Charlie's Angels... of DEATH: Chapter 4 -- The Girl With a Purpose

     “Mr. and Mrs. Park,” Charles started, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here today.  As I told you on the phone, I engage in philanthropy all over the country, and one of my assistants read about your daughter’s situation in an online forum.  Meiling is such a promising young athlete, attracting so much attention already at the age of 12.  Some predicted that she would be the youngest female to ever win a grand slam title, so I know her recent injuries must have hit your family very hard.”

     Mrs. Park, a normally tough (and kind of scary) Taiwanese woman, stifled a sob in her handkerchief.  Her husband, a stoic Texan, rested a hand on her shoulder and faced the man across from him squarely.  “Mr. Charles, I must say that we still don’t quite understand why you’ve taken an interest in Meiling’s situation.”

     “She’s a young girl from Abilene, TX.  I’m a complete stranger, who had never set foot in Abilene until today, so why would I want to help your family?  I can understand why you would question my motives.  As a philanthropist, my favorite causes are those that help young people.  In fact, I have an academy where talented young people get to live together, study with the finest professors, and train one-on-one with the best coaches, all in order to best nurture their gifts and help them achieve their highest potential.”

     Mrs. Park’s sniffling quieted as she listened.

     “But how can you help her?” Mr. Park asked.  “Meiling’s doctors said that injuring her left shoulder and both legs has effectively ruined her future prospects to be a tennis star, even if all of the surgeries are successful.”

     “I told her the rodeo was strictly forbidden because I knew she wouldn't be content with just being a spectator.  Who risks that kind of injury when they have such a promising future ahead of them in tennis?!  She doesn't listen to me though, never has...” Mrs. Park wailed.

     “Well,” Charles began, somewhat uncomfortably, “I’m sure the doctors here are very competent, and they probably believe that no one could recover from the injuries she incurred when that bull threw her... then trampled her... then gored her and tossed her into the bleachers...  It's amazing she survived, to be completely honest... but I assure you, I have been funding medical research to repair the exact type of injuries Meiling sustained.  I would love to use my team of surgeons to return Meiling’s shoulder and legs to their normal function.  After they complete their procedures, Meiling will make a full recovery and no one will be able to tell the rodeo incident ever happened.”

     “The doctors can do that?” Mrs. Park asked with hope in her voice.

     “With the proper procedures, and some hard work on her part at my rehabilitation facility, I have no doubt that she can be that great again, if not even better.  She’ll be like a bionic version of her old self,” Charles assured her with a warm smile.

     “Better?” Mr. Park asked incredulously.  “Could she be ready for the U.S. Open in 2013?”

     “With the right care, Mr. and Mrs. Park, I have no doubt about that.  She’ll be stronger than ever.  My surgeons are performing procedures that are the first of their kind.  So far, we’ve enjoyed tremendous success.  We will provide her with the best doctors, and 24-hour care for as long as her rehabilitation takes.”

     Charles reached into the expensive leather briefcase beside his chair and pulled out a folder and a pen.  He handed it to Mr. Park.

     “She will play tennis again.  She will swim, play soccer, and even ultimate Frisbee, if she likes, and she will excel at all of these sports.  She may even end up being a rodeo queen,” Charles said, sitting back as Mr. Park read over the contract.

     “No, no more rodeo-ing for her.” Mrs. Park said in a serious voice.  “No rich man will ever marry her if she engages in such unladylike activities.”

     “I can’t speak to that, Mrs. Park.  Who knows what will happen by the time she is thinking about marriage?  Fortunately, she is only 12, so there is plenty of time to worry about that.  Just sign on the line and I will guarantee that she is taken care of.”

     Mrs. Park shook her head and sighed.  “She’s going to be down the hill before we know it…”

Charlie's Angels... of DEATH: Chapter 3 -- That Girl from TV

    The name of the adorable eight year old with the voice of a seasoned opera star was on the lips of every American with a television: Genevieve Kotarski.  Somehow, being robbed of first place in the nationally televised talent competition by a mediocre singer in his twenties with a sob story had only won Genevieve more press and publicity, and the graceful way she handled her loss won the young prodigy even more fans. 

    Now, several months later, people were still coming out of the woodwork to offer her scholarships to their performing arts schools, hoping the enrollment of such a brightly shining star-in-the-making would lend their institution a higher degree of prestige.  Calls were continuing to pour in from agents based out of New York and Los Angeles who were clamoring to represent her.  Her mother and father, stage parents of the most overbearing kind, were thrilled by all of it, but she was just plain tired.

    “I’m not a performing monkey,” she told her parents.

    “But sweetie,” her mother cooed, “you LOVE monkeys!”  Ms. Kotarski tried to hand her daughter a sock monkey that had been sent to her by a fan. 

    “No, Mom, I really don’t, and I’m sorry I ever let you and Dad convince me to wear that sock monkey sweater for the audition,” she snapped.  “Ever since then, it’s sock monkey hats, sock monkey t-shirts, sock monkey slippers, mittens… and that handmade sock monkey that plays the recording of me singing ‘Ave Maria’ whenever you squeeze its belly…  So creepy… and now I can’t escape from all of these sock monkeys!”

    “The sweater was age appropriate,” Mr. Kotarski said.

    “It was not age appropriate!” Genevieve exclaimed.  “You lied about my age, gave them a fake birth certificate, and told them I was eight to make my singing seem more impressive.  I’m 11½!  Aren’t they going to be shocked to see that, four months after all that media coverage, I’m six inches taller and I’ve got boobs!”

    “I told you it was a bad idea,” Mr. Kotarski mumbled.  “We’re definitely going to get caught now.  Everyone is going to know.”

    “No, no,” Ms. Kotarski said, “we just have to be smart about this.  Jen almost won because of her talent, not her age.  Her talent is still impressive even for an 11½ year old.  We just… miscalculated.  She can still be famous.  She just needs to go… underground for awhile.  She can come back when she’s grown up a bit more.  No one needs to know we fibbed about her age.  We’ll just say she blossomed early. ”

    “What?” Genevieve ask incredulously.  “What are you talking about?  I just want to have a normal life for a little while, be a normal pre-teen girl.”

    “Jen, we found someone who wants to help you,” her father said in a calm voice.  “He is a very wealthy man, and has adopted several girls with different talents.”

    “You’re putting me up for adoption???” Genevieve asked with panic in her voice.

    “No sweetie,” her mother assured her.  “We are just going to send you to stay with him for a few years.  There will be other girls around your age there, too.  You’ll have classes every day with the other girls, taught by private teachers that he has brought in from the best universities.  You’ll live on an estate, with a housekeeping staff, and in the afternoons, you’ll have private voice lessons with a highly respected vocal coach from the nearby performing arts academy.  You’ll continue your education and your voice lessons.  You’ll get to take a break from the limelight for a little while and make friends with other girls your age…  Think of it as being like a cross between summer camp and a really nice boarding school.”

    “Well,” Genevieve said with trepidation in her voice, “I guess that doesn’t sound so bad.”

    “And,” Ms. Kotarski added, “it’ll keep your father and I out of trouble.”

    Genevieve glared at her mother.

    “Not that you need to worry about that…” her mother stammered.

    “Taking a break does sound nice,” Genevieve mumbled to herself.  “Maybe the girls there don’t get to watch a lot of TV.  Maybe they won’t know who I am.  Maybe I can just be ‘Jen,’ instead of ‘Genevieve Kotarski, the opera prodigy from that talent show.’ ”

    ‘And maybe,’ she thought,  ‘I can finally escape all these damn sock monkeys…’

Charlie's Angels... of DEATH: Chapter 2 -- The Girl Next Door

    “Mr. Charles… sir…” the guard stammered.  “A security situation has been brought to my attention.”

    “What is it?” Charles asked calmly.

    “Sir, the perimeter has been breached…  several times… by a seven year old girl,” the guard said sheepishly.

    “And how did she manage that?” Charles asked, with curiosity creeping into his voice.

    “She climbed over the wall, sir.”

    “A seven year old?  Climbed over nine feet of smooth, polished stone?  How?!”

    “We have studied the security footage, sir, and it appears that she climbed over in bare feet.  Sir, her fingers and toes…  they are abnormally long, and appear to have incredible strength, dexterity and endurance.  She can climb the wall like a spider monkey,” the guard said quietly.

    “Has anyone questioned her?” Charles asked.  “Asked her why she decided to scale a nine foot wall?”

    “We have, sir.  She said it’s because she had heard that a little girl lived on the premises, and she wanted to make a new friend.”

    “I see…” Charles said thoughtfully.  “Is she… interfering, in any of Mira’s daily routines?”

    “No, sir.  The tutor has said that Mira is still engaging in her daily lessons, including piano and tae kwon do.”

    “What do they do together?” Charles asked.

    “Mostly, they pretend to be wizards, sir.  One of the landscapers gave them sticks from a tree was being pruned, and they pretend that they’re wands,” the guard said.

    “Have their games… caused any problems?” Charles asked.

    “Nothing major, sir.  At first, they squabbled over who would be named ‘Hermione,’ until they decided they could both be ‘Hermione.’  Aside from that, the housekeeper did scold them for tossing the cat off of the roof of the guest house into the pool, sir.  The neighbor girl said they were trying to make it levitate.”

    “So they tossed it in the pool?”

    “She implied that it was to ensure a safer landing for the cat, in case they were unable to make it levitate, sir.  They said they didn’t know the cat couldn’t swim.”

    “How did they get on the roof of the guest house?  Weren’t they supervised?  And where is the cat now?” Charles inquired. 

    “Sir, they snuck out when the tutor went to use the bathroom.  She was gone approximately three minutes.  Fortunately, the pool boy was on the scene and fished the cat out of the pool with the skimmer.  When it was retrieved, it was angrier than any cat I’ve ever seen, but it was not harmed.”

    “Good,” Charles said.  “That is good, at least.  Do we know anything else about this girl?  She seems like a trouble maker.  What is her name, and do her parents know she has been climbing the wall to come over here?”

    “Her name is Candy Chen, sir.  We have paid a contact at the girl’s elementary school to pull her file.  Her teachers like her, but say her intelligence and curiosity tend to get her in trouble.  Sir, her IQ is off the charts,” the guard reported.  “Her parents were not aware that she was coming over here.  She was supposed to be practicing piano in their living room, but she had used a computer program to record hours of herself practicing, and she simply played the recording whenever she wanted to go out and play.  They had wondered why they kept hearing her make the same mistakes, and why she didn’t seem to be improving.”

    “Quite resourceful…” Charles mumbled, deep in thought.  “Smith?”

    “Yes, sir?” asked the guard.

    “Have Dr. Daniels perform a general psychological assessment on Miss Chen, but have her conduct it in a non-obtrusive way so that she doesn’t know she’s being tested,” Charles said.  “I would like to know more about this girl, what her talents are, and if there is… something I can do to help nurture those talents and perhaps provide a more intellectually stimulating environment.”

    “Yes, sir,” said the guard.

    “And Smith?” Charles paused.  “Ask Miss Chen to please refrain from harassing the household animals, and instruct her to enter through the front gate from now on.”

Charlie's Angels... of DEATH: Chapter 1 -- A Girl Named Mira

    “She’s perfect,” Charles said, watching the two year old Korean girl toddle across the worn carpet, her pigtails bouncing with each step.  He glanced around him, noting the shabbiness of the orphanage director’s office.  He slapped at a hummingbird-sized mosquito that landed on his bare forearm.  “When can I take her home?”

    “At earliest, one month to get all paperwork completed, all signatures…” the director said in heavily accented English.

    “And how much is the adoption fee?” he asked.

    “$10,000,” she said.

    Charles placed a small briefcase on her desk.

    “Would $20,000 speed up the process?”

    The director’s eyes widened as he opened the case to reveal more cash than she had ever seen in one place.  She cleared her throat nervously.

    “We could make arrangements for you to take her home now,” she said in a low voice.  “I will start the paperwork.  Do you know what you will name her?”

    Charles watched the little girl run back and forth across the office as new things caught her curiosity.  At the moment, she had stopped her constant movement to fixate at something on the wall.  He was thinking hard when one of the other orphanage workers walked into the room and screamed.

    “Cuidado!  Dendrobatidos!  Mira!” she said, pointing furiously at the little Asian girl as she ran in the opposite direction.

    Maria lunged for the girl and pulled her away just as she was about to poke the yellow and black poison dart frog that was sticking to the wall. 

    “Yes,” Charles said, thoughtfully.  “Mira.  It’s perfect…”

    “No,” the director said quickly, “it’s not a…”

    “It’s a good thing I was able to convince you to let me take little Mira home today,” Charles interrupted.  “Who knows what could have happened to her out here in the next month?  This is Guatemala.  It’s wild country out here…”  He turned to face the little girl.  “And how did an adorable little Korean girl like you come to be here in the first place?”  Charles stooped to get Mira’s attention, and the young Latina worker crouched along with him.  She brushed Mira’s chubby pink cheek with a finger.

    “Her roses… are red,” she said in faltering English, smiling as Mira giggled with delight.

    The director rolled her eyes.   “She means her cheeks… they’re rosy.”

    Charles gave the young woman a rare smile.  “I agree.  Her roses are red.”