"Hi Helen, it's Debbie," Debbie said. There was a long pause, and then Helen seemed to gather her wits and she replied in a much more cheerful tone. "Hi Debbie, wow, it sure has been a long time!" Helen said. Helen had a 661 area code, and Debbie assumed she must be living out her dream in Los Angeles. "So how is the big city treating you?" Debbie asked. Helen sighed loudly. "Oh, it's alright you know. I am not in L.A. anymore. Rent is way too high there. I live in a place called Lancaster now. It is a little over a 2 hour ride on the commuter rail. The 'Antelope Valley Line,' sounds scenic, huh?" Helen laughed nervously, punctuating it with a series of coughs at the end. "That sounds nice," Debbie said sweetly, feeling out the situation. "So are you selling any screenplays?" Helen laughed loudly and shrilly. "Haha, yeah, right, when I have time for that." Debbie could hear the screams of a young child in the background. "You see, I can't even laugh in this shitbox apartment without waking the kids," Helen said in a cranky tone Debbie had never heard her use before. "Sorry, pardon my language Debbie." Debbie thought Helen should be more concerned about talking like that in front of her child. "Anyway," Helen continued, "I met a hunky Mexican. I swear, those guys must jizz the strongest baby juice in the world, because hey, three kids later here I am, living all by myself in a one bedroom apartment in Lancaster, living off of food stamps and taking a 2 hour train ride into the city on weekends to work as a waitress at a strip club while my neighbor watches the kids in exchange for a pack of smokes and a six pack. What a life, huh?" Debbie didn't really know what to say, so she stayed silent.
Helen yelled at her kids to shut up for a bit, and then she continued. "Hey, you still there Deb? Sorry about that. Anyway, they are nice kids. I have a five year old named Juan Jr., a three year old named Annabel, and the littlest one is Angelica. When I got pregnant with the youngest the dad peaced off somewhere. I don't know, he was never really the guy I thought he was anyway. With each child he seemed to love me less and less. And then one day he just vanished. Ghosted as they say out here." She coughed again. "Are you having health problems?" Debbie asked, genuinely concerned. Helen said no. "I got a mean pot addiction though. I smoke these things called spliffs all the time and they've been giving me wicked coughing fits. Haha, wicked. Some things don't change huh? You can take the girl out of Massachusetts but you can't take the wicked pissah out of the girl." Helen had a good laugh at this. Debbie didn't find anything about the situation too funny, and she was in no mood now to celebrate her CIA appointment.
"So anyway, why did you call?" Helen asked. Debbie choked. She didn't now what to say. She definitely was not about to tell her friend that was living in such tough times about how all her childhood dreams had come true. So she improvised, like a good CIA agent would. "Well, I was just back visiting my parents and I came across the sailboat you gave me way back when. It made me think of you and all the great times we used to have together. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment and let you know you have always been a hero to me." This seemed to really make Helen feel good. Debbie could almost hear things lighten over the phone. "Wow, thanks, Debbie. That is so sweet of you to say. You know I always felt bad about losing touch with you when I went to college. You know, at that age, the differences between us were a lot and I got caught up in social life at school and I … well, it sounds horrible, but I just sort of forgot about you. I always wished we had reconnected though."
Helen asked Debbie what she was up to these days, and once again Debbie had to think on the fly. She was getting pretty good at this whole secret life thing. "Oh, well you know I ended up going to Dartmouth and since I graduated I decided to take a little time off before finding a job. You know, take a year or two to do a little travelling and figure out what is really important to me. I spent some time working as a volunteer in Uganda, and I decided I really want to go into the non-profit sector. So I am moving to D.C. to look for work there with a large non-profit organization. It's going to be tough going, so I wanted to come kiss my parents goodbye and maybe ask them for a little spending money to hold me through until I land a position. You know how it is," she laughed easily as if these were the truest words she had ever spoken. She hoped her apparent lack of direction would be comforting to Helen, and it seemed to be.
"Haha, D.C. huh? Well, I remember a young girl who used to tell me she was going to be a Navy SEAL and join the CIA. I always knew the SEAL thing was impossible, but maybe someone will end up recruiting a smart cookie like you into the CIA while you are going around knocking on all the charities' doors," Helen told her. "Let me give you a word of advice before I get off the phone to change Angelica's diaper," she continued. Debbie wondered what it would be. "Always make him wear a condom, Debbie. Until he puts a ring on your dang finger, two rings actually, always always use a condom! Promise me that." Debbie promised, not bothering to tell Helen that she was a lesbian. And with that, she hung up.
Chapter 4, CIA, The Real, Big World
At least some of Debbie's conversation had been true. She was headed off to D.C. She moved all of her personal belongings, which really did not amount to much at all, Navy SEALs can live sparse, to a nice little apartment in Georgetown. She was feeling awfully proud of herself. Her apartment had a great view of the Potomac River and she felt really calm watching the city lights reflect on the water during the evenings. It was very Zen.
Debbie had a few days to settle in and get to know the area before she had to go to work. She was thankful for the brief time off. She explored the vibrant, bustling city, checked out some of the best restaurants in the area including The Founding Fathers, which was a farm to table joint that served up some of the most divine sea salted honey butter skillet corn bread she had ever had. They also had some amazing salads and plenty of free range meat options for the environmentally conscious. It was a great spot for lunch or dinner. She dined another night at Rasika, a very upscale Indian restaurant. Debbie was not the biggest fan of Indian food, but all the locals were raving about it so she figured she had to give it a try. She also found a number of great cocktail bars. Boy did the people in D.C. love their cocktails! She liked the Columbia Room, where she found herself sipping on Beefeater martinis and thinking back to her good old college days. Bob had promised to take a trip out to D.C. to meet her at some point, and she knew she would have to take him here.
Finally, she got that call from the Pentagon that they needed her to come in and report for her first assignment. She got dressed in a neat black skirt suit and a pair of nice heels and did her makeup and hair to perfection. She was so excited she could hardly bear it. But bear it she did. And it was that day that she got to meet her new partner. His name was Salvador de Anda, and he was a thirty year old CIA veteran. He had the look of someone much older, like a friendly father type, and he was a bit husky with an olive complexion that could get real red real quick. He had a lot of experience on the job, and all that work had turned his thick hair into a silvery gray. He was a serious guy, but he could occasionally burst out into raucous laughter over some unexpected dirty joke. He was there to introduce Debbie to all the ins and outs of the job.
Their first mission was at a medium sized coffee plantation in Bogota, Colombia. It raked in a modest 17 million dollars a year. Their mission was simple, Debbie and Salvador, Sal for short, had to assist in the transfer of ownership from the Colombian owner who started it to Evelyn Bennett, a U.S. citizen. This was all in the name of national security, of course. It sounded pretty simple to Debbie, not anything that would call her SEAL training into action. All she had to do was go and meet up with the current owner, a man named Diego Rodriguez. She was supposed to meet with him and advise him about the transfer of ownership to Ms. Bennett and then she was going to visit all the different coffee farms to make sure that the transition went well. It didn't sound James Bond at all. It sounded like a typical business venture. Where were the weapons going to come out? When was she going to get to do some badass CIA spy stuff? She honestly did not even understand why the CIA was involved in
this mater at all.
Anyway, it didn't matter. Orders are orders and she had to follow them. The next day, she met Sal at a private air strip near the Ronald Reagan airport. Debbie was really impressed by the CIA luxury. The private airport was awesome. There were no security checkpoints, something that made modern day air travel a real pain in the butt, and the lounges inside the airport were big and beautiful. There were even marble showers inside of the airport! She had never heard of such a thing, but Sal told her it was inspired by an airport in Seoul, Korea. There was a huge bar and restaurant and it was crowded with beautiful, well dressed people. Debbie inquired as to whether they were all agents, and Sal told her that the CIA rents out space at the airport for private jets. In fact, the jet they were taking to Bogota actually belonged to a congressman who was renting it out to the CIA for this mission at the rate of $6,000 an hour. "$6,000 an hour? Why does he need that kind of money?" Debbie balked. Sal told her that many wealthy individuals and politicians needed the CIA to assist them in getting things done, and they would rent out their private jets for a nominal fee to speed up the process.
It wasn't really sitting that well with Debbie, but she couldn't help but get sucked in by all the glamour. It reminded her of when she had visited Bob's mom down in South Beach. Glitz everywhere. Not a single thing to be wanted. She noticed that a lot of the people eating at the airport's restaurant were dining on delicious, big, juicy lobster tail. She smiled. "Are you hungry?" Sal asked her. Debbie shrugged. She wasn't particularly. "I'm starved," Sal said, and he guided her towards the restaurant. He told her to go ahead and pick out whatever she wanted, it would go on the CIA tab. "I myself am going to have the surf and turf," he told the waitress who came to take their order, "and finish me off with a molten lava chocolate cake." Debbie ordered herself a Waldorf salad and a gin and tonic. Somehow drinking a martini here would seem just a bit too de ja vu. Sal devoured his meal with gusto and let out a loud burp.
They were ready to go. They walked out onto the tarmac together and hopped aboard a lovely Gulfstream jet. The plane was decked out inside with fine silver fixtures and black leather chaises. There was a private bar filled with small bottles of some of the most expensive, select liquors. There was also in flight dining from a private chef. A stewardess came to take their drink and meal order. Debbie declined, citing that she had just ate, but Sal opted for something more. "Give me whatever is the chef's special. Does he do anything Asian? I like Kung Pao chicken. Something like that, okay? And a tall glass of the finest beer you have on board." The stewardess nodded and off she went. Debbie could see where this guy got his paunch from, he sure did love to eat.
"This is Congressman Oliver's jet," he told her. "It's real nice isn't it? You see what I mean, six thou is a steal for this thing." Debbie nodded. She had more important things on her mind, like how excited she was for her first mission. "Do you think it will be dangerous?" she asked. This amused Sal. "Sweetie, you got a lot to learn. Us CIA types, we are mostly just faces. Everyone knows the CIA. They know we are the strong men of the U.S. government. You would be surprised the type of stuff they have us do. It isn't spy games like in the movies. It is mostly just meet and greet. We show up, shake some hands, get business moving, and that's it. Easy peezy lemon squeezy, if you catch my drift." Debbie frowned. She certainly hadn't trained her butt off in freezing cold water just to do some easy job. "Well, my dad told me that I should go out in the world and do something good. I was really hoping my first job would be something more meaningful than a business deal."
"Kid, you are going to be quite surprised when you see how the government uses our power. Better get used to it now. The best thing you can do is take a nap and rest that pretty face of yours," Sal told her. Giving up and not very interested in seeing Sal devour another big meal, she complied with his advice. She lay down on one of the comfortable chaise lounge chairs and fell asleep easily. In her dreams she was in a jungle setting in some remote island, armed and ready, wearing camo, and avoiding incoming gun fire. She was fighting to save a POW and bring him home, and it was only her cunning and her battle skills that could win the day. She felt like a hero. She felt like she had gone out in the world and done something good.
When she woke up a few hours later the plane was touching down in Bogota. They were greeted plane side by a new Mercedes. A driver greeted them in broken English and told them that they were going to go meet the owners of Green Vines Holdings. They drove through the scenic country, a place Debbie had never had the chance to visit but thought she might want to spend some time in the future. They finally arrived in a big high rise office building with all glass windows shining brightly in the afternoon sun. The chauffeur led them into the lobby, which was a tall three stories and had a giant fountain in the center. He told a receptionist that they were there for a meeting with the president. Debbie sat down in the lobby, looking over some of her notes on Diego Rodriguez. He was a handsome man, not known for violence. It should be an easy meeting.
Boy was she surprised when she looked up and saw two familiar faces. It was Marylynn and Bob Legrange. She did a real double take, losing her CIA cool for a moment. Sal chuckled under his breath. "What on earth are you doing here, Bob?" she asked her former Dartmouth pal. "I should ask the same thing of you," he said, he had not been aware Debbie had been assigned so quickly to a mission. "I am supposed to be meeting with a President Diego Rodriguez," she told him. He laughed. "Well, you are going to have a tough time doing that! He doesn't exist." Debbie looked perplexed. "He is an identity we made up, Debbie. A front man for our operations. Get hip." Debbie felt like Bob had changed a lot since he left Dartmouth and enrolled in business school at Columbia. Maybe it was the New York streets, she didn't know, but he looked tougher and meaner. "Why don't you come up to the board room and we can talk?" he said. Debbie and Sal followed him to a large conference room.
"My time at Columbia was very useful, Debbie. I learned a lot and I had fun doing it. Since I graduated, I have been leading the holding group here in Colombia. From Columbia to Colombia. It's kind of funny when you think about it," he laughed. Debbie didn't quite get the joke. "Now explain to me why the CIA is here to interfere with my business," he said. Sal began to speak, "Sir, you have received notices from many offices and branches of the U.S. for the last year notifying you of the government's need to take over Perky Coffee, your subsidiary, it's operation, and it's land. Don't play games with me. You're just a boy." Bob snarled. Marylynn put her hand in front of him and interrupted, "And those agencies have been notified by our attorneys that we have no interest in selling our land or giving up ownership of the company. How clear can we make it? We have owned this business and this land for more than decades. We pay all of our taxes and we employ thousands of people."
Sal had no time for her bullshit. He spoke calmly and slowly, "the situation has moved beyond legalities at this point. Now the ownership of the business and the land is a matter of national security. The United States is using its power and as of the first of next month the land and your business will change hands for the betterment of the people of the United States." Marylynn wouldn't have it. "Excuse me, but I made it clear already. We are not moving and we are definitely not selling." She was ignoring Debbie completely, but Bob was looking straight at her and mouthing "what the f---?" Debbie kind of felt like she was in a Disney movie she had watched as a girl, The Fox and the Hound. In the movie, a young fox and a puppy are good friends, but when they get older they must fulfill their expected stations in life and they find themselves pitted against each other as enemies. Debbie wondered how she ended up in this position. She didn't break eye contact with Bob, but she didn't mouth anything back to him either.
Standing up, and gesturing for Debbie to do the same, he gave his final statement on the matter. "This is a situation of national security and you have no further choice in this matter. If you continue to resists you will face the military of the United States and all its might." Then he looked at Debbie
and told her, "this meeting is over. Let's go." They walked out the door and into the elevator to the lobby, never looking back once.
The chauffeur was waiting for them and it was dead silent the whole car ride back to the airport. Debbie was angry, fuming mad, but she was also confused as hell. She didn't know where to start and she knew better than to confront a senior agent in front of the chauffeur. She waited until they were back inside of the jet and had some privacy and then she let loose. "What the fuck was that shit?" she demanded of Sal. "I know those people. They may act tough, but they are good people. Hardworking people who do right by others. They have owned that business forever and now the government is just going to step in and take it from them by force? With no compensation or negotiation or anything? It's not right."
Sal raised a finger to his lips in a shhhing gesture. "Calm down, Debbie. I have been doing this for 30 years. It isn't what you think. I am no James Bond. I have never had to pull a gun on someone in all thirty years of doing my job. I haven't even been in a fist fight, Debbie. My nice suits, they don't get torn or sullied. It's a peaceful business, we just talk tough." "Yeah, what is all that about national security, I mean, what the fuck Sal?" Debbie continued. He shrugged, "what I have found is that national security usually means someone in the government or some individual with a lot of money and a lot of pull wants something done. And they pay for it. Money talks, especially in the CIA."
Debbie was distraught. For a few moments she just sat there with her head in her hands, wishing this was some nightmare she could just wish away. "Sal, how can you live like this?" she finally asked in a quiet whisper. "I mean, you don't look like a flag waving America, love it or leave it, kind of guy. How did you get involved in this shady business? You're like a hit man with no gun." Sal shook his head and gave Debbie the real deal. "Debbie, I am a father. I have three kids in college and I am one year away from retirement. A nice retirement, I have a great package all lined up for me. Heck, I've done this so many times I don't even have any feelings about it anymore. It's just a job. Trust me, there are a lot worse jobs out there. When you have a family, you don't have a choice in what you do. You do what pays and you follow orders. You leave your feelings at home. You leave your feelings with your kids. You put on a mask when you go to work every day and at some point that mask just feels natural. You don't even have to put it on anymore. And then you enjoy the weekends with the family and relax and be yourself. But you got to put food on the table, clothes on their backs, send them to nice schools. It's just part of the gig, Debbie. I wouldn't expect a young gal like you to understand, but one day you might." Debbie shook her head, she would never live that kind of life so she would never understand.
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