<a class="postlink" href="http://i0006.photobucket.com/albums/0006/findstuff22/Best%20Images/Travel/BESTBrooklyn_Bridge.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Business tycoon Brent Millers gave a slightly frustrated huff as his intercom buzzed yet again. He'd been reviewing budget sheets, or trying to, all morning. Yet somehow, Denise, his secretary, didn't seem to get the point that he did not wish to be disturbed.<br/><br/>Pressing the button on the intercom, he tried not to sound impatient when he said, "Yes?"<br/><br/>"Sorry, Mr. Millers. Your daughter is here to see you."<br/><br/>His eyes softened at this news. A visit from Charlene was always welcome. "Show her in, Denise." he said, somewhat softer.<br/><br/>"Daddy!" Charlene had never outgrown the habit of using the childlike title for him, and he was secretly pleased by this fact. His 22 year old daughter rushed into the room and plopped into his lap, planting a kiss on his cheek. Her choice of attire was, as usual, plain. Her soft, lusterless brown hair pulled back into a tail at the base of her neck. Her thick glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose. She carried the same worn-out, hideous thing she called a purse. Secretly, Brent wondered if it was still alive...<br/><br/>Chuckling, as she squirmed into his lap, he returned the greeting, and held her in a loose embrace on his lap, "Muffin... what brings you by this afternoon?"<br/><br/>Smiling brightly, Charlene launched into a telling of her day, concluding with a not-so-subtle hinted request for money. When she left his office twenty minutes later, she clutched a few bills in her hand. However, it wasn't the money that seemed to interest her most. She had also discreetly glimpsed many of the papers on her father's desk. The information she'd gathered there interested her greatly.<br/><br/>When she reached the car that waited for her at the curb, Mark was on the phone. He'd clamped the voice disguiser to the phone. She knew that he would sound completely different over the phone, thanks to the device. As she took her position in the passenger seat, he held a finger to his lips and switched the phone to speaker mode so that she could her her father's voice. Listening quietly, she pulled the zipper of her bag and removed a cell phone, a gps tracking device, and several items that looked as though the could pass for weapons and listening devices. These, she stowed in the glove box before dropping her bag at her feet.<br/><br/>Tugging at the band in her hair, she released the ponytail and sent a shower of gentle waves falling over her shoulders. Next came the glasses, revealing sharp, intelligent green eyes. Finally, she removed the plain sweater, exposing the form-fitting printed t-shirt underneath.<br/><br/>"This is preposterous." her father sounded flustered, "How can you possibly have access to such classified information? I will not stand for decep-"<br/><br/>"You'll stand for whatever I choose, Mr. Millers," Mark interrupted him brusquely, "Frankly, you are not in a position to bargain. You know as well as I the delicate situation you are in. Your firm has been overburdened with responsibility, over taxed with financial stress, and under staffed for far too long. Should you choose to refuse our aid... your company will fall. Now... what do you plan to do with the upcoming...<span style="font-style: italic">celebrity</span>issue?"<br/><br/>"How do you-!" Her father hissed, then made an audible effort to regain his composure, "You seem more informed than even I, my elusive friend... Surely you know already that I plan to keep Mr. Jinks well guarded during his stay in our city. His status as a celebrity, along with his involvement in my... efforts... could very well spell out salvation for my company's future."<br/><br/>"That," Mark said warmly, "Is exactly why we have called you today, Mr. Millers. We wish to aid you in this effort. Our offer is this: We will assume total responsibility for your celebrity visitor for the duration of his stay. All security matters, itinerary concerns, and other involvement of his activities will be surrendered to our care. Every detail involving his business dealings and other affairs will be filtered through us. In exchange for our service, you will keep our involvement secret. You will not reveal a single detail of what little knowledge your pathetic investigators might have turned up about us. Yes, Mr Millers... we know you've been researching. In payment for our services we require one of two options: a fee in the amount of $1,000,000.00, or a favor, to be collected at any time, any place, as we see fit. You are free to choose either option. Are these terms acceptable?"<br/><br/>Grudgingly, Brent Millers agreed to the deal, and Mark hung up the phone. Eyes sparkling, he turned to Charlene. "And there you have it..." he winked at her, "He'll never suspect you were involved. You were just in his office, and the call came from Nebraska... or so his tracers will tell him. You get to guard your life-long crush... the famously beautiful Andy Jinks... and you get to save your father's company. Not bad for a day's work..."<br/><br/>Charlene smiled, a broad, infectious smile, "I don't think I'll ever get over the excitement of a new job... the thrill of a new disguise... But this one is so... personal. We've done this so many times... but it never hit so close to home. Do you really think we're not taking too much of a risk?"<br/><br/>"Piece of cake, love..." Mark started the car, looked over his shoulder, then pulled out into the busy, down-town traffic.