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Using my government issued cell, I dial my handler. Rita and I have worked together for several years.
“How’s my favorite wasp?” Rita’s greeting has me smiling. She’s a sixty-something Black woman based in Langley. She’s a top-notch handler because to look at her, you’d think kind, cane-carrying grandmother. But she can beat the living shit out of someone if she so chooses. Legend has it she spent a couple of decades as a case officer before transitioning to become a handler. I suspect she lives outside of DC, but I don’t really know. Rita gave me my CIA code name, Wasp. She looked up the deadliest ocean animal, the box jellyfish. A nickname for it is the sea wasp. A run-in with the tiny animal means death in under five minutes. I like Rita. She’s creative.
“Living my best life.”
If we were on a high security operation in a hostile territory, I wouldn’t be contacting her this way. But I’m in Canada on a low-risk op, so a simple phone call works. I could call her from our suite, but I wanted out of the suite.
“I see the princess has been making use of the spa. Must be nice.” Rita’s a good soul, but I’m not a fan of the attitude she’s been throwing Sophia. One, she picked her code name, Princess. It’s not like Sophia needs her wealth thrown in her face within the CIA ranks.
“She scored. Meet planned for tomorrow.”
“Good for her. Get the digits and you can come on home.”
“Yep. How’re things back there?”
“Oh, you know, typical. Jerry got the Latin America post.”
My skin goes numb. Bauer fucking promised me. That was my post. That fucker sent me to Canada on a joke of an assignment to keep me out of the office for the announcement. Rita’s chatter continues. The words blend into incongruous background noise.
“Wasp? You there?”
“Here.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“Yep.”
I can practically see Rita’s speckled gray eyebrows knitting together. “You didn’t say anything?”
“Had to go quiet. Footsteps outside the booth.”
“All right. Well, touch base Thursday? Eight a.m. PST?”
“Copy that.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything. There’s a lot of movement right now. You’ve impressed—”
“Speak later.” I end the call.
There’s no point in contacting Bauer. One, that would be an extreme violation of policy. Two, Rita shouldn’t have said shit to me, and there’s no reason to burn her.
I step out of the booth and make eye contact with an Asian woman bent before a hallway bench. She’s tugging on her kid’s ski boot. I give a quick nod, scan the hall, and head to the elevator.
If ever there was a sign I should think twice about what Trevor’s offering, this is it. He’s right. Bureaucracy sucks. I barely know Jerry. Met him once or twice in the halls of Langley. There could be ten other Jerrys in line above me for territory spots.
When I push open the suite door, I hear movement. The only exit is through the door at my back. “Sophia?” I call.
“Hey?” Her red head peeks out of the bedroom doorway. I must be getting used to the red. The first glance is no longer jarring.
I step out of my snow boots. I never went outside but put them on anyway as they blend in with everyone else here.
“What’s wrong?”
I pause, wondering exactly what I did to tip her off. I scrub my fingers against my scalp and pass through to the sofa.
“Checked in. Communicated you made contact.”
“Is there a problem?”
