Ben and Moussa had been going to the college for 2 years, both in the graduate biochemistry program. They were from somewhere in the Middle East, maybe Israel, maybe Lebanon. Ben was a good looking guy about 6'1" with dark hair and a big smile, liked to talk -- in slightly accented English—and had no trouble attracting the girls. Moussa was a little shorter, well muscled, also attractive, quieter, but not really shy, just more private. They had been friends since they met in the program 2 years ago, now roommates in a nice apartment near campus for the past year. Everyone assumed that they came from wealthy families; after all, a great apartment -- hardly the style one usually associated with "starving" graduate students -- each had a car, and they dressed well. Yes, these guys were obviously not hurting for the bucks. They were known for having pretty good parties with good beer, good wine, and other things. If they were Muslims, they certainly didn't let it get in the way of a good time.
"What do you think? This Saturday?" Ben asked his roommate.
"Why not. I could use a little fun after these past weeks of being buried in books. And we've got rent to pay, Hey Ben, you know?"
"Yeah. We did pretty well in that last one. How much do we bring in?"
Moussa thought for a moment, doing a little calculation in his head. "About $1500."
"Not bad, " Ben laughed. "Let's do it. I'll get the word out."
They finished their coffee, grabbed their books and left for class.
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Sarah was a 22 year old poly-sci student in her final year at the college and thinking about what in hell she was going to do with this ridiculous major. She was from a small town in rural Virginia called Farmville, the youngest in a large traditional family.
"My parents told me to get into pre-med," she said to herself as she was walking back to her little apartment, "but I knew better. I was going to study ways to bring peace to the world. Well, short of bringing in the millennium, what am I going to do with my life? Maybe I'll just find a nice guy and let him take care of me." She sighed to herself.
For a girl as cute as she was, Sarah was fairly timid when it came to men. She remained a virgin through high school and remedied that in her sophomore year of college. In many ways, she was the proverbial small-town, traditional, nice girl. She'd had only two real boyfriends in college, but plenty of first dates. It was just that most of the guys she met were so shallow. Sarah wasn't a knockout, not a beauty queen type, but at 5'6 and 120 lbs, with long dark hair, long legs and a curvy, "provocative" figure, men did notice her. Her main problem was that she was too damned smart, running intellectual rings around most of the drones who asked her out. And she didn't want to play the game and hide her mind. If a guy wasn't up to her level, she got plain bored and quickly.
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Like most institutions of wayward learning, this university had a drug problem -- typical, fairly innocuous stuff, but thanks to the recent articles in the paper, people in the community had been complaining about it. So finally the local police officials were taking an interest. In cooperation with the campus security, they sent a man onto the campus to look for signs of "suspicious activity". He was so obviously out of place that he was spotted almost immediately: a narc, a snark, an aardvark was amongst us. And an odd vark he really was. He stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. A poster-boy for a junior G-man. He may as well as worn a sign around his neck when he walked up to a group of kids and asked if they knew where he could "score". About the only thing he scored was derisive laughter. After a few embarrassing days of this, he was pulled off. A new approach was needed.
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The head of campus security, Maurice Stans, called Sarah into his office. He had heard about her from one of her professors. Sarah was said to be smart, level-headed, conservative and definitely not involved with the drug scene.
"What do you think, Sarah? Would you be willing to do a little law enforcement work as credit for your final community service project?"
Sarah was dreading the community service boondoggle she, as a senior, would be forced to go through, so her interest was piqued.
"I don't know. What would I have to do?" She asked.
"Nothing dangerous. Just help us out with a little undercover work. We're trying to find out the source of these yellow pills that have been flooding campus."
Sarah opened her eyes a little wider. "Those little yellow ones? Yes, I've seen those around. I've even been offered them a few times." She quickly added, "I've never taken them though."
Mr. Stans further explained, "We think we know who is behind this, but we can't get close enough to verify it. And we don't want to call in the DEA or any outside agency; It's not big enough for them and could be embarrassing for us. We think we just have some students selling these happy pills, not some big time coke dealer here."
"So what can I do?" Sarah asked. "I don't know anything about it. I don't have anything to do with drugs -- except the occasional beer."
"Well," laughed Mr. Stans, "you could try to get into the social circle of our suspects and let us know what you saw. That's all. Just a little reconnaissance."
Sarah was a somewhat intrigued. "What, you want me to try to date some guys? Some guys I don't even know."
"Well, not necessarily date; they have parties, and we thought you might attend one of them and just keep your eyes open. Like I said, nothing too intense. You just have to play the part of a college girl, which you be able to do quite well, since that is what you are." He laughed.
"You mean, I'll get credit for going to a party?" She smiled, "I'm in."
Mr. Stans smiled back at her, "Good. Let me get you fully briefed, as we say."
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