For the first few weeks after I realized that there weren’t any more missions coming, I felt lost. Though I never had any true verification, I felt that my actions were making a difference, and that, maybe, I had been the hero I always wanted to be.

I was still getting two paychecks, which was nice. Not that I went crazy splurging, but I lived comfortably and my savings account was filling up nicely. There was some guilt with depositing the CIA checks, but it’s not that I wasn’t willing to do the work. I kept the money and told myself I’d be ready whenever they needed me.

So I was left with one job that actually wanted me to contribute, and I decided to throw myself fully into it. I was lucky to have it, because, as you can imagine, being immediately forgettable is a huge obstacle in the job market.

Once I realized that my one shot at exposure was through my writing, I went after it aggressively, scouring websites and newspaper listings for jobs in any area of print journalism. I had written much for the college paper, and had a well-stocked portfolio to share.

My resume was strong, particularly for entry-level journalism, and I got quite a few bites. I thought I interviewed well, but never received a call back. Why would I, when no one could remember meeting me. Even when I called the interviewer to see where they were at in the decision-making process, I got the standard “still interviewing other candidates” line, but I could tell that they had no idea who I was.

When I got to Farm Technology Monthly, I felt I found the perfect environment for a forgettable journalist. The consumer magazines and newspapers I applied to called for a higher-profile presence that I hoped I could rise to, but clearly wouldn’t. Trade publishing, with its smaller staffs, offered a greater role in the whole publishing process, and its targeted audience didn’t need rock star — an unseen editor who proved solid, reliable information was enough.

The offices were also conducive to my needs. On a tour during my interview, I passed the cubicle that I’d been sitting at if I got the job. It was ready to go with a computer, stapler, and what looked like a comfortable chair. Simply insert Terry here, and we’d be rolling.

So I did. The interview went great, and I really wanted the job. I knew that the second I left, they’d never remember me being there, so I took what was, up to then, the biggest chance of my life.

The day after the interview, I got to the office early and went to what I now considered my desk. At 9 AM, I reported to HR and told them I was the new editorial hire. An eyebrow was raised, but that was about it. The HR director shoved paperwork at me and sent me on my way.

I love paperwork. It doesn’t disappear the second I leave the room. It says, “Terry was here.” So I filled it out, submitted it, and went back to my desk. As the office workers filed in, I said hello to everyone and introduced myself. I know, why bother when they won’t remember me two seconds later — but it’s what you do normally in that situation, and I didn’t want to raise any red flags.

When my boss came in, I followed him to his office and “reminded” him of who I was that he hired me and asked for some assignments. He stared at me silently while he removed his jacket, his face twisted as his brain strained for some recollection of me.

Sadly, I knew it wouldn’t work.

But I was here and eager, and, as I mentioned, I was a good editor and writer, so I was confident I could do the job. He was apparently under a great deal of stress since the previous editor left, and he readily passed off the work to me. It was good, solid publishing work, and I handled it readily. His life got easier, so I kept the job.

Years and several promotions later, I was running the book, but had done it so often, it was almost as if it was on auto-pilot. Now that the CIA had rejected me, it was time to re-examine the brand and bring back some of the excitement I felt when I first started. I was going to use my position to set the farming industry on fire!

So I wrote memos. I initiated the redesign of both the magazine and the website. I reached out to my PR contacts looking for the big stories – who was using what in innovative ways. Who is leading the farming industry into the future?

And though, surprisingly, since no one mentioned it to me directly, by scouring all the recent press releases from the biggest technology companies in farming, I think I found him: Roderick King.

Looking over releases from the last year, I saw that King-owned organizations had purchased huge amounts of gear. Harvesters, lighting, irrigation systems, automation systems. I did a Google search on him, and saw only a few references. Somehow this was sailing beneath the radar, and could be a huge story for me to break.

I began getting into the Roderick King business, learning all there was to know about him. Which wasn’t much.

King was a scientist and inventor originally, not a farmer or involved in agriculture at all. His first public work seems to be for Rockton Petroleum, second only to Exxon-Mobil in the world of oil and fuel production. He developed a particular refinement process that almost gave Rockton the top position. Almost.

He left the company unceremoniously. At least I assumed it was unceremoniously, as there was no news of it. All traces of him were scrubbed from the Rockton web site. Bad blood perhaps? Was he pushed into agriculture to get the taste of big business out of his mouth? Nobody in the media deemed it to be worth a story, so perhaps it was something more mundane. A mid-life career change is not unusual.

But, after digging even deeper, I found out that King hadn’t completely left the oil business. A King-backed company owed the majority share in EverTech, which provides sophisticated gas pumps to stations worldwide. We’re talking high-precision, high-tech pumps that have been embraced by not only the big brands, but even the locals.

Innovation in farming and gas pumps? Clearly I had found the huge story I was looking for. And no one else had caught wind of it. It’s not saving the world, but still pretty damn exciting.

Even more exciting: several addresses of King-owned companies led to a small town in Kansas. Heading over to Google Maps for virtual tour, I found the location — a huge compound in the middle of nowhere. Huge. If featured several large buildings, what looked like a tremendous garage, and few smaller structures spread out amongst the miles and miles of farmland.

I don’t know if it was my CIA training or just wishful thinking, but this had James Bond villain HQ written all over it.

Yes, it was definitely time to enter the world of the mysterious Mr. King.