UNIT 19 a new fantasy story by Liz M. (hope you like it!) Nearly everyone who
worked at the Agency had heard about Unit 19. Some doubted that it even
existed. Indeed, the rumors about Unit 19 were pretty fantastic, and it was
hard to believe the government keep secrets from its own professional spies.
In fact, Unit 19 did exist, but its activities and membership were known only
at the top levels of the Agency. It was formed in the late 1960's to
"contravene grievous acts of sedition against the Governments of the United
States and its Allies." The unit had priority access to any intelligence
gathered by any department. Its forty operatives worked only on projects
designated as "Significance: AA" by the Director and the President. Melinda
Clayton, aged thirty-five, had been a member of Unit 19 for ten years and had
been Unit Head for the last six. She reported straight to the Admiral Conlon,
Deputy Director of the Agency. Besides Conlon, only the Director and the
President knew Melinda's official status. The Admiral had ambivalent feelings
about Melinda. Certainly, she was the most effective leader that Unit 19 had
ever had. The unit's record under Melinda was perfect. Twenty-eight
assignments, twenty-eight successes. However, she was demanding to the point
of ruthlessness. Though she worked her operatives extremely hard, nobody dared
complain; anyone challenging Melinda Clayton would be dispatched quickly.
Conlon kept waiting for Melinda's behavior to cross the line. It hadn't, yet.
John Lyle possessed a 165 IQ and a photographic memory. Had he been a better
physical specimen, he might have been a superb field agent. However, at
five-feet seven he was too small to even apply for such a job. Instead, John
Lyle was Chief Analyst for Unit 19. Melinda had worked very hard to get John
into her unit, for he was, in a cerebral sense, the Agency's "golden boy."
However, he'd become rather too successful for Melinda's taste. On more than
one occasion he'd even attracted the attention of the Director. Lately,
Melinda had assigned John to low-profile tasks, the sort requiring slow,
painstaking work. She'd hoped to keep him quiet for awhile. But John
complained twice about his assignments to Admiral Conlon. Conlon, naturally,
told Melinda about John's complaints. Melinda was livid. "I can't have my own
people going over my head, Billy," she said. "Lyle's got to go." "We can't
move him into another unit just now, Melinda," Conlon replied. "There's
nothing open. Besides, he's the best operative you have, maybe the best you've
ever had. Remember how hard you went after him when he first came to the
Agency?" "He's insubordinate," Melinda protested. "What do you expect? He
wants your job. Look, if you don't need him around, find something for him in
the field. I'll approve it." "He's not cleared for field work," Melinda said.
"I said I'd approve it, and I'll get him cleared." Melinda thought for a
moment. "How about something in deep cover?" she asked. The Admiral looked at
her carefully. "How long?" he asked. "Six or eight months." Conlon wondered
how such an attractive woman could be so nasty. "All right," he said, "put
Lyle in deep cover. Don't get him killed, though." Currently, Unit 19 had no
assignment which called for an operative in deep cover; Melinda would have to
wait to find the right spot for John Lyle. She pinned her hopes on the CGE
investigation. CGE, Incorporated was a bio-technology firm with several
research areas and a diverse product line. It was under investigation by the
Agency for possible violations of technology transfer laws. An operative from
another unit had already been placed in the personnel department, so now it
would be relatively easy to plant someone else in the corporation. Melinda had
heard that the CGE affair was growing more serious and more covert. She hoped
it would be turned over to Unit 19, for it was precisely the sort of situation
she needed. She could drop Lyle inside CGE and leave him there for most of a
year. Lyle would be bored silly, too, working anonymously in a corporation. It
took a few weeks, but at last the orders came down for Unit 19. Melinda had
inherited the CGE matter. The question now was exactly where to place Lyle;
there were several possibilities. The sales division? The research division?
Scouting reports indicated otherwise; not enough general information passed
through either area. No, Melinda realized that Lyle would have to infiltrate
CGE's central administration. This was the only place where he might have
access to all the appropriate documents. Melinda had a list of CGE positions
which were open or which might come open in the next few months. Damn, she
thought as she looked at the spots available in CGE central administration.
There was only one such position on the list, and Lyle was hardly right for
it. Or was he? An idea came to Melinda. Conlon would hit the roof when he
heard about it. Melinda didn't worry too much about this; she usually got her
way with the Admiral. If he gave her trouble, she could always offer to have
one of their special weekend "meetings" at the lake resort. Melinda began to
prepare things. John Lyle was pulled off his other assignments, and word was
leaked to him that he was going under deep cover.

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 John was excited by the
prospect. He'd always wanted to go out into the field, and this would be his
first chance. That afternoon he received a handwritten note from Melinda. She
wanted to discuss his new assignment, the note said, but she wanted to do it
away from the office. Could he come to her apartment for dinner tomorrow? John
was stunned by this. Melinda would hardly speak to him these days; now she
wanted to be nice to him. Perhaps she was just feeling guilty, or perhaps she
had an ulterior motive. Whichever it was, John could not possibly refuse her
invitation. He called Melinda's secretary, who gave him directions to
Melinda's apartment. The next evening, John drove to the address he had been
given. It was a small, elegant apartment house. John rang the bell for number
7. A buzzer sounded and the door unlocked electronically. John walked down the
hall to apartment 7 and knocked on the door. Melinda answered immediately. She
was wearing a short black dress, and her blonde hair fell loose about her
shoulders. John had never seen her dressed in anything except a business suit,
and he'd never seen her hair this way, either. Melinda looked fantastic. "Come
in, come in," she said, taking his hand. Her apartment was tasteful and very
feminine, not at all what he'd expected. They had drinks and talked. They had
a lovely dinner which Melinda claimed to prepared herself (though John doubted
it). There was no talk of a new assignment. Instead, Melinda apologized for
her recent behavior. "It's very hard, John, to deal with the sorts of demands
I must deal with each day," she said, leading him from the dining room to the
living room. He sat on the couch. She poured him another glass of wine and sat
down next to him. "It makes you a little crazy sometimes, and sometimes you
forget about people's feelings." "Well, uh, Melinda, perhaps I haven't been
the best employee. I never wanted to -" Melinda put her hand to his lips.
"John, don't worry about it. Let's change the subject. I have to tell you
about your assignment. I know how much you want to get into the field, so I've
arranged it. Admiral Conlon has approved it already." Melinda briefed John on
CGE. John was anxious to know what sort of "regular" work he'd be doing at the
company's headquarters, but Melinda wouldn't tell him yet. She did tell him
that he'd need minor plastic surgery. John was a little stunned by this news.
"Surgery!" he exclaimed. "I thought you did surgery when somebody's face
became known. I've never been out in the field, so nobody knows me. Why would
I need plastic surgery?" "You need plastic surgery because I've decided it's
necessary for the assignment," said Melinda curtly. "Don't get worked up about
it. Everything will be reversible, or almost everything." "Melinda, maybe
somebody else should do this. I'm not comfortable with the idea of plastic
surgery," John said. He was growing suspicious that Melinda had something
unpleasant in mind for him. "Oh, no, John, you're perfect for this
assignment!" she said. "I have it all worked out, and you're not going to
desert me now. Besides, when you joined the unit you signed a lot of papers.
We don't need your permission to do plastic surgery." Melinda moved close to
him. She put her right hand to his face, then she pricked his neck with
something. John looked at her in amazement. In a few seconds he fell
unconscious. He awoke later, much later. He heard Melinda's voice. He tried to
move, but he couldn't. "Relax, John," Melinda said. Now he could see her face
hovering over him. She'd changed her clothes and was wearing a sweatshirt and
jeans. John realized that he was no longer in Melinda's apartment. He was
lying in a bed. His wrists and ankles were tied to the bed rails. He had the
urge to struggle, to shout, but he knew that such actions would be useless.
Two women in lab coats stood by Melinda. "Sorry for the restraints, but we
don't want you to hurt yourself. Oh, and I'm sorry about the way we brought
you here. I simply couldn't resist it," Melinda said, smiling. It seemed to
John that she was enjoying his predicament. He was annoyed with her, and he'd
get back at her somehow. Now, though, he tried to calm himself down. Probably
he'd just be getting a nose job or something. He could live with it. If it
looked awful, he'd get it fixed when the assignment was over. "We'll have to
do rather more in the surgical area than you might have expected," Melinda
said. Was she reading his mind? John's anxiety level shot up again.
"Specifically, your nose and chin will be adjusted. After that, let's see:
breast implants, a tummy tuck, hips pumped up, adam's apple shaved, extensive
electrolysis. I'm afraid you'll lose your beard forever, John. However, you'll
be pleased to know that Admiral Conlon prohibited us from going any further.
So, you're going to LOOK like a woman, but you won't BE a woman. You'll just
have to be careful, that's all." One of the women in the room pulled a mask
over John's face. He smelled the anesthetic. Melinda continued talking as John
fell unconscious once again. "We'll keep you out until most of the surgery is
finished. When you wake up, you'll go by the name Lisa. Lisa Randall." 

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