Maybe I can have the best of both worlds. He called back the Newsmakers show producer and agreed to go on the show. The truth is Flynn loved his job, and while snagging a catch like Natalie might be worth giving up what he got to do every day, he’d rather not. He stopped dreaming when he realized what he was doing. He hated getting ahead of himself. Got to actually start dating first.
As much as Flynn detested going on live television, those appearances enabled him to pursue big stories without running out of favor with his editor. Other reporters were insanely jealous of him, but he didn’t care. He’d endured more than his share of snide comments while working at the agency. When fellow agents learned that Flynn’s uncle worked for the agency, he became a constant subject of ridicule. All the other agents believed their hard work earned them a spot at the agency while Flynn exercised nepotism. Perhaps they were right. It was impossible to separate the two now. But sneers and snubs from co-workers were nothing new to Flynn. It only motivated him more to be better than them.
By 6 p.m., Flynn made his way to the studio to get prepped by wardrobe and makeup before getting briefed by the show’s producers. The topic Newsmakers’ producers wanted to discuss with Flynn was that of a claim from an elderly woman living in Florida. In her new book, The Secrets That We Keep: A memoir of a Cold War house cleaning spy, Petra Pfeiffer divulged that she worked with the CIA in a secret program named “Catomic” to spy on what U.S. officials believed were KGB operatives working out of the Russian embassy in Bonn, Germany in the 1960s. She earned $600 per month cleaning houses — and $1,500 per month by making herself available to the CIA. As the house cleaner for several KGB operatives, Pfeiffer claimed to take pictures of official documents, plant bugs, and participate in operations that granted U.S. agents access to Russian homes.
While the story gained plenty of traction in the U.S., Newsmakers wanted to debunk the idea that her story could be true since the CIA denied any kind of operations in Bonn during the time when Pfeiffer was supposedly an agency asset. Oddly enough to Flynn, Newsmakers had put Pfeiffer on the show the night before, launching her book into the top ten of bestselling books on Amazon overnight. Now, Newsmakers wanted to set the record straight. It’s what the show did best: build up a story and then tear it down. It was the journalist equivalent of digging a ditch only to refill it. His sound bytes were sure to fill the cable news cycle for the next twenty-four hours once he outed Pfeiffer as a fraud.
Flynn told the producers that she was lying since he had firsthand knowledge that Catomic didn’t start until the early 1970s. It was exactly what they wanted to hear and immediately wrote teasers for the hosts of Page One — the show that aired before Newsmakers — to read before commercial breaks in the final thirty minutes of the program.
Standing in the shadows off camera as Newsmakers began, Flynn looked satisfied. He detested lying, but sometimes it was necessary. And right now was one of those times. He knew all about Catomic and how the operation involved scores of civilians, both German and Americans working in Germany. Agents studied it to learn how to turn opposing agents and how to vet civilians uniquely placed to gain access to vital information. The operation qualified as espionage art form, something Flynn marveled at. And despite being expelled from the agency, he wasn’t about to let Pfeiffer’s loose lips hasten her demise. If he told America she was an old kook just looking for a buck after her IRA imploded, people would leave her alone. If he verified her story, she might not even live long enough to collect a royalty check.
At precisely 8 p.m., Flynn found a parking spot near McPherson Square and hustled across the street to his favorite restaurant, Georgia Brown’s on 15th Street. As he drew nearer, the savory smells of Low Country cuisine enraptured Flynn’s senses. It reminded him of home. Brunswick stew, slow-cooked pulled pork, and mustard-based barbecue sauce. The flavors nearly whisked Flynn off his feet. He hadn’t lived in Charleston for a long time, but he had never forgotten the rich culture of his childhood in a place where time stood still.
As soon as Flynn opened the door, he noticed Natalie sitting in the waiting area. Draped in a stunning silvery dress, Natalie immediately gave off the impression that this was more than dinner between two friends. Her hair swirled up in a bun and her ears sporting diamond earrings, her vibe emboldened Flynn.
“Wow! Don’t you look nice!” Flynn said.
Natalie feigned embarrassment before saying, “Thank you, Flynn. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Flynn didn’t near to hear that, but it was nice — especially as he was overly conscious of the television makeup still smeared all over his face.
The hostess seated the couple and retreated back to her post.
“You did a great job on Newsmakers tonight,” Natalie said.
“Oh, thanks. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“So, tell me the truth: Was she really a spy?”
Flynn furrowed his brow and cocked his head. “Aren’t you the curious one tonight?”
“Oh, stop it, James. You know I’m always curious. But I think you were lying tonight.”
“How could you tell?”
“So you were lying? I knew it!” Natalie pumped her fist in excitement.
“I didn’t say I was lying.”
“You didn’t have to. It was all over your face.”
“How could you tell?”
“I may not be a trained CIA operative, but I’m trained at reading men. It lets me know if I’m an object of their affection or just an object.”
“How cleverly insightful. Now I’m scared to speak.”
“You’ve got nothing to be scared of — as long as you tell the truth.”
Natalie gave Flynn a coy smile as Flynn shifted in his chair. He picked up the menu and began inspecting it closely.
“Am I making you nervous?” Natalie asked, cutting through the awkward silence.
“No. Why?”
“Don’t lie to me, James,” she said, giggling.
“OK, maybe a little nervous. Why do you ask?”
“Because you never need to look at the Georgia Brown’s menu. You know it by heart as much as you come here. I bet you’ve already been here since you arrived in Washington.”
He actually hadn’t, but only because he was forced to go talk with detectives about Emma Taylor’s death. Otherwise, lunch would have been eaten here earlier in the day.
Then Flynn’s phone began buzzing. He glanced at the unknown number appearing on the screen as the phone began vibrating across the table.
“Saved by the phone.” Natalie smiled. “Go ahead, answer it. I still need a minute to decide what I want to eat.”
Flynn picked up his phone and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Is this James Flynn?”
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s calling?”
“My name is Sam Golden, sir. I live in Dallas, Texas, and I’ve got something you need to see.”