Sitting in his car eating his Sheetz shmagel was his short
reprieve before going back into his top secret office and pouring
over satellite images, encrypted e-mails, and cell phone
transcriptions. Watching this strange woman in front of him was a
welcomed distraction. She was sporting mud-caked hiking boots and
her legs looked like a road map from the myriad of thorns that must
have wrapped around her legs during her recent travels. Her baggy
camouflaged shorts bulged from what appeared to be a Palm Pilot, a
top of the line GPS unit, five Power Bars, a water bottle, a
dentist’s mirror, tweezers and a snake bite kit. Her ragged
backpack was crammed with even odder equipment for which he could
not even begin to find a use. Strapped to her back was one of those
telescoping poles used for screwing and unscrewing light bulbs. One
could barely decipher the Geowoodstock 1 emblem through her dirt
encrusted T-shirt. Her "Life is Good" baseball cap sat atop her
disheveled hair. She seemed to be gazing at a large tree on the
other side of the parking lot about 500 feet away. Squinting,
muttering to herself, and then smiling, she started walking
purposely towards this tree. Overcome with curiosity, the man
followed her.
Her pace quickened as she neared the tree. She retrieved the
telescoping pole from her back, extended it, and then used it to
extract what seemed to be a film canister from a small hole in the
tree about twenty feet up. Sensing the man’s presense, she quickly
hid the canister and started talking into her GPSr unit like it was
a cell phone.
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
“BU…ABGUVAT.”…(“Crud!”…I’m talking in geocaching encryption
again” she thought)…”I mean…oh…nothing “ she sputtered.
“Miss…I am a highly trained CIA operative…I know that is a GPS
unit and not a cell phone you are talking into…what’s up?” the
agent queried.
She seemed to be scanning her brain for another explanation and
finally she started digging into her backpack. Like a religious
zealot at the airport, she handed the agent a rumpled pamphlet that
described the sport of geocaching. The agent quickly scanned it and
said “Sounds stupid to me…but are you telling me that you spotted
this little container from across the parking lot?”.
Responding to him like he was an uneducated pre-schooler, she
replied “Yeah…of course…who couldn’t?...look at this bark used for
cammo…this was taken from an American Oak, this tree is a Norwegian
Spruce…and this uncovered part of black plastic really reflects the
sun…and…”
The man stopped her. "So, in other words, you are an expert in
picking up on things that are not quite right?” His mind was
spinning. “Miss…?”.
“Eneff…Dee Eneff” finishing his question.
“Would you like a job…a high paying job?” he frantically
asked.
She had just recently been fired…that jerk of a boss, she
thought…my lunch breaks were definitely less than an hour…30 mile
drive, 4 mile hike, extensive searching, McDonalds stop, and then
drive back to work…definitely less than an hour. And she needed gas
money…her Volkswagen bug was getting expensive to maintain; she was
thinking that she may have to trade it in on one of those
scooters.
“Sure…I’d like a job…”
An hour later they were sitting in the bowels of a top secret
installation. The agent began his speech… “ Our country is in the
midst of a crisis…there is a secret terrorist organization called
the Muggliban. They are trying to rip the social fabric of our
country apart. They have already unleashed “Deal or No Deal?” onto
the airwaves. They’ve convinced the public that the Scion is an
attractive car. People will gladly pay $3 for a fifty cent cup of
coffee if ice is added. Look what they’ve accomplished with Dr.
Phil. Half the country is already hypnotized through their
insidious Sudoku campaign. And God save us if their American Idol
operation gets any bigger…Through much hard work, we’ve discovered
that they are still very disorganized, but intercepted carrier
pigeons have told us that they plan to gather at their central
headquarters very soon. So far we know these partial
coordinates:"
North 40 degrees and West 76 degrees.
“I know this is not much help…but we also know this…they are
hiding the rest of their coordinates in famous paintings. They have
stolen some of the most famous pieces of artwork in the world and
hidden the coordinates to their hideout within their counterfeit
replicas for their operatives to find.” The man was frantically
sweating as he laid photographs of the suspected paintings in front
of Dee Eneff.
“Seems like a lot of trouble to me” Dee remarked.
"Don’t try to find logic in this…just go with me on this” he
continued.
“Here are the pictures…our experts have been unable to puzzle
through their remarkable ability to hide these numbers from us. But
you seem to have an unbelievable gift of being able to spot details
through your extensive geocaching training. What I want you to do
is compare these counterfeits with the originals…if you find
anything hidden within the picture, write it down…we’ll assume that
they will aid us in finishing the coordinates of the Muggliban
headquarters. The portraits are presented to you in the correct
order…we just can’t find the clues. Time is running out and you
seem to be our last hope.” The agent finished and the desperation
was unmasked on his face.
Dee Eneff sat at the metal table with a bare light bulb hanging
above and began to look at the pictures.
Having sucked the remainder of the water from her camelback and
sucked the salt from her trailmix bag, she laid the newfound
numbers down in order and directed the agents to descend upon a
large park with a baseball field, tennis courts and a nearby
church.