Congress, demanding control from outside of the clandestine community.
Vitale’s office door opened and several people emerged, unfamiliar to Rachael. Sandy came out to greet her with more energy than most would show late in the day. “Rachael, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I know how tiring the first day is around here, but I wanted to spend a few minutes to welcome you aboard and discuss your role a bit.”
“Thank you, Sir. It’s been a good day, and I’ve learned a great deal.”
Gesturing towards his office and closing the door he said, “Can I offer you something?” as he sat down, obviously not serious about his offer.
“No, Sir, I’m fine.”
“Well, then, General Simmons was very convincing on your behalf, but I want you to know that I don’t expect you to walk on water immediately. It takes time to get familiar with the routine here.”
She interjected, “Sir, I’m really looking forward to being on your team and hope to be productive from the start.”
“Perfect! Okay, there are some folks I want you to meet. They work for you. Most are your Country Analysts who handle the operations in your region. They manage our assets, including interface with our consulates at certain levels. You personally will be more involved in higher-level decision making and diplomatic issues, but these are your ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.”
Rachael was forming the impression that Vitale didn’t know as much about agency functions as he professed, which wasn’t surprising.
“I’m eager to meet them, Sir.”
“Great. I’ll have one of my Office Assistants escort you to your office on the third floor. Your staff is expecting you.”
With this brief introduction, Rachael stood with Vitale as he led her to the door. “Look, I’ll be setting up a staff schedule, probably meeting every Monday. In the meantime, please call or come to see me if I can help with anything.”
Shaking hands, she said, “Thank you, sir,” and turned to leave.
“Oh, hey. Call me Sandy. This ‘Sir’ stuff is not my style.”
“Thanks again, Sir -- Sandy.”
During the long walk and elevator ride to her office suite, Rachael felt a mild anxiety, knowing nothing about her new role. Vitale had been abrupt, probably through ignorance, so she hadn’t asked anything about her role. She would learn from her team.
Hal Jenkins, Martha Riggs and Jamie Montes were all sitting in the department conference room waiting for their new boss. When Rachael entered, her first impression was that all three were much older than her, maybe even her father’s age. Jenkins wore a bowtie and rimless glasses. With thin white hair and expanded beltline, he looked like an aging professor. Riggs had unnatural burnt-orange colored hair and wore thick glasses over a pudgy nose. She was around five three and overweight. Montes had short straight black hair, and he looked to be in exceptional condition for his age. He would be considered handsome by most people. He wore a loosely tied green and silver striped necktie and a white shirt with button-down collar.
They all stood and shook hands with her. The dress code inside the agency was still archaic with everyone wearing business suits, although coats were normally not worn by the men inside their offices. After introductions, Rachael sat on one side of the conference table, facing the others. “Well, I’m really excited to be here and looking forward to learning about each of you and your projects.”
Hal responded first, “Miss Aston, we all had a briefing from the Director, and it’s wonderful to have someone with your experience in charge.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. Any one of them would logically have been candidate for the DDO position after reshuffling the senior staff, and they would all know that she had much less experience in the Government, much less the CIA. She acknowledged his “welcoming” statement, “Thanks, Hal, I hope you’ll all call me Rachael. I’m not comfortable with office formalities. It’s not the way I work. I expect to be on first-name basis with you also.”
She continued, as they all relaxed a little, maintaining eye contact. “I’m here through circumstances that none of us could have expected. I won’t pretend to know much about your jobs having never done them, but I’ll expect you to teach me. There’s no shadow over any of you and like the professor says, ‘As of today, you are all ‘A’ players in my mind.”
Montes put his hands together and leaned forward with his forearms resting on the table. “Rachael, believe me when I say that I have no concerns about your being in the position. I spent over twenty years in the military and never wanted a commission. I’m what you should think of as a top sergeant, without any desire to deal with bureaucracy. So, let me put your mind at ease. If you support me with the brass, I’ll do my best to support you.”
The others nodded their heads in agreement, but she wasn’t sure they were genuinely behind her, or just patronizing. Martha was particularly quiet. It would take time for her to gain their trust, and longer for respect. She said, “All right then. Tomorrow morning I want to start one-on-one meetings, so that each of you can familiarize me with your areas of responsibility.”
After some further polite discussion, the meeting ended for the evening. It occurred to her that she didn’t know which office was hers or even what the total size of her region would be.
That night, she got home after 8:30. She changed to sweat pants and a tank top before going to the kitchen, feeling mentally drained. She wasn’t hungry, but poured a glass of wine and sat on the sofa to relax. The day had been a jumble of disconnected events, and it was hard to organize a cogent impression about any of it. Around nine, she was feeling exhausted and wanted to be fresh in the morning, when her phone rang.
Peter had gone to the gym after work, then brought home takeout food from the local Asian store. His apartment in Arlington was dreary with basic television service and no amenities. After years of Army life, he didn’t need much, but the isolation from Rachael often soured his mood. He thought about her starting a new job. Shortly before they’d met, he’d been borderline depressed with the Army, having resigning his commission and working as a groundsman at a country club near Chicago. Events that led to his re-activation to fight a terror plot in the city changed everything; his attitude and ambitions, and ultimately leading him to Washington, expecting to marry Rachael. She accepted his proposal shortly after he moved to the Capitol. Then, when she broke off their engagement, his world spun upside down, and his only outlet was work and exercise. This night, it wasn’t enough. She had initiated a new line of dialogue and he couldn’t resist the temptation to exploit it. He realized near bedtime that he needed to hear her voice and had an excuse to call about her first day at the “Company.”
She saw his name on her phone’s display. At first, she hesitated, but after several rings she answered.
Peter started, “Hi! So, are you too tired to talk about your first day?”
“Umm. Not really.”
“So, how was it?”
“Oh, fine.” He could hear the exhaustion in her voice as she continued, “It’s like I would imagine working in a big corporation with huge buildings, lots of people in suits and high-level meetings all over the place.”
“You don’t sound so enthused.”
“No. I am. It’s just that it’s now real and not just an opportunity. I have so much to learn, and I’m not sure people are really going to help me. Even the Director can’t do much since he’s got his own puzzles to piece together.”
He wanted to be consoling. “Yeah, life is tough at the top in the majors.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Sorry to be trite. I’ve never been good in bureaucracies. I don’t really know what to say. You’re describing it exactly like I imagined it to be there.”
“It’s not the bureaucracy that’s odd. It’s the way everyone wants to play CYA (cover your ass) all the time.”
He smiled. “There’s probably some lessons
to be learned. You’re in the real spook world now, not just disseminating information to the troops. These folks are always teetering on the edge of the constitution.”
“I’m not like that. We’ll run a clean operation in my shop.”
“I hope you’re right, Rachael. Keep an eye out for alligators swimming around your island. From the little I know about the place, everyone keeps ‘book’ on each other. I couldn’t work there in ten lifetimes.”
“Gee, you’re really encouraging.”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it’s not a great job for you. The agency could use some of your character. Who knows, maybe the place will evolve to your standards over time. Then it would be a real class act.”
“Okay, Mr. Smooth. You sort of wiggled out, but I need to get some sleep.”
They talked for a few more minutes, but the dialogue waned quickly. Neither one wanted to end the call, but Peter had to quit before becoming morose, “Look. Get a good night’s sleep and hit them hard tomorrow. Okay?”
She sounded sleepy, “I’ll sleep well.”
As the call ended, Peter felt energized. It was the first time they had talked on a personal level since the breakup.
Rachael
From the time she was a little girl, Rachael Aston stood out in a crowd. She was five feet eleven inches tall in her early teens. She was introverted, and didn’t mingle much with the other