Page 105 of Beehive

I stepped into the bathroom and picked up my toothbrush. As I was layering on the paste, Thomas said, “You know, Stalin isn’t going to take this well.”

“He’s probably stomping around the Kremlin yelling at statues and paintings this very minute.”

When Thomas didn’t laugh, I peered around the corner to find him still on the bed, a scowl marring his sexy face.

“Our job just got a lot more complicated. How long before they sendusto Russia, you think?”

I set my toothbrush on the vanity.

The future hadn’t really crossed my mind, but Thomas was right. Whatever Washington called our agency, our job would take us into the darkest recesses of the globe where America’s enemies lurked. If Stalin really was positioning Russia as the counterweight to America’s rising power, we were sure to need eyes and ears on their soil.

“I don’t speak Russian. You know that, right?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, returning from his mental wandering. “You’ll need to learn.”

I was about to protest, to say my German was so atrocious it would be a waste of time and resources to try to teach me another language, when the scraping of paper against our floor drew me up short—again.

“Jesus, not again,” I groaned.

Thomas didn’t move, so I stepped around the bed to find a single folded piece of paper.

“Another newspaper?” Thomas asked.

“If it is, it’s the shortest one in history.” I bent and picked up the note.

Flipping the page open, I read aloud,

Gentlemen,

Report downstairs with all your belongings at thirteen hundred hours. Wear something comfortable. It’s going to be a long flight.

M

1. President Harry S. Truman regarding the need for a Central Intelligence Agency, which was formed by an act of Congress on September 18, 1947.

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