by L. T. Ryan
Clarissa rose and followed him. “Can I speak with him alone for a minute?”
Polanski shifted her gaze to Banner. He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Okay, keep it quick.”
They left the room, leaving Clarissa alone with Sinclair. He aimed a finger toward the ceiling and twirled it around.
Clarissa shrugged and shook her head.
Sinclair mouthed the word, “Bug.” They’d have to be careful what they said.
“I’m not sure,” Sinclair said. “But they left us in here rather than us going into the hall. So keep whatever you say quick and to the point.”
Clarissa took a moment to compose her words. She had to let Sinclair know that she’d reach out to him if she found herself in danger. After all, she had no idea what she was getting herself into. And, if she could, she wanted to give him an idea of what her job entailed. Obviously, she had to do this without letting anyone who observed the conversation in on the meaning of what she had said.
“Let our associate know that I’ll be indisposed for a time, but when the time is suitable, I’ll reach out to him so that we can resume our work together.”
Sinclair’s reaction was delayed. He, too, had to be considering how to handle the situation. After several seconds, he shook his head, said, “Unfortunately, Clarissa, your associate finds himself quite indisposed at the moment, and for the foreseeable future. The chances of being able to relay any thoughts or plans or well wishes to him are quite slim at this time. I’m sure once your assignment has played itself out, he’ll be available and you’ll be able to speak with him as you wish.”
She feared that her words had angered him. He didn’t do anything to help her feel otherwise. She paused while thinking of anything else she could say. During that time, Sinclair turned away and reached for the door.
She said, “Wait.”
He stopped. “What?”
“Thank you for making this opportunity available to me.”
“How do you know it’s a good one, Clarissa?”
“I trust you.”
Sinclair looked back over his shoulder. She saw the left side of his face. His look was hard, eyes narrow. He didn’t make eye contact. “That’s everyone’s first mistake, Clarissa.”
She said nothing else as he exited the room. A hollow feeling formed in her stomach. It wasn’t the first time she had experienced it. Surely, it would not be the last. Where this would lead was anyone’s guess. Would she and Sinclair work together again? If she failed, what would that do to his reputation? To hers? A few moments later, Banner and Polanski returned, saving Clarissa from her thoughts. Banner spoke first.
“Polanski will take it from here. My number will be listed in the cell phone she gives you later. You report to her. She reports to me. If you can’t reach her, then feel free to call me should you need something.”
Clarissa returned to her seat as Banner left the room. The door fell shut, latching securely. She glanced toward Polanski.
“Should I call you Ms. Polanski, or…?”
The woman stared at her for several seconds before responding. What was she thinking? Polanski’s eyes were narrow and her face hardened. She clamped her lips together tightly. Her nostrils flared out with every inhalation. Clarissa believed that the woman felt inconvenienced, at the very least, with having to deal with her. Perhaps Polanski had recommended someone else for the job and had lost to Banner. Why else would she have such obvious hatred for Clarissa?
“You can call me Julie.” She glanced away, toward the wall where windows should have been. Her head bobbed as if she were shaking her legs under the table. “Frankly, I hate the way they call me by my last name. You can’t let them know that, though. Never show weakness. This department has come a long way from when I started in the mid-eighties. But the feeling that it is a good old boy network still permeates the upper echelons around here. You’d be wise to remember that if you get an inkling that this is someplace you want to stay.”
Clarissa said nothing, nodded and smiled.
Julie rolled her eyes. “Forget it. You wouldn’t last one day here.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “Then again, with those looks, you’d probably be my boss within five years.”
Clarissa hated comments like that. She’d dealt with them since the time she was a teenager. Accusations flew because of her grades, then due to promotions after a short time on her first grown-up job. Both situations led to her leaving college early, and then quitting a promising career.
“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” Clarissa said. “I was forced to come down here. You people make it sound like I had a choice, but we all know that’s not true.”
“Listen to me. I have no idea who you are or what you have done up to this point. The fact is, I don’t trust you and I’m against this. I’ve got about as much say in it as you do. We’ve got a real problem across the lawn. Their solution is to let you play house in the most recognized home in the free world. Don’t for a minute think you are going to breeze through this by flashing your smile and shaking your ass. There is more on the line than you could possibly be aware.”
Clarissa rose, walked around the table, stopped in front of Julie.
“I don’t know anything at this point because you people haven’t told me anything. So get over yourself and stop giving me shit for no reason.”
The two women squared off next to the table. Julie’s cheeks were red. Clarissa felt hers burn. They breathed heavily, and out of sync. Neither blinked. Neither spoke. How long could they go on? Clarissa wasn’t one to back down. Apparently, Julie wasn’t either.
Not a great way to start a new job, Clarissa thought, taking a step backward and forcing a smile.
Julie continued to stare. Finally, her cheeks paled and she put some slack in her shoulders and said, “Let’s go down to my office so I can begin briefing you on your duties for the next few weeks.”
Chapter 10
Julie led Clarissa out of the room and into the hallway. It seemed brighter than it had earlier. Definitely warmer. She glanced up and shielded her eyes from the full barrage of lights that illuminated the space. Through closed doors, hushed voices slipped through. Offices with doors wide open bustled with activity. Fingers danced across keyboards and conference calls echoed off thin walls. Another type of concrete jungle, though tamer than Clarissa was used to.
Stopping in front of the elevator, Julie reached out for the down button.
“What floor is your office on?” Clarissa asked.
Julie said nothing. Clarissa watched the woman’s unwavering reflection in the mirrored door. Julie stood close enough that each exhalation fogged up the surface in two small, oblong spots. The elevator arrived and the mirrored barriers slid open. Clarissa waited for Julie to step inside, then followed.
After the elevator began its descent, Clarissa asked, “Are you back to disliking me?”
Julie said, “No. I don’t feel like being pestered by questions all day, and undoubtedly that is what is going to happen. At some point, you are going to ask me questions that matter. I’ll answer those. But this talking just to fill the empty void surrounding us has got to stop. I’m used to working with strong independent agents who can handle themselves without me babying them all day long.”
Clarissa’s intention had been to goad the woman along, but she didn’t expect to get as upset by the answer as she did. She was not a petulant child. Clarissa considered herself one of the most independent people she knew. She opened her mouth and prepared to lash out when the elevator stopped and the doors once again parted. Two men nodded and stepped on board.
“Going down?” one of them asked.
Everything in my life, Clarissa thought.
“Yes,” Julie said, batting her eyes at Clarissa.
Neither of the men pressed a button on the panel.
The elevator lurched and resumed its downward trek, then came to a stop again. It opened up to the long hall that led past security. Was Julie’s office
on this level? Clarissa couldn’t recall seeing any offices on the floor. Perhaps they were leaving.
The men stepped to the side and allowed the women to exit first. Clarissa followed Julie down the hallway. They passed security. The same four guards from earlier were still manning the station. Clarissa reached out and tapped Julie on the shoulder.
“What is it now?”
“They took my handgun when I entered.”
“Your personal weapon?”
“Yes.” She paused, then added, “Well, no. Beck gave it to me when he picked me up.”
“Then Beck can pick it up here if he has the proper paperwork for it.”
“What am I supposed to use in the meantime?”
“Why don’t you have the one issued to you by your department?”
“I had to ditch everything I had when I left my previous assignment. I have one at my apartment, but it’s a backup. I guess I can get it this evening.”
Julie stopped, turned. “No. You can’t go back there until this is over.”
“Until what is over?”
The two men from the elevator approached. They carried on a conversation while moving down the hallway toward the garage.
Julie watched them, eyed Clarissa for a moment, then shook her head. “I’ll be able to get you a weapon when we get to my office.”
“Where is your office?”
For the first time, Julie smiled after one of Clarissa’s questions.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Clarissa decided she’d remain quiet until they reached their next destination. In the garage, Julie pointed toward a black Cadillac. It looked new on the outside. Smelled like it on the inside. She eased into the leather bucket seat and slid the seatbelt over her chest.
Five minutes later, they were on 15th Street, driving north. The crowded sidewalk thinned out the further they drove from the White House. Before long, tourists gave way to business people. The men hurried along in their Brooks Brothers suits. The women, not to be outdone by their male counterparts, wore designer clothing that made them look powerful and sexy. A statement, she supposed. I can do it all, and then some. They all occupied space on an empty sidewalk, moving from one meeting to the next with bluetooth devices covering their ears, and Starbucks coffee cups in one hand, and a laptop bag in the other. Some complimented the ensemble with a backpack or messenger back or purse slung over a shoulder.
Julie pulled into a parking lot and told Clarissa to remain inside the car. She did not object. The woman exited, leaving the engine idling and air conditioning running.
Clarissa glanced at the four-story brick building. She had no idea who worked inside. It didn’t look official, like the rest of the government buildings in the city. Maybe Julie had a friend inside she had to see. A thought passed through Clarissa’s mind that caused her to tense up.
What if it was a setup? Again, a long shot considering the elaborateness of getting her to this point. But that didn’t mean that Julie Polanski hadn’t gone rogue. Perhaps this was the tipping point, and Clarissa was the first step on the woman’s path.
She reached for the glove box, but found it locked. She shifted her gaze from the side mirror to the rear-view, which she adjusted to give her a better view. Every person she saw walking became an instant threat. She considered exiting the vehicle and going inside the building.
Every second that passed was both a blessing and a curse to her. Either nothing was going to happen, or something was about to.
It wasn’t until she saw Julie exit the building carrying a white plastic bag that she relaxed.
Julie pulled the door open and sat down. Clarissa smelled toasted bread and melted cheese and an assortment of deli meats.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Julie said. “These are the best in the city. I got you a foot long. We’ll eat at my office. First, we’ve got to take you to get your hair done.”
Clarissa protested, but Julie cut her off. They drove another block north, then parked behind a salon where a chair had been reserved. The woman didn’t ask Clarissa how she wanted her hair styled. Instead, Julie told the woman to cut it short and dye it darker. An hour later, Clarissa stepped out of the salon looking like a different woman. She stopped in front of the front window and stared at her reflection. Her hands patted her shortened, black hair. She figured she could make it work. She had no choice.
They returned to Julie’s car and pulled out of the parking lot and drove back the way they came, crossing into Virginia. Julie continued on taking them into Crystal City.
Clarissa pointed at an approaching building she recognized. “That’s a Secret Service building, right?”
Julie nodded, and said, “That’s correct. I’ve been stuck in that building every day the last five years.”
The disdain in the woman’s voice did not go unnoticed. Clarissa had heard people speak like that, but never at a job she imagined earned someone recognition and trust.
“You talk as if you hate your job.”
“Hate is a bit of a strong word. I love what the job stands for.” She glanced at Clarissa. “I dislike the stuff I have to shovel every day, and most of the people I have to answer to. I’ve passed the point where I’m going to get any further up the ladder than I already am. And I’m never going back to the Treasury Department building. Next stop for me is probably a field office in Oklahoma. You see, once you’ve been passed over so many times, you come to grips with the fact that this is as good as it is going to get. And, frankly, it ain’t that great.”
Clarissa didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t respond. The woman sitting next to her looked pissed off one moment, and defeated the next. Anything Clarissa said might set Julie off, so she turned her head toward the window and stared out at a man pushing a shopping cart full of cans and other various objects. She wondered if the guy really was homeless. What if he was an agent who’d been planted there to keep an eye on things from the street? After all, she could spot a Fed from five blocks away. Surely anyone meaning them harm could as well. But this guy, with his unshaven face, shaggy hair, and soiled clothing, who would bother with him?
“What are you looking at?” Julie asked.
“That guy. He seems out of place.”
“Why?”
“Just doesn’t look right.”
“D.C., NOVA, it’s a big area. Lots of money. Lots of jobs gone wrong. Lots of homeless.”
“Yeah, but right here? What’s to say he’s not from your department?”
Julie glanced at her. “You’ve got a good eye.”
“When you’re completely on your own at the age of nineteen, you learn how to spot the creeps and assholes. The skill grows as you get better and older.”
“I heard about your father, how he died.”
“Did you know him?”
“Me? No.” Julie shook her head as she turned off the street. “I read your file, and as much of his as I could. A lot was classified.”
“The man responsible is still out there.”
“You know who it was?”
“I don’t know who pulled the trigger, but I know who ordered it.”
“Why not tell someone?”
Clarissa laughed. “It’s complicated, and I don’t want to get into it now. I was barely eighteen when it happened. I’ve moved on.”
“So you say,” Julie said, then repeated.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When you don’t take care of something, it tends to eat away at you until you explode.”
“You think I’m going to explode?”
“I don’t think anything.”
“You don’t know me, Julie. No matter what you think, you don’t.”
Julie shrugged. “We’re all the same, Clarissa.”
She drove through a dark hole in the side of the building and rolled down her window. A guard checked her credentials, then motioned her forward. The gate rose as the Cadillac inched forward. They drove up one lane, down another, repea
ting the process six times before finding a spot to park the car.
“Should have come by closer to lunch.” Julie smiled briefly.
Chapter 11
Julie Polanski led Clarissa through a maze of hallways connected by break rooms and stairwells. They passed three separate elevators, but the woman refused to stop. And Clarissa didn’t ask her to. Perhaps the woman was trying to show she still had it by running up the stairs two at a time.
When they stopped in front of a door with a nameplate that read “POLANSKI,” the older woman was out of breath.
Clarissa smiled. “This it?”
Julie glanced over her shoulder at the bronze plate next to the door and said, “What do you think?”
Right when Clarissa had thought they might get along.
“Wait here,” Julie said.
Clarissa remained outside the office and watched as Julie took a seat in front of her computer. The monitor was angled away from the doorway. The printer began whirring with activity. Julie spun in her chair, collected her printouts and exited the office, shutting and locking the door on her way out.
“Follow.” A single command, as though she thought of Clarissa as a dog.
Polanski wouldn’t be the first.
They entered a long, narrow room. Two women were seated behind desks placed side-by-side. The first, a lady with dark hair and even darker eyes, looked up and nodded.
Julie stepped forward, holding one of the forms in her outstretched hand. “Need a badge created with the following information.”
The lady took the paper, set it in front of her and began typing. Every so often, she’d reach for her mouse, slide it side-to-side and click on the buttons. “Clarissa Weston,” she said. “How tall are you, Clarissa?”
“Five-nine,” Clarissa replied. “And don’t ask for my weight.”
Julie rolled her eyes. The lady smiled and looked from Clarissa to the older woman.
“Is this right?” the lady asked.
“What?” Julie said.
“No restrictions?”
“That’s correct. She’ll be overseeing all staff activity, therefore she needs unlimited restrictions. Just make sure it’s set up so that everything she does is stored in the database.”