Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  Although I’d planned to take the elevator up to the fourth floor where Carlton’s office was located, I remained in the lobby and opened up a special app on my Agency phone.

  At the opening screen, there was a white box where I typed in the seven-digit number.

  After I did so, a name appeared: Novus.

  Then, in a semi-creepy way, the opening screen disappeared, and a screen popped up that said, “Welcome to Novus, Titus.”

  In the middle of this screen was a rectangular box with a note from Carlton. “Your briefing for Invisible Target is scheduled for 3:00 p.m. in RTM Conference Room A. In the meantime, you should read the background information contained in these documents. Your familiarity with the contents will lend credence to the views you may want to express to the experts who’ll be attending your briefing.”

  When I touched the screen to scroll forward, a yellow warning box came up; “WARNING: Your Novus code will deactivate in twelve hours.”

  A few seconds later, the warning box disappeared, and I was able to scroll through the pages in Novus much like I was able to scroll through the pages on any digital reading device.

  Like the opening pages in an eBook, the pages that followed the warning screen contained a title page and a table of contents before the actual reading material appeared.

  However, when I read, “Briefing Documents for Operation Invisible Target,” the creativity behind the title page didn’t make me want to dive in and start reading immediately, so I closed Novus and headed down the hallway to the cafeteria instead.

  My decision wasn’t solely based on the uninspired aspect of the title page, or the fact I was experiencing hunger pangs; I knew the cafeteria was sure to be full at this time of day, and I figured I might be able to pick up some further intel on my upcoming operation.

  I was especially interested in the experts who would be attending my briefing. Apparently, their identity had some bearing on why Carlton had provided me with an activation code for Novus.

  I also suspected their presence at my briefing was the reason he’d included a silver-striped tie in Courier Chuck’s carry-on.

  * * * *

  The Agency cafeteria, unlike what the name implied, was a mash-up of well-known fast-food establishments, rather than an old-style buffet offering a variety of salads, vegetables, entrees, and desserts.

  The change in the Agency cafeteria had come about a few years after I’d joined the CIA, but today, I noticed a mini-version of the traditional cafeteria concept had reappeared with a new food vendor called The Old-World Buffet.

  Since I was craving some good old-fashioned meat and potatoes, I decided to sample what The Old-World Buffet had to offer, and I grabbed a tray and got in line. A minute or so later, I realized the line had stalled; it wasn’t moving.

  When I stepped out of the queue to see what was causing the holdup, I noticed a woman was standing in front of the salads arguing with a cafeteria attendant about the freshness of the tomatoes in her salad. When she turned to walk away, I immediately recognized her.

  It was Olivia McConnell.

  * * * *

  Olivia and I shared a long history together. It went all the way back to our time at The Farm when we’d both been junior officers in training.

  Since then, we’d been through several rough patches together. Most of them were due to her abrasive personality and her inability to get along well with people, plus the fact she had no friends.

  No friends that is, except me.

  I was the exception, but only because I just happened to be at the right place at the right time, and I’d rushed her to a hospital when she’d taken a bunch of sleeping pills.

  According to Olivia, this made me her friend for life, although during some of our rough patches, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d renounced our friendship and walked away from me for good.

  Last year, after I’d shared my faith with her, she’d become a believer herself. Once I’d seen the way she’d gotten into studying her Bible, memorizing Scriptures, and attending church services regularly, I’d anticipated seeing a complete change in her personality.

  That hadn’t happened.

  Sure, she’d softened up a little around the edges, but she was still irritating; she was still Olivia.

  That’s not to say she hadn’t experienced some changes in her life. Before her conversion, she’d only cared about herself. Now, she was an outspoken advocate of caring for the less fortunate, especially the homeless, the hungry, and the unborn child.

  To that end, she’d become an active member of the McLean Metropolitan Community Church, where she served as a volunteer in their feeding program.

  As to Olivia’s career at the Agency, it had been a diverse one.

  She’d held upper-echelon administrative positions; she’d served as the Agency’s liaison with Congress, and she’d held positions in the Operations Division, some of which had included running field operations and working with signals intelligence.

  To me, this diversity indicated the suits on the seventh floor had experienced some difficulty in finding exactly the right spot for her.

  Despite her acerbic tongue, I figured they hadn’t given up on Olivia because her brilliant mind was well-suited for intelligence work. Her ability to solve complex problems, do accurate risk assessments, and make quick decisions was evidence of that.

  Also, according to Olivia, the suits had been reluctant to get rid of her because she knew too much, and she wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

  A few years ago, Olivia had been named one of the directors in the Ops Center. As far as I could tell, this was the perfect fit for her.

  In fact, during my last mission, Operation Rebel Merchant, which Olivia had directed out of RTM Center C, she’d been responsible for getting my operational team out of harm’s way after we’d been ambushed by the Houthi rebels.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything she could have done about Jeremy Taylor’s death.

  I hadn’t heard from Olivia since I’d been on leave, which seemed a little strange because I knew Nikki had sent her a wedding invitation. On the other hand, things were always a little strange with Olivia.

  Now, as I saw her take her salad and head over to a table, I decided I’d use the opportunity to see what was going on in her life and possibly question her about Veronica Paisley.

  * * * *

  Olivia had chosen to sit at one of the smaller tables on the south side of the cafeteria where diners could enjoy a view of the atrium.

  Since most employees not only used the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat, but also to hold impromptu meetings with their colleagues, the majority of the tables in the center of the room could seat from four to eight people, whereas the smaller tables near the atrium could only accommodate two people.

  For that reason, the unwritten cafeteria etiquette seemed to be that the smaller tables should be reserved for employees who preferred to dine alone.

  Perhaps that’s why I received some disapproving looks from the other diners when I walked over to Olivia’s table and took the seat opposite her. “Mind if I join you?” I asked.

  For a brief moment, a smile appeared on Olivia’s face, but seconds later, it was replaced with a scowl. “Suit yourself.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  “When did you get here?” she asked, using a spoon to drizzle an oily dressing over her salad. “I thought you were still on leave.”

  “I got dropped off about ten minutes ago. I’m due at a briefing at three.” I gestured at her salad. “I see you’re still eating rabbit food.”

  “Of course, I am. You should be too. All those carbs will only make you sluggish, and you’ll probably fall asleep in the middle of your briefing.”

  “Not likely. Douglas has been hinting there could be some interesting people there.”

  “Interesting in what way?”

  “I have no idea, but he gave me access to Novus with instructions to become familiar with several pages of
briefing documents.”

  “He must want you to look like you know something. Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks for your encouragement.”

  She rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “The only thing I know about the operation,” I said, “is that it’s being run out of Center A, and Veronica Paisley will be directing it.”

  “Are you saying you knew I wasn’t directing your operation when you sat down here?”

  I nodded. “That’s right. Did you think the only reason I sat down here was to get information out of you?”

  She leaned in toward me. “Well, wasn’t it?”

  “Not really.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not fooling me, Titus. I know that’s the reason you sat down here. You’re always trying to find out stuff before your briefing.”

  “It’s called being prepared.”

  “No, it’s called anxiety.”

  “You’re wrong, Olivia.”

  “I’m not wrong. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been nervous before a briefing. I suppose knowing what to expect helps you deal with your insecurities.”

  “I’m not feeling insecure, Olivia.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not, although you’re right about one thing. I did decide to sit down here so I could ask you something, but that’s not the only reason. I also wanted to find out what’s going on with you.”

  “Why would you want to know what’s going on with me?” She glanced down at my ring finger. “Didn’t you and Nikki just get married?”

  “Yes. Didn’t you get your invitation?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, sure, I got it, but you didn’t expect me to fly all the way down to Oklahoma just to see you get all dressed up in a tux, did you?”

  “Yes, I did. That’s what friends do for each other.”

  She looked at me as if I’d slapped her in the face, and she continued staring at me without saying a word for several long seconds.

  Finally, she hung her head and said, “I . . . uh . . . guess I wasn’t sure if we’d . . . uh . . . still be friends when you were married to Nikki.”

  Since there’d never been even a hint of romance between Olivia and me, I was astonished to hear her say such a thing. “Why would that change anything, Olivia? You once told me we were friends for life.”

  “Yeah, but Nikki might not understand our friendship, and besides, you know I don’t get along that well with most women.”

  “Nikki might surprise you. She’s not like most women.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. She married you, didn’t she?”

  Olivia took a spoonful of tomatoes out of her salad and put them on her plate. “Well, since you asked, there’s nothing going on with me; at least nothing here at the Agency. Next month, though, I’ll be taking a trip with some people from my church to a village in Western Kenya where I’ll be helping them build a well, so the people in the village can have clean water.”

  “Well, that sounds interesting.”

  “Don’t be patronizing, Titus. You’re not the least bit interested in hearing about a village in Africa where the villagers are always sick because they don’t have any clean water.”

  Before I had a chance to protest, she picked up her water glass and said, “I’m telling you, Titus, what I’m holding here is a love gift from God, and I bet you’ve never even thanked him for it.”

  She took what appeared to be a deliberately long drink from her water glass.

  After putting the glass back down on the table, she said, “Of course, when our church provides the village with clean water, we’ll also be giving them Bibles and telling them about the other wonderful gifts God has for them.”

  Even though Olivia was right, and I wasn’t that interested in her missionary trip, I still managed to convince her to tell me more about how she was going to dig a well in Africa, and by the time she was finished, I was feeling a little guilty about my attitude.

  “Okay, Olivia, I admit I don’t give poor villages in Africa much thought, and unless I’m running low on bottled water during an operation, I hardly ever give clean water a thought either.”

  “I should talk about it more. Most people don’t have any idea how the rest of the world lives. Of course, you’re probably the only person who’d listen to me.”

  “Well, if you would—”

  “You said there was something else you wanted to ask me. Make it quick. I’m almost finished here.”

  “Since you asked, I’d like to know about Veronica Paisley. I’ve never worked with her before, so I’d like to know what to expect. And just in case you’re wondering, I’m not asking for information because I’m anxious about the operation. I’m asking because I’m the primary for the mission and carrying out the protocols will be on my shoulders.”

  “Are you sure that’s why you’re asking me about Veronica? You sound like you might have an agenda.”

  “What kind of an agenda?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, stacking her salad bowl on top of my empty plate. “Since it’s obvious you’re madly in love with your wife, it can’t be anything romantic.”

  “I assure you it’s not romantic.”

  “I guess it has to be something operational then.”

  “I just said I’m asking because of the operation. I have a feeling I’m being sent to Iraq, and things can get pretty dicey over there.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Here’s what I know. Veronica was in Critical Mission Support for several years before she asked for a transfer to the Ops Center. After her initial three-month probation, she was named an assistant director and, as far as I can tell, she’s been doing a good job. End of story.”

  “Who trained her?”

  “Coach Thompson. He trains everyone. I’ve never been asked to train anyone. Of course, I wouldn’t do it even if they asked me.”

  Having Walter Thompson train new directors made sense. He was an affable, easy-going guy who’d earned the nickname Coach for his use of sports jargon and because he always seemed to have an encouraging word for everyone.

  Olivia wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Any other questions?”

  “Do you know if Veronica and Douglas have worked together before?”

  Olivia nodded. “They’ve worked together several times. If you’ll buy me a cup of coffee, I’ll tell you something a little strange about that.”

  I bought her a cup of coffee.

  Chapter 23

  After I’d purchased us each a cup of coffee from the Coffee Café, we took our cups out to the atrium and sat down on one of the stone benches near a group of shade trees.

  Once she’d taken a drink of her coffee, Olivia glanced down at her watch and said, “I need to get back to the Ops Center as soon as I finish my coffee. I’m supposed to have a video call with C.J. Salazar in thirty minutes.”

  Salazar was the head of the Latin America desk at the Agency, and although I’d worked with him several times, I couldn’t say it had ever been a pleasant experience—for either of us.

  “You certainly have my sympathy,” I said.

  “That man always manages to make everything more complicated than it has to be,” she said, shaking her head, “but I know you don’t want to hear about Salazar. You want me to give you some dirt on Veronica.”

  “No, I’m not after dirt on Veronica. I’m interested in what happened when Veronica worked with Douglas on previous operations. You said there was something strange about that.”

  “Well, Veronica was the only one who acted strange. You know Douglas. He’s always the same.”

  “Except when he’s not.”

  “True, but even when he goes a little off-center, there’s always a method in his madness.”

  “So what happened between Douglas and Veronica?”

  “Why do you always have to be so impatient?”

  “You said you needed to get back to the Ops Center. I was just trying to move things along.”<
br />
  “No, you were being impatient. Keep in mind I could be making too much of this, but here’s what I’ve observed. During our weekly assessment meetings—that’s when all the RTM Managers meet with the Operational Division Directors to discuss our completed operations, I’ve noticed Veronica hasn’t been on the same page with Douglas when we’re evaluating whether his protocols have achieved his operation’s intended objectives.”

  “What do you mean she hasn’t been on the same page with him?”

  “What do you think I mean? I mean she openly contradicts his assessments about how his missions have gone down. The two of them aren’t in agreement about the effectiveness of his protocols.” She shook her head. “Now tell me that isn’t strange.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little strange.”

  “Why would someone with hardly any experience in an RTM Center ever think about publicly disagreeing with a veteran operations officer like Douglas?”

  “I’ve heard you disagree with Douglas before.”

  “Yes, but not outside an RTM Center, and besides, Douglas and I go way back. We’ve known each other for years.”

  I wasn’t sure that was a valid argument, but I ignored it. “Does she contradict or disagree with any of the other Division Directors?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, looking away for a moment, “now that I think about it, I can’t think of a single time she’s made any negative comments in an assessment meeting except when Douglas is there. Maybe she just has a problem with him.”

  “Maybe so. We all have people we can’t get along with. I’m sure C.J. Salazar thinks I have a problem with him.”

  “He probably does,” she said, standing up and tossing her empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can, “but in his case, it’s justified. I have no idea why Veronica would have a problem working with Douglas. He’s always got his act together.”

  “That may be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about anybody.”

  She turned and faced me. “That’s not true, Titus. I’ve said some very nice things about you before. And, just to prove my point, here’s another one: Congratulations on your marriage. Nikki is a very fortunate woman.”