by Terry Toler
Why did she feel so comfortable talking to him? Even if what she was saying was a lie. She felt like they were getting close. Getting to know each other. Of course, he wasn’t getting to know her at all. Just what she wanted him to know.
It’s complicated.
They talked about it in training. Some operatives had been married for thirty years, and their spouses still didn’t know what they really did for a living.
“My job has its challenges like any other,” she responded, “but I love everything about it. I know you don’t feel the same way about law, but is there anything you are passionate about like that?”
“I played football at Stanford. I love it with a passion. Do you like football?” he asked.
Alex always finished his sentences by asking her a question. Turning the conversation back toward her.
“Sure,” Jamie said hesitantly. She hadn’t watched a game in years. She hadn’t spent three hours in front of any television watching anything for as long as she could remember. “What position did you play?” she asked, realizing she was doing the same thing.
Alex explained that he was the starting quarterback for the Stanford Cardinals football team who lost to Alabama in the national championship game his senior year a few years before. They didn’t lose because of him. The defense gave up a last-second touchdown. He would’ve been the game’s Most Valuable Player had they won. Now he was just a footnote— the losing quarterback of another Alabama championship.
He was drafted in the first round by the San Francisco Forty-Niners, but blew out his knee in training camp, so his NFL career was short-lived. Jamie could see a hint of sadness in his eyes. A lost dream.
“When my football career was over, I enrolled as a law student at Berkeley since I already lived in the Bay Area.”
“I’m into martial arts,” she blurted out, immediately regretting giving out that much information. She was now walking a fine line between the lies and revealing her true occupation. She had to be careful.
Into martial arts was an understatement. Curly was the best martial arts trainer in the world by most measures. She never learned why he was called Curly since he didn’t have a single hair on his head and hadn’t had any for more than twenty years. She once jokingly said it was because he reminded people of one of The Three Stooges. He wasn’t amused, and Jamie paid a price for the joke that day as he worked her so hard, she literally had to crawl into bed that night.
“What kind of martial arts? Should I be worried?” he asked jokingly.
Curly taught Jamie skills such as hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, and Krav Maga which was the Israeli form of self-defense. She was put in every conceivable situation and taught how to fight her way out of it. Curly trained her on every weapon including, guns, knives, swords, machetes, daggers, brass knuckles, batons, and tasers among other things. She was taught how to withstand torture without disclosing any information, pass a lie detector test, endure waterboarding, and how to survive without food, water, and sleep for long periods of time.
Curly said she was the best recruit he’d ever trained. After three years on the job, she could be considered the most lethal female assassin on the planet. There may be one or two men who were better, but they hadn’t proven it. Jamie had proven her credentials. Jamie was sent on the most dangerous assignments and had always managed to get out of each of them mostly unscathed.
“You should be worried,” she said. Keep your hands to yourself.
He gave her a skeptical grin.
“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” Alex asked, changing the subject again.
She was relieved he hadn’t pressed the subject more but was suddenly nervous because he clearly was interested in her. If she said no, that would effectively cut off the relationship, and he would probably get the hint and leave her alone. If she said yes, she might start something she wasn’t sure she could finish.
He seemed like a nice guy. She didn’t want to break his heart. They hadn’t even started talking about past relationships. Who knew where that conversation might lead?
“I’d love to have dinner with you,” she said, not giving the argument in her head a chance to come to a final conclusion.
They had dinner and every other meal together for the rest of the cruise. Jamie had gone back to her own room at night, though. Well, except for the one night when she fell asleep on his couch while watching a movie. She woke up the next morning covered with a blanket. That was sweet and thoughtful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly as she did that night, with no nightmares of girls in bondage and no people shooting at her. In fact, that whole week she felt like a real person and not an international woman of mystery. It felt good.
His law books and her The History of the Breakup of the Soviet Union were not picked up again for the rest of the cruise.
***
Three weeks later
Back in Arlington, Virginia, Jamie had been home from the cruise for three weeks and hadn’t heard from either of the two people she expected a call from—Brad, her handler at the CIA, and Alex.
Brad not calling wasn’t totally unexpected. Several weeks between missions wasn’t unusual even if they weren’t letting her recover from the three months in Thailand. They’d let her know when they had a mission for her. In fact, it was better he hadn’t called. Jamie needed the three weeks to regain her edge. She’d just finished a fast-paced, five-mile run and was starting to feel more like herself. She’d lost something physically from eating the voluminous amount of food at the buffet on the ship. Even more of her edge emotionally when she had allowed herself to get too close to Alex.
Why hasn’t he called?
He’s probably just busy.
She remembered Alex said he’d be studying for the bar exam. That must be it. While she didn’t know everything involved in preparing for the exam, she imagined it would consume most of his time and energy. She had many all-nighters in college, cramming for a test, gulping down cups of coffee to stay awake. Casual relationships were the last thing on her mind when she was trying to pass a test.
It’s for the best.
I should call him.
She got up from the bar stool and walked over to the couch. She picked up the phone and started to dial his number and then abruptly stopped.
He had to make the first move. Jamie was old fashioned that way. She wasn’t going to chase after a guy. Especially one she had just met and who was on the other side of the country. She’d never made the first move, and she wasn’t about to start now. If he didn’t want to talk to her then it was his loss.
She’d let it go. If he called, he called. Her plan was to end it for good when he did.
At that moment, the phone rang. She lunged to the couch and grabbed the phone.
Alex?
Emily. Her best friend.
“Has he called yet?” she asked, not even saying hello.
“No,” Jamie said, followed by a deep sigh.
“His loss,” Emily said. “You should let it go. If he hasn’t called by now. I don’t think you should even take the call even if he does.”
“What if something happened to him?” Jamie asked. “There could be a logical explanation. Maybe his grandmother died or something horrible like that.”
“Maybe he’s married,” Emily said. “He can’t call because he’s back home with his wife and kids.”
“Why would he go on a cruise without his wife and kids? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t know. You hear all the time about men with two wives and two families.” Her voice suddenly got more excited. “I saw a miniseries where a woman was married to a man who said he was a CIA agent. He had five wives. A perfect cover for a secret life. None of the wives knew about each other until he died. Maybe Alex is a CIA agent married with two kids.”
The conversation was starting to hit too close to home. She was the one lying. She was the CIA officer. Something Emily did not know about her.
Couldn’t know. She also didn’t know they were called officers, not agents. An agent was a foreign informant. Jamie didn’t correct her. She needed to change the subject.
“I don’t think he has a wife, and I know he doesn’t work for the CIA,” Jamie retorted. “He’s just a jerk. A pretty-boy, football star who’s used to getting any girl he wants. Well, he couldn’t have me, so he’s moved on to bigger and better things.”
“There are no bigger and better things than you,” Emily said kindly.
“Thanks, girlfriend. You’re the best. You’re right. It’s time for me to move on.”
“Good idea. Take your pictures of him and burn them.”
There were no pictures. As an officer, Jamie was instructed to make sure no strangers took pictures of her. While on the ship, a lady had come up to them with a camera. She worked for the cruise line and offered to take their picture. Jamie was glad Alex strongly objected as well. Made it easier for her. She didn’t have to explain why she was adamant about not having her picture taken.
“I think I’ll just block his number,” Jamie said.
“Good idea. Forget about him. He’s not worth the mental energy. I gotta go,” Emily said suddenly.
She was probably at work.
Jamie hung up the phone and scrolled through her contacts, debating whether or not to block his number. She hesitated. She walked back over to the kitchen, thinking. Finally, she put the phone down on the counter and walked away.
A sudden sadness came over her. A loss. A pain in her heart. Tears formed in her eyes. She balled her fist.
“I guess he didn’t have as much fun as I thought,” she whispered to herself sadly as she looked at the phone from across the room.
All of those thoughts were interrupted by the ping of her phone, notifying her she had a text message.
Alex?
She rushed across the room in anticipation. The message was from Brad.
My office. 4:00 sharp.
So that was that.
Her vacation was over and so was her little fling or whatever it was called. If it didn’t mean anything to Alex, it wasn’t going to mean anything to her either.
As Curly said, have all the sex you want, make sure it doesn’t mean anything. There was no sex, and Jamie decided that it didn’t mean anything.
Fun while it lasted.
Time to go to work.
4
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Jamie walked into the reception area of Brad’s office at fifteen minutes to four. She always gave herself extra time, because the fastest way to get on his bad side was to be late. The second fastest way was to not follow his instructions to the letter in the field. She often did the second, so she made sure to never do the first.
Considered a bit of a “loose cannon,” Jamie liked to think she was improvising based on what was happening on the ground. Going with her gut. Curly said to always trust her instincts over those of the suits. They weren’t the ones getting shot at. He also said it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. So far, Jamie had never had to ask for forgiveness. Things had always turned out for the best, and her instincts had always been right.
Like when she rescued the girl in Columbia and was totally off mission when she brought the girl back with her. Brad was furious until he learned the girl was a treasure trove of information. Being a sex slave, she’d overheard all kinds of conversations that turned into actionable intelligence. Brad said Jamie was lucky; Curly said it was a good call.
Brad’s assistant, Connie, had the phone to her ear. She held up her hand signifying to Jamie she’d be right with her. In less than a minute, Connie hung up the phone and said, “Hello, Jamie. Welcome back. Did you have a good time on your vacation?”
“I did,” Jamie replied.
“Or at least I thought I did,” Jamie muttered to herself as an image of Alex in his swimsuit popped into her mind.
“Brad is in the briefing room.”
“He said to meet him here at his office at four. I’m early.”
“Right, but Director Coldclaw is attending the meeting so they moved it to a secure room. They are in room 4B.”
Jamie started to ask what was so important that the director had to be there, but she’d know soon enough and let it pass. She turned and walked out of the office with a friendly wave.
The Director of the CIA, Amy Coldclaw, had been on the job for six months and was confirmed by one vote in the Senate after a contentious confirmation process. Jamie admired her. A tough woman in a department dominated by men, she’d started at the agency right out of college and made it all the way to the top by being the toughest and smartest person in the room most of the time. Just like Jamie or at least what she aspired to be.
She hurried down the hall to the meeting room, knocked politely, and walked in.
Six people were sitting around a conference table. The Director and her assistant, Brad and his assistant, and two people she didn’t know.
No one acknowledged her. One of them was talking and giving a slide presentation at the front of the room, so all eyes were in that direction. A tall man wearing a suit. The only one in the room with a tie on.
Brad looked her way and simply nodded toward where he wanted her to sit. The screen on the wall had a map of Belarus displayed on it. At that moment, Jamie wished she’d finished The Breakup of the Soviet Union rather than wasting her time with Alex.
Why did everything remind her of Alex? When was that going to end?
The tie man gave a brief history of Belarus and explained it was a former territory of the Soviet Union, which Jamie was sure everyone already knew. He gave a number of seemingly inconsequential facts. Population, 9.4 million people. Russian is the most commonly spoken language. Minsk is the capital.
“We recently learned that Igor Bobrinsky, the President of Belarus, is negotiating a secret deal with Russia to buy its natural gas,” the tie man said, with authority.
This was a major issue in the west. Nord Stream 3, as it was called, the advanced pipeline to Nord Stream 2, was an undersea pipeline that would carry natural gas from Russian fields to the Baltic coast. The pipeline was in direct competition with American natural gas production, and the concern was European companies would become dependent on the cheaper Soviet gas rather than what was called the “freedom gas.”
The Russian companies were filled with corruption and many thought the gas line would line the pockets of mafia types and might even get into the hands of terrorists. It would certainly make Russia stronger and broaden its financial influence, giving the Russian President Mikael Yokov, more money to flow into his military apparatus. It ultimately made Europe less safe, but some leaders were more concerned about short term savings than long term security.
While all this was interesting, Jamie had no idea what it had to do with her. Hopefully, tie man would get to that soon.
He did. “As you know, Belarus has been a leader in fighting sex trafficking.”
She remembered the foreign minister of Belarus’s recent speech at the United Nations documenting his country’s success in fighting sex trafficking. A speech very well received. In reality, Belarus was barely making a dent, but they were doing better than most.
“Even then, the US State Department’s Office to Monitor and Combat Trafficking in Persons, placed Belarus as a Tier 3 country,” he explained.
Tier 3 meant that the government didn’t fully comply with the minimum standards and wasn’t making significant efforts to do so. Also, the worst possible designation.
“Belarus is confusing in a way,” the tie man continued. “While they pay a lot of lip service to cracking down on sex trafficking, and they’ve certainly taken some steps to curtail it, many think it’s just lip service, and they aren’t really serious about it.”
As far as Jamie was concerned, none of the countries did enough, including the United States. The world needed a lot more action and less talk from all of the countries of the world. T
he problem could be completely eradicated, at least in the free world, if everyone would join together and get serious about the problem. He still wasn’t giving any clue as to what any of this had to do with her.
Was she going to Belarus or was this just a briefing? Why was the Director there?
“That’s not new information,” Jamie spoke up. If they weren’t going to let her know why she was there, then she would press the information on her own. “Prostitution has always been rampant in all of the eastern bloc countries,” she added.
Brad glared at her.
“That’s true,” tie man responded. “But there’s been a shift in focus. It used to be that the poorer women in the low-income regions of Belarus were recruited to serve as prostitutes in Minsk. They are mostly single, unemployed women between the ages of sixteen and thirty. While their lives aren’t great, they aren’t really forced into prostitution and are free to leave and go back home if they want.”
“What’s the shift in focus, Ryan?” the Director asked.
Jamie now knew the presenter’s name.
“We recently uncovered intelligence that there’s a trafficking pipeline that’s originating in Belarus,” Ryan said. “By pipeline, we mean women are being recruited into the sex trade in Belarus and then transported as slaves to mainly Russia but also to Turkey.”
Ryan went on to explain that when gambling became illegal in Russia, Belarus opened several casinos in Minsk, and the demand for prostitutes increased as Russians came over the border in droves to frequent the casinos. Demand increased even more as the Russians gained a greater appetite for Belarus women.
“That’s when an underground group started the pipeline and started exporting the women to Russia where they became sex slaves,” Ryan said. “The women thought they were going to Minsk, but they ended up in Russia, or worse, in Turkey.”
