Starting a New Life

This is probably a stupid thing to do, but I decided to start a blog because I feel like I'm at loose ends and need to unload to whoever's out there. For the first time since I started working for this secret federal agency with no name, I'm stuck on long-term undercover duty with no specific strategy or end game. Over the last year or so, my previous cases involved rather narrow operations with a clear protocol and short-term results. I guess the boss, whom we all refer to as The Colonel, feels that I'm finally ready to take on a serious deep cover job. While I appreciate his confidence, I'm not so sure how crazy I am for this particular assignment.

Shortly after returning from my vacation in England, The Colonel informed me that I was moving to Las Vegas to pose as some online hooker to lure nasty terrorists who happen to frequent Vegas for some illicit thrills. He was not terribly specific about how the operation would work (probably out of some embarrassment since he is a fairly formal gentleman), so I was simply shipped off after the July 4th weekend where I was supposed to meet my contact. His code name is Stephen - his real name is not important.

I arrived at McCarran airport to the clang and jingle of slot machines in the terminal. After picking up my rental car, I drove to the Luxor where I had booked a room for one night. Having never been to Vegas before, I wanted to have one night at one of those flashy hotels. The place was just noisy and stank of cigarette smoke. After a couple drinks and several hours on the slot machines, I wasn't feeling the excitement, so I went to bed.

I met up with Stephen the next day and he filled me in on my new life. I was to become Carla Fontaine, an online sex kitten who runs her sleazy Web site out of a one-bedroom apartment in North Las Vegas. Not a bad place, actually. Clean and neatly decorated with DIY furniture from one of those Scandavanian warehouse stores. After having a day to get my bearings, I was sent to a photo shoot to take some semi-nude shots for the Web site being developed by the boys in DC. I'm not a prude, but this sort of exhibitionism is not really my thing. I spent five years trying to earn respect in the Navy as an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technician and in this new job as a competent field agent. Now I'm being used as a sex object. After the shoot, I hit the liquor store and spent the evening in my tiny place having a rare (but perfectly justifiable in my mind) pity party.

My royal hangover was kicked off bright and early the next morning when my mom called at 5:30 a.m. She still can't get used to the time difference between Maryland and Nevada. I think she's lost a step or two since Dad died. I've told her I'm setting up a branch office for this non-existent investment firm I'm supposed to work for. The worst part of this job is the lying, especially to my family, but it can't be helped. I'm beginning to see myself as multiple people existing at once.

Anyway, yesterday I roamed around Las Vegas some more to get acquainted. It's boiling hot here, but I think it's just as bad back home right now. And I thought I was used to crazy traffic coming from DC, but this is a new kind of crazy. By evening, I was feeling fairly miserable when a curious courier arrived at my door with a package. I was suspicious, but it turned out to be my Smith & Wesson Model 3913LS "Lady Smith" 9 mm. It's nice to have a least one old friend nearby.