Covert Cover Cracked

by Missy Marciassa

  Chapter 2

  The flight from Bermuda to the naval base in Hampton Roads, Virginia was a little under two hours. Elle typed up her debriefing report on the flight so when they landed, she could head straight to her car. It was less than thirty minutes from Hampton Roads to Norfolk, where her cover job in a university library was located.

  Elle couldn’t believe it when she saw it wasn’t quite ten o’clock in the evening. It felt like at least a day ago that she had left work early to drive down to Hampton Roads, met up with Mason, flew to Bermuda, stole the intel, and flew back. Yet the whole operation had taken less than six hours. Maybe she could play with Lyle after all. During her field training at The Farm in Camp Peary, she’d been too far away (and exhausted) to make his impromptu meet-ups. Those days were over now that she was field rated.

  She called as soon as she got onto I-64 but could tell from his unenthusiastic greeting he wasn’t in the mood anymore.

  “I just got your text.” Elle was a little surprised at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, but after a year of working for the CIA, it was becoming more natural to her. “I should be home in ten minutes. Want to come over?”

  “That’s okay.” Lyle’s toneless voice made her want to wince. “I’m about to turn in. Have a busy day tomorrow.” He was an attorney, part of the Navy JAG Corp, so he worked hard himself. He was also a devout believer in making time for fun, however, and he was successful at the balancing act. They did have fun when they got together: they just didn’t have as much time together as either would have liked.

  Elle was still working at balance. Now that her field training was over, she would be spending more time in Norfolk. There was no way to know when she would go out on ops, but her primary job was still as an analyst, so it wasn’t like she would be sent off for months at a time for undercover work. “I’m sorry I didn’t get your message earlier: the service in the stacks is terrible-”

  “Forget it,” he interrupted. “No big deal.”

  She wished she could tell him that she would have more time now, but she couldn’t. One key part of her “association with the agency,” as Mason said (he had to find a fancy way to say “employment”) was that she couldn’t tell anyone about her work. Dammit. “Listen, I know the past year’s been crazy, but things will get better-”

  “Don’t worry about it.” His voice remained toneless. “I know you have to work.”

  They had been dating for a year: they had actually started dating at about the same time she began training to become field rated with the CIA. The field training had been in addition to her cover job with the Library of Congress in DC, so she had stayed on the go. As far as everyone knew, Elle worked for the Library of Congress as a liaison with the state libraries throughout Virginia, so she spent most of her time in Norfolk and Charlottesville, although she had an office and apartment in DC as well. “Lyle-”

  “God only knows what would happen if the datasets weren’t organized by midnight tonight.”

  Damn, he was worse than Mason. Lyle didn’t understand what kept an Information Scientist so busy. She couldn’t blame him for his confusion. Elle had a master’s degree in Information Science, which she always explained was the “twenty-first century version of Library Science.” With technology, especially the internet, massive amounts of data were generated and shared around the world. This meant a lot more information had to be organized than what was stored in books.

  Computer programs had to be developed to organize all that data so people could find what they were looking for, and mathematical models were necessary to understand the organization of the data. This meant Information Science included advanced training in computer programming, mathematical and statistical modeling, and even psychology for human-computer interaction issues.

  The CIA was all about collecting information, so Information Scientists had useful skills for the agency. That was why they developed an interest in Elle’s work while she was still in school. She had grown up the geek, and didn’t do much of what people would call exciting since she liked to read and play on the computer, so the idea of working for the CIA had been intriguing from the start. Now, as a field rated agent, she was a geek who could kick ass or kill someone with nothing more than a paper clip, although she hoped never to have to put that training to use. Although if he kept pissing her off…

  “Now come on-” Elle knew becoming defensive wouldn’t help anything, but she couldn’t help it. He could put in some long hours too, especially if he was preparing for a trial or in the middle of one, but it was expected that he was too busy to meet up during those times. Why did it have to be so different for her?

  Lyle didn’t even let her finish talking. “Sleep well.” And with that, he hung up.

  Shit. She was going to have to make it up to him. She’d thought managing her career would be the most challenging part of being an adult once she graduated from college. The whole issue of balancing work and her personal life hadn’t crossed her mind: she thought only married women with kids had that problem, not a single woman just out of school.

  Elle had started off with the CIA as an analyst, working with datasets. After being targeted by terrorists during her first “op” in college and then catching the attention of yet another terrorist right after joining the agency, Elle decided she wanted to be field rated. Part of her motivation was self-preservation: the second terrorist, Michael Kagan, was a sick bastard who actually drugged her and had her followed. Yet part of her motivation was because, she had to admit, it was exciting to go into the field. She wasn’t stuck behind a desk developing models all the time, although she still enjoyed doing it. She also enjoyed the rush of going out into the field. It was a nice balance. Now she just had to balance her professional life with her personal one: she wasn’t willing to sacrifice one for the other.

  And there was no question that working for the CIA put a definite strain on her personal life. While it was sometimes frustrating to deal with the questions, Elle had to admit it was a little exciting to have such a secret. Who would ever guess the truth? Lyle was smart but probably not smart enough to guess the truth about her job.

  Elle thought about the burlesque workout video she had gotten a few weeks ago, which she had bought with the idea of learning a few moves to impress him. Showing off her body felt slightly less intimidating after her field training, and he did make comments about wishing she would “play” a little more when they were together. But did she have the nerve to do a burlesque routine for him?

  She bet he’d like it. She’d feel like an idiot, but it was sure to get a smile out of him and encourage him to be playful. She felt herself blushing in the darkness of the car as she drove. The sheer surprise of her doing it would get a grin out of him, even if she had all the grace of an elephant.

  ***

  The next day when Elle arrived at work at the university library in Norfolk, her friend Betsy greeted her with a warning.

  “Raleigh’s looking for you,” she said as Elle approached the circulation desk. “And she’s looking mighty pleased with herself.”

  Elle rolled her eyes. “Cat ate the canary pleased?”

  Betsy grinned. “Pretty much.”

  “The cat must’ve found a knot in my program to bat around.” Elle laughed as she leaned against the desk. She had developed a program to improve the searching capability of the library’s collection. The library director, Evelyn Raleigh, wasn’t impressed with all the “technobabble nonsense” that was making “the youth of the 21st century virtually illiterate,” however, so she jumped at any opportunity to slow down the program’s implementation.

  Since Elle’s cover job was that she was actually employed by the Library of Congress, Raleigh couldn’t fire her, but that didn’t mean she welcomed Elle’s presence with open arms, either.

  After a year of being there, Elle had given up trying to impress the old bat.

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “Some grad students are having trouble with the progra
m. I looked them up from the attendance lists for your training sessions: they hadn’t been to any. Now, of course, it’s the program’s fault they can’t find what they want.”

  “I should send them to the stacks to dig for whatever they’re looking for,” Elle said. “Then make them sit through a training to appreciate how much easier it is to search online.”

  This was what Raleigh refused to appreciate. Elle loved books and the written word as much as the library director. The difference was that she saw digitization as a way to make information- including books- more accessible, rather than devaluing the printed word. Physical books would have to be pried out of Raleigh’s cold, dead hands, though.

  “I’m feeling generous: I’ll go find her and let her get her day started off on the right foot,” Elle told Betsy and gave her a wave before making her way through the back hallway where the staff offices were located.

  She still felt a high from last night. Who would believe she had flown to Bermuda, stolen intel for the CIA, and was asleep in her own bed by eleven? She loved developing models and algorithms, really she did, but it wasn’t always the most exciting thing in the world. Last night had been a rush: just the extra something she needed to make work a little more interesting. And the training enabled her to protect herself if necessary, although she wouldn’t dwell on the possible need to do that. It was enough to know she could now handle a variety of situations if they arose.

  She knocked on Raleigh’s open door. Raleigh glanced up over the top of her reading glasses. “Miss Paquet.” Her voice was cold enough to make air conditioning unnecessary. “Please be seated.”

  Elle took a seat, refusing to let Raleigh’s attitude dampen her own. As Mason had once reminded her, it was the CIA who provided the money for her paychecks. If Raleigh wasn’t interested in utilizing her services, it just made it that much easier for her to do the agency’s work. It was amusing to watch the library director make a show of continuing to read for a few minutes before finally looking up. She never missed a chance to let Elle know she was busy and her work was not a top priority.

  “It has been brought to my attention,” she told Elle, taking off her reading glasses so they hung from the chain around her neck, “that there are significant problems with your program.”

  “That’s not uncommon with the implementation of any new program.” Elle kept her voice calm and measured. “I’m happy to review the data and-”

  Raleigh opened up a folder on her desk, picked up some papers, and dropped them in front of Elle on her desk. “Miss Paquet. I thought the idea behind your- your technological wizardry- was to make things easier around here.” She fixed eyes of steel on Elle. “Not make more work.”

  Elle took the papers, ignoring the bait. “It will.” She stood and couldn’t resist giving Raleigh a smile. “It won’t take me long to conjure up a spell to fix this.” Especially if the problem really was just the students not using the program correctly.

  Raleigh said, “I certainly hope not.”

  It took an extreme amount of self-control not to roll her eyes at the haughtiness in Raleigh’s tone. “Thank you for bringing the problem to my attention.” Elle could practically taste the sugar in her mouth from the sweetness of her tone; she’d learned that trick from Raleigh herself. She headed for the door. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

  “I appreciate your consideration of my time,” Raleigh said, “but in terms of yours, Miss Paquet, I still expect you to support the circulation and reference staff as well as personally meet with graduate students starting work on their dissertations.”

  Elle paused at the door to glance back at her. She needed to give Raleigh a parting shot to pacify her.

  The older librarian continued. “You know, the real work.” She gave the papers in Elle’s hands a dismissive wave.

  “Of course.” The sweetness in Elle’s tone was like an impenetrable shield; she gave Raleigh another smile as she opened the door before stepping out into the hallway.

  Elle did have work for Mason to do: the data she retrieved last night was encrypted, so she had to run a decryption program to see what it was. Luckily that program could run on her CIA-issued laptop while she did other things, so it wouldn’t slow her down from dealing with this nuisance. When she got to her office, she got her agency laptop up and running first.

  But before looking through the written reports of the students’ problems, Elle stopped to think about Lyle being upset with her. Again. She shouldn’t have to feel guilty for not being able to drop everything for their “playtime,” as Lyle called it. Well, every couple had issues, right? At least this issue was manageable, unlike the issues from her previous relationships. Her college boyfriend, Adam, had been one of her best friends. It was just that they didn’t have heat as a couple. No passion. His cheating forced her to face the fact that their relationship wasn’t as perfect as she’d tried to make it.

  It had been easier for her to accept that fact when Preston swept her off her feet. He had treated her to her first fling, complete with toe-curling, prompt-a-girl-to-sing-aloud-outside-of-the-shower sex. Yet he reminded her of what a fling meant when he dumped her because she wasn’t dating other guys, of all things. Elle hadn’t heard from him since he walked out of her apartment over a year ago after advising her to give Lyle a call when he found Lyle’s business card.

  Things were better with Lyle, however. He had no problems with commitment, and they had plenty of passion in their relationship. Well, they did when he wasn’t pissed because she was too busy to play. She would dance for him. The burlesque routine would coax a smile out of him; he was always urging her to “loosen up” and be more playful. If this wasn’t playful, she didn’t know what was. And she had all of her props: a top hap, sheer silk scarf, cane, and thigh-high boots. Who cared if they were stretch thigh highs for wider calves? She was of medium height, so her legs weren’t short, but they looked Amazon-long in those boots.

  Elle felt herself blushing despite being alone in her office. Lyle was the one who usually initiated their fun and games, but tonight, she would do some initiating of her own. When they first started dating, he had promised to teach her how to play. It was time to show off what all of his tutorials had taught her. She sent him a text.

  I’ve got a nu game 2 play & no 1 to play w/me. Will u be my playmate?

  Elle dropped her phone into her tote and focused on the students’ complaint forms.

  Forty-five minutes later, she confirmed Betsy’s hypothesis: the students’ hadn’t known what the hell they were doing, which was why they couldn’t use the searching program effectively. She sat back, stretching, and couldn’t resist checking her phone. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed the beep for a new message.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t missed anything: no response from Lyle. Well, he had said he was having a busy day. He could be in court. She sent him a second text.

  I’ll even feed u first

  Then she forced herself to put the phone down. If he was in court, he probably wouldn’t be able to even check his phone until lunch. No need to assume she was experiencing yet another round of the silent treatment. She should focus on something else, like sending these students emails about the next training.

  It was while she was out getting lunch with Betsy that Elle got Lyle’s text back.

  C U 2nite. 7?

  Elle let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. He wasn’t ignoring her. She wasted no time texting him back:

  C U then. Bring $$$: I expect to be tipped well

  Let him stew on that for the afternoon.

  “What in the world do you have planned?” Betsy laughed, watching Elle’s face as she texted.

  “Some fun with Lyle. I-” She stopped herself from saying she had to work late because Betsy would wonder what she’d been working on. “I’m in the doghouse again after missing his text for a rendezvous last night.” She rolled her eyes.

  Betsy’s smile was a little wistful. �
��At least he wants to have fun. Jason’s so busy studying, he just wants to sleep.” Her husband was in med school.

  Elle gave her a sympathetic look. “At least it’s his last year.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Then the crazy hours of residency will kick his ass.” She gave Elle a mischievous grin. “But we’re having a baby in two years, come hell or high water, and I intend to enjoy every second of reaching that goal.”

  They both laughed.

  Chapter 3

  Elle checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. Initially, she had planned on wearing her burlesque outfit (a purple satin corset with a small tutu, sheer thigh-high tights attached to a garter belt, black boots, and a top hat), but she had promised dinner first. She couldn’t imagine getting through a meal dressed like that: it would feel ridiculous. Instead, she wore jeans that highlighted her rounded ass; Lyle never failed to notice and make a remark. The t-shirt she wore showed off her curves without being obvious.

  The things women had to do for men. They all but had to prep for an audition for a porno. Well, he occasionally made little remarks about how she could be more spontaneous. This may not be spontaneous, considering she’d been practicing this routine for a couple of weeks, but it would be a shock for him.

  Her dark brown hair was straight and glossy thanks to keratin treatments, and her brown eyes weren’t hidden behind glasses anymore after laser surgery. Elle put on some lip gloss. She didn’t wear a lot of make-up, which Lyle didn’t seem to mind, but she needed a subtle way to prime the pump. She was making his favorite stuffed chicken breast dinner, too. Hopefully all of this would pull him out of his disappointment over last night. It damn well better: he may make remarks about how she wasn’t “playful” enough, but he never danced for her.