Immediately Forgettable

Chapter 5

I later found out that the reason it took so long was that the NYPD had called the FBI, who checked out the report and the interesting fact that no one could remember me despite the fact that I wasn't wearing a mask. I was just happy to have my name and the word "interesting" used in a sentence together.

The FBI sent a few agents over to the bank, I presume to grill Vivian again and find out what the deal was. Just as they were piecing it together, the CIA came in and kicked the FBI off the case. It was the CIA who was now keeping me waiting.

My solitude was finally broken by a big man in a fancy suit. He introduced himself as Special Agent Daniel Sloane, and he took the seat opposite me at the table. He seemed confident and had an air of power around him, but I wouldn't want to be him. His hairline was receding, and his ruddy face was filled with pockmarks. I also didn't like his breath and his overall look screamed, "Don't trust me."

He was palming a Polaroid camera in his hand, and placed it on the table as he sat.

His voice would have better suited Officer Mike: "Terry Laine," he growled, twisting the end of my name as a question.

I wanted to say yes, but my throat was so dry that I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I nodded instead.

He said nothing more. Just sat there, staring at me, studying me. Then he got up and left the room.

"Amazing," he said a few minutes later as he re-entered the room. It was hard to tell with that face of his, but I think he was smiling. "I left the room, and couldn't think of what you looked like. "

He paused and shook his head. "I'm lucky I remembered to come back in."

He looked up, and now I could see that he definitely was smiling. He raised the camera and snapped a picture of me quickly. I'm pretty sure my eyes were open, but he didn't give me time to smile.

He shook the picture and looked at it as it faded into focus. He nodded as if he were satisfied and stuck the photo in his inside jacket pocket. He stood up and took more photos -- until the camera was empty. He laid them on the table and waited for them to develop, not saying a word -- very intent on his mission.

As they finished developing, he shoved each photo into a different pocket -- some in the jacket pockets and some in the pants pockets. The last one he kept in his hand. When he finished, he sat back down opposite, and dropped the smirk he had been wearing into a stern frown.

"You're in deep shit -- you know that, right?"

Still unable to speak, I nodded solemnly.

"You got two choices -- jail," he paused to let it sink in, "or come work for me in the CIA." More pausing. I was sweating again.

"Here's the deal -- you will become an undercover operative answering directly -- and only -- to me. You're perfect for undercover work -- completely invisible. And if you do get noticed, no one will remember seeing you anyway." He could no longer suppress his smile and shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it.

"We will train you and even pay you, but you listen and do everything I say." He scowled. "Everything." He stared hard into my eyes. "Or, at any given time and any time I feel like it, I will lock you up and no one will ever know you even existed."

I could hear my heartbeat getting louder inside my own head. It didn't sound like a bad deal in all honesty, but it was just the way he said it. It seemed obvious that Sloane was a Class-A asshole, but he was the asshole holding my leash.

'Sides, it would be cool to be a secret agent. Saving the world was definitely on my list of things to do. What better way to get noticed by a huge group of people than to save the world? I had thought about joining the army or the FBI, but settled into the comfortable confines of business-to-business publishing. This was the chance to live my dream.

Not that I wanted Sloane knowing any of that. I didn't think he'd like to reward bank robbers with their life's goal.

"Okay boss," I croaked.