Note: These email addresses are not real.
I have important information about your current research project. Please accept my invitation to meet me under the farthest tree to the left in the city square at 3:00 Friday afternoon.
The brown haired man ran his hand through the two day stubble that grew on his chin. The glare of the computer screen cast a flickering blue light across his face. He adjusted his glasses an read the email for the third time.
If this man had information about his current project he had to find out what he knew. The research he was doing was so highly classified that if anyone were to even know it was taking place they would need to be questioned by the government.
It looked as if he would have to accept this strange invitation after all.
A certain high-ranking government official is in some very hot water right now. If you meet me under the farthest tree to the left in the city square at 3:00 this Friday afternoon I can guarantee you an exclusive scoop.
A pretty young woman glared at her computer screen as if demanding it tells her the source of the email. It was too suspicious, too easy to be believable, but, this was her big chance. If she broke a story like the one this so-aptly-named person had hinted at she would go from being a nobody reporter to being a household name, maybe even like Woodward and Bernstein. It was tempting. Did she really have anything to lose by a quick stroll around the block?
A large international company has approached me about posting all of there job applications on your website. If you want to jump start your company and maybe land yourself a good position in the process meet me under the farthest tree to the left in the city square at 3:00 this Friday afternoon.
A man glanced at the mail alert popping up on the computer screen. He opened the email and glanced over it with a practiced calm, but inside his heart had skipped a couple beats. Just how large a company was this company this Enigma was talking about? A deal as big as he though it might be could give him a position that paid enough to let him move his family to a nice house in the suburbs. There was no way he could refuse.
A hot sun beat down on the city square. It had only seemed to get hotter since the sun reached its zenith. People milled about looking for shade, and iced drink vendors were doing a brisk business.
Among the mass of humanity a brown haired man stood, sweat soaking the neck of his polo shirt. "This man had better show up soon," he grumbled.
Under the scant shade of a small tree a blonde-haired woman sat typing away on a laptop. She was glad she had brought the pocket-sized fan that was now playing across her face. The report on the new public-works project, which would have seemed tedious a day ago, now seemed like the final trial before entering the promised land.
A mop of black hair that stood several inches above the crowd was the only sign that a man was working his way towards the row of trees on the right of the square. He now only stood in the tee shirt and slacks of his once-crisp business suit. But even the though of a trip to the dry-cleaners couldn't dampen his spirits. This was the day he'd make the deal of a lifetime.
As the two men converged on the tree the woman was sitting under they caught a glimpse of each otherŐs faces and suddenly their features seemed to be made out of stone.
"So," the shorter man growled, "Is this your idea of a good joke?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said the other. "I came here to meet a business contact. I have no desire to see you ever again."
Suddenly the young women spoke. "Will you two monkeys shut up. I'm working on an important.." she trailed off. Having turned her head to the side she caught a glimpse of face of the man on her left.
"You," she spat. "You have some nerve coming anywhere near me."
"What?" the bespectacled man asked incredulously.
"You know," she said. "You killed my Renamon." Her voice rose and then cracked and suddenly there were tears cascading down her face.
"No," said the other man hollowly, "He didn't. Renamon died in battle just like the rest of our digimon."
"You're liars, both of you," the woman screamed.
Without warning she leapt up and threw her fist straight at the face of the brown-haired man.
A strong arm reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled it downward, stopping her from moving. Suddenly she simply collapsed on his shoulder whimpering.
"You have no idea what...what it's like without her," She wailed.
The taller man spoke again, "Yes, he does: we all do."
The woman only cried harder and then she threw herself at the other man and grabbed him in a tight hug.
"Its okay," he said awkwardly and hugged back.
"No its not," she sobbed. "I haven't talked to you for years and you two hate each other and its all my fault."
At this point she totally broke down and began to mutter incoherently.
The two men stared awkwardly at each other and reached a silent agreement.
The tall man pulled the weeping woman off him and held her around the shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "Let's get coffee or something, its hot out."
The woman smiled weakly and nodded. And together all three of them walked towards the nearest café.
From the shadows, Enigma watched them leave and smiled in a self satisfied way. Some things made life worth living.