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Melanie gave her a quizzical look. She was only aware of the geographical locations, not the identity of the originator. Everything was numbers. IP addresses. Lots and lots of numbers. Coordinates. Numbers and more numbers and locations escalating through the dark web.
Beale continued. “I know scammers do not seem to be a threat to national security, but in many ways they are. The scammers procure contact information, reaching out to unsuspecting people. In this case, they notify diabetes patients that they have a newer, cheaper prescription approved by the government. Unfortunately, too many people fall for it. Their personal data gets breached, bank accounts, mortgages. It’s a total disruption. And disruption is a form of sabotage.”
Melanie listened intently, but her mind kept wondering when Beale would get to the subject of Melanie’s career?
“Unfortunately, such scam emails go out by the tens of thousands every single day.” She grimaced. “It keeps us on our toes.” Major Beale explained that by ferreting out phone scammers, her department was able to uncover information buried in the dark web. “You never know where it will lead.” Beale paused. “I am not at liberty to discuss any breaches, but I can assure you, you’ve been doing a fine job.”
It was time. Melanie was getting ants in her pants. “Speaking of where it will lead. Can you give me an idea of the advancement process in the department?”
“Right. That’s why we’re here. Correct?”
Melanie nodded.
“It depends on how quickly you learn the systems and what you excel at. Based on what I’ve seen, you’ll probably be moving on to Bolling by the end of the year for further training. The military is in the process of combining efforts. The goal is to have a joint base by 2010. If things go according to plan, you’ll be part of the transition team. By that time, we’ll know your strengths and weaknesses.”
Weaknesses. Not normally in her vocabulary. And training? Training for what? This mystery career path was exasperating. Melanie was accustomed to knowing what the project was, completing it, and moving on to the next one. But here, everything was top secret, including her future. Melanie quickly discovered it was never up to the employee or recruit to decide their future. In order to get the maximum results, people were placed according to how well they fit in, and where their talents could be used best.
Beale’s mind drifted. Melanie seemed keen on understanding why people didn’t want to make nice. Perhaps she should explore the area of counterintelligence and psychological profiling. Beale jotted down a note, but didn’t mention it to Melanie. She wanted to be sure there was an opportunity there before she approached Melanie on the subject. “We’ll have further discussions.”
Melanie knew it was her cue to scoot. “Understood. Thank you, Boss.” She felt a sense of relief. At least she would be moving in some direction.
* * *
Mixing with her coworkers became a monthly thing. The group ranged from five to seven people, depending on who was available. Melanie looked forward to winding down with her colleagues. She decided being sociable wasn’t such a bad thing, until Wayne Howell asked her to go out with him. It threw her for a loop. What was the protocol for that? She didn’t dare ask him. Maybe talk to Polly? She stalled him by mentioning other plans and asking for a “rain check.” She had to admit, she enjoyed his company. Another unusual circumstance for Ms. Drake: she’d found a guy who wasn’t boring. He was smart and charming. And kind of cute. This was a new frontier for Melanie: dating. She had little experience. And sex? She had no experience. Just one round of heavy petting that scared the whoopie out of her. She didn’t want to be prim, but her body was feeling strange twinges that she couldn’t seem to control. Enough of that. She would deal with it later.
Now it was “later” and time she found a BFF she could talk to about such matters. She was about to turn twenty-three, and she knew jack about the opposite sex, with the exception of growing up with a brother and a loving father. They did not count.
Melanie’s challenge was how to approach the subject with Polly. Was it a big no-no, asking your superior for personal advice? It occurred to her to approach it as a hypothetical question. She practiced silently: Major Beale, Boss, I have a hypothetical question. What if one member of the crew asked another member to dinner? Melanie knew Beale would answer the question with a question: Who asked you out?
* * *
When she arrived at the office the next day, she pulled her boss over and whispered, “Can we meet in five minutes?”
Polly loved intrigue, and it was obvious from Melanie’s tone she wanted to discuss something other than computer monitors.
Beale looked at Melanie. “Ladies’ room or my office?”
“Ladies.”
Melanie looked around the cubicles. No one was getting up from their seat. She hurried to the restroom and peeked under the stalls. Empty. Her hands were beginning to sweat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, but before she could change her mind, Major Beale came through the door.
Beale knew it had to be personal. The ladies’ room is always personal. She leaned her back against the door so no one could enter unexpectedly. She folded her arms. “What’s up?”
“Off the record?” Melanie asked.
“We are not having this conversation.”
Melanie thought her boss meant Beale wouldn’t speak to her. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“I meant we are not having this conversation because when we are done, the conversation never happened. Capisce?” Beale was grinning.
Melanie let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ It’s ‘Boss,’ but right now I think you need a friend. Am I right?”
Another big gust of air left Melanie’s lungs; then she jumped into it. “Wayne Howell asked me to dinner.” There it was. Out in the open.
“Are you asking me if you should go? Or are you asking my permission?”
