Chapter 3
520 Words
Chapter Three
Daniel read through the CIA intelligence report for the third time.
“If this is right, we’ll need a very unique asset.”
POTUS looked over at him, “I know just who to call. Even if it’s not a ‘go’ yet, we can start moving the asset into position.”
Daniel nodded. “We can do it from the Game Room.” He started around his desk, but had to double-back around the other side to avoid the paper disaster. His watch claimed barely one a.m.; there’d be plenty of time to fix it before Janet arrived and sentenced him to death by paper cuts.
He arrived by Alice’s chair as she offered another jaw-cracking yawn.
“Sorry. I— Sorry.”
She’d slipped even lower in the chair, far enough that the only thing keeping her from flowing down onto the floor were her knees bumping into the front panel of his desk.
He offered a hand to help her to her feet.
She did her one-eyed inspection of him for a moment, then accepted the offer. Her hand was deceptively strong for how fine-fingered and delicate it appeared. She rose to her feet in a smooth, fluid motion that bespoke some form of training. He’d seen it before somewhere.
“Ballet?” He knew it was wrong even as he said it.
“Sad.”
“Why are you calling me sad?” Daniel knew he was missing something.
She laughed, a bright, merry sound that he could only describe as elfin, though she wasn’t but a few inches shy of his own five-eleven.
“S. A. D.”
“You’re S.A.D.?” he barely managed to choke out.
Even the President looked shocked by that one.
The Special Activities Division was the CIA’s black ops squadron. They were better trained than even the Army Rangers and were deployed in far more questionable situations.
She grinned wickedly, “Now you’re the one saying I’m sad? I’m half tempted to say, ‘yes,’ just to see you twitch. But no. They offered us senior analysts a month of S.A.D. training to better appreciate what could and couldn’t be done in the field. Found I liked the physical part, though I’d never be crazy enough to go for field ops. There’s an on-going course at the gym. I don’t do the weapons or field skills, but there’s dance, yoga, strength training. I keep that up.”
Daniel tried to get to the gym a little each day and do some weight training. He had the sudden feeling that, despite being a slip of a woman, she could probably beat the stuffing out of him. And senior analyst? If she was much past twenty-six or seven, he’d be shocked. Senior analysts usually sported decades of experience.
She freed her hand, which he didn’t realize he’d still been holding until its soft, strong warmth had been removed. She turned to follow the President who waited by the door. Alice Thompson passed close enough for Daniel to smell the woman, past her soap or shampoo; a heady scent of springtime in winter washed over him. She left him wobbly on his feet, as if he were the one who hadn’t slept in three days.
She and the President both stood at the door watching him.
“You coming?” Peter Matthews offered him a knowing smile over Dr. Thompson’s shoulder.
And Dr. Alice Thompson merely offered that crazy, elfin laugh.
All Daniel knew was that he couldn’t wait for next opportunity to get that close to her again.
- Writer
