Der Junge Part 1 (also on FB)

I sit at the bar across S who slams down a glass of pinot noir for me, figuratively dwarfing my cranberry juice. He tells me it's on the house. I think him gratefully, let the glass sit, and then take a small sip. It's good, and I'm glad I took just a small sip. Stronger than the 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon I had from Nickel & Nickel last month. I recall the new Slingshot wines - affordable, and honest. They admit to the patchwork of the whole process of gathering, modifying, aging, and relabeling. It's business. In fact, in Europe, it's an art. S didn't need to mention that. Forgetting my earlier skepticism about coming to a place like this, I look around, taking note of the quaint lights and likeable paintings.

"He's here," S says, gripping my shoulder. A shocked look of disbelief plasters some of the locals in here. I'm not surprised at all. I'm hardly surprised, despite the field I'm in. The bartender, like a hallmark, wipes a glass clean, looks up, and grins.

"Back so soon, Mr. B?" he asks. "Mr. B" smiles back in his prim dark-grey suit. He wears no tie. It's Sunday. He wears a polo underneath his jacket. He orders his usual and sits next to us, specifically on S' side. I lean sideways, trying to not look conspicuous but he notices me quick and I almost flinch, feeling like a timid rabbit.

"You must be Wan. It's a pleasure to meet you." He offers his outstretched hand. I take it. "Wan" is a code name. This is understood. But the man I am shaking hands with has no code name because everyone knows him. He is powerful. I've seen him sitting in a charismatic pose in Time magazine months ago, let alone for several months. He's in the paper and he's right there. S drinks from his mug, nonchalantly. I sip, so as to fill up the spaces of time I can't decide how to properly act in front of the man. Mr. B asks me some preliminary questions - how's my family? I say fine - that means that 20 minutes from now, I will be following him to his car to be briefed on a mission I've been assigned to. How's school - I say good. That means that he knows exactly what I've been training for. But I have received no training. In 20 minutes he will address all the matters that need be addressed. S is talking to the bartender. It's as if their old chums. Maybe they knew each other years back. Maybe this is a meeting place, not a bar at all. I'm glad that the atmosphere is calming. When will you be free to go - meaning when will you be free to leave the country? I tell him anytime. I've been waiting for this my whole life. He nods and offers his hand again, taking 3 cigars from his pocket and offering it to me and S. They are cohibos. I flinch this time and graciously thank him. He smiles warmly and pats S on the shoulder. S glances back happily. I have just become a new investment for an institution. I have become a hypothesis, in fact, hypotheses, for I am to be a field agent. I am not the best, nor the brightest, but I was chosen because of my calm disposition, my reliability, and the fact that I'm balanced, just like an institution should. I am part of the institution. I will, in time, become the physical manifestation of what legends refer to as a "hero." So I hope, peripherally.