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had been postponed by an hour.
    Pendergast looked up from his desk. His mouth opened.
    “I don’t look twenty-seven,” I said, before he could say anything.
    He closed his mouth abruptly, then opened it again. “I guess you get that a lot. I’d’ve pegged you at about eighteen. Have a seat.”
    I sat.
    “Pretty impressive resume,” Pendergast said. “Nothing in it that says why you want to work for the CIA, though.”
    Telling him that I was tired of stealing things for a living probably wasn’t the best idea, although I might have to give it a try later if nothing else worked. “I want to serve my country, and I think the CIA could best use my talents.”
    “Actually, someone with your math background might be better suited to the NSA,” he said. “Their cryptography—”
    “I’m not interested in cryptography. I’m interested in fieldwork.”
    “Been watching too many James Bond movies, huh?”
    I was losing him again, before I even got far enough to tell him about my talent. He was going to write me off as just another spy wannabe.
    “Call security,” I said.
    His brow wrinkled. “What?”
    “Call security and ask them to send someone here.”
    “Why?”
    “I want someone to check me to make sure I’m not carrying any weapons.”
    Pendergast’s hand moved his phone. “If you’ve managed to sneak a weapon past security, that doesn’t get you a job. That gets you a world of trouble.”
    “I’m not carrying. Just have them send someone.”
    He made the call, and in less than two minutes, a pair of security officers in navy blue uniforms came through the door. One of them methodically checked my body from head to toe with a metal detector wand, and then patted me down for good measure. All he found was the keys to my latest “house-sitting” location.
    “He’s clean,” said the officer.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “As long as you’re here, officers,” said Pendergast, “why don’t you just escort this young gentleman out of the building?”
    “Wait!” I said, as one of the officers took me by the arm. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious as to why I did this?”
    Pendergast pursed his lips. After a moment, he said, “A little. So tell me.”
    “Not while they’re in the room.” Seeing he was about to object, I said, “I don’t have any weapons. And they can wait right outside the room.”
    He nodded, and they left, closing the door behind them.
    “What’s your big secret?” Pendergast said.
    Without saying a word, I stepped over to his desk, and picked up the pad of paper on which he had written earlier. I handed it to him.
    He read it, then looked at his watch. “Who’s Nat Morgan?”
    I tapped my chest. I had to avoid speaking in case the officers were listening at the door. If they heard my voice before they forgot about me, it would keep reminding them of my existence.
    “You came here under a false name?”
    I picked up a pen from his desk, took back the pad, and wrote, “Is this office bugged?” I didn’t care whether it was or not. It just gave me one more excuse not to speak. Each second that passed make it more likely the officers had forgotten me.
    I gave him the pad back, and he read it. His face reddened, and when he spoke, his tone was angry. “Maybe it’s all very funny to you, but the security of our nation is not a joke.”
    Knowing that I wasn’t going to get the full sixty seconds, I hoped for the best and spoke quietly. “My talent is that I’m forgettable. I had to find a way to prove it to you, because you wouldn’t believe me when I told you the first time.”
    “You’ve never told me.”
    I pointed to what he had written on the pad. “Do you remember me asking you to write this?”
    “Obviously not. You must’ve faked it somehow.”
    “Call in the security guards. Ask them if they remember me.”
    He stared at me. “You’re serious?”
    “Go ahead. If they remember me, then have them escort me out of the building. But if they