Green Dragon

Liz Stanton rolled over and glared at her bedside clock as a leaf blower's incessant blasting, weed-eater's shrill whine, and the unrelenting drone of ride-on lawnmowers shattered the early morning stillness. A horde of masked landscapers was descending on her gated community.

"I've spent the last thirty-five years getting up at 5:30 AM, even while languishing in Florida retirement. Now, on a Sunday, the only day my brain lets me sleep in… If I were still a Chicago police officer I'd go out there and enforce the noise ordinance!"

As it was obvious her corner of The Villages wouldn't quiet down again for some time, she went to her kitchen, prepared coffee and sat down with the Daily Sun. She frowned at the gossip column, tossed the sports section aside, and put on her glasses to read the international news.

"Tensions Rise Between the US and China Over TikTok, Taiwan… I wish there was something I could do about these issues other than fret."

🎶Yeah I look for drama—yeah I'm chasing karma—seen some things that other people can't see🎶

She ran a hand through her short sandy hair, decided she was too disheveled for a video call and swiped the green button on her phone.

"Hi, Joey." She smiled at the kindly blue eyes on his profile pic on her screen, her own green ones brightening.

"Top of the mornin' to ya, Liz. Hope it's not too early."

"A call from you is welcome at any hour." She folded her paper and set it aside. "You're the nicest person I've met since I moved here."

"Happy to hear that. I just thought I'd ask if you wanted to come with me to the fish games this evening."

"You know I don't play those pathetic gambling rigs, Joey."

"What about dinner at Miller's Ale House? They'll have live music and dancing."

"Ugh. That's not my thing at all."

"Don't you ever want to have fun?"

"I'm sorry, but my idea of fun is sitting at home with a good book. And honestly, I've been doing far too much of that lately."

"There are over five hundred different clubs to join in The Villages. It's impossible to be bored here."

"I think I've proven that wrong, Joey. I spent my whole life protecting and serving, and here I am twiddling my thumbs in the land of palm trees."

"If you joined a club you'd have something to do and make some new friends."

"I don't feel like I have anything in common with these silly people. All they care about is partying and gossip. I need some kind of greater purpose in life. Something other than mindlessly pursuing entertainment for the rest of my days."

"Why'd you retire and move down here to the oldsters’ DisneyLand, then?"

"My lungs can't take that cold anymore. The endless summer is easier on them." She fidgeted and added, "it's not that I mind being alone. If I just had a worthwhile occupation…"

"Well, try to find a fulfilling job to do, something like your old career. A school resource officer, a security guard, a private investigator—heck, how about a secret agent with the CIA?"

"Hey, that sounds like an exciting possibility…"

"Really? I was just kidding. The CIA wouldn't hire old people like us."

"Why not? I'm still in good health. Joey, I'll bet you I can get hired as a spy."

"Sure, go ahead. I'll believe it when I see it."

*****

"You do realize you're too old to qualify for the position of Operations Officer?" The man on the phone was stern. "We only hire up to the age of thirty-five."

"Isn't that age discrimination?"

"Not at all. The CIA expects fifty years of service from overseas operatives, which is what most people consider as spies. No American employee of ours is called an agent, by the way. We can hire you for an office job."

Liz groaned.

"Look, if I wanted to sit back and shuffle papers I'd work at Bank of America. Don't you have a more exciting opportunity? I'm eminently qualified: law enforcement background, post-graduate education, a brain that refuses to vegetate alongside my peers."

"Well… perhaps a courier would be suitable. I don't think we have the age restriction on that. You would be boots on the ground, though in a lesser way. International transfer of physical documents, thumb drives, etcetera. It's a high-stakes endeavor without the intense interpersonal elements and lofty requirements of classic spy work."

"Let me at it."

*****

Liz drummed her fingers on the boss's desk as he folded papers into an envelope. After the initial application, interviews, background check, security clearance, physicals and months of training, it was finally time for her first mission. She ran her eyes over the awards and honors lining his walls, remembering her own accolades from a life of service.

"All you have to do is deliver these urgent top-secret documents to our operative at the Chinese consulate in Los Angeles. We've arranged your plane trip. Report to Headquarters on arrival, and you'll receive further instructions. Your code name for this job is Green Dragon."

"Alright, General Clarke. I'll do my best."

"We are holding you to the highest standards, particularly considering your age. One slip-up—you're fired."

"Are you saying you have a double standard for senior citizens? Do younger operatives get three strikes instead of just one?"

"No… I didn't mean it like that."

"I should hope not."

Liz stuffed the sealed packet in a secret compartment in her briefcase, shook the general's hand, and left. Before departing from Washington DC on the next plane to California, she stopped in at a public library and printed out some paperwork, placing it in an envelope.

Settling into her seat on the plane, she pulled out a journal and pen and started taking notes, avoiding classified information.

"Age restriction, indeed. Phooey. The last two presidents are older than I am. I passed my checkup. And my mind is sharper than a lot of young folks these days. But this will probably be enough to keep me on my toes. Right now, for instance, I have the strange feeling that I'm being watched…"

She scanned the seats around her, analyzing each person. No one seemed suspicious; some were listening to music or watching movies on their phones, and some were napping. One older Asian man was wearing glasses and reading a book. Liz thought it unusual he wasn't glued to an electronic device like everyone else. But then again, neither was she.

Liz called Headquarters on her encrypted government device at LAX that evening.

"Green Dragon reporting successful landing at the destination. What next?"

"Call an Uber on your personal phone and have them take you to the Holiday Inn at Hawthorne. We've already arranged your stay. Let us know when you're there."

Liz wondered if her personal phone could be hacked. What if someone followed and intercepted her? Was this the best way to carry out the plan? She figured it was safer than walking to the hotel.

Her Uber request was picked up almost instantly by someone only a block away.

She walked around the back of the dark blue Ford Taurus to match the license plate to her app, then entered the back seat, arranged her briefcase and luggage beside her, and studied their route.

In the dark, it was hard to tell by looking out the window exactly what street they were on, but Liz was watching their blue dot moving across her phone map, and she saw immediately when they broke course down a different street.

"Excuse me, sir, are we taking the recommended route?"

"No, actually, we are not." The driver responded.

Liz looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror with some alarm. He was an Asian man—wearing glasses.

"Shoot, it's the guy reading a book on the plane! How did this happen?! No…surely not the same man—enough Asians in California."

"I'm not in any danger, am I?" She inquired, hoping he would laugh and reassure her.

"Not if you do as I tell you." His tone was serious.

"What does that mean? I'm just an old lady trying to get to my hotel room."

"Oh, is that so, Green Dragon?"

"Who are you? I don't know what you're talking about."

He pulled the car into a poorly lit parking lot, shut it off, and turned to face her in the back seat.

"My dear lady, it will be much easier for you to turn over your top secret papers to us without playing games."

Us? Liz pressed herself against the seat as she realized several shadowy figures were now surrounding the car.

"Really. I was hoping this would be easy…" she said plaintively.

"So were we."

They eyed each other for a long moment. Liz slid her hand into her purse, reaching for her concealed carry weapon.

"Don't try anything." He pulled a gun faster than she could pull the zipper on her purse. "We would regret having to use deadly force on someone your age."

Liz stared down the barrel of his gun with a grimace.

"Well, if you insist." She reached over to her briefcase, unlocked it, and pulled out a sealed envelope. "I'm not going to die over some paperwork. Now, would you please get me to my hotel room? That was a long and uncomfortable plane trip!"

*****

When Liz got to her room, she checked the secret pocket to ensure her documents were safe. Though her heart was still pounding from the close call, she chuckled at how easily the spies had accepted her decoy.

Someone banged on the door. She admitted General Clarke. His steely gray eyes drilled grimly into hers.

"Greetings, Ma'am. I regret to inform you that you have failed your mission."

"What? You think I let them take our top-secret papers?" Liz grabbed her briefcase and revealed the packet. "Well? Did I do the right thing?"

He blinked and looked down at the floor.

"Excellent work. Actually… This was a setup. We gave you a dummy mission with an ambush to test your response."

"And none of you checked the papers you took from me? Wow, some spies you are."

"Well, uh…" the general shrugged and turned away. "I'll let you get some rest now, Ma'am. Since you passed your field exam, you may call Headquarters tomorrow morning, and we'll let you know what your first real mission will be."

"How am I supposed to trust you people when you nearly shot me over a field exam?"

"I can assure you that you were in no danger of being harmed."

"Yeah, right. Tell that to me twenty minutes ago! I can't believe you purposely set me up for failure. No one told me to bring fake documents. It was my idea. You fully expected to fire me before I even began. I think I'll just get on the next plane back to Florida!"

"No, don't do that." He held out a hand. "Your resourcefulness is exactly what we're looking for. What would convince you to stick with us?"

"Let's see—some common sense and decency, maybe?"

*****

Liz's encrypted phone woke her up early one morning. It was General Clarke.

"We have an extremely important mission for you, Ms. Stanton. You're assigned to assist an operative in South Korea."

"Looking forward to it."

"And remember, no one knows you're working for us. To anyone who asks, you're an ESOL tutor. Remaining undercover is absolutely crucial."

"Understood."

"By the way, it's time for your six-month job satisfaction survey. Any thoughts?"

Liz chuckled.

"Lovin' it."

"Quite certain you wouldn't prefer a normal civilian retirement?"

"General, setting down with pickleball and fish games would kill me off faster than a double-crossed spy. Besides, I can't return to a normal that I never fit in with in the first place."

"Glad to hear it. You are a valuable asset to the Agency."

Word Count: 1989.
Written for the November 2023 Quotation Inspiration official WDC contest.

"I've strayed so far from normal now, I'll never find my way back.
And the truth is, I no longer want to."
- Alyson Noel