A Yoke Unequal

by Darrel Bird

had to buy the cow to get the milk, but oh how good the milk, she made love to him with a mad passion. Yeah, it was worth the wait. Hell yes.

  He showed his badge to the gate guard who scanned it with a hand scanner, then waved him on through. He drove between a building and a twelve foot high wall before he came to the parking lot of the Pentagon. There were only a few people walking back and fourth in the parking lot, but when he got passed another guard, and entered the halls of the Pentagon, foot traffic was everywhere. No one spoke or even nodded to him as he followed the map the guard had given him. At length he found the door indicated on the map, pushed the numbers he had been given on the key pad beside the door, and heard the lock click as it slid back into the fortified door facing.

  He walked up to the desk where a heavy set woman was operating a computer, and handed her his badge, she glanced at the badge, took it, and typed in his id numbers, “Wait over there.”

  “Is there a bathroom?”

  “Down the hall and to your right.”

  “Thanks.”

  She said nothing, and went back to her typing. He found the bathroom, and opened the door. The bathroom was plain and heavy built for service. A fellow of about fifty was washing his hands at the sinks lined against the wall. The man jerked on the paper towel, wiped his hands and exited the room without speaking, “Don’t guess people want to be neighborly here,” He muttered as he stood over the pisser, leaned his hands against the wall with a sigh of relief.

  He washed his hands at the sink, and stared into the mirror, “Well…go knock’em dead sport.” He mutter again as he threw the towel into the waste basket. He walked back to the office, found a chair, and sat. There were Time magazines placed on a coffee table, which sent him the message that a lot of wait time was spent here. He picked up a Time, read two articles, and was examining a picture of a new 2014 Hummer when the secretary spoke again, “Room six Mr. Gray, just take a seat, and someone will see you shortly.”

  He glanced at the map again, and then walked down another hallway to a flight of stairs that lead down to yet another hallway. He found a room with a large letter six on the door. That was it, no other identifying marks to show what the room was for. The room was large with map hangers, a chalk board, a computer with a large screen, and there were three men in black suits with coffee cups in their hand talking in low tones. The three of them turned to the door at once when he walked in. One of them spoke, “Come in Mr. Gray, I take it you found the accommodations suitable?”

  “Yes, the apartment is fine.”

  “We like to make our employees families feel right at home.” The other two glanced at him then went back to sipping their morning coffee.

  “There’s a pot over there, might as well get a cup as we’ll be here a while.” One of them said. He was an older man with gray hair, and a neat mustache. All of them looked as if they had just left the barber shop. Jerry glanced at their nails, and their nails looked freshly manicured. He could tell a lot about a man by looking at his finger nails. These men’s hands hadn’t lifted a spade in their entire life.

  He walked over to the coffee pot where clean cups shown in the well lighted room. He poured a cup, and then sipped the hot liquid, One thing about it, the CIA has good coffee. He walked back over to stand before the three men who were dressed exactly alike. He mentally nick named them Miny, Moe, and Jack. Jack being the older man. The older man introduced himself as Jack Wagoner, Bingo, got that one right. He introduced the other two as Chip Higgins, and Wayne Stukey. The men nodded slightly, and took another sip of coffee. Not a one of them had even cracked a grin, and it didn’t look as if they were ever going to this side of the grave. He looked at the men, and imagined Wagoner slapping Miny, and Moe upside the head, and he had to over sip his hot coffee in order to stifle a grin. He burnt his tongue, and it brought him rudely back to earth. Jack looked at him, “Gray, we have a job for you. According to your records you rated high, and have been recommended to us by the Atlanta office.”

  This was the last thing he expected Jack to say to him. Moe sat tapping a pencil on the desk, while Miny took out his nail clippers, and carefully clipped a hang nail, then examined the results closely. Jack looked into his coffee cup as if he was examining the entrails of a chicken, “You’ve had parachute training at dropping low level?”

  “Yes. Lots of it. Why?

  “We need to drop you into Siberia Russia. We suspect Russia is back to her old tricks making nukes.”

  “What about the S.A.LT treaty?”

  “We think they are trying to hide a new cold war while pretending to abide by the treaty.”

  “In Siberia?”

  “In Siberia, yes. That’s the only place they can hide it.” Moe spoke up.

  “What do the satellite photos show?”

  “A lot of truck activity right near Oymyakon Russia.”

  “Oymyakon! Man, its too cold there to develop much of anything.”

  “Nevertheless, we picked up a nuke signature there, it might be just residual radioactivity, but we have to check it out. Since Russia has been rattling sabers along the Ukraine border, we think they are looking for an excuse to go behind the iron curtain again. Their oil fields are drying up fast, and they are becoming desperate for the crude, and if they get desperate enough, their next target will be the Arab Emirates.”

  “But the Arabs are already selling them oil.”

  “Well Gray, the Russians are a suspicious people. You know that as well as I do. Now we need you to drop in on them, and get eyes on what they are up too these days. You get the picture?”

  “Yeah I get the picture, I also get a picture of being shot down over one of the coldest places on earth.”

  “We have a new small jet helicopter that can get in under the radar. You’ll have the best cold weather gear in the world. Stuff that’s just been developed. I’ve personally tested it out, and you’ll get up a sweat in -40 degree temps. Damnedest stuff I’ve ever seen. Its not bulky like the old stuff.”

  “If you do this job, you can write your own ticket in the CIA Gray.” Miny said as he bent over to stare at his shoe laces. Moe looked around the room, but neither one of them looked directly into his eyes.

  They’re blowing smoke up your ass every time they speak. I didn’t really expect this level of dishonesty. Still, what can I do? If I turn down my first assignment, I might as well go back to Atlanta and work for Jim in his contracting business, this is the kind of work they have been grooming me for.

  Jack stared at his latest cannon fodder, “Will you do it Gray?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it.”

  “Good, your country needs men like you who have the training, and are willing to step up and do the job.”

  “What did they train you for Jack?”

  “Oh, I’m just a desk monkey; I wish I could take your place on this one.”

  Sure you do you lying sack of dog shit. He thought, but his face was unreadable as he drained the cup. Good to the last drop. Good old U.S of A coffee, shipped in special for the Pentagon worker bees. “When will I start training?”

  “Today.” Miny said, “Call your wife; you’ll be busy here for the next several days.”

  “I just got here; we are not even unpacked yet.”

  “I’ll send a woman over to help your wife get the apartment set up. It’ll be an agent, but your wife won’t need to know that. Suit you Gray?” Jack said with finality in his voice.

  “I Guess, try to send someone under a hundred years old will you?”

  “That’s my boy, someone who dives right in under the bull shit!” Jack laughed and slapped him on the back. The other two grinned at him like the cat that has just lapped up the mouse.

  Well, at least they do grin, even if it’s after they have loaded their cannons with fodder. He reached for his cell to call Ellen to tell her he wouldn’t be home for a few days.

  The Gelding of the Lilly

  Ellen got the call from Jerry at three thirty in the afternoon
saying he had to work; she was tired and sweaty from unpacking their things, and setting the apartment in some semblance of order. He had told her the company was sending her some help, and a half hour later a car pulled into the driveway behind their u-hall trailer. She saw a rather neat and good looking woman get out, and knocked gently on the door. She sighed and struggled up from the recliner to answer the door, “I’m Jane, they sent me to help you unpack, welcome to Washington.” She stuck out her hand.

  Ellen shook her hand, “I didn’t expect someone so soon, I was just about ready to call it a day, and I’m famished.”

  “I’ll just bet you are honey, how about I call for a sitter, and take you out for a nice dinner? The sitter can be here in thirty minutes tops. We can finish getting the apartment done in the morning. How’s that sound to you?”

  Ellen thought a minute. The woman seemed very kind, and she was tired, “Is the sitter dependable?”

  “Oh yes, they are hand picked, and checked out. They are college students who work specifically for the Pentagon in their off times.”

  “I guess it would be ok, I could use a break.”

  The woman dialed a number on her cell, “Sadie, can you send a sitter to 1112 Potomac drive immediately?”

  She hung up, and slipped the cell back into her purse. “Just like that, and you have a sitter?”

  “Just like that, D.C has its perks.” She smiled.

  Twenty five minutes later a car parked near the curb, and a college age