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We sat.
She sat.
Then, with no further ado, she launched right in.
“What we can offer is resources. For instance, if you need extra stun guns, Tasers, or surveillance equipment, like telephoto lens cameras, you’ll text a number I give you, and within an hour, that will be sourced for you. You need a pickup, you text, and depending where you are, within ten to thirty minutes, that will be provided to you. You need research, data, intel, you share what you need, within twenty-four hours you’ll have it, unless the dive has to be deep, but you’ll have something to work with as fast as we can get it to you. You need additional transport, like a van, that will be provided for you. You need cash for bribes or to loosen tongues, you submit a request, and if it’s approved, we’ll get that to you too. The deal is, first, no guns. Second, you don’t get your asses in a sling. If you’re in the field, you’re on your own. So my recommendation is you do not go out alone, and my further recommendation is you recruit some new Angels.”
I sat, stunned silent, as she nodded to me.
“Your code name is Kelly Garrett, even if you’re a blonde.” She tipped her head to Luna. “You’re Jill Munroe. For short, you’re Garrett and Munroe.”
I turned my head toward Luna to see she was doing the same to me.
She looked excited.
I wondered what my wild vigilante hair got us into.
Clarice kept speaking.
“There will be times you have to come to this office. If you do, make sure you don’t have a tail. If this becomes more, and it’s necessary, we’ll create a headquarters for you.”
A headquarters?
Damn.
I raised my hand like I was in class.
Clarice looked at me.
“Um…we’re just servers,” I told her.
“Everybody is something until they’re a badass,” she returned. “You lugged a two-hundred and twenty-pound tight end to an empty warehouse, gained access and taught his nasty ass a lesson. As far as we can tell, you’ve got a finely honed sense of justice, you’ve got intuition, you’ve got skills in planning an operation, you fly under radar, because you’re ‘just a server,’”—her tone did the quotation marks for her—“but you get the job done.”
After saying that, she slid a manila envelope our way.
Luna didn’t hesitate to reach out and snatch it.
“I took a picture of your wall,” Clarice said. “We might have some names to go with those descriptions of players you’ve been watching that you wrote on your Post-its. You see if we got it right. We’ve added some intel. Now, it’s up to you.”
Luna had opened the envelope and had her head bent to it, fingers sifting through its contents without pulling them out.
I looked back to Clarice when she kept speaking.
“You get enough, you get it to me. I’ll feed it into the proper channels. This isn’t about takedowns. It’s about getting things to people who need them and can do something with them.”
“Getting them what?” I asked.
“Evidence. A solid lead. We aren’t supporting you in meting out vigilante justice. This is about real justice, the kind that happens in a court of law.” She slid another manila envelope toward us, this one much smaller, but it had some bulk. “Another car. You don’t need to be cruising the seedy sides of Phoenix in a Mercedes. Though, you meet with a real player, you take the Merc. They need to know you have resources. And you don’t take any ID with you, ever. In the field, only refer to yourselves as Garrett and Munroe.” Another envelope came over the desk, slightly bigger, much bulkier. “The phones you use for ops. They’re burners. Untraceable. Leave your own at home. The cars have tracking, as do the phones. We’ll keep an eye on you that way.”
“Who’s we?” Luna asked while again reaching for the envelopes.
“As far as you know, ‘we’ is me,” Clarice answered.
That was all she said.
At least about that.
“Learn vigilance,” she went on. “How to spot a tail. Learn to trust your gut. If you feel like someone is watching you, they are. If you feel in danger, you are, so you get the fuck out of whereveryouare, shake the tail if you got one and get safe.”
