The words play on repeat in Micky’s head, “All right, all right, I’ll help you.” They had forced me to help them. I was doing alright on my own but they forced me to go along with their agenda. He looks into the eyes of the four people standing in front of him while the voices in his head ramble on as it usually does when he stresses and panics.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to help them. If I did, my cover would be blown and I’ll be forced back behind a desk at the FBI headquarter. This has been the coolest gig I’ve been assigned and I’m not looking to end it anytime soon.

Micky’s real name is Miguel Chavez and he’s actually a data analyst with the FBI. “Like Jack Ryan,” he’d tell anyone who listened, “except my life isn’t as excited as his.”

One day eight months ago, his supervisor called Miguel into his office. “I got a job for you, Chavez.” Miguel opened his mouth to speak but his supervisor put a hand up to stop him. “Now, don’t go feeling flattered because I’ve chosen you and nobody else. No one really wanted this job and, well, you were my last choice.”

He handed Miguel a dark red folder. Miguel opened the folder to find a picture of a severely pockmarked man staring back at him. “This is Richard Hitchcock.”

“The author?” Miguel had read a few of his thriller and found the plots shallow and at times, even eccentric. “I’d thought he looked better than this.” No wonder he never does any in-person promotions or have his picture printed inside the book jackets.

“Two months ago, I sent one of my agents to work undercover as Richard’s assistants,” he air-quoted the word assistants, “he kept in contact with me – checking in each night and reporting – until two weeks ago. So now, I need you to go undercover to find him and find out what in the world this writer guy is up to.”

“How do I even get in?” Miguel wonders out loud.

His supervisor takes a sip of coffee, “Didn’t I say? He’s hiring.” He hands over the identity documents. “Sorry, that’s the best we can do.”

Miguel ripped open the envelope, eager to learn his undercover name but instead, he only found disappointment. “Micky, that’s the best you can come with? What am I? A mouse?”

His supervisor shrugged, “Take it or leave it.” Miguel grunted, grabbed the folder with the investigation information and retreated back to his cubicle.

Almost a month later, Miguel arrived at the mansion. When he stepped out of the car, he couldn’t believe he would be an undercover agent here and be the assistant-slash-bodyguard to one of his favorite authors. It was then he made a vow to take his time with this investigation, to savor this as long as possible. That agent can wait. I’m going to live this as long as I can.

Theme: The Mystery of the Millionaire Mansion

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