CIA

Some day, years ago, Owen was locking his office off work and going home.

He had just turned the key in the lock when he heard a voice from behind him say:

"Doctor Owen?" It wasn't one of his colleagues; it didn't sound like any student's or teacher's voice at all.

"Yes?" Owen turned back and found it was Sophie, the secretary of the university president.

Sophie was a small woman with large eyes that seemed to look through you rather than at you—she could have been an old hound dog looking for someone who would pet her. She wore glasses that gave her face a slightly comic appearance, but she always looked as if she were about to cry. It was hard not to feel sorry for her because even though she must be nearly forty-five by this time (Owen guessed) there remained something childlike and vulnerable about her. And now here she stood before him.

"University President wants to see you." Sophie put a big smile on her face.

That meant nothing to Owen; the President of the university wanted things done all the time, and he couldn't get enough people around him to do their bidding. But then again maybe this was important, after all...

"In his office?" Owen pointed in the direction of the president's office.

"Not really," said Sophie, smiling still more broadly. "He wants you right away. Just follow me."

"Ok!" Owen quickly finished locking his office. Then he followed Sophie down the corridor past several offices where students were working probably late into the night, some sitting on couches while others leaned against walls talking animatedly. They were probably taking advantage of being so close to the library, which closed only at eleven o'clock. As far as Owen knew most of these young men and women weren't very serious about what they were studying. In fact, many of them might never graduate. Most of them wouldn't amount to much except perhaps to work part-time jobs somewhere else or become baristas. Some would do neither. Many would simply drift aimlessly along until they either dropped out or graduated, depending upon how much money their parents were able to contribute. The ones who did manage to make it through would go on to take over positions such as secretaries, receptionists, clerks, cashiers, waiters/waitresses, bartenders, and other low-level service industry employees. A few would eventually find themselves working in fast-food restaurants, gas stations, and convenience stores. Others might end up flipping burgers or stocking shelves in grocery store chains. Still, others would wind up selling cars or washing windows or performing similar tasks for the likes of Home Depot, Walmart, or Kmart.

They went out through the double doors of the main building and across an open area between two buildings toward the administration block where President Green's offices lay. The sky overhead was still bright enough to make him feel uneasy about being outside without a coat on such a cold evening but the light from inside seemed warm enough even for November. As they walked Owen noticed that Sophie was walking a bit too briskly and he wondered why.

A big black Chevrolet van parked along the road. It looked new, with tinted windows that were not completely opaque. A man got down off the passenger's seat and opened the door of the van for Owen as they approached it. There was no way Owen could tell if there was anyone else sitting inside except perhaps the driver.

The man who'd gotten out first introduced himself as James T. Gant and offered his hand. He spoke in a calm, measured tone that made him seem older than his thirty-one years.

As soon as Owen stepped up into the van he saw why the window glass had been so heavily treated with some kind of film. His own reflection stared back at him, distorted by the strange effects of the dark glasses worn by the men who were standing next to the window. He wore long coats over their suits and ties under which Owen guessed they would be wearing body armor underneath. These men were obviously members of a secret organization. Or perhaps they were government agents. Who knows? Maybe they were both.

The engine started immediately. The other man drove them off campus at speed. They went past the university buildings, then onto a highway where they passed by a string of brightly lit motels, hotels, and bars. After another ten minutes, the car came to a stop. The driver pulled out his cell phone and began speaking to whoever was on the other side.

"What is all this about? Am I going to meet the university President or what?" After a long silent drive, Owen couldn't help to ask.

"We're meeting someone," answered Gant. "That's all I know, and I'm afraid we can't tell you anything else."

They sat there in silence for almost fifty minutes before finally arriving at a building well back from the street. This was clearly not a place where tourists stopped by. The neighborhood was quiet and secluded and appeared to be inhabited mostly by elderly couples who lived alone.

Owen got out of the car and followed them inside the building. He was led through the door and up some stairs. A woman came forward to greet him. "Dr. Owen, I'm Doris Jenkins. Nice to meet you." She shook hands with him and smiled, then nodded thanks to the two men who brought Owen here, suggesting they could leave. One of them took off down the hall while the second waited until Owen and Doris were alone together.

"Please come this way, Dr. Owen," said the woman. She held the door open and ushered him into a room furnished with a couple of chairs, and a desk.

Doris gestured at the chair. "Have a seat, please."

"Thanks." Owen seated himself and placed his briefcase on the floor beside him. He picked it up when Doris left the room.

She returned carrying a cup of coffee and set it down on the table before Owen. "Thank you." He accepted the steaming hot beverage gratefully.

"So," she continued. "my boss said he needs another 10 minutes. Sorry for the waiting." She shrugged apologetically.

"No problem. Thanks anyway." Owen sipped the coffee and tried to keep from spilling any on his clothes.

"I'll let you know as soon as he's ready."

Then, Owen was there alone. He stood up and checked around. This room was quite empty except for the furniture and a number of photographs on the wall. There was also a large flat-screen television mounted high on the far wall.

After checking the rest of the apartment he decided to sit back down and drink his coffee. He hadn't eaten since lunchtime and it was getting late. Besides, he needed to think about what was happening tonight.

There was something odd about this whole affair. First of all, there was no reason to expect a call from the University President asking him to drop everything and come to see him right away. If this was important, there should have been plenty of advance notice. So, obviously, it couldn't be him, President Green.

That meant somebody else must want to talk to Owen. Why? What did they want with him? And who the hell were these men who escorted him here? These questions swirled around in his head for several moments until the door suddenly flew open and a tall man dressed entirely in black entered the room.

His hair was cut short and combed straight back. His skin was pale and smooth. He moved with a grace and ease that suggested great physical strength and agility. At first glance, Owen thought this guy might actually be some kind of superhero or a martial arts master. Only later, once he'd taken a closer look, would he realize that he had seen this same type of person before.

"Good evening, Doctor Owen," said the man. "You are expected."

He extended his hand. Owen shook it.

"My name is Michael Caine, agent of the CIA, by the way," the man told him.

"Nice to meet you, sir!" Owen greeted him.

Then he sat down and relaxed.

"Dr. Owen Adrews, the top paleographer and historian in the state, even in America. Is that you?"

"Yes, I think," Owen replied.

"Well, I guess that explains your presence here," said Michael. "And my interest in you."

"How do you mean?" asked Owen, wondering if he ought to be worried about what might happen next.

Michael paused for a moment. "There is something that we may need your help with. Here is what will happen next: After our conversation, Doris will come in and lead you into another room where you will see and hear something very extraordinary and highly confidential; the team leader of this project will have a talk with you, which can take quite a while I guess, to confirm all the details and answer your loads of questions -- I know you have many questions in your head now. However, I'm here to tell you that this is a two-way choice: if the team leader thinks you are qualified, you can choose to join us or not. The point is that, no matter what, you are going to sign a confidentiality agreement to make sure you will not speak of, publicly or privately, whatever you see and hear in that room. Otherwise, you may get yourself into trouble. Am I clear?"

"Clear as crystal," Owen agreed.

"Good. If you excuse me, I have a lot of things to deal with." The agent stood up and shook hands with Owen, then he walked out of the room.

Doris came in just as Michael was leaving. "Dr. Owen. Please follow me."

------

"Dad, why do you stop?" Ellie raised her head.

"I think you are asleep."

"I'm everything but asleep."

"Well, I believe it's late, and you should go to sleep."

"What's it? What did you see and hear?" Ellie was so hooked up by her father's "story". She had to know what he'd seen. She already felt like she was part of this secret.

Then Ellie seemed to think up something, and said, " Or should I ask? Because of the agreement between you and CIA."

"Eh, forget about it, " Owen waved his right hand a little like repelling a fly in front of his face, "I'm old, sick, which means I'm useless to them. As long as I don't publish all these things on the internet, they won't bother to harass me. Furthermore, no one is going to believe me, even if I told them all about it."

"I do," Ellie interrupted urgently.

"I know," Owen smiled a little, "I'm glad you are interested." He poured some whiskey into his glass, then some into Ellie's.

She paused for another moment, then turned back to him. "Was it aliens?"

He laughed at that because even though it wasn't funny, it felt pretty good. Then he said, "No! No, there were no aliens!"

Ellie frowned. "But how could it be anything else but aliens? Do you mean it's not?"

Owen laughed again. "Of course, it's not. That would have been too easy. And it's not a spaceship, or a flying saucer, or any of those other things people usually imagine."

"What was it then, Dad?" Ellie asked, her eyes now wide open and intent.

He took a deep breath and told the story, with all the details he could remember. As he spoke, Ellie got very still in her seat. The only sound around was his voice.

Owen was enjoying this moment, feeling like they were back in the past when he told bedtime stories to Ellie every night. Only this time, the story was real. He was telling the truth and had not exaggerated a single word. In fact, he realized that the more he talked about what happened to him, the better he remembered it all. It was almost as if the memory was coming alive again.