New Year’s Eve, 2001
The powers that be at the current administration decided having the CIA host a New Year’s Eve ball in the Dolley Madison Room at the Madison Arms was an ideal way to extend the holiday spirit to the various intelligence agencies.
“I’m so excited, Quinton,” Susan Burkhart, my date for the evening, enthused. She slid her hand through arm and leaned her cheek against my shoulder. Susan worked at Justice, and we had a number of things in common, which made it convenient if either of us needed an escort to one of the parties, dinners, or embassy balls we were required to attend. Such as tonight’s affair.
“Surely you’ve been to the Dolley Madison Room before?”
“Yes, of course, but never when all the intelligence agencies were going to be represented. Don’t you find it ex
