Rachael Marion
Who is Grey?
Getting into the office building was the easy part. Even finding the file that she was looking for gave the woman no trouble. The problems were coming from the contents of the file itself. There was no organization whatsoever within the fat manila sleeve. So, though it was something that she hated to do, she slid the contents from the folder and spread the papers across the desk. The woman took a few seconds to memorize its order, just in case, before she began her rummaging. Quickly, while still being as careful as possible, she began skimming though the various documents and notes, in search of the incriminating document. She had been informed that the subject matter of this particular document was falsified and wanted to see for herself. If it was, she would have no other choice but to make it disappear. I may have done some bad things in my past, but I am not about to get blamed for something I did not do.
“Who is Grey?”
Her eyes flitted across the question paper clipped to the top of a stack of about nine or ten sheets. The question had been hand-written, underlined, and circled. It caused her to pause in her search for the erroneous document. Quickly, she noted the time from the clock on the desk. She had a few seconds to spare for that thought. The name “Grey” was second nature to her, but she had never realized that the main agent assigned to her case had not made that connection yet. Adrianna “Addy” Grey was her alter ego. She was basically a cover ID. After her brief time in Witness Protection, she learned that a cover identity was nothing without a history behind it that could be researched and verified. After all, the reason she was no longer in Witness Protection was because the man she was hiding from had found her while she was in the program. So, after leaving the program, she created Addy. Addy had school records, legal records, even a job history and an active bank account that began when the “girl” would have been old enough to work. For a long time, she had fooled those who were in pursuit of her, partially because of her extensive cover history, but also because of the things Addy did that she never would have in her own name.
Old news, she thought, turning her attention back onto the paper. The woman found the nature of the question to be unusual in the agent’s file. She almost wanted to write the answer for him. Addy is whoever I needed her to be. Up until recently, that is. The name was still golden in some circles, but it had been on the grid long enough. A good alias only remains that way when you hang it up for a little while. That, however, was not the biggest problem with the name “Addy Grey.” Once again, her pursuer had discovered that this was simply a mask she had been hiding behind. He had found her out. Being Grey was no longer protecting her. But the agent had been pursuing her almost as long as this man had been. How had he not pieced the true identity of Addy Grey together by now?
Against her will, she recalled the man she had been running from for so long. His face, so like hers, except in the eyes. She had never understood what she had done to offend him, but from the moment she breathed he had hated her. He was at an advantage, really, being several years older than her, but she felt her ability to stay invisible gave her a bit of an edge. It was important. Again, she forced herself to stay on task, refusing to think about that part of her life.
Let’s find that document… she thought, glancing at the clock again. Time to get back to work.
The pages beneath the question were a hodgepodge of records, typed-text, and hand-written files. They began hand-written, with a loose connection between her and Grey. The agent had considered the possibility that Grey was an asset or a friend, but recognized the fleeting appearances of the name and wondered if she was even a real person. Smart man… The woman was impressed that she had been able to fool someone so familiar with her file for so long. There were three official records. Two were for government hacking and the third was for some nonsense involving a bank account. That third file gave the woman some pause. She had never been one to care for an excess of money, though for a brief time she did a bit of laundering for an associate. It was not something she cared to do, feeling it condoned morally shady behavior, but she had, at the time, owed that particular person a favor. After she had taken care of the favor, she resolved never to deal in money or banking again. It was too much trouble, and not at all what she was interested in doing with her time. So to see this record stating she, as Grey, had robbed a bank caused her some confusion. This was not what she was looking for, but it was also a false document. Someone was setting her up on all fronts, not just under her own name. She grabbed the file from the set of papers and rolled it up into her sleeve. She still had to find the file she came in for initially.
Almost as an afterthought she glanced up once more at the collapsible clock sitting on the agent’s desk. She had three minutes to get what she needed and to get out. She cursed in her head once again about the disorganization in the file, but her fingers sifted through the various documents until she saw what she was looking for. Triumphantly, she held up the document, checking it over to be sure that it was exactly what she was looking for. It was. She rolled the paper and slid it up her sleeve with the other document and then gathered the rest of the file contents to return them to the manila folder. Hastily but carefully—she had wasted any extra time reserved for excess care by reviewing the Grey file. The folder was placed back into the file cabinet and she was on top of the desk, shimmying through the ceiling tile just in time.