“Well, you did have him pegged, that’s for sure.”
Zane leaned back and glanced down the hall. “Switching gears, where is our fearless leader?”
“Waiting for you in his office. Do you still remember the way, or shall I escort you?”
“Unfortunately, I still remember.”
She gave him a little wave. “Let’s catch up when you guys are done.”
“Will do.” He pointed at her. “I want to hear about your product.”
She laughed and returned to her seat.
Zane strode past the maze of glass offices. The Oracle liked the openness of glass, claiming it produced happier and more productive employees. Tellingly, he didn’t apply the same rules to his own space.
Several technicians waved at Zane as he passed by, unable to break away from phone conversations. He missed being here. He wished he could have arrived earlier and spent some time catching up but knew that wasn’t possible now. Whatever the Oracle wanted to talk about was likely going to take up the entire evening.
As he approached a set of oak double doors at the end of the hall, a voice spoke from the speaker to the right. “Come on in, Watson.”
There was a quick buzz followed by a series of clicks. Zane turned the handle and entered.
The office would be the envy of any CEO. The exterior wall was composed entirely of tinted floor-to-ceiling glass. The Oracle’s massive desk and ergonomically correct chair were situated in front of the glass, allowing Delphi’s chief to swivel around and take in the view if he needed inspiration.
A modern-looking conference table filled the right side of the room, and a circle of leather chairs was arranged on the left. Set in the wall behind those chairs was a nondescript door. Zane knew that just beyond, a spiral staircase led to the roof. The Oracle was a connoisseur of fine cigars, and the hidden retreat allowed him to enjoy a smoke in the evening.
As the Oracle rose from his seat, Zane could see the spires of Arlington office buildings behind him, their interior lights just beginning to glow as evening settled over the city. A few miles away was the Potomac River, winding its way east toward the nation’s capital.
The Oracle walked around the desk. “I see you can’t even make it through vacation without getting shot,” he said, pumping the operative’s hand. He looked down and said, “Speaking of which, how is the leg?”
“It’s seen better days.”
The Oracle frowned. “A little bird told me the wound got infected.”
“Unfortunately, your little bird was right. I’m so pumped full of antibiotics that I could probably drink a gallon of sewage and survive.”
The Oracle waved him over to the leather seats.
Zane rubbed his leg dramatically as they moved toward them. “You know, it’s funny, but I never seem to get any comp time or pay no matter what happens to me out in the field. I’d like to speak to HR before I leave.”
The Oracle shook his head. “Comp pay? Aren’t you the man who owns two personal airplanes? And besides, I am HR, so you can just talk to me.”
As Zane approached the seating area, a man rose out of one of the chairs. Zane hadn’t noticed him before. He was in his early thirties, with dark hair parted on the side. Pulling off a pair of reading glasses, the man stepped forward and extended a hand. “Zane.”
“Brett Foster,” Zane said, grasping his hand. “Were you hiding over there?”
Brett returned to his seat. “Sorry. I had to get a message out to someone in the field. Figured I’d let you two exchange pleasantries first.”
Brett Foster was the chief technology specialist for Delphi. He had attended MIT in the early 2000s and graduated with honors. After graduation, he’d entered private industry, working for several research and development companies at the famed Research Triangle Park in North Carolina. As fate would have it, one of those companies was a consultant for the CIA, and that was when the brilliant young techie caught the eye of the head administrator of the CIA’s Office of Information Technology. His work was so well regarded that his name eventually made it all the way up to the director himself.
Knowing the CIA couldn’t pay Foster enough to pull him away from private industry, the director passed his name on to Alexander Ross. Ross was then able to couple the excitement of covert work with a substantial increase in pay to lure him to Delphi.
“We’ve kept Brett busy lately,” the Oracle said after they were all seated.
“Is there ever a time when he isn’t?” Zane asked.
“This is a whole new level of busy,” the Oracle said.
Brett looked at Zane. “Let’s put it this way… I’ve spent the night here four times this week.”
Zane raised an eyebrow. Delphi employees were highly motivated individuals, and long hours were the norm, but spending the night that many times in a week went beyond anything he’d ever heard of before. It made him wonder what was going on.
“I’m impressed,” Zane said.
“So, if anybody deserves a pay increase, it’s him,” the Oracle said.
Zane sat forward and placed his arms on his knees. “I take it the overnighters are related to why I’m here?”
“They are.” The Oracle glanced at his watch. “Although that will have to wait until our other guest arrives.”
Zane frowned. He hadn’t been told that someone else would be joining them. Who was it, and why hadn’t the Oracle told him before?
“How about a drink while we wait?” the Oracle asked as he rose from his seat and walked toward a mini-fridge in the corner. “Watson, as it’s after seven, ordinarily I’d offer you some alcohol for your leg. But I don’t think our guest would be too thrilled to find you holding a glass of Scotch.”
Suddenly Zane realized who was coming. No wonder the Oracle had been coy.
“Besides, if you’re up for it, we’re all going to the Old Ebbitt when this is over.” The Oracle stooped and retrieved three bottles of water. After closing the door, he handed a bottle each to Brett and Zane.
Zane opened his and took a sip. “So, who is our illustrious guest?”
The Oracle stared at Zane. “I think you can probably guess.”
As if on cue, a loud beep sounded from a device on the Oracle’s desk, followed by Kristine’s voice. “Dr. Ross, Assistant Director Hathaway is here.”
The Oracle walked over to the desk and pressed a button. “Thank you, Kristine. Please send him down.” He then pressed another button to disengage the lock.
A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man with dark hair entered the room. The assistant director of the CIA was dressed impeccably, as always. His charcoal Italian suit was adorned with a crisp white pocket square, and his laced Oxfords were polished to a mirror-like sheen. Zane had often wondered if the man ironed and starched his boxers.
“Brooks, nice to see you again.” The Oracle extended his hand before nodding in the direction of the leather chairs. “I believe you remember Zane and Brett.”
“Ah, Zane Watson.” Hathaway always spoke with a contrived accent that Zane placed somewhere between British and high intellectual. The man was fake before fake became cool. “What a relief to find you here and not out in Europe, causing an international row.”
“I’m just glad that you’re still funding those rows,” Zane replied.
Hathaway shot him a look before turning to shake Brett’s hand.
The Oracle gestured toward the chairs. “Please have a seat.”
Hathaway made it no secret that he detested Delphi. He was an agency man and found it unthinkable that any operation should ever be farmed out to a private organization.
As everyone took their seats, the Oracle walked over to a switch near the door and dimmed the lights. As soon as the room darkened, the lights of the surrounding buildings suddenly shone through the window with greater intensity.