A Life Less Ordinary


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The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

In response to the knock on her door, Miss Parker coughed and looked up from the latest security report she was filling out to see Sydney and Broots standing in her doorway.

“What?” she barked.

“Um, M…Miss Parker?”

“What is it, Broots?”

He stepped forward and dropped a sheet of paper on her desk. Picking it up, Miss Parker couldn’t help noticing the smile that was curling Sydney's lips. “Something amusing you, Pavlov?” Not expecting an answer, she looked down at the sheet of paper and groaned. “And why, in their infinite stupidity, are we being sent to the funeral of some guy in Receiving?”

She rolled her eyes and glared at Broots, who responded indignantly to her jibe. ”Bennie was a friend of mine!”

“And is he the one with no tongue, no toes or no…”

“No fingers. On one hand,” the technician admitted, eyeing at his own ten digits. “And missing some on the other.”

Miss Parker rolled her eyes before blowing her nose, then looked more carefully at the page before glancing at Sydney. “I can’t help thinking there’s more to this than meets the eye. They’d never pay for us just to go to a funeral.”

Sydney let the door shut behind him and spoke in a lowered voice. “The report I got suggested that one of the missing Blue Files might also be in the same location.”

“So why doesn’t Lyle have to don his best black suit and go? That’s his job, not mine. We don’t have an official finger in that pie.”

“Mr. Lyle’s on vacation.” Broots didn’t look as though the fact was upsetting him too much. “That’s why we’re being sent.”

“And to which wonderful corner of the world are we being sent?”

“Y…you should be happy, Miss Parker. We’re going to California.” She glared at him and he tried to justify his remarks. “You might be able to get rid of your cold.”

* * * * * * * * *

Los Angeles, California

Jarod’s Story

Sunny California on a beautiful Tuesday evening and I'm beginning to have very serious doubts about my sanity. Not only because I'm being chased down an alleyway by a woman in six-inch stilettos. If you ask me, that's more her problem than mine. It's more a case of what I was doing here in the first place. And what four-legged creature is running down the alley ahead of me...

It’ll probably come as no great surprise to find out that, yet again, Argyle is involved. I managed, somehow, to avoid seeing him last year. I guess it was really too much to hope that I could do the same thing this year. Still, there’s nothing wrong with hoping, right?


But, as usual, it's better to start at the beginning....

On to Act I

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