Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 6

Christina Hopper had not needed any tranquilization. But Smith knew this emerald-eyed blonde was more headstrong than met the eye—and not dumb either. Report came back that she'd fought hard—her disheveled appearance proved that—but once she awoke on the couch in her office where she now sat, she'd made no attempt to resist. She knew nothing she could do would help anything.

Silence had been between them for more than ten minutes—both sides analyzing the other. Knowing Hopper had the most unusual "sixth sense", Smith knew she was part of just what CIA needed this moment. Hopper was a Christian too. Smith hardly felt uncertain, but how well would this woman do as an agent? She had objected to it, but her boss M. Donald was adamant. She knew better than to push her opinion with him.

Smith leaned forward, steepling her fingers on her desk. She looked straight into the eyes of Hopper on the couch right in front of her. She had a very calm façade, but Smith knew she was very much alert. Hopper pushed herself into a more comfortable sitting position, clearing her throat. "Why am I here?"

Smith was impressed, though she did not let that on. Her tone was wonderfully full of calm. That was a nice surprise. "You are needed," Smith simply replied, "It so happens that you are qualified for the job ahead."

Hopper's eyes darted, and then cooled. "I already have a job."

"No, Miss Hopper, you were fired this afternoon from your teaching position due to your unstable mental condition."

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Chris shot up from the couch, not believing at all what this statue faced woman was saying. "I am perfectly sane!" No expression appeared on the woman's face at all. She just leaned back on her office chair. Right then, Chris knew this woman had set this whole thing up. She suddenly strongly disliked her. "Oh, I see," she said as though realization had just hit her. "At the beginning of this whole thing I'd thought I was losing my mind. But I really wasn't now that I see myself here, right?"

"That's correct."

Chris sank back down, not taking her eyes off the woman. She had no job now—except for whatever this woman had for her. But what kind of job would be so critical for her to take that she had to be kidnapped for the position to be hers? "What's my job?"

Smith almost smiled. She wasn't going to beat around the bush. Time was running out. "Welcome to the CIA."

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Chris almost cracked up into laughter. "Excuse me?" This was ridiculous!

Smith stood. This meeting was over. "You'll start your training in the next hour." She smoothed the sleeves of her navy blouse. "You will call me D. Smith."

"What?"

An icy green stare was all she got as an answer.

She felt sick.

A female guard entered through the door but did not approach. "Take Hopper to her dorm," Smith said.

The woman nodded once then took Chris' arm. Chris stood. She took one last look at D. Smith. She nodded, "D. Smith," as though it was an apology for the previous wrong addressing or lack there off.

Smith slightly nodded back, but added. "You are sorely needed. I expect you to work hard during this short time you have."

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Chris had thought the trip to her dorm was going to be a short walk away. She discovered that the door did not lead to a hallway, but into small elevator. The florescent lights went on, and the doors shut. The guard punched up some numbers and the elevator ascended with great speed, Chris sucked in some breath. The woman casted her empty glare. Chris could feel the cold emitting from her. From what she had gathered about this strange place, everyone seemed to be moving, breathing, and talking statues.

The elevator doors opened. The afternoon summer breeze was a surprise. An elevator that led straight to the roof?

"You may step out, Miss Hopper," the guard said with hardly any tone.

The roof was huge with a large white circle painted on. Chris obeyed hesitantly. What was this? Was this her "dorm?" All she could see was the busy city below with honking cars, busy people, and buildings all around. "There must be some mistake," she said, her voice trembling as she looked over the edge.

The woman said nothing.

Chris clenched her fists at her sides. Couldn't she at least get an answer? She turned on her heel, about to give the woman a piece of her mind. Panic leaped into her chest. No one was there. The elevator was gone—as if it never existed.

Her panic increased—her heart beat like a bass drum in her ears. What kind of cruel joke was this? There was absolutely nothing here—no tent, no shelter of any kind whatsoever! How would she get down? She had gotten down the roof of Garrison High by shimmying down the gutter pipes. But getting down this building was something else. She tried thinking. Nothing came.