Three Months - Chapter 6

 

November 2, 2020

Matt sat, waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. He already had the suit jacket on, but he wasn't ready to give into the tie yet. “Fuck it,” he muttered and left the vault while the coffee machine was still brewing. John's door was slightly open, meaning he was either on a call or getting ready for a meeting. After stewing most of yesterday, Matt knocked and pushed the door open. He checked to see if John was on the phone before asking, “Got a minute boss?”

John took a minute to look up. “What's up? My time's shot today, so make it quick.”

Matt sat down and placed the three folders on John's desk. “It's political. Fucked up political.”

John pulled off his glasses. “Not a good time, Matt.”

“Nope. I totally agree.” He opened the first folder. Three short dossiers of his Russian agents filled it. “There's a definite connection. Then he opened the second folder to show dossiers of Gyeong-Hui and Hashem. I've got them linked in Paris, London and Norway.”

“Good job, Matty,” John said, but looking at the third folder.

Matt nodded and opened the third folder with a dossier of Ralph Quince.

John let out a sigh. “No Matt. Don't do this.”

“No choice, boss. I've the three documented meetings with those two. And they are in business with Quince. I don't have much on the Quince connection, but it is there. And it's going to be political as hell.”

John leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You asked me to run it past you,” Matt reminded him. “What do you want me to do?”

“Bury it. In a safe, under a mountain, throw a glacier over it and a Do Not Disturb sign.”

“On it. Which mountain,” Matt played along to lessen the tension.

Matt gathered the folders, but John put his hand on them. “How sure.”

“Sure enough that I brought this to you a day before the election. I don't over-react.”

John let out another sigh, still massaging between his eyes. “This is going to cause a shit-storm. I've got a meetings in Langley tomorrow. I'll feel around. Until then, this stays between us.”

“What about Tim, at NSA?”

“Read him in. I'll sign off on you getting read in for their intel. Just don't broadcast it, ok?”

“You got it boss. Have fun at HQ tomorrow. Can you get me one of those official Secret Agent shirts while you're there?”

“Piss off. Keep your nose clean until I get back.”

Matt felt more relaxed after lunch. Even with the freezing cold, there were some roads around Reston where you could get up enough speed to actually lean into the turns and control the bike with you weight and balance alone. Those were the rides that made him feel alive and wiped out the stress from work.

The front desk guard shook his head as Matt walked in, his badge still hooked on his left glove. “You're a masochist,” he chuckled.

“I work here, don't I?” Matt quipped back and pushed the button for the elevator.

It only took two tries to get the combo right for his vault. The lights flashed on, signally no one else was in the office. He made a note to check with personnel on their status. Maybe he could sublet the space...

The blinking light on his phone told him he had a message. The number was from Maryland and made him pause. He didn't have any assets there currently. Since he was alone, he played it over the speaker. “Matt, you asshole. Why am I being read into your case? And what the fuck am I supposed to read you into? I told you to drop it. Call me back.”

Matt checked his watch and it was just past 1 PM. Nothing worked that fast in the government. He picked up the phone and redialed, not really looking forward to talking to Tim, especially a pissed off Tim.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tim asked.

No hello? This was going to be painful. “You know, masochist, government employee, no pension. Aside from that, my sciatica is acting up.” Matt said, trying to deflect the anger.

There a pause on the other side. It was long enough that Matt was starting to think he'd pushed Tim too far. “Can this at least wait until after tomorrow? I'm already slammed with monitoring and everything about the Russian interference. I've got to give two reports tomorrow morning before 10 AM.”

“Delegate that to the kids. They live for that now, wearing a shiny new suit and polished shoes to rub elbows with the upstairs folks.”

“They are doing the grunt work. Most of them can't keep off their phones long enough to figure out the format of the reports. Can you imagine the old men upstairs and their reaction to 'Like totally man'? No, I have to do the talking.”

The tension was gone from Tim's voice, but there was still underlying stress. “How about you come over here this afternoon, I'll read you in? We can get an early dinner. I have steaks and can fire up the grill on the balcony. You bring the beers? I'll come to Fort Meade tomorrow morning before your briefings and you can read me in. Then we'll be set.”

“It is that important, eh? Give me an hour to make sure the kids are good, then I'll head over. Reston, right?”

“Yes, I'll get your pass arraigned now. Call this number when you get here, my cell doesn't work in my cave.”

“Will do. Those better be good steaks.”

Matt parked his bike in his normal space and watched Tim pull into one of the free visitor spaces.

“You work for the government, don't you?” Matt looked over and saw his neighbor holding the door open with her foot. She was carrying two paper bags of groceries.

Matt automatically reached over and took the bags, easing her burden. “Yes,” he mumbled. “For the State Department,” he fell back to his memorized cover story. “Why?”

“Why is the government standing by and letting ANTIFA and BLM steal this election?” Her question was almost shrill.

Tim walked up with the beer and they all walked through. His neighbor pushed the button for the elevator. “Thank you for being a dear and carrying my groceries. So few people are courteous anymore.” She said, removing Matt's plan to walk up the stairs to avoid further conversation. “I honestly don't know how you can work for such a corrupt government.” She continued. Then her eyes fell on Tim. Matt saw her tense up. “You're a dear friend, Matt, but I am worried about your social life.”

Tim looked at Matt, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Oh I don't have a problem with what people do behind closed doors. But flaunting it is rude.”

“Oh...” Tim started. “We're not-”

“Flaunting our relationship,” Matt interrupted, sliding closer and moving both grocery bags to one arm, put his arm around Tim's waist. “We just didn't expect anyone to be out right now.”

His neighbor huffed and stood looking at the elevator lights until there was a ring and the doors opened. She walked out, straight to her door, two down from Matt's. Matt and Tim followed, Matt hiding his smirk. “Thank you,” she said after her door was opened and Matt handed her the groceries. “I don't know what the world is coming too,” she muttered, looking at Matt with disappointment. “Ever since those riots, morals have been crumbling.”

“I know,” Matt said sadly. “If only there was a moral compass to lead our country.” That got an even more disappointed look. “Have a good evening, ma'am,” he said before turning to his door, and putting his around around Tim again.

“So, I think we need to talk,” Tim said as soon as the door to Matt's apartment was closed. “I think we got our wires crossed.”

Matt opened the cooler and grabbed two of the IPAs. “Not at all, bud. I was just messing with her. Now at least her Facebook posts will include anti-gay memes. The constant political ones were getting boring.”

“You need help.”

“Everyone does, but I manage as best I can.”