I kept my eyes on my screen when he walked in, but then I pretended to glance at the clock so that I could sneak a split-second glance at him. I looked back at my screen and then closed my eyes and studied the mental snapshot.
He was in his late fifties, with a charcoal-gray suit and a white shirt that was soft at the creases, not hard and sharp. Hazel eyes, whites a little bloodshot. He had an expensive-looking red tie on with an ornamental tie clip. I was too far away to read the lettering but it looked as if it might have been from a college. Definitely not anyone I’d seen before. I wondered if he was from a level up, or even a level above that.
I have a photographic memory. It’s not as much fun as it sounds. There are some things I’d rather forget.
“Arianna Scott?” he asked, like a teacher summoning a student.
I slowly stood up. Roberta was standing next to the guy, arms folded in that particular way that means she’s really mad.
The guy studied me for a moment and then nodded to himself. What? What does that mean?
“Follow me,” he told us. No please. The fact he could speak that way to Roberta immediately placed him several branches up the tree diagram. Up where the cool stuff happens. I felt my heart shift up a gear.
It took two elevators and a walk to get to his office, and every step took us further from the geeky, airless cave where we toiled all day and closer to the CIA you see in the movies. When I saw the sign on the door - Adam Kinlen, Director, Special Activities Division, my heart started full-on racing.
There was a window that looked out over a big, open-plan office. People were busy at screens that showed world maps, fingerprints, and photos. Some of them had headsets on, talking to field agents thousands of miles away. It was the real thing.
Roberta and I sat. Adam folded his hands behind his back and stood staring out over his empire, either unaware or uncaring that Roberta was glaring at him.
“Roberta speaks very highly of you, Arianna.” he told me without turning around. “Hard worker, excellent Russian skills and outstanding retention.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “I’ve got a photographic memory. It’s easy for me.”
He turned around at that. “Really?” He sounded genuinely interested and enthusiastic. I was starting to like him. “Close your eyes,” he said.
I closed my eyes.
“What’s on my desk?” he asked.
I wondered if it was a trick question, because that was easy. “There’s a half-full glass of water, a sandwich that looks like pastrami on rye, your computer, your phone, a memo with a yellow post-it note stuck to it and a classified report on the French Prime Minister. The report has a coffee stain in the bottom-left corner. It starts off, “We believe that he and his secretary—”
“That’s enough!” Adam said quickly.
I opened my eyes. Adam strode across the room, grabbed the report and shoved it into a desk drawer. Roberta was smirking.
Adam gave me a look that was halfway between irritated and impressed. “Roberta also tells me you’re eager to get out of support and into some field work.”
I glanced at Roberta. She gave me a look that very clearly said no.
I looked through the window at the busy people doing real intelligence work. I thought of another four hours of transcription that afternoon.
I nodded.
“Good,” said Adam. “I think you’re wasted in support.” And he gave me a smile that made my whole heart lift. I mean, not in that way. He was old enough to be my dad, if my dad had still been alive. But it felt as if he really believed in me. “I want you to help us on a little op. You can play the violin, right?”
I blinked. It had come so completely out of left field that it took me a few seconds to answer. “Yes,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, I haven’t for a while….”
“You’ll have a few days to practice,” he said. “You’re twenty-two, correct?”
I nodded.
“I want to go on record as not liking this,” said Roberta. “Arianna’s not a field agent.”
“She went through basic training,” Adam told her.
“There’s a reason they call it basic.”
“Ultimately, it’s up to Arianna,” said Adam. He grinned at me. “Would you like to try? If it goes well, we can look at gradually moving you over to field work.”
It sounded too good to be true. It was exactly what I’d wanted. I glanced at Roberta and got the no look again. I looked at Adam and he was a hundred and ten percent yes.
I nodded. “I want to try,” I said firmly. “What would I have to do?”
Adam’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s get you some coffee while we talk.” Then he glanced at Roberta. “You can go.”
I didn’t dare look at Roberta as she walked out. I felt...disloyal? But that was crazy. This was good for my career. She’d want me to progress, right?
“So,” said Adam. “Luka Malakov.”
Oh shit.