Twenty minutes later, I left my apartment on 59th and Lexington Ave wearing tight blue jeans, brown leather knee high boots, a beige taffeta Burberry trench coat, and brown felt floppy hat with my red hair wavy. I opened by umbrella and took a step off of my front step ready to embrace the cold rain that might hit my face.
New York City in the fall was gorgeous; however when it rained, it brought down all the foliage to the dirty city streets. As the rain started to pour, I walked faster to the 59th St metro downtown to head to Grand Central Terminal.
Like the white rabbit, I was haunted by time. I needed to arrive to Campbell Apartment to receive a coded message by a bartender with an angel wing broach.
I rushed down the steps of the subway where the warmth of the heat they blast during these cold days hit my face with a fierce anger. I check out my surroundings while I wait for the train on the platform. I am on constant lookout for those who may be following me. Ever since Istanbul, I have become a new target that ranked orange in my division. I needed to keep a low profile and avoid entering the red zone.
A few minutes later, the train screeched to a halt. I hopped on for a short ride downtown. The constant push from commuters makes me double check my pockets to make sure I had the flashdrive. Upon arrival to Grand Central Terminal, I went against the flow of commuters to take a secret flight of stairs only true New Yorkers knew about. It lead to the walkways through the windows of the terminal to a secret bar called Campbell Apartment.
As I made my way through the walkway, I observe the famous constellation that covers the entire ceiling of the terminal. For a quick moment, I observe the rush hour down below. Chaos. Absolute chaos. Travelers of all ages and races try to run across the marble floor of the terminal to catch a train to their destination. This thought quickly reminds me to pay attention to the time once more.
I casually walk through the entrance to a small table that overlooks the rush hour. Minutes later and half a drink down, I see the sparkle of the broach from the corner of my eye walking towards me. She places a cocktail napkin down with a refill of my Johnny Walker Whiskey on the rocks.
“Jupiter is arriving via Waldorf at 1745. Walk the winter solstice to hear the whispers from the baron nearest the north east corner.”
As she walked away I took a sip of my fresh drink. I opened the napkin and a map was found. I memorized it before I put it in my pocket. I paid the bill and retraced my steps to the main corridor. I followed the constellation on the ceiling to the vault of whispers. At 1750 I was in place at the northeast corner.
I looked to the opposite corner and saw a man in a grey fitted suit with blue dress shoes open the New York Times. Seconds later I hear, “Jupiter rises at 61. We need approval from Apollo to enter Mr. Olympus at 2030. Do you have the lightning bolt to deliver the final message to destroy Hades?”
“Yes, I will walk by to deliver the lightning bolt securely. Wait until 1945 for the next code.”
I waited until a crowd entered the vault to swiftly make my way towards the baron. I gently bumped into him and placed the flashdrive safely into his pocket. I continued to walk away with a quick pace to keep up with the push of the commuters.
I crossed the main corridor once more and braced myself for the cold rain. Once outside, I popped the collar of my trench coat and opened up my umbrella. I decided to walk back to the apartment to reflect on the excitement of my first lead CIA assignment.
I looked back at my watch as it read 1800. I had an hour left before the next assignment. I was determined to stay calm and brace myself for the exciting life as a new leading agent.