Anka nodded to my message and I put the phone away.
“But, that laid-back attitude can get in the way sometimes too. I spent a week in Seattle one time and I felt like they got so much more done. You know? It was like all the Starbucks had them hopped up on caffeine and they didn’t stop to rest or go to a drum circle or anything. It was really disappointing though, I went to a ‘gourmet’ pizza place and they couldn’t even tell me the IBUs of their IPA on tap. Can you believe that? I guess I’m spoiled living down here where good beer is everywhere and they know all about it when you go out. I think my favorite beer right now is a porter, but I used to be about the IPAs. The more hops the better. Am I right?”
Jones’ jaw muscle was twitching wildly as Smith guided the car off of the freeway at the Lloyd Center exit. We drove by the park and turned left in front of the mall before pulling in to a parking garage near the convention center.
“Out.” Smith didn’t sound happy.
We weren’t either. Anka’s plan involved getting other government organizations involved, not impostor FBI agents who worked for her boss.
Creamed Corn
We both sat there for a moment contemplating our next move. Anka looked at me and, for the first time, I think I genuinely saw her, not her trained act, but her. She was scared and lost. Me too.
“Out,” Agent Jones insisted.
I squeezed Anka’s hand one more time before turning to open the door. Instead of slowly opening the Prius’ back door, I flung it open and smacked it into Agent Smith’s hip. He grunted and glared at me. I didn’t wait. With a jump and roll, learned from Parkour, I exited the car and landed on the ground at Smith’s feet. A quick sweep with my leg dropped him and then I jumped on his back and put him in the sleeper hold until he stopped moving.
While I struggled with Smith, Anka picked up the cue and jumped out to tangle with Agent Jones. They were locked in a more traditional struggle of hand-to-hand combat with traded strikes and blocks. They both, apparently, knew their stuff and were evenly matched in skill. Unfortunately, Anka didn’t have the strength or reach of Jones, so she had to keep giving ground under his attack.
I finished with Smith, took his keys and gun and got into the driver’s seat of the car. I’m not sure that it counts as using my power, but I recalled an episode of
The Office
where Dwight and Andy were fighting. Andy won by slowly creeping up on Dwight with his Prius running in battery mode. I did the same. Anka had to keep backing away to stay out of Jones’ reach. I inched toward him with the car.
Anka saw me, smiled slightly and stepped to her left. I timed it perfectly to slam on the accelerator and knock Jones to the ground just as Anka slipped out of the way. She jumped into the passenger’s seat and I floored it. Jones struggled to his feet and pulled out his gun, but we were around the corner by the time he was ready to fire.
“So, Super-Secret Agent Sombrero, what’s the plan now?”
“I…I really don’t know.”
“It’s alright, maybe we can grab some food and talk about it. Do you have any money left?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“Good, I’d hate to have to hacky sack for my dinner.”
She didn’t even crack a smile. I exited the parking garage and headed north. The Burgerville by the convention center would be a good place to stop and rest. Even though it was a short trip, Anka didn’t say or do anything for the rest of the ride. We got to the fast food restaurant and she numbly got out of the car and followed me inside. We both immediately went to the bathroom to wash our faces and tidy up after our scuffle. I waited for her in the hallway outside the bathrooms.
“Hey, are you alright?”
“Sure,” she shrugged.
I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t know what else to say at this point. We went over, ordered our food and sat down. It felt good to be doing something almost normal. But Anka was gone. Something snapped inside her and all her professional bravado left. She just sat with a thousand-yard stare that made me feel like I was intruding. Our food came, I thanked our server and we started eating. I tried to start a conversation, but Anka made no response.
I was drowning. I’ve never been great with women or emotions, but putting them both together made it nearly impossible for me. My attempts at conversation became weaker and weaker until I finally gave up under the silent barrage. We just sat, munching our fries in silence. Her mood became mine: despair.
Eventually the salty food demanded more carbonated beverage, as is the natural order of things. So, I got up and went to refill our drinks. About half-way through my dejected shuffle to the soda fountain, I saw the employees behind the counter joking around and laughing. Soon I could barely keep from laughing myself. I filled the drinks and realized what happened. My ninja-brain-powers weren’t just about kicking ass. I truly mimicked whatever I was seeing and seeing Anka sad made me sad. I knew I couldn’t just sit back down in that cone of sorrow. We’d never leave this place, and while the food is quite delicious, the decor leaves something to be desired.
I dropped our drinks at the table and just kept walking toward the door. From a box just inside I pulled out a can. I planned to put it back, so I figured the food drive people wouldn’t mind. Walking back over to Anka I did everything to avoid looking at her. I sat down and put the can of creamed corn on the table between us.
I addressed the can as if it were Anka, “I realized that my brain stuff doesn’t just let me do what other people do, but I feel what they feel. So I was taking on all of your sadness and it nearly broke my brain. So, for now I’m going to talk to this can of creamed corn. Don’t take it personally, I just need to be able to feel my own feelings.”
I resisted looking at her, even though I wanted to see her reaction. I wanted to see her smile again and bathe in the warmth. I heard her sigh. I hoped it wasn’t a man-point stealing sigh, but I suspected it might be.
“You’re right, Corey, I shouldn’t be sad. We have work to do. I don’t have time for this.”
“Whoa. Hey there. That’s not what I said. You have every right to be sad. Your boss tried to kill you on your first mission, then you brilliantly figured out a way to circumvent your boss, but he intercepted the call from the FAA and tried to kill us again. But you figured out that the FBI agents were fakes so we had plenty of warning to escape. But you also got a cute new outfit, so there’s that.”
I think I heard a smile in her response, “It has been a rough couple of days. But I do look cute in this.”
I couldn’t resist. I looked away from the creamed corn and back to her. Her eyes were still sad, but her smile was full and authentic. I smiled back.
“Now, do you think that Prius is LoJacked?”
She laughed, long and loud.
“Probably.”
“What’s say we sell it?”
Her responding grin was angelically devious and wholly lovely.
I pulled out my phone to post the ad on Craigslist when I saw a text message waiting. Odd, since I hadn’t given the phone number to anyone. It read, “Your brain will fail. You’ll die like the rest. I have a cure. ~Grosskopf”
I handed the phone to Anka, still not sure how to react. She read the message, re-read it and then started tapping furiously at the phone.
“I still have access to the phone registry, I can trace this phone number to the location or last known cell tower.”
“Won’t that compromise us again? Won’t your boss try to kill us?”
“This is pretty low-level stuff. It shouldn’t raise any flags for me to log in. They’ll only notice it when they get the monthly report or if they decide to pull it manually. I’m guessing that’s not going to happen in the next ten minutes or so.”
“I hope not…”
“Ah, here it is. It’s a prepaid mobile phone and…wait, where were we this morning?”
“When, before we went to OHSU or before our plane blew up?”
“When we bought the phones.”
“That was the Pioneer Place Mall.”
“That’s what I thought. And it’s on today’s date, just a few minutes after we were there.”
“What’s that now?”
“Grosskopf. He bought a prepaid phone from the same kiosk where we got ours, not half-an-hour after we were there. We were still in the food court when he was there.”
“I thought he was in prison.”
“Me too. But I guess whoever has this phone and is texting you as Grosskopf isn’t actually in prison.”
“So, do we meet him?”
Anka thought for a moment, “Yes, but we need to be careful. We don’t really have any other leads to go on, and if he’s right you might die, but it could be my boss again trying to trap us.”
“But if your boss knew that we’d bought phones at that kiosk and took the time to grab my phone number from the paperwork, wouldn’t he just call in a drone strike?”
“You’re right. He’s not the subtle type. But we still don’t know if this is Grosskopf or not. Where would be a good place to meet that would give us a chance to observe him first?”
“How about the Ice Chalet?”
“You’re going to have to give me a bit more to work on here. Is that a gelato place? There seem to be a million of those in Portland.”
“No, it’s the ice skating rink at Lloyd Center,” she gave me a blank look, “It’s a mall near here. But, more importantly, the rink is in the middle of the mall and you can see it from three different levels. We’ll be able to see whoever this is before we decide if we want to meet them. And, if we don’t, we’re in a mall with dozens of exits and hundreds of witnesses.”
“That’s a remarkably good idea.”
“Thanks?”
“I’m not trying to be condescending or anything. I’m sorry if it came out that way. It’s a great plan. The only thing I’d add to it is that you should go to meet Grosskopf alone while I keep watch. Tell him I died in the plane crash or something. That’ll give you a bead on how much he knows. If he believes I’m dead, then he’s clearly not working for my boss.”
“So, you want me to text him back and set up the meeting?”
“Yeah, but give us some time. What time is it now?”
“It’s five-thirty.”
“Okay, the mall is open until…”
“Probably nine.”
“Great, let’s meet him at seven-thirty.”
“Okay. Seven-thirty at the Ice Chalet.”
I sent the text and got the confirmation from Grosskopf.
“Now what do you want to do? Why the extra time?”
“You are going to learn to play poker.”
“Uh…what?”
“Maybe we won’t get to the cards exactly, but you need to learn how to spot a liar. Look up some videos. I’m going to go and order a milkshake.”
I took a moment to enjoy watching her walk away before turning to YouTube for poker videos. Most of them were about the cards though. I figured that wasn’t going to be helpful. I browsed through some on lying and they pointed to lie detector tests. By the time Anka returned I had accomplished absolutely nothing.
“Can I have some of your milkshake?”
“Yes. If you can figure out which of the following statements is true. I’ll tell you three things about myself and you have to guess which one is true.”
“Okay…”
“First, I was vegan for two years in high school. Second, I can run a five-minute mile. Third, I know all the words to every song in The Little Mermaid. So, which one is true?”
I stared at her for a long time trying to figure out which one sounded most true, but they all sounded plausible. Finally I just guessed.
“Um, the Little Mermaid thing.”
“Nope, it was being vegan.”
She placed her tongue on the straw and slowly wrapped her lips around it before sucking up a mouthful of milkshake. She licked her lips after swallowing and looked up at me through her lashes.
“Care to try again?”
“Do you have any advice for me? I’m clearly not very good at this.”
Like a sheet dropping, her sultry face changed into a professor.
“Sure. What you’re doing is not evaluating the statements for feasibility, but watching the person for signs of lying. That’s why I mentioned poker. The best players say that you don’t play your cards, you play your opponents.”
“I’m pretty sure that was in a James Bond movie.”
“It probably was. But it’s still true. Look for anything that’s different in body language, eye contact, breathing, pulse rate, pupil dilation, anything.”
Poker Face
I did my best to focus on all the aspects of Anka’s body language, tone and attitude as she talked. I kept getting distracted by her dimples dancing in and out of existence.
“Okay, we’ll make it a bit easier this time. Now we’ll do two truths and one lie. You just need to pick the one that’s a lie. You ready?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“First, I can put both feet behind my head. Second, I’ve never been to Disneyland. Third, I can’t roll my tongue.”
I tried to take in her breathing, body language, tone and all of that, but it was just too much for me to process. I kept slipping back into the words and trying to figure out how probable each one was of being true. Once she said all of them I didn’t have a way of going back and evaluating the statements. I guessed.