Once Flynn prepared the bathroom, he pulled out his burner phone, hoping that Natalie Hart wouldn’t be on her lunch break yet. Several years before, Flynn met Natalie at the National Archives while working on a research piece about Pearl Harbor. She seemed eager to help him on his story, even bending the rules and helping him sneak a few papers out one night. She trusted him to return them, which he did. That week kindled a new friendship, one Flynn hoped might evolve into something more some day.
As good as he was at reading people when it came to telling the truth, Flynn failed miserably when trying to determine if a woman liked him romantically or not. Natalie often twirled her long brunette locks with her fingers while talking with him. Was that a sign that she likes me or a nervous twitch? Flynn never could be sure. The only thing he was sure of was that he liked her. He enjoyed her company at dinner, an event that Flynn made sure happened every time he was in town if staying for more than a couple of days. Yet he feared if he pressed the issue with her that she might decline any forward advances and ruin their current platonic relationship. I can stare a combatant in the face pointing a gun at me without blinking but I can’t get up the courage to give Natalie a goodnight kiss. Flynn couldn’t be more embarrassed over that fact. But it never stopped him from asking her out to dinner when he was in town.
He dialed her number and listened to the rings. On the third ring, she picked up. She sounded glad to hear from him and hinted that she had no plans for dinner that evening. After quickly planning to meet up for dinner, Flynn told her the second reason for his call.
“I also was wondering if you could authenticate a document for me,” Flynn said.
“Oh, what kind of document?”
“An FBI document from a polygraph test.”
“Still trying to solve who was behind JFK’s assassination, are we?”
“How did you know?”
Natalie chuckled. “When it comes to asking me for favors, that’s the only subject that ever pops up with you. Are you ever going to give this up?”
Flynn sighed. “You know my obsession all too well. And since it’s an obsession, I probably never will — at least until I find out who was behind it all.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Natalie said. “I’ve got some free time this afternoon and I’ll be happy to take a look at it for you. Just bring it on down.”
“Is a copy fine?”
“If all you’ve got is a copy, why don’t you just email it to me?”
“Are you crazy? My email connected to your government account with a top secret document leading to who was behind the JFK assassination? I don’t want you to be found floating in the Potomac River next week.”
Natalie laughed. “How chivalrous of you. OK, fine. Bring it down on your phone or computer or whatever. We’ll look at it without linking my account to yours so I don’t end up as fish food.”
Flynn was relieved. He knew more than a half-dozen reporters who died of strange circumstances when they began digging into JFK’s assassination. He wasn’t about to put Natalie — or himself — at risk. Not when something potentially as big as this found its way into his hands.
Staying Downtown Washiington at The Liaison, Flynn made the short one-mile walk to the National Archives. He didn’t sit down to eat lunch, instead grabbing a hot dog from a street vendor as he walked. Natalie consumed his thoughts, so much so that he passed on the onions, which was his favorite garnishment. He couldn’t wait to see her again, though he knew his stomach would knot up. He often wondered how anyone could have such a physiological effect on him. Pushing those thoughts aside, Flynn went over a few one-liners he heard in the movies that earned a laugh from the ladies in the audience. He picked one out that he liked before beginning to wonder if they were laughing because it was absurd or because they thought it was charming. Undecided, Flynn decided to ditch the charm and compliment her on her clothes or hair before jumping into business.
Upon reaching the downtown branch of the National Archives, Flynn waited five minutes for the hourly shuttle that transported researchers to the archives branch in Annapolis. While the downtown building was iconic, serious researchers knew the juiciest information sat in a 2-million-square-foot facility forty-five minutes away.
Flynn slumped into his seat but not before surveying his surroundings and eyeing the fellow passengers. He surmised that at least two other passengers were CIA and expected them to disappear to the archives’ back entrance once they arrived. The rest looked harmless enough: an elderly lady and her husband; a school teacher; a few doctoral students, undoubtedly heading out to do research. Flynn couldn’t place the last man, but concluded he was a novelist. Five minutes into the trip, Flynn’s assessments proved to be spot-on, based off their conversations with one another. The two CIA agents said nothing, all but confirming Flynn’s hunch.
He settled in for the ride, thumbing through his phone. Emails. Voicemails. News. Flynn had been so consumed with the events of the past 24 hours that he was way behind on responding to emails and phone calls. Once he responded to the urgent ones, he went straight for the news.
“More Russian Saber Rattling?” read the headline. The report detailed how the Russians were erecting new missile silos in Siberia, causing great angst in Washington. U.S. diplomats voiced concern over this move, while the Russians said it was necessary to deter any threats against their soil. Flynn rolled his eyes. It never ends, does it?
He decided he’d had enough world politics for today and sought out his favorite sports app to catch up on the latest NFL happenings. It was enough to occupy his time until the shuttle arrived at its destination. He watched everyone unload and head for the front entrance — except for the two men he suspected as CIA agents. They turned a corner, disappearing from view.
Once inside, Flynn put away his belongings in the lockers downstairs, taking only his burner phone with him upstairs. He went to the microfilm archive floor and called Natalie. Five minutes later, she appeared. Her piercing blue eyes and long shapely legs gave Flynn an eyeful. She tossed her thick brown hair over her shoulder as she walked toward him.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were gawking at me,” Natalie said.
She gave him a friendly side hug before Flynn could even speak.
“It’s good to see you, Natalie,” he stammered.
“You, too.”
“So, we can make small talk tonight over dinner. Whatcha got for me?”
In a hushed tone, Flynn started to divulge his protocol for passing sensitive documents over email before Natalie stopped him.
“Just air drop me the file and I’ll look at it, OK?”
Flynn then relaxed and smiled. He had almost forgotten Natalie’s genius idea to air drop sensitive information since it couldn’t be traced back to him. He quickly uploaded the documents to her phone.
“Be back in a few minutes.”
A few minutes turned into a half an hour before Natalie appeared again, this time without the bounce in her step or a smile on her face. Her face expressed a look of consternation.