CODE ELDRITCH

Chapter IV

The List

I feel like I should clarify something. In that conference room, aside from the CCTEA veterans that had energy enough left in their bodies to actually stand after the trip to Base, everyone seemed to come lauded or medaled somehow. There were some DELTA Force, Navy SEALs, an assortment of Ph.Ds and professors emeritus, Joe Schmoe (I forget his last name) the talk show host with a background in clinical psychology. One Medal of Honor recipient, that Venezuelan girl who had reportedly been shortlisted for a Nobel.

What? I'm good with faces.

Anyway, my point is that I stuck out like a sore thumb. If we'd done the round table introductions, they would have ended up at me, "Monroe. Ex-store clerk. Ex-hairdresser. Bachelors' in philosophy. Freelance bullshitter."

With the resumes the rest of these people were packing, trying to figure out what the hell I was here for was... challenging. My greatest talent is being a klutz.

After the meeting, we were set to wander the building on our own. Technically we were asked to return to our rooms at our convenience, but I figured I'd take a detour. A whole slew of elevators dotted each floor, moving through different shafts punched through the backbone of the building and accessing different sections. Elevators 1 and 2 were marked with LODGINGS. Those were the ones we'd take to get up to our private spaces. 3 and 4 were marked PRACTICE and, per Banks' briefing, accessed shooting ranges and study spaces on the 50th through 66th floors. 5 through 8 were marked OPERATIONS and accessed the entire spectrum, from the deepest basement levels at Base (get it yet? "Base" of the building but also "base" of operations? Never say the CCTEA is without humor) to the top floors where TO and the amorphous blob that was 'management' had their offices. It went unsaid, but the top floors were implied to be generally off-limits to operatives.

We were all scheduled for a private double-dip with a psychiatrist (psychologist? I can never tell) and a 'social manager' whose jobs it would be to make sure that we A) weren't coming apart at the seams after the last day of events and B) would have a functional, comfortable cover story to smooth over our pre-CCTEA lives.

Never mind that. I wasn't planning on staying long.

In truth, the joke was on The Official and his merry band of secret agents. He'd threatened to kill my neighbor's dog, and while I did adore Gums I wasn't going to let myself be held hostage just on that threat alone. The little fur ball was a cheap sacrifice.

Didn't really have any friends, and against my family they could pursue whatever legal action they wanted. It wouldn't really faze me. We don't like each other much.

I rode the elevator down instead of up, into the basement. There was one thing I wanted to check before I took my leave. Banks had shown us a general layout of the place. Floors minus two through five had stolen my attention while the others hunted for any signs of catering or entertainment. The elevator doors slid apart, revealing white doors Marked RECORDS AND DATA ACCESS.

No one stopped me when I walked in. No one questioned my presence when I took my place in the line stretching from the reception desk, or when I leaned in over the counter to flash a fake smile.

"Hi!" I said, "first day today. I was wondering if you could help me find a few things before my—" my tailwind petered out. What the hell did they call their projects? What did they even do? For all his talk of the CCTEA's grand mission, he had shared almost no nitty-gritty at all. "My first... thing."

Smooth.

Mr. Counter Clerk seemed understanding enough. "Ah, of course. I'm agent Rocks, Data Access. What division are you with?"