“So that’s who Leva Dorm is, as far as the United States Government is concerned,” Director Masrabi explained as she closed up her briefcase.  “She’s a political assassin.”  She set her briefcase aside and, after glancing at Garret, said, “And what I’m about to tell you is classified: she’s still active.” 

The Colonel’s head rose when she said that.  Leva, however, said, “Well, yeah, I’m here.” 

The Director tried and failed to keep from showing the contested responses she felt.  “I won’t deny that what I’ve…heard happened last night is very…provocative,” she allowed.  “But I—” 

As the Director struggled to find the best words, Leva reached for the ceramic coffee mug missing a handle and took out one of the pencils.  She very quietly whispered, “Change, change, change, steel.”  When she dropped it on the counter between her and the Director, it rattled heavily on the wooden surface. 

The Director looked down at the pencil-turned-steel spike.  She picked it up and considered it for a second, then set it back down before declaring, “Okay, yeah, that’s compelling evidence.”  She again glanced back at Garret, then asked Leva, “Have you been anywhere else?  Since you came to Pineville, have you been anywhere else?”  Leva shook her head.  “And before that, you were…east of Marion Virgnia, then Marion, Middlesboro, and then here?” 

Leva worked to think.  “I mean…I don’t know where I woke up, but…” 

“But you haven’t been to Kenya,” Masrabi asked.  Leva’s brow furrowed, utterly confused.  “Because that’s the last known attack by Leva Dorm.  And it was about a month ago.  Give or take, you know.  Intercontinental communication isn’t what it once was.” 

“Kenya?” Leva exclaimed. 

“It’s a nation in Africa,” Garret told her from the folding table he leaned against. 

“But I’ve never been to Kenya,” Leva challenged.  “At least…I mean, definitely not in the last month.” 

“And therein lies the problem,” said the Director.  “So we have two Leva Dorms, or we have one Leva Dorm who is lying?  Which one of those scenarios do you think brings us less comfort?”  She again checked to make sure her briefcase was secured, then continued.  “Now, I can advocate for you.  I’ve met you and I think…I mean, yeah, I think you’re okay.  I don’t think you’re a threat.” 

“I’m not a threat,” Leva urged. 

Masrabi smiled at the innocent preposterousness of that claim.  “Leva,” she said incredulously.  “We have no proof that you are anything but a self-serving, if somewhat diligent, retail worker.  We don’t know you.” 

“How do I prove it?” Leva asked back.  “How do I prove that you can trust me?”  She looked past the director to Garret.  “Besides saving lives by stopping the attack on this town.” 

“Okay,” Masrabi said, accepting the challenge.  “You want to prove we can trust you?  Help us to figure out who carried out the assassination in Kenya last month.” 

Leva laughed and turned away, shaking her head.  “How?  How?!  How do I do that?” 

“Leva Dorm from before the nukes could be across the world in seconds,” Masrabi told her.  “And she could exert her influence without being across the world.” 

“Cool, great, how?” Leva asked.  “How did I do it?  Because I don’t know.” 

Director Masrabi visibly restrained herself from speaking for a second, then cocked her head to the side as she tried to talk herself out of something.  As if against her own will, she finally offered, “I…might be able to give you a hint.”