AREM Chapter Two

“Yes, Mr. Connel, I would be happy to meet with you…” Mitch trailed off, distracted by something just outside his office window. He shifted the phone to his shoulder as he reached for a notepad and pen, simultaneously glaring at Justine who was practically jumping up and down in the hall outside his office. “I could stop by tomorrow at one, if that works for you,” he added into the phone and then mouthed to Justine, Go away…

She only tossed her head, flipping her auburn hair back over her shoulder, and grinned crookedly at him. That funny little smile of hers was rather hard to resist, and he could scarcely help grinning back.

“Yes, Mr. Connel, I’m sorry, I’m still here. Just… never mind. One thirty would be better, you said? Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow at one thirty. Thank you and have a great rest of your day.” He didn’t even have time to set the phone down before the door opened and Justine danced into his office.

“How goes it, Mr. Workaholic?” She giggled. “Did you forget tonight was our tennis night? You promised to meet me in the lobby five minutes ago…”

“So I’m five minutes late, so what?” Mitch laughed. “The tennis balls won’t die if they have to wait a little bit longer…”

“Nooo,” Justine admitted, leaning impatiently over his desk. “But I might die of boredom. My shift ended half an hour ago and I’m so new to this job, I really don’t have all that much to catch up on, so I’ve kinda just been wandering the building. Fascinating pastime, that.”

“How’re you liking the job, speaking of which?” Mitch scribbled out the meeting time on a sticky note and slapped it on the wall in the middle of countless dozens of others. 

“Oh, I love it! There’s just so much going on here, so many fascinating people to talk to…”

“And here I thought you were dying of boredom,” Mitch added pointedly as he gathered papers together and stuffed them into his briefcase.

“Well… you know what I mean,” Justine huffed. “You’re still my favorite person in the building to talk to and you haven’t been very available.”

“And now I am, so you can stop dying already,” Mitch shook his head at her as he followed her out the door. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop… but you have to promise me Baskin Robbins after tennis.” Justine was doing that thing again where she walked backwards in front of him, gesturing with expressive hands as she kept up an energetic stream of words. Mitch loved it when she did that for some reason… it had always made him smile… and yet at the same time, he always worried that she would run into something…

And this was one of those times when she did. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen to be any something, it was one of the most important executives of Galaxy Communications. Coffee flew in one direction and a stack of papers in the other, and Justine whirled around with a cry of dismay. Mitch was on his knees gathering up papers before either of the two involved in the collision managed to gather their wits about them.

“Clumsy girl,” Mr. Charles snapped as he knelt beside Mitch. “I’ll take those papers, if you please.”

“Oh, Mr. Charles, I’m so terribly sorry,” Justine gushed, her brow furrowed as she scrambled after the documents that lay scattered in every direction. “Terrible habit I have of walking backwards like that… I am so, so sorry…” She rose as he did, pressing her hastily gathered stack into his hands. 

“Quite alright,” Mr. Charles took a deep breath and straightened his tie. “No hard feelings. And don’t worry about the coffee spill, I’ll call maintenance to clean it up. You are the new girl we just hired… Justine Baker… is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Justine positively trembled under his critical gaze. Mitch moved to her side almost protectively, touching her hand in a reassuring gesture. Justine managed a small smile at that. “I started a couple of weeks ago, and I love the work.”

“Glad to hear it,” Mr. Charles offered a tight-lipped smile of his own. “We are pleased to have you on staff, Miss Baker. Perhaps I’ll be seeing you around more in the near future.”

“Yes, sir,” Justine’s smile grew and she lifted her head confidently. “I’ll look forward to that.”

“You’ll look forward to it, eh?” Mitch whispered teasingly as Mr. Charles stalked off. “Kinda gives a person the creeps, doesn’t he?”

“Aw, you’re just paranoid,” Justine laughed. “He’s a bit intimidating, I’ll give him that, but…” her voice trailed off as she glanced at something lying half-hidden behind a potted plant. She stooped to retrieve it, her brow furrowed as she ran her eyes over the single sheet of paper in her hands.

“What is it?” Mitch moved closer, glancing over her shoulder at it, but she slipped it into her bag with the rest of her papers.

“Mr. Charles must have dropped it,” she mused. “Something that… well… we’re wasting time standing around. Let’s get to tennis, shall we?”

oOo

Justine spread the crumpled sheet of paper out on her desk at home, reading the document hastily as she kicked her shoes aside. There was something about the words typed in bold at the top of the sheet that was giving her chills. She couldn’t place it… it didn’t quite make sense… but something just wasn’t right with this…

“Operation Think Tank,” she murmured aloud, fingering the corner of the paper thoughtfully. “Meeting of the board of directors… radio wave research… radio waves? Huh… conversion of brain waves to radio waves…” Sudden alarm shot through her and she sat bolt upright in her chair. She read the paper over again… once, twice, three times… the feeling of alarm was growing, sounding off like warning bells in her head. Brain waves to radio waves… brain waves to…

She hesitated only a moment before reaching for her phone and dialing Mitch’s number. It went to voicemail, but for the first time she didn’t laugh at the message that came over the line…

“Sorry, Mitch can’t come to the phone right now because he’s on a mission to rid the world of meatless hamburgers…”

“Aw, come on, Mitch…” she sighed and dialed again. He picked up on the third ring, his voice sleepy.

“Justine? What are you…”

“Mitch, have you heard of Operation Think Tank?” she interrupted. He yawned.

“Um… no? Don’t think so. Why? What is it?”

“I’m not sure…” she paused, glancing at the paper in her hand. “Hey, do you know anything about converting brain waves to radio waves?”

“Brain waves to… what? Justine… are you talking in your sleep or something?”

“No, I…” she groaned. “I don’t know… Mitch, this paper that I picked up today… the one that Mr. Charles dropped… I… something’s going on…”

“Something like what?”

“Like something wrong…” Justine sighed. “Um… listen… I know tomorrow isn’t a tennis night, but I really want to talk… can we meet up when you get off work? Somewhere quiet… Boston Public Library, maybe… I know of some private study corners…” She stared harder at the paper. The words seemed to dance menacingly before her eyes and she shuddered. An unexplainable eerie feeling was swiftly stealing over her…