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But before I met Agnes, Blake said I had to pass inspection with his boss, the mysterious Mr. B.
"So, this guy doesn't have a whole name?" I asked. Blake ignored me, draining his coffee cup. I put our cups in the sink with the rest of the breakfast dishes. They'd have to wait.
"Give me a minute to change into my good sneakers, then I'll be ready." I ran up the stairs and found the pair without the hole in them, taking a quick moment to run a comb through my hair.
"OK, let's go," I said as my foot hit the last step. Blake was checking his pockets, looking for something.
"What's the matter, forget your magic decoder ring?"
He made a face. "Can't find my blindfold. You got a paper bag handy?"
"Why do you need a bag?"
"Like I said, I can't find my blindfold. We'll have to make do with a bag."
I'm sure I looked as puzzled as I felt.
"You can't expect to go see Mr. B without one, can you?" He asked.
Now wait a minute. My mama didn't raise no fool. Well, OK, maybe she did, but even if I am a fool, I'm a fool who can add two and two.
One: Blake lost his blindfold. Two: Blake wants a paper bag.
Sometimes it takes a while, but eventually, if I pour enough caffeine on those brain cells, they reignite. I got it.
"Read my lips: no way in hell, Blake. I mean it."
"Oh, come on, if you don't do it, the boss'll have my head. The last time I screwed up they sent me under cover in Nepal. I was a sherpa, for cripes sake. And you know how I hate cold weather. It makes my lips chap."
Blake's flaky lips notwithstanding, I wasn't going to ride around with a paper bag over my head. There was nothing he could say or do to make me change my mind. My dignity isn't for sale.
"Pretty, pretty please?" He groveled. I'll admit I kind of liked that, enough to ride the horse of indignation around the track another lap.
"Forget it."
"Twelve thousand." It was almost a whisper.
"Twelve thousand what?"
"Dollars."
Well, at least I know how much my dignity's actually worth in round numbers. I was about to become the Unknown Spy. I pointed to the kitchen cabinet.
"The bags are right there, under the sink. Grab one before I regain my senses. I'll lock the front door."
The trip wasn't too bad. Mostly I kept my brown-paper-bagged head down until we arrived at agency headquarters. Blake delivered a short lecture about how I was to show Mr. B plenty of respect.
"And no wisecracks, understand?"
"When can I take this thing off?" It probably sounded more like "Mmentheneetkkksssingofff?" It's hard to enunciate clearly through industrial-grade paper.
"What?" He asked.
I felt the car come to a halt. The engine stopped.
"Are we there?" I mumbled through the bag.
"OK, we're there. You can take that thing off now. Remember, don't forget anything you see is to be immediately forgotten. Comprende?"
I pulled the bag off. My hair was matted down and stuck to my head, like one of those rubber swimming caps covered with big flowers. I slid out of the car. We were in some kind of underground parking garage, huge, but well-lit with cameras mounted in the ceiling every dozen or so feet. I waved at one.
"Knock it off, Eileen. You're going to get me in trouble."
I made a face at him and, when he turned around, another one at the camera just for good measure.
"So you want me to remember to forget everything, right?" I asked, following Blake across the concrete floor. We came to what turned out to be an elevator. He punched some buttons on a number pad, which caused a small panel to slide open, revealing a shiny black surface of some sort. Blake pressed his hand against it. A voice, feminine and mechanical -- the kind that answers the telephone and tells you to hold on "because your business is important to us" -- said, "Please identify your guest."
"Code 594, Authority 700, Pre-Authorization Alpha-Omega." Blake answered.
"Boy, I can't wait to meet Miss Moneypenny...Ow, that hurt!" I said as Blake elbowed me in the ribs. He gave me a frosty look, so I cooled it. Apparently big time spies don't possess a sense of humor. The door slid open and we climbed in.
"Look, Eileen, you behave, you hear me? And stop treating this like a big joke. I put my neck on the line when I recommended you. Everybody else wanted to bring in an experienced agent, but I held out. I said you could do it. Don't disappoint me, OK?" The elevator came to a stop
"I'll behave, I promise," I said as the doors opened. There were two men waiting. One flanked me, the other Blake. He pointed down the corridor.
"That way."
"OK. Hey, when are you going to introduce me to your friends? You guys don't talk much, do you? You know, I think you boys take yourselves way too seriously..."
"Will you shut up?" Blake hissed at me. We marched silently down the corridor, then stopped at another door, which also slid open. Inside was what appeared to be a very high tech office. A young, very attractive woman looked up from behind the desk.
"Blake," she said in a throaty, come-hither voice. She batted her long, dark lashes. I immediately disliked her.
"Hi Sweets. Where's Brenda? You Mr. B's new secretary?"
"No, darling. She had to use the little girl's room and I happened to be passing by. Is this her?"
Her? Who the heck is she to call me a her? I opened my mouth to retort, but was cut off when a buzzer rang.
"Looks like he's ready for you. Go on in." She reached down and pushed a button. A second door slid open and there, behind the biggest desk I've ever seen, was a man who looked exactly like Alfred Hitchcock. Blake gave me a nudge.
"Come in, come in," Alfred said. Blake introduced us. Alfred was Mr. B. He gestured for me to sit down and asked a lot of questions about my past and my present. Then he decided to address my future.
"Miss..."
"Just call me Eileen."
"As you prefer. Miss Eileen, I want you to know I have my doubts about this. If not for your former partner vouching for your abilities, I'd never have agreed. But you passed our background investigation with flying colors...."
"Background investigation?"
"Yes, of course. Here's the basic contract for your services. If you'll take a moment to peruse it, then sign at the bottom, in triplicate..." Alfred handed me a pen. I glanced over it: eight pages of legalese. Lots of "to whoms" and "wherefores." I signed.
"Very good," Alfred said as I handed his pen back.
"Blake, please take her down to the lab and have her outfitted with the proper equipment, then to Identity for indoctrination."
"Yes, sir," Blake said and motioned for me to stand and follow him. Alfred went back to the work on his desk.
"Wait a minute," I said. Blake stopped and Alfred looked up with an annoyed expression.
"I hate to ask this, but exactly what am I supposed to do to earn this $12,000 Blake's promised me?" Alfred's eyebrows lifted a bit at the mention of the sum. Blake smiled -- rather weakly, I thought.
"We'll tell you all about it when we hit indoctrination..." he started to say, but Alfred interrupted him.
"No, wait. That's a fair question. I believe she deserves an answer." And he gave me one. All I had to do to earn the money was save the world. And since I have kids and a life -- of sorts -- I suppose I have a stake in all this, too. So I said yes, again, and then followed Blake out of Alfred's office and down the corridor, where I would be turned into Eileen, nanny extraordinary. I had to admit, I was a bit taken aback with the things Alfred told me.
"This is serious stuff, Blake."
"Yeah."
"I hope I can do it."
"You can. I have faith in you. Here we are," he said, gesturing toward a door that said, "Identity Section."
"Shall we?"
"Sure. Uh, you said I'd get to meet Agnes. The housekeeper?"
"Oh, that. You already have."
"I have? I don't remember anyone named Agnes...."
"Oh. Maybe I forgot to introduce you. Remember the woman who was sitting at Mr. B's secretary's desk?"
"The one with the sexy voice? The one who looks like Sophia Loren, only with bigger boobs and a smaller waist? That's Agnes?"
"Yep, come on, they're waiting for you." He pushed open the door.
And like Alice, I fell right down the rabbit hole and emerged on the other side with a molar filled with cyanide and a tracking device implanted in my, well, let's just say it's in a place that I don't show too many people, OK?
And, of course, Sophia Loren for a housekeeper
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