November 27

Myla didn't sleep well at all that night, but she was still rather refreshed the next morning when she walked into the Benedict Room, right on time. The other eleven employees were chatting animatedly, sipping from their water glasses. Myla noticed for the first time an absence of coffee in the room She never drank it -- she tried once, for a year, and there were disasterous, hyper-active related results -- but the absence of the ubiquitous Tim Hortons cup still jumped out at her. She pushed her hair out of her face and sat down next to Simon.

"You're on time today," she said, shrugging off her coat.

"I'm always on time on Tuesdays," he said, setting down his water, which he had finished in one continuous gulp. "Mondays mess me up because they always come after Sunday, which is like, the weekend."

Myla took a long drink of her water. She was very thirsty. "What about the other days?"

"I'm usually pretty burnt out by Wednesday. Then I got my Tai Chi class on Wednesday nights, and me and The Jones close down the Dog and Frog, so Thursdays are a bust and--"

"Sorry I asked," said Myla. "Wait-- Tai Chi?"

"For sure," said Simon, pushing back his tangled hair. "It really centres me. You know, calms the soul. You should come."

Myla nodded, although she was quite sure she'd never attend a Tai Chi class with Simon Knetter and "The Jones." She'd much rather lead a off-centred life, she thought. She turned her attention to Miss. Irons who was shuffling papers at the head of the conference table.

"Good morning," she said, silencing the dull chatter immediately. "We have a lot to do today, so we'll get started right away. First, I trust everyone has completed Day 1 of their log books?"

Myla had completed the required log book pages the night before. It had been just as banal as her day of gum chewing and card playing -- the afternoon activities the group was subjected to after lunch. The questions were simple, but unsettlingly personal. She had to record how many times she'd gone to the bathroom (two) what she'd had for dinner (ice cream) and how many hours of sleep she'd gotten (six), not to mention a detailed analysis of what her head, stomach, back and limbs felt like at two-hour intervals, right up to midnight. Half-way through her 8 o'clock stomach paragraph, Myla began to wonder if maybe these things they were testing were potentially harmful, despite what Miss. Irons had told them the day before. Why else would they need to know all this stuff?

Miss. Irons was making her rounds with the blue box, tossing the small, black, plastic packages in front of everyone and collecting their log books. Myla ripped her package open and gave an involuntary shudder when four pieces of gum skittered onto the glossy surface of the table. She immediately reached for her iPod, unwilling to listen to even a second of Simon's slobbery gum-chewing.

"As you can see, you will be testing gum again, and while this looks and tastes quite similar to yesterday's product, I can assure you, they are very different." She slowed her pace to flip through a few of the log books. "I must stress the importance that no one but you see the contents of these log books. It is also important that you not discuss the items we test here, or the activities you participate in." She returned to the front of the room. "You may begin."

Myla stared at her gum with dreaded resignation and flipped open the day's booklet to skim through the pages and pages of what seemed like identical questions to the day before. She plugged in her earphones and popped the first piece of gum into her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the French woman, Genevieve, push her chair out from the table and walk over to Miss. Irons. Myla couldn't hear what they were talking about, because of her earphones, but she could tell Genevieve was whispering. Miss. Irons listened to what she had to say and then stood up, took Genevieve's arm and walked with her out of the Benedict Room.

**

Jasper received a message from the Operatives half-way through his morning at IntraGlobal. It was rather embarrassing.

Bea Porter, the front desk clerk, had made a special trip up to the 16th floor to deliver Jasper his bouquet of flowers. Jasper was busy in the copy room, struggling with a particularly nasty paper jam, when Bea snuck up behind him, beaming behind a spray of baby's breath and miniature carnations.

"Someone's got a secret admirer!" She sang, plopping the flowers down on the top of the photocopier. Jasper looked at the flowers and then at Bea, who looked about as excited as a four-year-old on Christmas. "So, Jasper, who's the lucky girl? Do you know, or are you as surprised as I was when these were dropped off at my front desk? Oh, glory, how exciting for you!"

Jasper picked up the bouquet carefully, took a cautious sniff and turned back to Bea, who was giggling softly. "Who delivered these?"

"Oh, I don't know. A man in blue coveralls. Read the card, read what it says!" She waved frantically at the pink card tucked into the middle of the bouquet. Jasper fished it out and read it aloud. "Thanks for lunch at Evansborough Park. You're a total hottie. Love, your secret admirer." Jasper immediately regretted reading the card out loud. Bea was positively giddy. "Thanks Bea," he said, and turned back to his paper jam.

Bea giggled again and rushed out of the copy room, no doubt to spread the word of Jasper and his newfound status as a hottie. He looked at the card again. Obviously the flowers were from the Operatives, but there was no such place as Evansborough Park. The name did sound familiar though, so Jasper dug out a telephone book and flipped to the 'E' section. The only Evansborough was a law firm in a building several blocks from IntraGlobal. Thoroughly puzzled over what the rest of the note meant, Jasper pushed his confusion out of his mind for the moment, intent on fixing the damn photocopier once and for all, and leaving figuring out the exact location of his next meeting till lunch.

Several hours later, he still had no clue what the note meant. But he figured he should go anyway, start heading in the direction of the building with the law firm, and count on the apparent constant surveillance of the Operatives to come to his rescue.

He kept expecting to be pulled into an alleyway, tackled from behind or scooped up into a moving vehicle, but nothing happened. In fact, he was ten minutes late for his meeting with the Operatives when he reached the building in which the Evansborough law firm was located. Jasper stood at the front doors, quite similar to the revolving glass doors of the IntraGlobal building, at a loss. Should he go in? Jasper turned around in a slow circle, trying to spot Morgan's bright blonde head, or the tall and lanky Lucas, but no luck. All he could see was the lunch crowd bustling back and forth, the window washers across the street, dangling from the outside of a blue glass building and a concrete ram leading down to the underground parkade-- which had a large neon "Park" sign anchored above the entrance.

Jasper smirked. He might just be getting the hang of this spy thing yet. He took off with a purposeful step toward the entrance of the parkade, and down the concrete ramp, disregarding the sign warning pedestrians to stay off the roadway. He had to flatten himself against the grimy wall as a Mustang hugged a hairpin turn and nearly clipped him on its way up. An echoey silence met Jasper as he emerged from the up-ramp onto the first level of the parkade. A door slammed in the distance and Jasper checked his watch; he'd be due back at IntraGlobal in about half an hour, and he was still really hungry. He walked up one row of parked cars, unsure of what he was looking for and beginning to doubt he'd solved the Operative's clue at all. Just before he was about to turn around and head back up to the surface, a gleaming white van, with its backdoor propped open only slightly, caught his eye. He approached it and slowly pried open the door to peek inside.

"Hurry up, you're late," said Rita, reaching for his arm and pulling him inside.

"Sorry. It took me awhile to figure out where you were," said Jasper. "Plus now everyone at work is calling me Hotlips, so thanks a lot." He looked around the van. Rita, Pete and Lucas were sitting up against the sides of the van. Morgan was the only Operative not present.

Rita took the white radio, set it in the middle of the van floor and crossed her arms. "Hey, think about it. There is a science to this sort of communication. If we'd given you a phone call, do you think it would have been more or less suspicious than the flowers we sent you?"

Jasper thought about it, and couldn't help but agree that a phone call to a gopher, who had never received a phone call in all the time he'd ever worked at IntraGlobal, would be get much more attention than the flowers. At least more questions would be asked.

Rita took his silence as agreement, nodded and flicked on the radio. "Boss, we're all in."

"Good. We'll have to make this quick. Is Operative Morgan continuing to secure the entrance?" Boss's voice came clear over the speaker, despite them being underground.

"Operative Morgan will remain at the entrance to the Parkade until we're done, Boss. He's contacted us to confirm Operative Jasper was not followed," said Pete.

"Excellent. But we must continue to be vigilant. I feel it's only a matter of time before Operative Jasper's actions become suspicious, and we need to be one step ahead of IntraGlobal on that account and pull Operative Jasper before... it's too late." Boss paused, most likely thinking, as all the Operatives were, about their fallen partner. "On that note, Operative Jasper, tell us what you've learned."

"Um, not a lot," said Jasper, starting to sweat. He didn't want to mention the confidentiality agreement, Morgan had told him not to, saying that they'd figure out how to get past it the next time he met up with Myla. "I mean, it seems she didn't know too much. They're testing a product. They have her there all day in the Benedict Room, as far as I could tell, it's a whole group of people they have working there. They're paying her a lot of money-- $5,000 a week." He stopped, unsure if he'd told Boss that already. It was all a nerve-wracking blur at this point.

"This is a good start, Operative. I have expected IntraGlobal to keep a tight leash on their employees so I don't want you to be discouraged. Meet up with your contact again, and see if you can gain her trust. You'll be surprised how much someone will tell you if they think they can trust you."

Jasper's confidence swelled slightly at these encouraging words. Even though he'd never met him, Boss seemed like his old Grade 3 teacher: confident and supportive. "Thanks Boss, I'll meet with her today."

"Good. Remember: extreme discretion. Good day, Operatives." The radio went silent. Rita flicked it off.

"You better get back to work. We'll drive you," she said, already climbing out of the back of the van and walking around to the driver's door.

**

Mr. Leland was staring out one of the large windows in his expansive office when Miss. Irons entered the room. She shut the heavy door behind her gently, but it still made a soft click, which Mr. Leland acknowledged only by shifting his feet.

Miss. Irons cautiously moved toward her boss's desk. "Sir, I--"

"Security has already informed me of the possible breach," said Mr. Leland. He turned around to face Miss. Irons, who was pale. "What are you doing about it?"

"Well thankfully we haven't gone too far in the program. Mrs. Etois has been removed, and I've determined the leak won't be too detrimental, as she only showed her husband the log book, nothing which would lead anyone to think--"

"Etois?" Mr. Leland interrupted again. "I'm talking about the girl, Ritsmartin."

Miss. Irons' eyes widened and she placed her hands on Mr. Leland's desk-- almost for support. She didn't need another leak. "Ritsmartin? I haven't heard this, what happened?"

"We don't know for sure yet. It could be nothing. But there was a telephone call to her house," said Mr. Leland. He walked over to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. "There was a five second phone call from this building to her home two days ago."

Miss. Irons narrowed her eyes. "But that was the day we hired her, are you sure--"

"We've looked into it. When we called her, we used a different number than this one, possibly a cell phone. This call was made to her home phone number. And it was made on the 16th floor."

"Jasper?"

Mr. Leland sat down. "Exactly. It was an extremely short call though, like I said, no more than five seconds. Still, we need to begin surveillance on both individuals. I'll have security tail Mr. Kleff before and after work. We'll bug Miss. Ritsmartin's home line and follow her starting tomorrow. We can't spare any more employees dropping out of the program, so for now, we'll use extreme caution." Mr. Leland sighed. "This may, after all, just be a case of two people meeting one another and doing what young people do..."