Ioana Musca Ch. 01

(Authors Note: This is inspired by an unusually long and detailed dream I had, that I had unfortunately woken up too early from. It reads best if you start at the first chapter even though it starts slow. But to stay true to the story line and the characters I felt it best to wait for the action instead of rushing things. It's worth the wait, and unlike my subconscious, I won't keep you hanging for long.)

CHAPTER 1

INTRODUCTION, A REASON TO BE PARANOID

"How many?" She asked.

"Two. I have an appointment with the Manager." He said. She smiled to herself.

"Very well, follow me please." She seated him in an area of the restaurant where they could have some privacy when she had a chance to join him. "She'll be with you in a moment." She pondered his look of surprise when she would later return. Most people didn't know her, or if they did there was always speculation about her and her boss. Anytime she happened to be recognized for her efforts by the media, it inevitably turned to gossip. As if that held any importance. She found it funny that they would twist facts to become fiction, truth to seem like secrets. If they ever founds hers she wouldn't survive the fall out.

The fear was always there, eating at her, driving her paranoia. First it would unravel on magazines, a freak of nature, less than human, a mutant. No one would believe it, but once the seed was planted, truth would sprout and she would never be free again, hunted down for her unnatural gifts. So she never used them, hid them, hid herself, hid her family. She planned everything she did, had escape routes for everywhere she went, it involved every aspect of her life, including what was left of her family.

She was grateful her boss understood. He was the only one who knew the truth, and he was the one the public saw as a monster. She almost smiled. Miquel was an exacting man. He was a business shark, but he was also resourceful, and considered valuable employees a treasured resource. He valued and cared for such treasured resources, but the public never saw the good in him. In the business circuit he was feared and speculated on. Being the manager of the Algonquin, his most famous restaurant put her in the public eye, and in the midst of speculation as well. But she never cared because no matter what they would say it would never be close to the truth. A secret that only Miquel knew, and only by accident. She literally trusted him with her life, and was thankful he never held it over her.

"Your dinner sir, I apologize for the wait." She put his plate down then sat across from the handsome stranger, smoothing the long skirt of her silk oriental style dress as she sat down. She had been born in Russia, immigrating to the United States with her parents when their work was bought by the government. She was taller than most women even without heels. She kept her honey blonde hair artfully coiffed in a half up-do of curls that framed her pale face and lovely caramel colored eyes. Her grace and confidence showed in every movement, every turn of her head, every subtle, sexy, swing of her hips. She had always been every inch a lady, a head-turner, if not a heart stopper. It wasn't that she was model beautiful, but she carried herself with a certain poise that coupled with her looks made people take notice. She was always warm, congenial. The restaurant was her home and these were her guests. But the few that pressed for more were met with polite but icy rejection.

"I would have ordered you something but I expect you know better than I do what you would like." He said politely. She merely waited, noting his lack of surprise at her identity as manager and not hostess. But nowadays most locals knew who she was to some capacity. "I'm Kyle Sutherland." He introduced himself, smiling warmly revealing a dimple tucked in the corner of his tanned face and the soft glow of pale green eyes. He was the epitome of tall dark and handsome, comfortable with his large lean frame in a crisp charcoal suit with a plain back tie. While he looked polished something about him was rugged, from his short naturally spiked and curly hair to the broad shoulders that filled out the suit. She was sure there wasn't much but muscle under the suit but she still didn't quite trust his smile.

"Ioana Musca. How can I help you." She jumped straight to the point, skipping niceties with a polite tone.

"I have a strange offer for you. We desperately need your help."

"All charities are screened by legal first-" She started but he shook his head.

"No, your help."

"Me? Why?"

"We've discovered you have an innate ability to blend in with your surroundings at will."

"Who is we?" Her voice got colder as her face got paler but her gaze reflected no weakness, sharpening to sparkling steel.

He chewed slowly, "I work for the NSA, now we don't-" He started in a reassuring tone but she already moved to get up. His hand gently covered hers, halting her retreat. "Just a moment."

"There's only one reason why the NSA would be interested in me. And that's the reason I have no interest in dealing with them." She said politely. "I would suggest a dessert, but under the conditions I would feel more comfortable if your skipped it. Have a good evening sir, consider your meal on the house." She said coldly and pulled her hand away. She walked straight to her office and sat down for a moment, shuffling papers around, mindlessly neatening up. Somehow they knew. How long had they known her secret, and what lengths would they go through to exploit it? On impulse she called Miquel. He was busy but she got his answering machine.

"Miquel, the government knows. I'm not sure how much or how they know, but I knew this day would come. I need your advice, your reassurance that you're not somehow involved in this. Please call me back." She hung up, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. She couldn't run away. She had to get through the night. Just because she was different they couldn't force her hand. She hadn't done anything wrong. She always paid or contested any tickets she received, she paid her taxes, donated to charities.

Her thoughts went to her two aunts, both with Alzheimer's. Neither would remember her as even in the same hospice they periodically didn't remember each other. But they were her responsibility. Even Miquel didn't know about them. They were probably safe. She had taken every precaution to alienate herself from their lives and care while making sure they were well cared for. She had always been so paranoid about that, down to every last detail hoping she would never have a reason to be so paranoid. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. With one final check in the mirror she stept out of her office and back onto the floor. The show must go on.

-

Once everything was closed and locked up, and everyone had gone home she sat in a vacant booth and called Miquel back. She hadn't wanted to talk to him when others were around.

"Are you alright? What's happened?" Was his first response. No emotion. Just facts.

"I was approached by an agent for the NSA for assistance. He said his name, that we works for the NSA and that they know."

"What did he want?"

"I didn't let him tell me, he just said they needed my help. I told him I'd cover his dinner but not to stay for dessert. They know! Oh Miquel!" She wrung her hands.

"I swear to you I never breathed a word to anyone, not even my own mother. Never wrote it down anywhere, nothing." He said. He could feel the relieved sigh that rippled through her.

"I just don't know what to do."

"Don't do anything you're not comfortable with. Because you'll have to live with the consequences. You have nothing to lose, they can't make you do anything, they can't hurt you. You're a citizen, they can't deport you. You want to be left alone, that's what they'll have to do. You know I'll vouch for you in a heart beat."

"Everybody can be hurt Miquel, even you." She said softly. He laughed dryly but she was calm at this point. He didn't know about her family.

"It's the NSA, whatever they want to do is not going to be up your alley. Don't get me wrong, you're brilliant and dedicated and athletic, but they don't need you to be an analyst, or to write reports, or fix a hard drive, or a stove that's on the fritz, and you're not a spy. You're a civilian. What they think they'll find in you isn't like you. I'm not saying you're not capable of defending yourself if you had to."

"I know."

"They can't turn you into a scientific experiment either. Not just physically can't, but legally."

"Miquel-" She warned.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to let you know they do have limits."

"It's just red tape, and they're notorious for breaking it." she said but there wasn't heat in the comment. She was tired, she just wanted to go home and soak.

"Want me to walk you home?"

"It's midnight. If I'm lucky you're in New York. I'm a big girl I can get myself home. But I appreciate the gesture."

"If you need help. Legitimate help. Come to me first. I won't offer any strings with it. You know that."

"I do. Thanks Miquel."

"And I know you like to keep things to yourself, but if you need to talk, you can call me. Just remember they've got millions of trinkets for monitoring actions and conversations, so don't share any more secrets with me just in case."

"Like I could have another secret after that one!" She scoffed.

"Not funny." He teased. "You'll be okay?"

"I'll keep you updated."

"That's my girl. Now get some rest."

"Thanks again, Bye." She hung up and tossed her stuff in her bag, hefting her keys in between her fingers in a defensive maneuver. She locked up behind her and walked to her car. She paused as she realized the guy sipping coffee on the bench was Kyle, then straightened and moved to walk past him. He stood up slowly, realizing her defenses were on high. He raised his hands, showing no weapons, just the coffee. Then leaving the coffee he put his hands in his pants pockets and fell into step beside her.

"Thanks for lunch." He said.

"You're welcome."

"I took your advice on dessert, but I've been regretting it since."

"Oh?"

"Because the dessert menu was absolutely tantalizing."

"I'm sorry for your loss." She measured how many more steps it would be to her car. Four blocks to the garage entrance. One flight to her car. Then maybe 14 car lengths to hers. To freedom.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Too late." She replied.

"Anyone ever tell you that you should develop thicker skin?" He said. She turned to him.

"I'm not one of you. I'm not whatever you think I am. I'm a restaurant manager. That's the only skills I've got."

"We've got skills. We're looking for inborn ability." He stated. She looked pained.

"I want nothing to do with you."

"Why?" He asked.

"Because you want something from me."

"But you don't know what it is. You automatically assume-"

"Assume what? That you don't want to use me for whatever end you please? I'm not stupid. We may not know what specifically you guys are doing but it sure isn't planting rose gardens."

"There is a level of danger," He admitted, "But with you being a civilian and not a spy naturally we wouldn't submit you to the same rigors as an agent-"

"It's not just that I'm worried about." She cut him off as she rounded the third block, moving faster. He waited for her to continue. She stopped in mid stride. He turned to face her but didn't crowd her, and didn't remove his hands from his pockets, just regarded her casually.

She sighed. "The governments so willing to send its citizens to die for half-cocked political reasons, where right and wrong is a matter of opinion. Who's opinion? Certainly not mine. And what are you asking of me? To be a player in some political game? Save a life and what cost the lives of others? I can't be the one to judge that and live with myself. No I want no part of the game. I was once told with ability comes the choice. To be used for good or for evil. It's not that simple. There's a lot of gray. What seems good could have bad consequences. And good for whom? I choose to not be used at all." She pushed past him.

"What if it's saving hundreds of lives?" he asked.

"What if even inadvertently I'm responsible for the loss of one?" She retorted.

"We're not asking you to kill some one."

"How many have you killed in self-defense?" She didn't expect an answer as she entered the garage and even in stiletto heels hopped down the stairs two at a time. He easily kept up.

"I'm an agent. We wouldn't ask that of any civilian." She shook her head.

"All the planning in the world doesn't minimize the rigors of actually doing the job. Yours much more so than mine. I'm telling you I'm not mentally capable of dealing with that world. It doesn't matter how I was born I wasn't built to deal with that."

"With your skills you can easily listen. Information can be very valuable and with your skills you wouldn't be putting anyone's life at risk." He said.

She reached her car and put the key in the lock. Gently he placed his hand on hers again, stopping her from turning it. "We need your help not to kill anyone, not to save anyone. But just to get information that we will use to save many people, and not just Americans."

"I just want to be left alone. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Is that why you keep your family so far removed from you?" He asked quietly. She gasped. It was a pointed barb. And it went straight to her heart. "No one else knows you have any family. Not your close friends, co-workers, or confidants. Why?"

"So no one could ever hurt them because of me." She was falling apart right in front of him.

"Don't you think you've hurt them more by ignoring them?"

"They don't even remember me. It was for their protection." She sputtered, blinking back tears. Goodness, was that actually her crying?

"Who are you to judge what's best for them?"

"I couldn't live with myself if I cost them their lives."

"There's more to life than just living."

"It's a start."

"It's paranoia."

"And you're the proof I've had reason to live a paranoid life!" She cried and ripped the door open then jumping inside and relocking it. He made no move to force her. She turned the car on and ripped it into reverse. He merely quirked a small smile and waved goodbye. She was shaking. She debated calling Miquel. She thanked herself for having been so paranoid, for her planning and care. They might already be watching her family. Might. She had no choice. She had a safe house already planned for them with a family that would take care of them for what little was left of their lives. She had secret international accounts set up to pay for their care.

And since she couldn't be the one to make the call she had a lawyers firm set up to set into motion the chain of calls that would release her two elderly ailing aunts from the hospice and into that family's care. Even under questioning the firm didn't have nearly enough details to gain a complete picture of what they were setting into motion. It was so complex and yet so simple. She heaved another sigh and picked up her cell phone and punched in the number. After a few rings a sleepy males voice picked up the other line. She remembered that the NSA was probably listening to every word she was stating. And if given the opportunity they would love to use them against her.

-

She was already so tired and it was barely 5pm. It had been a long day of fighting her nerves, of trying to figure how long everything would take, would the NSA figure it out, would they step in? She had just received the email she had been waiting for. It said nothing in particular, looking for all intents and purposes like an advertisement, but what it meant was that her Aunts were safe. Everything was just as planned. She flagged it was well as a few other emails as junk and signed off her account. Then she left the local library as it was closing time.

For once she wished she had the guts to freely use her abilities and just blend into the walls. Forever just be a lump on a wall that couldn't be plastered over. She sighed again, wiping away tears and got into her car. She started it and turned on the heat to bring life back into her fingers. She jumped when her cell phone rang staring at it like it was an alien for a moment. She vaguely recognized the area code.

"Hello?" She questioned, some of her inherent confidence returning.

"Hi I'm Max Larson. I would like a chance to speak with you."

"I'm sorry I don't know you-"

"But we have a mutual friend. A Mr. Kyle Sutherland."

"Then you know I don't want to talk to you." She said firmly, locking her doors and starting her car. Max chucked softly.

"Kyle said you were an adamant little thing. Are you so afraid of a chat?"

"You're not known for your eloquent way with words."

"True, but we mean you no harm. You didn't have to spirit your aunts away like that. I'm sure they were quite happy where they were." He said. She slammed the brakes a little too hard at the red light. The car behind her honked. "I see I'm upsetting you. Not everything is a threat my dear."

"Try living in my shoes." She hit the gas again.

"I may have been a spy for years but running down stairs in heels is a little beyond my capabilities." He quipped. "We're not exactly what movies portray us as."

"It's simple logic. If it was an easy task, without a level of danger or bodily risk you wouldn't need me at all. If it wasn't something you consider of vital importance you wouldn't consider bringing in a civilian. And most of what the NSA deals with I assume is international threats or political risks, all of which I want no part of." Her pitch raised with each word.

"Dear, it would be much less stressful on your part of you would simply pause and let us explain the mission then deny it than have us chase you just to get an informed denial."

"I don't want anything to do with anything you have anything to do with! Please let me be." She swerved onto a hidden street off the main drag of coastal road she was on.

"I can't do that until you at least listen. How can I explain to my bosses I got turned down before I even explained myself."

"You're a big boy, you can figure it out." She said angrily, skidding to a stop at one of her favorite spots. It was a lovely cliff overlooking the city on one side and the ocean on the other. She turned the car off but left the keys inside, jumping out of the car without bothering to close the car door behind her.

"Can you blame me for being unwilling to accept a denial on an uninformed assumption?"

"Yes. I can. And goodbye." She said as she ran towards the cliff edge and threw her phone as hard as she could, watching it sail over the edge and down the long fall into the crashing waves below. What she didn't see was Kyle peel himself out off the floor of her backseat. Heart pounding she watched the waves. It didn't matter what she did. Her aunts would always be in danger. And so would she. It was just beginning.

First they would want her to save someone, someone important, a minister in a foreign country perhaps, but they'd trap her into something else, or threaten her family again. As long as she was alive she was nothing more than a resource to them. Where would she draw the line then? At what cost to her soul? She was so lost in thought she didn't hear Kyle carefully come up behind her, looking over the view, watching the determined line of her jaw but not crowding her. She shivered but took a step forward, to the edge of the cliff. And she looked straight down.

Kyle gulped behind her. "Things aren't that bad, are they?" He asked softly.

She let out a soft sound of surprise and spun around, losing her footing. He caught her before she tumbled over the cliffs. For an instant she was half over the cliff, dangling as she gripped a hold of him with one arm, the next she had merged with him, inside of him. Her instinctual fear is what propelled her forward into the one solid thing she touched. Him.