*Invisible Ink

Intro: I now work at a company that deals with a lot of confidential information. The saying is if we don't want the information leaked to communist countries we put the documents in these locked gray bins. Those bins are then disposed of. What if shredded paper were still useful?

Sheri ducked down behind her steering wheel, all the while praying she hadn't been made. Through the gap she watched two men in dark blue coveralls dumping shredded paper into a recycling compactor. The dashboard clock read 11:52. One minute late according to the timeline she'd been given.

The truck showed up at 5:30. Ten minutes early. With gallons of caffeinated water rushing through her body, she'd managed to stay awake the whole time. She ducked down again when the roll-off truck driver secured the compactor to the back. The truck rumbled out of the parking lot and she followed.

Every instinct she'd developed as a PI buzzed at her as she tailed the truck. But her contract stated she could not let the package out of sight. The truck was currently traveling at ten under the speed limit. Other cars flew by with honks and rude gestures. If the driver hadn't noticed her yet he would when they reached the highway and went twenty under the top speed.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the recycling center. She watched the truck with binoculars through the chain link fence. The compactor was taken into the building to begin the recycling process she had four and a half hours to freshen up.

At 10:35 she walked up to the receptionist at the front desk.

"How can I help you?"

"I want some paper hot of the press." She would have worded it differently, less drama movie. But, this was another specific she'd been given.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Does it make a difference?"

"We've found that fresher paper tends to absorb our specialized ink better."

"Let me see what I can do for you."

Sheri paced the reception area . This particular recycling facility was fast and reliable. It was hard to believe that the shreds she'd watched just eleven hours earlier was now recycled fresh paper.

"You're in luck. They're just boxing up the latest batch."

"Thank you." Sheri stepped a little closer to the receptionist. "Truthfully, I was hoping to buy myself a little time from work. I told myself I was going to ask for fresh paper and let fate take over."

"Stressful day? You can always wait for the next batch in an hour and a half."

"Thanks, but no. I have a lot to do. This was the sign I needed."

With her car loaded with a hundred reams of paper she headed to the drop off. While she drove she spent a few minutes scanning the radio stations but everything was about the possible mole in the private sector. She had spent all morning parked outside one of those building hoping no one would think she was there for anything illegal. Watching recycling trucks was abnormal but well within the law.

A green van was parked under a tree in the park. The side read "Info Dump." They wanted the fresh paper because they were researching the recycling method of the other plant. She had to tell them where the paper came from because they knew what type of paper was used at that business. She didn't care. She needed the money. As she pulled up the side door opened. She saw what looked like a giant television and computer equipment inside. Her contact stepped out and motioned for several other men to unload the paper.

"We don't have much time. Get a move on." The man leaned down to talk with her through the window. "Did you have any trouble?"

"No."

He held out an envelope and as she reached for it her attention was captured by the men in the van. They stack the new reams of paper on a scanner. The blank pages drifted to a box on the ground. The television showed strings and pieces of text. Some looked like it was stacked on top of each other.

"Sir, we've got it." The screen had a handwritten note flashing across it. There were white splotches throughout but Sheri was sure if she was closer she could read it.

The contact tossed the envelope on her lap and flipped open his phone. "He have it, written in his hand."

Sheri drew back as the man continued. "We have the original fibers. We can recompile it in a few hours."

She drove away and turned on the radio. News was already spreading about the mole exposing more information. She turned it off before she could learn what it was.