The Home Guard

The Home Guard

Sarah wanted me to tell her a story about an imaginary stranger. She is my friend, and she doesn't think I am a crazy old man. Although he was not imaginary, Misha came to mind for a good reason. It is time I told someone about this. Please be aware, I do not share these secrets lightly and ask that you keep these matters confidential. Great things are at stake.

Misha was a young Bosnian-American auto mechanic, standing eagerly in front of me telling me about the services they provide at their repair shop. There is a sizable Bosnian community in Lawrenceville. Misha seemed a little nervous when I asked his name. I always get names, I used to sell advertising.

The next day I would wonder to myself if perhaps he had somehow exposed himself? Thinking back on it, he seemed caught off guard. Why the nervous look? Was there more to this whole situation, other than my car smelling odd when I cranked up the engine? These Bosnians, when dealing with a culture of which I was totally ignorant, how I could rule out anything? Besides, I am an old guy, and my life is less boring when I think about the secret things that might be going on around me.

I wondered about the true purpose of this car shop because the following day I was handled by a new face, Azra. What had happened to Misha overnight? He was nowhere to be seen.

Azra was a Muslim name, and Misha was a name of Russian origin. Obviously strange and dark things were developing in the sleepy little suburbia of Lawrenceville. Was there a schism going on between the Muslim Bosnians and perhaps the Russian mafia? I watch everything coming out of Hollywood, so I know all about the dark undersides of society. People don't see the things I see. They don't know the things I know. I watch and learn so that I can protect us all. Someone has to, all the young people around me just don't keep track of things like this.

Azra was obviously covering something up. Stocky and ramrod straight, trying so earnestly to explain about his forty years of experience as a mechanic. He even threw in comments about the reputation of the car shop, just to appear legitimate. This was obviously a well-crafted cover, but he was not fooling me. The Russian had disappeared, and I was on my guard. The Bosnians had been too quiet for too many years now. It fell upon me to find out what they were up to.

I would bide my time and observe. I played along with the charade and put in a work order on my car. I then sat and I watched. They would not know I was onto them. Perhaps I could ascertain the true purpose of this building full of seemingly injured cars and ostensibly innocent mechanics. What a great front for any clandestine network. So many operatives could come and go unnoticed, in and out of what appeared to be this simple auto repair shop.

But after two hours of unobtrusive observations, a buxom and battered Belinda told me my car was ready. No one had made one single suspicious move in front of me. They were good. I was forced to tip my hat to their tradecraft. There was little more I could do that day. They had played their parts to perfection. What a smooth operation this was. If they were this good at their cover story, they must be protecting important secrets. Not only had they gone to the extreme lengths of appearing to know how to repair a beat-up old Honda, they had Belinda play her part with the bill, completing the masquerade. Belinda put on a drawl you only hear in old movies. Her teeth were shot, and she made herself look tired and stressed out, all to trick me about the true nature of this place. Another perfect performance. I was up against a top-notch operation here.

Of course, I played my part too. I paid the bill and pretended to be happy, as if the car was the thing I had on my mind. I eyed Belinda closely as I took back my keys and mimed a little salute to her. I then drove out of there as if I had never stumbled onto an operation of this magnitude, right here in my own neighborhood. Goodbye for today "mechanics." We will meet another day, and again and again, until I have exposed you.