Secrets 154

Bryce and Harper are in their mid-thirties placing them firmly in the millennial generation. They are quintessential examples of that group. They are motivated, technology savvy, adaptive, love learning and value teamwork.

Bryce has graduate degrees in both electrical engineering and information technology. Harper is a mathematical wizard, holding degrees in mathematics and forensic accounting. Both have full time jobs in industry and government. Bryce is the lead analyst and engineer for an international corporation exploiting leading edge technologies with the goal of producing life enhancing commercial products. Harper leads a state-wide government agency seeking to discover waste and fraud in the distribution and use of government funds.

They've been married for nine years, live modestly in a three-bedroom home` in a middle class neighborhood and donate their free time from assisting in soup kitchens to election poll watching. There is no portion of their lives that they feel needs improvement, including the many intimate hours they spend in each other's arms.

They were cruising along. Happy jobs, happy marriage, happy life. They made love often, with fantasies and role playing that included other partners although neither of them ever expected it to happen.

About a year ago, Bryce got a mysterious email. His security software flagged it as risky and quarantined it. Bryce discovered it two days later and investigated its source. He traced the sender's email address, couldn't find any public information about it and deleted the message without opening it.

A week later, a second email from the same source arrived. He traced the origin with the same results, but he was curious. The message's subject line was, "Opportunity Knocks."

He isolated his computer from the internet, ensuring that the email couldn't load additional software. Experience told him that the message itself may contain everything necessary to damage his machine, so he copied it to a USB flash drive and transferred the copy to another, unconnected lab machine without an email application. If this machine became infected, it couldn't spread to any other system and it could be completely erased if necessary and rebuilt.

He opened the message with a character decoder application and discovered only ASCII characters. Nothing that looked like viral code or an embedded internet address. Bryce continued to be cautious. He wasn't familiar with all the potential attacks possible with email messages but he was also curious.

He installed an email application on the isolated lab machine and opened the email. Nothing unexpected happened and he was able to read the contents. The message was simple.

Bryce,

We are aware of your skills and dedication. We would like to talk to you about an opportunity that we believe would challenge you and secure your future.

If this vague information interests you, reply to this email with a simple "Okay."

We hope you will and wait for your response.

The Management.

Bryce printed a copy of the email and took it home to show and discuss with Harper. They discussed the mysterious message over dinner and for another hour afterward. They were both curious and there seemed to be no risk in responding.

The next morning, Bryce opened the email on his still network isolated computer. The message seemed unchanged. Satisfied so far, he closed the mail application, reconnected his computer to the internet and rebooted.

He started the email application and highlighted the message. Ever cautious, he almost didn't open it. He opened it hesitantly. When nothing happened, he selected "Reply."

Another window opened, requesting his input with the original message below. He typed in "Okay" and hit send.

Less than a minute later, he received the following message:

From MAILER-DAEMON@unirelay01.hostedemail.com/

Name or service not known

Dead end. The sender's mail site didn't even exist.

The next day he received another mysterious email.

Bryce,

Message received. Lunch, Saturday, 1:30pm, Saga Restaurant, in the back. Come alone.

The Management.

Bryce was mystified and intrigued. He thought he knew a lot about computer technology but he had no idea how "The Management" managed to receive a message sent to a non-existent mail system. He discussed it with Harper and decided to meet someone for lunch. Why not? It was only lunch.

Saturday, Bryce drove downtown and entered the restaurant two minutes early. He was met by the hostess and led to a table at the back of the restaurant. A woman rose to greet him. Her appearance was stunning. She wasn't beautiful in the sense of a model or a movie start. Her choice of outfit, her hair and her makeup were classic feminine in the style of queens and first ladies. Her white ruffled blouse with a deep neckline under her open, buttonless jacket did little to understate her ample bust line. She captured his eye and held it there almost against his will.

She stood and held out her hand in greeting. He took her hand to shake it. Her hand was soft but her grip firm. Her aura inviting. She introduced herself as Giselle. She already knew his name. She indicated that he should sit. He caught a hint of her perfume and he had to sit.

Conversation during lunch was informal and uninformative. After an hour, he knew little more about the strange invitation than he did before lunch. After the attendant had cleared the plates and silverware, Giselle produced an envelope. "I was told to give this to you," she said in that breathless voice that had captivated him for the last hour.

Bryce reluctantly focused on the envelope and opened it. There was a single sheet of paper inside with the words, "Tuesday, 9am" with an address.

He read the message twice, put the envelope and paper on the table and pushed it in Giselle's direction. "I don't think so," he said in an even but firm voice. "This goes too far. I'm done with the cloak and dagger games."

He excused himself, got up from the table, thanked Giselle for the lunch, bid her good-bye and turned to leave. A voice from the next table caught his attention. "Bryce," it said. "Don't be too hasty."

The man at the table pushed a chair out with his foot. "Have a seat."

Bryce looked at the man and then back at Giselle. She was gone, her disappearance as mysterious as the rest of her.

The gentleman at the table was dressed casually but his manner was formal and his voice commanding. Bryce sat. "Who are you?" he asked.

"You can call me George," the man said.

"George?" mulled Bryce. "Is that your real name?"

"It's the only name you'll get for the moment," said George.

"Okay, George," said Bryce, emphasizing the "George." "What do you want?"

"I want to hire you," answered George. "But if I tell you why I could go to prison."

"If you're serious about wanting to hire me, then you'll have to risk it," Bryce responded.

"Meet me Tuesday at that address," said George pointing to the envelope and paper still on the next table, "and I'll answer your questions."

"Why would I do that?" asked Bryce.

"What you want to know and what I can tell you, can't be discussed here, in an open restaurant. It requires a secure environment and some important paperwork from you. I can tell you, we've already completed an investigation into you and your history. What's next is your agreement and some signatures on necessary documents and I can give you an overview of why I'd like you on my team. Your clearances will take another month or so before I can fully brief you. I can guarantee that, if you'll suspend your reservations until then, you'll never be sorry that you listened to me."

"I need more than just your word," Bryce said.

"Tuesday, 9am," said George. He stood up and left the table.

Bryce stood up, looked at the envelope and paper on the next table, picked it up and went home.

Bryce and Harper spent significant time over the rest of the weekend talking about the mysterious Giselle, George and the possible reasons for another meeting.

They concluded that Giselle and George were the advance persons for a three-letter government agency, probably something so black that even their acronym was top secret. Based on Bryce's background and skills, they assumed the organization was involved in high technology research, probably with military implications.

Bryce was uneasy working for a government agency that secret and the limits it would place on his ability to discuss his work and could isolate him from Harper and damage their relationship. At the same time, he admitted that he was curious.

Harper was understanding but also curious. "You should go on Tuesday and learn what you can. It's not a done deal and, if you get negative vibes, it doesn't have to be."

Tuesday, at five minutes to nine, Bryce stood in front of a windowless, multistory, brick building with a single entry door. He tried the door. It was locked. He stood, undecided on what to do and trying not to look suspicious. He heard a soft click. He tried the door again and it was unlocked. It was exactly nine o'clock.

Inside was a small lobby, no stairs and a single elevator with a single button. He pressed the button and the elevator door slid aside. Inside was a single panel with one button. No indication of up or down. He pressed the button.

Nothing happened for a moment, then the elevator door closed and the elevator descended. He had no feeling of how far down it went, just the sure knowledge that it was down. The elevator stopped and the door opened. He was in a modest sized room with a table, a single chair and a woman who could have been behind the main desk in any municipal library. She was dressed in a single, ankle length dress in muted colors. Her hair was up in a bun held in place by a pair of chopstick sized hair sticks. She had a pair of reading glasses hanging from her neck on a long gold chain and a manila folder in her left hand.

She looked at him, unimpressed with his attire or demeanor. "Please sit," she ordered.

He sat at the table. She put a document and a pen in front of him. "What's this?" he asked.

"You have to sign it before we can proceed," the woman informed him.

He looked at the single page document. It was an affidavit stating that he was who he said he was. It had a number of personal information items, including his date of birth, birthplace, social security number and a place to sign at the bottom declaring that he was the person described in the document.

"What the hell," he thought. "Never up, never in." He signed the document and pushed it across the table toward the woman. She signed the document below his signature, took a notary seal from a pocket in her dress and impressed it over both signatures. "Thank you," she said.

She removed a second, multipage document from the folder and placed it on the table in front of him. He looked at her. She stood unmoving on the other side of the table. He picked up the document to read it without asking what it was. He knew what her answer would be.

The document was a six page non-disclosure agreement. He had seen, and signed, non-disclosures before but nothing this detailed. In addition to the usual items such as work assignments and technology he would be using, it covered everything from the street address of the building, to the operation of the elevator, the color of the floor tile and the physical descriptions of anyone he would be working with.

He read the six pages and took out his cell phone to make some notes.

"That won't work in here," the woman said calmly.

"She was right. His phone didn't work. It didn't even light up. He'd have to rely on his memory if he wanted to review anything later.

He initialed each page where indicated and signed the last page. The woman, initialed each page, signed the last page and impressed her seal over both signatures.

The third document was a standard SF 86, security clearance application. The document was already completed. Bryce was amazed, and appalled, at the completeness and accuracy of the information in the form. He checked it carefully. There was nothing he needed to correct or add. He signed the document and a second form allowing access to his personal records.

The woman signed both documents, added the impressed seal and put them back in the folder. She produced a small, electronic device from a second pocket on her dress. It looked similar to a smart phone but clearly something else.

"What's this?" Bryce asked.

"A fingerprint reader," she told him. "Please hold the fingers of your right hand on the surface of the screen. He pressed his fingers against the screen and the device hummed for a second. "Now your left hand," she requested.

When he had finished, she put the device back in her dress. "Thank you," she said. "Wait here." She turned and left the room by passing behind a screen that was the same surface as the walls and he hadn't known was there until she walked behind it.

About three minutes later, George entered the room through the same slit in the wall. He was carrying a chair similar to the one Bryce was sitting on. He put the chair next to the table opposite Bryce and sat down. He put out his hand. "Harry Forde," he said. "Welcome Bryce."

Bryce shook his hand. "Not George?" he asked.

"Not George," Harry said. "We're done with the cloak and dagger games."

"That's a relief," commented Bryce. "Harry Ford? Really? Like in Harrison Ford?"

"I take a lot of grief about that," said Harry. "It's Forde, with a final 'e'."

"Look, Bryce," Harry continued. "We've put you though a lot to get this far but that's over now. I'll share with you whatever I can before your security clearance is final. I can tell you quite a lot since you're already cleared Top Secret.

"Let me start with what you probably want to know first. We are a research and development organization. We deal with technologies that nobody outside our sphere believes exist and many that are thought not to be possible at all. A few have been developed independently by universities and commercial concerns but none approach the level of sophistication we have achieved.

"We want you to be part of our organization. We believe you are perfect for a position that, unfortunately, I can't describe to you until your final clearance is approved. Until that happens, and it should be less than a month, we want you to immerse yourself in many of our existing technologies to orient you to our processes and procedures and familiarize yourself with the extent and commitment we require.

"During that time, we offer you a salary significantly larger than you now make, and when you assume the position we plan for you, a salary over three times larger than your current salary. Payments will be monthly, direct deposited to the bank account of your choice and from an established government agency. We currently use the IRS for those payments."

Bryce had been listening intently and absorbing what he could. "So, what's next?" he asked.

"You say 'yes'," said Harry. "Then you go home and tell your wife and give notice where you work."

"I need time to talk with my wife before I agree," Bryce insisted.

"There's nothing you can discuss with her," reminded Harry. "Remember the NDA? You can't even tell her my name. You can tell her the salary and that you'll be part of the IRS. Nothing else and I need an answer today. Now. I'm sorry to put you under pressure but I guarantee you you'll never be sorry. You're about to become part of things you only read about in science fiction novels. I wouldn't pass on this opportunity if I were you."

Bryce said "Yes," and went home with a letter offering him a position in the Technology Development department of the IRS with a substantial increase in salary.

At home, Bryce waited for Harper to get home from work. He sat her in the kitchen and showed her the letter.

"That's it?" Harper asked. "A job in the IRS? Are you kidding me?"

Harper," said Bryce. "That letter isn't real. Nothing except the salary is real. I can't tell you anything more only that I have to take the job. It's an opportunity that will never be duplicated. Two people will be here in an hour to answer whatever questions you have that they are permitted to answer."

"This is a lot to absorb," said Harper.

"It's even more than that. Nothing about this even exists at all except the salary," agreed Bryce.

George and Giselle rang the doorbell at seven. Bryce answered the door and let them in. After introductions, they all settled in the living room. George started the conversation. "Harper," he opened, "I'm sure you're overflowing with questions about us and your husband's relationship with us. I can assure you that we are unable to answer any of them. Giselle doesn't know any more than you do and I, and your husband, will suffer unpleasant consequences if we say anything."

"Then why are you here?" asked Harper.

"For several reasons," said George. "First, I want to assure you that there is nothing unseemly or illegal with the work we do and we've asked your husband to be part of. Second, I ask you to trust us and your husband. I recognize that not knowing is a burden that is hard to bear.

"Our group comprises fewer than fifty people, all married or in committed relationships, every one of which involves an individual in the same position we're asking you to assume. Giselle is one of them.

"Of those fifty or so researchers, about fifteen are in positions of authority, a position we're asking Bryce to assume. Giselle is here to discuss some other benefits you might find helpful going forward."

Harper turned to Giselle. Giselle was dressed more conservatively than when Bryce met her in the restaurant, but she still reeked sensual energy. "Harper," she began. "The spouses and significant others of George's team have joined together to help each other cope with the unknown of our mate's employment. We have available appropriate therapists to help us through the rough spots. They know nothing more than the rest of us but they listen and that may be as helpful to you as it has been to many of the rest of us.

"Furthermore, the spouses of the management team, the fifteen contributors with management responsibilities, have a bimonthly get together to let off steam and just have a good time. Our next scheduled meeting is about five weeks away and I'd like to invite you and Bryce to attend. I assure you, attending will allow you to form relationships with others in your situation and generally relieve any pressure accumulated since the last party."

"Thank you for that," commented Harper. "I trust my husband and you seem sincere. I'm not going to try to influence my husband in any way. It's his decision and I believe he has already made it."

The women exchanged contact information and Giselle promised to give Harper all the information needed to attend the coming party. Bryce retrieved the letter, signed it and gave it to George.

After George and Giselle left, Harper asked, "What's next?"

"I need to resign my current position tomorrow and negotiate a reasonable termination date. Then I'll contact George and arrange for a start date. I think we should take a week or more in between to go someplace together and renew our commitment to each other with the new work arrangement in mind."

"I'd like that," smiled Harper. "I think we should start tonight."

The next day, Bryce resigned. He was pressed for information about his new opportunity and questioned about what it would take to keep him on board. In the end, they settled on a two-week period to assist his replacement understand the responsibilities of the job.

Bryce gave George a start date three weeks in the future without a comment or problem.

Harper and Bryce spent a week at a two-bedroom Airbnb on the beach in the US Virgin Islands. The rental alone was six thousand dollars. Harper was uneasy about the expense but Bryce assured her that the bills wouldn't be due before the new paycheck arrived and payment wouldn't be a problem. "We deserve it," he told her.