Everyone at DIA Headquarters looked at the empty chair on the screen where Wu sat. Seconds later, the screen went blue, and the connection terminated. They were all saturated with the information and events of the day, and exhausted. Emily turned to look at Ford, and he gave her wink. Cocky pilot, she thought, and smiled, shaking her head from side to side.
“See everyone bright and early in the morning. Planning for OPERATION WHIRLPOOL starts tomorrow,” Mark announced.
Sean Patrick O’Halloran, manager of The Dubliner, was working the front door along with his bouncers this evening. A steady crowd of young Capitol Hill staffers were there after work, along with the usual lobbyists from K Street. Conor Malone was playing live tonight, and he and his band were setting up their musical equipment to entertain the crowd with acoustical Irish music.
Michelle Boyd, the DIA foreign missile analyst and former Capitol Hill liaison, stepped up to the dark wood bar top, put down her Givenchy Leather Satchel knockoff, and took out cash to pay for her Kilkenny Irish Cream Ale. She looked around the bar, seeing some faces she recognized from coming here for so many years, but did not say hello to anyone yet. Michelle was waiting for her cousin, Jessica Esposito, staffer on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, to arrive.
Jessica Esposito and Michelle Boyd were first cousins, growing up together in Central Pennsylvania since birth. Jessica, also a former resident of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, had a similar upbringing as Michelle did, and held the same resentment towards the snooty, stuck-up and well-to-do rich kids in and around Bucknell University. Jessica, too, graduated from the University of Scranton, and was attracted to the Department of Defense as a career. At first, Jessica attempted to join the Air National Guard out of Harrisburg and follow in her father’s footsteps. Her father, a Senior Master Sergeant in the Pennsylvania Air National Guard’s 103rd Special Operations Wing, was an Engineer in their EC-130J Commando Solo. Jessica always felt comfortable in and around the Wing as a kid, going to work with her father from time to time, getting rides in the aircraft, and made it a goal to join once she graduated from college. Unfortunately for her, during the medical physical as a navigator applicant, Jessica was found to have tritanopia, or blue-yellow colorblindness, a non-waiver disability that would keep her out of an aircrew position. She did, however, land a ground officer position with the Pennsylvania Air National Guard in Security Forces. This blood bond between the girls explained why Jessica would risk talking to the Senator about the DIA auditorium.
Jessica said hello to Manager Mr. O’Halloran on the way in and b-lined it over to the bar through the crowd. You could hear Malone and the band tuning up their instruments, and “test, test, one, two, one-two-three,” over the mic, getting repeated a few times.
“Hey Michelle. What the heck? What the hell is going on?” Jessica started in with Michelle upon her arrival.
“Hi Jess. Grab a beer, then we’ll move down there to those stools. Those guys are leaving soon,” Michelle told her, nodding down to the end of the bar.
Michelle thought about how she should tell her cousin about the DIA auditorium meeting from earlier. After all, Jess had a clearance, she knew to be careful outside of a protected and cleared area. She worked the same issues that Michelle worked, just in a different location. Michelle thought through the issue of just telling her everything, disclosing everything she knew to her on the potential missile, or stealth aircraft, or whatever it was, just to get it off her chest.
“What’d you get?” Michelle asked, as they sat in two bar stools towards the end of the bar.
“What else? A Guinness. And I’d love to chat again with that new hottie bartender with the Irish accent. His name tag says Kiernan, from Shannon. Hmmm-mmm,” Jess replied, checking the bartender out behind the bar.
“Well, thanks for meeting up, Jess. I’ll explain everything. Jess, work is just eff’d up. I don’t like where I am… and, I just don’t think I will get promoted where I am. The office politics stink. I know it exists everywhere, and there is no getting around it. But I don’t like it,” Michelle disclosed.
“Yeah, I got it. I understand. The power and politics is everywhere. Just seems like in DC it’s magnified. What… what went on at this auditorium thing? The Senator was fired up at the Deputy, as I’m sure you watched or heard about it. I mean, the Deputy didn’t like it, I could tell,” Jess asked.
“Well…” taking a sip of her beer, “we had this missile related hot topic that came up over from Buckley. The SBIRS guys. And we did a few hours of work on an anomaly, and were in an auditorium brief with the Deputy. Made the slides, did the research, even had a rehearsal brief. We were all there. All of a sudden, one of the aircraft analyst hot shots stands up and starts mouthing off,” Michelle said, getting heated as she relayed the story. “This guy, wearing some funky clothes and a man bun with wrestling shoes… he didn’t even look like an analyst. Anyway, he stands up- and basically interrupts the Deputy and my boss. No facts. No homework. Just started in as the good idea fairy, taking the spotlight from us. From our team in missiles!”
“WTF. What did this aircraft guy have to say? Who… what desk was he from? What’s his name?” Jess asked.
Just as Michelle was going to share the whole story, as she decided earlier, her sixth sense kicked in. She certainly knew they weren’t in a SCIF, and that The Dubliner was not an appropriate location to discuss such classified topics, but she was mad. Michelle never disclosed any work stories, but her emotional state, plus alcohol, had her fired up angry.
“The guy was from the…,” Michelle started out, and before blurting out the words China desk or missile flashes or possible China stealth bombers, or the whole thing she had on the tip of her tongue, she kept her mouth shut. Something wasn’t right in the bar, especially with the crowd. “It’s not important right now, Jess. We can discuss it another time.”
“Nah, we can talk now. Are you sure? You seem pretty excited and passionate about it,” Jess said, taking another sip from her beer.
“Positive. Perhaps when we are back at work one day. Okay?” replied Michelle.
“Well, Senator Ricks wants a full follow-up from him next week. I’ve ignored Jason at the moment with additional details, but we’ll have to get them on the schedule,” Jess said, referring to her office at Senate Hart Building.
Michelle was flush with emotion, and nearly broke out in tears. What the heck was I thinking, as her entire career flashed before her in her mind’s eye. Michelle just realized she nearly disclosed a top of the pyramid, intense secret of the United States in a Washington, DC bar, for all to hear, to a cousin. Michelle let out a sigh, looked down at the bar, and was relieved she disclosed nothing. It was a close call.
“Anyhow, what are you doing for the holidays? Going home?” Michelle asked, changing the subject quickly, and learning from her near disastrous mistake.
Chris stood up and pressed the up arrow button on the wall to raise the white projector screen, then shut down the power to the projector in the room. He also put the computer to sleep, and walked back to the table where Wu was standing. Chris thought about the events as quickly as he could, and realized this was a heck of a proposition. It was nearly overwhelming to him.