Trapezoid (The Base)

Chapter 20

Chris felt nervous jitters like the ones she felt on her first day as a teacher a year ago. She got off the train in the tube, also known as a subway. Someone here was supposed to be waiting for her. She had a mental picture of the person she had never met but was only given a description of. She took several calming breaths, praying God would help her out. She was someone else—someone called Kristal Thompson.

Apparently, the original fell "conveniently" ill while on vacation in Australia. Having studied the file about her, Chris learned that she had to do a severely good job playing her. Oh, how she sighed relief when the true Kristal decided to stay in Australia for the coming two months! CIA had been successful in coming forward to her with a deal. Chris had even gotten a message that she had Kristal's blessing. Oh, may she forgive her for any idiosyncrasies she couldn't fulfill. Chris would barf right there if she had to eat a slice of bacon dipped in cream cheese and dressed in black pepper.

As humanity flowed in different directions around her, she found herself unable to move. She knew she'd cry from the tightening in her chest if she were fifteen years younger. She forced herself to move, pulling her suitcase and shouldering a backpack. If she could at least just find directions to come back to the surface of the earth, she'd rejoice.

She looked up at the black sign with an arrow pointing in the direction of the staircase with the words exit in white and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. Things were getting better. She felt her hurried footsteps abruptly stop at the sight of a white board with the names Kristal Thompson in black marker. Relief knocked her, almost making her eyes water. What astounded her was the person holding it. She hadn't been expecting a guy. And this tall, puny guy with waist-length brown dreadlocks hardly looked like he was expecting someone on top of that. His head bent over his phone, and brief bored glances up plainly told all he was made to come here, and his crisp black suit didn't work on him somehow.

Chris hesitantly went up to him, suddenly feeling guilty for being the reason he was in this situation. She cleared her throat, reminding herself to use her new accent. "Are you waiting for someone?"

He frowned. "Yeah," he said—before his head dropped once more to his device.

What a teenage way to act for someone around my age. She took a deep calming breath. "Well, maybe I'm who you're waiting for—Kristal Thompson." she said in a kinder tone than she'd wanted to.

He frowned down at her, giving her a double-take. "Could I see some proof?"

Chris confidently pulled out her ID, internally proud that something so new could look several years old. She kept up a smile as he looked it over and handed it back to her. The way his eyes looked her over made her uncomfortable. His features looked so much like the infamous Greenwood's. What if he was working for him after somehow finding out something she didn't know—that she was busted?

No, Chris. You can't think like this, she told herself. She was going to be working on the Greenwood estate after all. Maybe he was just a relative—a clean relative. She extended her hand, in hopes to break his staring spell. "You can call me Kristal."

He blinked, as if awaking. He brushed his hand across hers—the lamest handshake in history. "I'm Thomas Greenwood."

She hoped he hadn't noticed her breath hitch at the mention of that last name. She fought to keep her mind from flying to dangerous possibilities. She had to stick to something—safer. "What an honor! Here I was thinking I was to be picked up by another employee!"

He gave her a skew, borderline of sinister grin. "You are being picked up by an employee." He turned on his heel before he could witness the death of her cheery smile. Fighting to keep up with his huge strides and carrying her luggage was easier than keeping her imagination under control. Employee. Should that give her a hint?