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An Air Force officer greeted her while her personal tote and go-bag were sent through the conveyor belt security check. Everyone was required to have a go-bag in case of an emergency. It held a small bag of toiletries, a change of clothes, a pre-paid debit card with 1000 dollars, 200 dollars cash in small bills, and a burner phone. Operatives were not allowed to activate the phone unless it truly was an emergency. Any attempt to break that rule would be picked up by the audio surveillance in place.
“Ms. Drake?” he called.
“Yes, sir.” She held out her hand. The young man appeared to be close to her age.
“Welcome to Anacostia. I’m Airman Gonzalez. Follow me, please.” She walked down a hallway lined with photos of military leaders that dated back to World War II. At the end of the hall was a door with an electronic keypad and a camera. Gonzalez swiped his badge and looked into the camera. He turned to Melanie. “Please.” Indicating she was required to have her face in the surveillance footage.
He escorted her to a processing room, where she was introduced to a female also wearing civilian clothes, except her badge was a different color from Mel’s. She began the process by fingerprinting Melanie. It was important her fingerprints matched those on record for Melanie Drake. Another photograph was taken for her new ID. Melanie was wearing a VISITOR badge that was about to be turned in for one that read:
OSI
USAF
She noticed the badges were color-coded. Probably had something to do with rank or levels of clearance. She’d find out soon enough. Within minutes, her lanyard was handed to her.
“Wear this at all times. Do not lose it,” a woman in a uniform instructed. Then she handed her a Blackberry, the DOD communication of choice at the time. It was considered the most secure piece of handheld communication technology. “It’s already programmed with the speed-dial numbers for security and your immediate supervisor. Welcome to Anacostia.” She paused. “And don’t let them fool you by asking you to find a left-handed monkey wrench.”
Melanie laughed. She knew that was an old prank people played. There was no such thing. “I have an older brother.
But I’ll be sure to ask someone for a bucket of steam!” She grinned and made the woman chuckle. Melanie thanked the woman and placed the cord with her dangling ID over her head. Airman Gonzalez escorted her down another hallway to another door with an electronic pad and camera. He motioned for her to swipe her lanyard. Up popped her name and ID number on the panel, and there was a click to indicate the door was now unlocked.
The room was massive with dozens of cubicles, monitors, and personnel. An open staircase was on one side of the space with a sign that read:
RESTRICTED AREA.
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Of course, there were many levels of authorization. He walked her to a cubicle similar to those she’d sat at in Quantico and Glynco. “I’ll give you a few minutes to get settled and then take you to the Education Complex.”
“Thanks.” Melanie checked around her desk. Nothing different from what she had seen before, except this time she was able to bring a tote, but no cellphone. As she was walking to her cubby, she noticed most of the others had their go-bag stashed under their desk. She did the same and dropped her personal tote into one of the drawers, locked it. Not that anyone was going to steal her lip balm. But you never know. She clipped the key to the cord around her neck, and then stood waiting for Gonzalez to return. Minutes later, he appeared.
“Follow me, please.”
Melanie observed that no one looked up from their workspace. No one seemed to notice a new arrival. People were engrossed in whatever they were doing. She quietly followed the airman out a door, through a small quad atrium, and then to another highly secured entrance. “This is the education complex. You’ll get your materials and assignments here.”
They entered an empty classroom. There were long tables set with chairs facing the front of the room. No computers except for the large screen ahead and a very large binder in front of one of the chairs. “Please take a seat. Captain Chen will be with you shortly.”
Melanie took the seat with the binder while Airman Gonzalez stood at attention by the door. Ten minutes passed on the clock on the wall. Another “hurry up and wait” situation. Then the door opened abruptly, startling Melanie from her seat. Airman Gonzalez saluted Captain Chen. “As you were,” Chen ordered.
Melanie stood and faced the captain.
“You are Melanie Drake.” He said it as a statement, not a question. “Welcome aboard. You’ve come with excellent recommendations.”
“Thank you, sir,” Melanie replied.
“Do not disappoint me,” the captain said in a very stern tone.
“I will try not to,” Melanie answered.
“Trying does not count. Only results.” Captain Chen made his way to the front of the room. “Please take a seat.”
Melanie knew he was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Naturally all military personnel were no-nonsense, but this man seemed particularly buttoned up. Not a smile on his face. Not even when he’d made his first complimentary statement to her. She thought he must have seen a lot of people come and go over the years. Mostly go, she guessed.
“You will be studying the area of criminal profiling. Also known as psychological profiling. You’ll read about the history of the science and procedures, and then after a period of time, you will be given a mock scenario where you will review the evidence and make your own assessment. We have a library that is available twenty-four-seven. I suggest you spend as much time there as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The binder in front of you outlines this course of training and all details that pertain to your level, security, etcetera. Any questions?”
