From The Grave

Chapter 1

Maurice Trask stood as Gretta entered his office, surprised that the woman he had seen fashionably attired at the funeral was now clad in jeans and a tank top, which left him uncomfortably shifting his eyes.

"Pleased you could come, Miss Lawrence. Have a chair."

Gretta sat and crossed her legs, glancing about the office that used to be Chester's.

"You've made some changes already," she noted.

"Yes- well, one must set the environment best suited for one's working comfort." He gave her a tentative smile and sat behind his desk.

"Cheesy loved this room; he always said it was his soul's control centre. I imagine that was the environment he constructed."

Maurice wet his lips and fiddled with some papers. The light from the window made his hair shine and she concluded it was some styling cream or other.

"I uh- I have been going over all our agent's files, as you might imagine, and," he chuckled patronizingly. "Yours provided some very startling reading. You have quite a record with CONGA."

"It began a long time ago when it was CIA. That was when we were proactive in the field."

"Yes, I understand. Actually that is why I wanted to speak with you. We uh- CONGA's board has considered taking a new position with regard to our uhm- exploits. Our mandate is being modified to respond solely to requests from concerned parties. We will no longer be actively seeking interventions."

"Was I specifically selected for this information?" Gretta asked calmly.

He smiled condescendingly and flapped the file in front of him. "In a word."

"I see. A wrist slap from the new director." She stood and stared down at him, his shining hair appeared even more artificial from that vantage point.

"I'm sorry you see it that way. It's simply a matter of protecting the organization from uhm, inconveniences." He stood as well, still holding her file, unhappy to see she still had a small height advantage without the heels she'd worn at the funeral.

"Is there anything else?"

"Not at the moment; we are still in the process of tightening our contacts with field agents. There is nothing pending."

"Fine. Nice meeting you." She stepped around the chair and left the office.

"You don't deserve to be treated that way, Miss Lawrence." Rose offered as Gretta passed her desk.

"Thanks Rose. It's okay; I used to get worse than that from Cheesy." She gave a little laugh and patted the older woman's arm.

"But he really loved you, Miss Lawrence."

"And I loved him, Rose. He'll be missed... big time."

"He will indeed. You take care, dear."

Gretta thanked her and left, her mind dashing back to the content of Cheesy's letter.

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Arny lifted the receiver of his phone and answered with his official voice.

"Arnold Wainright."

"It seems to me the last time I spoke to you on the telephone it was your birthday." The scraping voice sounded like static.

"Mr. Glimb, hi. Uh yeah, that was a long while ago now, sir. How can I help you?"

"I'm calling to wish you another happy birthday, Wainright."