed to know?" Thompson protested, looking thoroughly put upon.
Shaking his head, Jackson left them to their squabbling and returned to Jack's mother and Emily with a renewed smile. "I'm so sorry for the confusion. We just moved offices, and the new signage hasn't been properly installed yet. That's all. Shall we head to dinner?"
Dinner turned out to be an awkward affair. Jack sat at the table, glancing around at the uncomfortable faces of his companions. Jackson tried valiantly to keep the conversation lively, but his efforts were largely ignored.
On the drive home, Jack's mother finally broke the silence. "Jack, what exactly do you do at the NSA?"
"I'm an accountant," Jack replied, sticking to Jackson's instructions. "Honestly, this was my first time visiting headquarters. I was just following Lilian's directions."
"But that woman, Emma," Emily interjected, "admitted she was a special agent. How do you explain that?"
Jack maintained a calm demeanor. "I have no idea. All I know is that I'm an accountant. Jackson is part of the second unit, and I'm in the third."
"Then what do you do every day?" Emily pressed.
Jack smirked faintly. "We have confidentiality regulations. The fact that I've told you what I do is already pushing the limit. As for the rest, if they truly are special agents, do you think they'd let you know?"
That logic seemed to satisfy Emily and Jack's mother, who both nodded after some thought.
"Once we get home, don't mention anything you've seen or heard," Jack warned them. "It's for your safety."
He finally felt a wave of relief as the car pulled into their driveway. Returning to his job search, he resolved to focus on normalcy, at least for now.
From that point, Jack resumed his cycle of submitting resumes and preparing for interviews. However, many large companies required background checks and access to his official records, which he couldn't provide since his file was securely stored at the NSA. The thought of any potential employer contacting the NSA's archives was laughable; he didn't want to give anyone a heart attack.
As for smaller companies, none seemed like the right fit. Most of the listings on job sites were for established firms, while smaller ones rarely bothered with extensive recruitment processes.
One evening, while on a call with his old friend Bell, who worked in Islip, Jack vented his frustration. "I just want a job to pass the time. Why is this so hard?"
"You're looking for a job?" Bell sounded surprised. "Aren't you with the NSA?"
"The NSA doesn't have much going on right now," Jack admitted. "My boss approved me taking on a side gig. I didn't think finding something would be harder than when I first graduated!"
"That's because most companies already have their rosters filled by now," Bell replied. "But our company is still hiring. If you don't mind the commute, send me your resume, and I'll pass it along."
"I don't mind the distance," Jack said quickly. "Just don't mention my NSA job. I don't want to scare anyone off."
"Got it," Bell promised. "I'll keep you posted."
Two days later, Jack received a call from Bell. "Jack! Can you make it to an interview at 2 p.m. the day after tomorrow?"
"Absolutely!" Jack replied. He spared no expense, buying a new Brooks Brothers suit and preparing meticulously for the interview. On the appointed day, he drove his Lamborghini to Islip.
Bell stood by the office window, watching as a Lamborghini pulled into the parking lot. Joking with his colleagues, he said, "Looks like we've got some wealthy applicants today." But when he saw Jack step out of the car, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
"That car… it's yours?" Bell caught Jack at the elevator and immediately pulled him aside. "Wow, you must have struck gold!"
"Don't be ridiculous. It's my boss's car. I just borrowed it," Jack replied, pointing upward as if to indicate the heavens.
"And that suit? Borrowed too?" Bell asked, eyeing Jack's perfectly tailored attire.
"No, this one's mine. Thought it looked good. It wasn't too expensive," Jack said, scratching his head nonchalantly.
Bell sighed. "My entire month's salary wouldn't cover a sleeve. Anyway, let's go. The big boss, Thompson, is here, and he'll be conducting your interview." After a pause, he added, "By the way, you're dressed better than he is."
Thompson was a stout man with a full head of hair, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Theodore Roosevelt. With a pipe in his mouth, he exuded an air of authority that made Jack feel as though he were stepping into the Oval Office.
"Here, complete this report for me," Thompson said, handing Jack a document. "Take your time; I'll evaluate your work when you're done."
The task involved calculating the year-end adjustment for a company's short-term investment write-downs and preparing the corresponding journal entries. It was a question straight out of a CPA exam, featuring a fictional company that frequently appeared in such problems.
For Jack, the task was straightforward. With his enhanced memory and computational skills, he finished it in no time and handed it back to Thompson.
Thompson spent a few minutes reviewing the work and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Have you taken the CPA exam?" he asked.
"Not yet, but I plan to," Jack said earnestly. He had intended to sit for the exam earlier but had postponed it due to his commitments with the NSA.
Thompson nodded and called in Daniel, the head of the finance department. Daniel, a middle-aged man with a shiny bald head, scrutinized the report carefully before giving a nod of approval. "Not bad, kid. You've got potential."
"All right, let's make it official," Thompson declared. "Salary is $2,500 a month, full benefits, and a $300 meal allowance. Does that work for you?"
"That works," Jack said, relieved as he signed the contract.
"You don't live in Islip, do you? How will you manage the commute?" Thompson asked, genuinely concerned.
"I plan to rent a place nearby," Jack explained. "Bell and I went to college together, and we're thinking of sharing an apartment."
"Good. That settles it," Thompson said, patting Jack on the shoulder.
However, things didn't go as smoothly as Jack had hoped. During his introduction to the finance team, Daniel took the opportunity to assert his authority. "This isn't a place for slackers," he said, his tone stern. "If you want to stay here, you'll need to prove yourself. We don't tolerate mediocrity."
"Who's he talking about?" Jack whispered to Bell afterward.
"You," Bell replied quietly. "You've got connections, and you're competent. This is his way of putting you in your place."
"Putting me in my place?" Jack almost laughed. "Good luck with that."
As the days went by, Jack quickly noticed Daniel's temperamental nature and his particular disdain for talented subordinates. It became clear that the real challenge wouldn't be the work itself but navigating the department's politics. Still, Jack wasn't worried. He had faced far more complex and dangerous situations before, and this one was just another problem to solve.