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3. Opportunity

3 OPPORTUNITY

After leaving the CIA, Andy Marino hid in her apartment, trying to find a job and thinking. Today, still in pajamas with her second coffee, she sat staring at an old family portrait, remembering growing up in the Midwest with her brother Tony. The children of a career army father, a cold and abusive man, and an intimidated mother who ignored her kids, the brother and sister had learned early to rely on each other. Now, Tony and her father were dead, and her mother was in a home.

Getting away to college had been a blessing. She’d stayed close to Tony during her University of Maryland years, and they would often walk on campus and try to resurrect, or manufacture, the good times of being kids. He’d been the one who comforted her when her boyfriends turned out to be pawing bores and a college advisor made a clumsy pass. Only later did she learn that he’d also popped the guy, breaking his nose.

Andy got dressed, stopped thinking of her brother, and mulled over what had become of her career. At twenty-nine, she had none. She’d run into s****l harassment yet again. Did she invite such behavior in some way? Her middle name Dai-tai did mean “leading a boy in hopes,” so maybe her inadvertent, genetics-dictated behavior sent out the wrong message. Bullshit, she thought. The wreck of her intelligence career galled her, not just because she liked the field, but because she’d lost the means to find answers about her brother’s death. Pissed off and frustrated she couldn’t do this one thing for her brother—or was it really for herself?—she obsessed on how she might punish John Caro.

Getting the final paycheck from the CIA made finding a new job critical. Or else there was no affording the apartment or the car, let alone sending support money to her mother. She had worked for a couple of years doing biological lab work in a drug-discovery company in California. If she applied for a job in that field, she didn’t need a letter of recommendation from the CIA, although an employer would most likely call them. She landed a few interviews but got no offers. She revised her resume and started again. Still nothing.

By the third week, her attitude morphed into a blend of anger and fear. She had begun to consider unskilled jobs. Anything for income before she had to give up her apartment. She was prepared to widen her search, to try for something in another city, to loosen her criteria. She considered a loan to tide her over. She thought of suing the CIA for s****l harassment and wondered if she could tolerate asking fat customers if they wanted fries with that.

Morning became afternoon as Andy made phone calls that got her no closer to employment. Later in the day she was sipping the final glass from her last bottle of cheap Chablis and thinking of going for a run when the call came. It was after business hours, so it probably wasn’t job-related. She stared at the ringing phone, thinking it couldn’t be anyone from the CIA. No friends there or elsewhere. It rang five times before she answered.

“Is this Antoinette Marino?” asked an accented voice.

“Speaking.”

“My name is Mr. Wu. I work for the China Internet Information Center. We assist companies in meeting specific technology needs, and there is a client that has a special position, one matching your background.”

“My background? Just what background are you referring to, Mr. Wu?”

“Training in biological science, your military career, and recent government service.”

Andy imagined that they knew very well that the latter was kaput. “How did you get my name? And just what is the job we are discussing?”

“For security reasons, I can’t give that information on the phone.”

“What is the name of your client?”

The man hesitated. “I can only say that it is a large company of great history, Miss Marino. I can say more in a face-to-face meeting. Would lunch tomorrow be convenient?”

Andy suppressed instinctual alarm. The man seemed quite mysterious, but he did say he had a job that used her background. All of it. “Lunch? Yes, that’s possible.”

“Fine. Tomorrow, then. Noon at the Hilton?”

Andy agreed and immediately went to her computer, glad that she had not had to cancel her internet service provider. She searched the China Internet Information Center, learning that they were a Beijing-based, nongovernmental organization with U.S. offices. It was affiliated with several other state agencies, including the Chinese Association for the International Exchange of Personnel. She didn’t how she was supposed to feel about this intermesh of internet, state, and personnel organizations, but the Information Center seemed to function as a legitimate human resource organization, recruiting foreign experts for Chinese companies with interests in pharmaceuticals, robotics, and control systems software. She wasn’t sure how someone with intelligence expertise fit into any of those areas and went to bed filled with questions.