To Ling Chin: Thanks For Nothing! Naomi Claussen by ARthur

Chapter 2
Chapter 2

"It was all so embarrassing. I didn’t want anyone to know," Naomi said. But she reluctantly related her story anyway.

Naomi explained that 19 months earlier, she had intercepted data, which after decoding, indicated that unscrupulous people were trying to smuggle contraband into the U.S. Usually, such illicit cargo might be drugs, or environmentally unsafe R-12 refrigerant, which was banned in 1996. On rare occasions, such cargo could contain Cuban cigars or endangered species animals. In the latter category, proceeds were often used to support terrorist groups, which was why the CIA was interested.

As the freebooted load was to dock in New Jersey, the FBI had jurisdiction and was brought into the mission. And Naomi was asked to accompany the mission and observe the FBI’s actions.

While walking with several FBI agents and local police officers, Naomi noted hearing a strange sound. "Eeeeep!" She asked, "Hear that?" The others shook their heads to the negative. "Eeeeep!" Naomi heard again. She moved in the direction of the sound. Moving amid some stacked crates, Naomi cautiously crept until she could see the back of a business-suited woman, who was cradling a tiny furry animal.

"Endangered species smugglers," Naomi thought to herself as she contemplated how to get closer to the woman to identify her and the type of animal he was holding. At that moment, feeling she was no longer alone, Naomi looked around and saw nothing. Chalking it up to nerves, Naomi then felt a chill. Shivering while still crouched on the floor, she planned her strategy, then got ready to move toward the woman.

Naomi picked up the pistol she had been issued for the mission, but it suddenly felt strange – like it had become larger. The handle that had fitted into her hand like a glove now seemed oversized. With her palm on the backside, her finger could not reach the trigger. In fact, she needed both hands to maneuver the gun.

"Hey, wud’ you doin’ in here," a Bronx-twanged feminine voice said, surprising Naomi. Aiming the pistol, Naomi, finding that she couldn’t pull the trigger, panicked and retreated. Hiding behind some different crates, Naomi was again startled by the voice, "Poor little girl." Slowly turning, Naomi found herself looking up at a woman wearing some sort of jogging suit. She was holding a Faberge cigar humidor.

"You’re one problem that certainly was minimized," the lady jogger chuckled at the terror-stricken Naomi. "You’re a giant! You’re at least…" Naomi stuttered. "At least 5 foot 9 inches," the jogger smirked, adding, "I only look big because you’re only 3 feet 6 inches tall now." As a lump formed in Naomi’s throat, the jogger added, "You see, I made you younger."

Naomi slowly placed her pistol on the floor, then used her free hands to inspect her body. The first stop was her chest. Being a small-breasted woman, Naomi wore soft-cup bras, but her bra felt softer than usual. In fact, the cups were flat, now merely triangular pieces of cloth held in place by an elastic band just under her rib cage and the elastic shoulder straps. Her chest was as flat as when she was a little girl. Further inspection confirmed that the rest of her body had assumed girlish properties.

"I made you 8-years-old. I think that’s a wonderful age for a little girl to be," the woman in jogging outfit said with glee. Naomi tried to raise the pistol at the jogger, who only admonished her as a "naughty girl," lifted her, deposited her in an empty chicken crate, and reattached the hook to seal Naomi inside.

From her feather-strewn prison, Naomi watched as the jogging-suited woman walked up to the business-suited woman with the illegal animal and chuckled, "I eliminated that spy. The next time she’ll get to go undercover is when her mommy tucks her in at night." But she added, "I can’t see why you couldn’t do this for yourself. You had the same education I had when younger."

"But my dear Teresa," the better-dressed woman replied. "Why should I? I know the Hedweigian traditions, but I’m uneasy practicing them. All that hocus pocus stuff and parlor tricks just isn’t becoming of a person in my position. Besides, now that I’m well off, I can hire you on the rare occasion I need it."

The two walked off, the jogger carting the Faberge humidor, the businesswoman cradling the animal.

Naomi felt humiliated at what the jogger had done to her. She turned her into an 8-year-old girl so her employer could smuggle in one contraband animal that by its sound was probably a baby. And in a child’s body, she’d have a hard time explaining who she was. Her CIA career was over.

Escaping from the crate, Naomi endured a week of hardship, sleeping in alleys and bumming food until she stumbled into Ryoko and, based on her adult skills, was recruited as AAAARG’s first non-founding member. And only then, did she become aware of who the Hedweigian witches were, the details of their "age-capture" spell, and that her extracted years were probably trapped as vaporous balls in that humidor.

"But now, retrieval of my lost years is near," Naomi glowed. "But can you trust Ling?" Zephyr added.

True to her word, Ling called on the van’s wireless phone that evening. "I’ve done some checking, and I now know that the Faberge humidor is held nearby," she said. "Great!" Naomi replied. "Where?"

"Excuse me, but I just had this eerie feeling," Ling added. "What?" Naomi inquired. "No, I’m alone in my apartment. Now where is that notepad? I had that name on my mind just a moment ago, but I can’t seem to remember it," Ling added.

But as Ling continued in a string of useless talk to fill time while she scoured her table for the missing note, Naomi noticed something that raised her hackles. Ling’s voice was changing. It was growing higher in pitch, losing its adult resonance. "Ling! What’s happening to you," Naomi asked. "Nothing!" Ling replied. "Then look around you," the AAAARG girl warned. Ling squeaked, "I don’t see anything funny… Eeeeek! There’s a woman behind… (click)."

Running a quick trace on the call, Naomi secured an address, which she handed to Ryoko. Within 15 minutes, the van pulled before Ling’s residence. On entering her apartment, Zephyr and Naomi soon discovered a little girl, cowering under the kitchen table, pointing a hair dryer as if it where a weapon.

"Naomi!" the girl screamed, as she crawled out and ran to Naomi. But she stopped short of embracing her savior. She was now looking directly into Naomi’s eyes. "What happened?" said the girl, whom Naomi was now certain was a rejuvenated Ling. "Welcome to the Hedweigian Witch Conspiracy," Naomi replied.