Monday, January 28, 2008

Secret Service No. 9

Whoever find this…

You shall not repeat this information to anyone.

I will not tell you my name. You can call me number nine

I will tell you a little bit about myself.

I was born orphan in Germany.

Since I had no parents, the government took me in.

I studied in a special academy in a small town in Germany so that I could be useful for the country until I was 20. And then the government assigned me various jobs in various locations in Europe. In 1942, the Nazi government sent me to this small town, Multnomah, in Portland Oregon to set up a station to contact the Japanese agents in North America. The war ended approximately 3 years after.

I was asked to stay in this town until I receive further orders from my country.
That was 30 years ago.

The first few years here were hard, but peaceful, I didn’t have anyone, but I’ve always lived like that. I knew I was forgotten, and I thought I could take what I’ve known with me to the grave.

But one day I got a contact from my old division, only that it wasn’t the government contacting me anymore. There were refugee agents scattered around this country that were forgotten by my own country.
I decided to take them in.

Many things happened after that, my little place in this mundane town becomes a shelter for people like me.

Until recently, we remained unnoticed and lead a normal quiet life, but now is time to run again.

I don’t know if I can come back here ever again, there is no one to leave my secrets to. So I’m leaving this with you, stranger. You probably found this by following the address I kept in my boots; I kept some writings in my cigarette box so that no one will find it. I kept different portions of recordings in different places, but I don’t think they will all be discovered.

I know I’m taking a risk, but I had to tell someone how I lived the past three decades.

I’m sorry if this brings you any trouble.




Fat City Café


This café is my time machine.

It stayed the way it was since it first opened in this neighborhood.

I guess if you stayed in time machine long enough

Your personal time stopped as well

That’s what happens to the people here


I don’t really have a past to go back

So I meet people from the past here

I meet up with other agents in this café

Sometimes talk business, sometimes just talk

But like this café and this town,

At times I feel like I can’t seem to out-live these past


This is where I first met Daisy too

She was confident, distanced, but professional

It took us a while to find trust with each other

She will later on become my only friend

You know it’s hard to find a friend among people like us







The bridge is right next to the main street

But the most dangerous place is always the safest place

Although I try to have a normal life

There are times I need a quiet place to negotiate with those people who disturb that normal life

This is where I go

The location itself scares them, so I never had to take care of anyone here

That’s good because I didn’t want to anyway




Gabriel Park


This place my temple of peace

If I come here at the right time, there will be children everywhere

They reminded me when things are simple

People walking in front of the setting sun

They reminded me when things are beautiful

For a few hours I spend here

I could take me out of myself

And live for a while






We used to hide people here in the basement

People are less suspicious if it’s underneath a church

After Daisy came, she helped me to filled the basement up with concrete

So some of our secrets will always be buried


Sometimes I go upstairs as well

Because I don’t always feel good about what I did







One of these houses will be my home

I’m just your good quiet neighbor who occasionally has guests

You can call this the headquarters

But really, this is just a place for people to start anew

At least that was what I thought this place would be in the beginning


The day they tracked Daisy down was the day I knew I was being too naïve

I left the house the very next day






There used to be massages on the tree trunks

We discard them once it’s read

Like cigarettes

That was the first thing we learned in the academy

Pay attention to details





I never knew her name

She told me to call her Daisy

She was usually more careful than me, smarter

We never talked about what we did or what we know

That was the rule

But I know if I wanted to know, I could find out everything about her

I just didn’t


She was probably 37 when she died

The police said a truck hit her on the street

But I knew better

There is no funeral for people like us; we remain unnoticed even after we are gone

But I pay my respect anyway

Since Daisy didn’t technically have a identity

She didn’t have a family to claim her body

Therefore there was not going to be a grave for her either


I set up a tombstone where she died

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but I know it could leave tracks if there are people wanting to find me

So I had to leave



I don’t know when or how these recordings of incidents will be revealed

It’s all up to you, whoever you are.

Now I am running again, with this age, God only knows how long I will last

I don’t really care anymore.

I just want someone to know that I existed; I played a part in this world.




No comments: