Vox Mentis

Nnnnnn I think this guy meant what he said. So, like. Total creeper. I mean, come on. He's probably in human trafficking or something shady like that.

You have a bad feeling about him, trust your gut. I would take off once you're done eating.

You swallow the last of your hash browns. "Well, thanks for thinking of me, but you know, I'm pretty happy with what I've got going on now. Thanks, though." You gulp coffee dregs. "Thanks for the breakfast." You reach for your bag.

"It pays."

You hesitate. "How much?" You catch yourself. What are you thinking? He's wearing a plastic watch. He's going to take you to some dingy apartment and lock the door. There is no job. "Look, you know what, I'm just gonna pass."

He reaches into a pocket and opens his wallet. When you grabbed it, you'd noted no more than twenty dollars in there. "How much do you want?" He unzipped a section and tossed notes on the table. You stare. There's a lot of them. "We wear cheap clothing because it would look odd if we stood around on street corners in ten thousand dollar suits."

"I see," you say, not really listening.

"Let go of your bag."

You look at him. Apparently it's obvious that you've been thinking of snatching that cash and running like hell. You release the bag.

Ask what penalty there is for failing, because this guy seems like the kind of sadistic asshole who'd make sure there is one, no matter how innocuous-sounding the test.

oh wait, you know what this is, this is like that movie where they found the magicians to induct into the secret magician society. This is fine then, just make sure you know what will happen if you fail the test.

"And what if I fail this test of yours? What's the penalty?"

"No penalty. You get a first-class air ticket to our head office in DC. You spend one week there, doing a round of tests. If you pass, you become a trainee on a starting salary of sixty thousand dollars. Fail, and we fly you home again with five thousand in an envelope for your trouble. How's that sound?"

"Like a scam."

He laughs. "I know. It does sound like a scam. I thought the same thing when they approached me."

You keep looking at the cash on the table. You don't want to. It's irresistible.

"You went to school," Lee says. "I mean, at some point. They wanted to teach you things you didn't care about. Dates and math and trivia about dead presidents. They didn't teach you persuasion. Your ability to persuade is the single most important determinant of your quality of life, and they didn't cover that at all. Well, we do. And we're looking for students with natural aptitude."

Fuck it. What have you got to lose?

"Okay," you say. "I'm interested; I'll take a ticket."

He smiles. You wonder if there really is a job. He's kind of believable.

"Show me something," you say. "Something official."

He slides a business card across the table. His full name is Lee Child. You tuck this into your bag, feeling better.

"Now you know who I am," says Lee. "Who are you?"

"Elise."

"Okay, Elise. Are you a cat person or a dog person?"