It had been a test, of course it had been a test, everything was a test. They had each been given a piece of information, it had been different for each person, of course it had, when it surfaced they and to know who it belonged to. The information was from the simplest 'who likes this sweet' to 'this person is a known mole' they were all difficult in their own right. From being told to set up parties to being given access to personal computers, they weren't meant to use the information, they were certainly not meant to tell anyone about it. If a trail of investigation was found to lead to the person who was the mole from the one who was told they were a mole, then that test was failed.
The moles aren't real, people had believed they we, glares were shared for weeks after the tests as over, personal computers filled up to the eyebrows with viruses. From tracking, key logging and worms, the woman driving up in the taxi still needed to check the IT department was finished with her laptop. Or she would have and she not been transferred.
Transferred! She got it right, she'd kept the secret, now she was off her dream case...and had no idea where she was going. Don probably did, that jackass had put a tracker into every piece of her clothing. When she'd removed them all she had felt like sticking them up where the sun should be placed so it could burn a hole through his-
She blinked and shook her head, now wasn't the time to wonder how they cold think she was a mole, Rose was probably thinking the same thing. Jackson had lost the game when he'd cornered Rose in the stairwell and threatened to kill her daughter if she didn't come with him to see their superiors.
That guy could rot in the hole of the assignment he'd been put in, maybe someone would shoot him this time.
She looked through her hardbacks no pulled out her current passport, she flipped open the information page and looked at the picture. She had three of these, slightly different appearance, same person and different name. She used to have more but they'd burned up when a grudge holding colleague had used a Molotov cocktail on her car.
She'd loved that car.
The passport she was holding was hers, just a normal everyday American, 'Clara Michaels' it read. Perhaps not the first time she'd had to change her name, but this was closer to the original.
As the taxi pulled up she eyed the building, "you sure this is the right place?" She asked the driver. "Yes it is, creepy looking place to live....if you don't mind me saying" Clara shrugged at his comment, "it'd only bother me if I did live here" she handed over the money the screen showed with a tip, he'd been good for conversation.
She stepped put of the car and pulled her handbag with her, her suitcase was still at the hotel, unless someone had brought them here, she'd certainly not been told to bring it with her.
She stepped up to the path leading to the building, she didn't want to start off by annoying the gardener by taking a short cut over the grass. Clara paused and looked up at the building, with a sigh she started walking towards the door. She had barely taken the first step of the porch when the door was swung open, "um...hello, I'm Clara Michaels, I was told you'd be expecting me?" She stepped up the rest of the way to the porch and stood looking at the stranger. She want sure, but he looked...stressed? Had he been waiting long for her? Last time she had checked her watch she'd been well on time.