Page 6 of A Moment Never Forgotten
As she drove toward Langley, Berit reassessed her life. Her son had lots of friends. Yes, most were SEALs, his teammates, but he had close friends from high school he visited almost every trip home.
She didn’t have anyone outside of work. That was more by design, and necessity, rather than choice. Her jobs since returning to the United States had still been in the shadow world. That’s why dating had been so hard.
Most men didn’t want to go out with such a high-level spy. Or the ballbuster she was known to be at work. She’d learned her management style from some of the toughest men in the world. Her heart could be tearing into pieces inside but no matter the situation, she had learned to ask herself,what would a man do? She almost always went with that solution.
But she had a much softer side, one that only her son and his friends ever saw. A few of the men she dated over the years had been allowed to see that facet of her personality, but none of them had ever worked out. Internally, she laughed at herself. How dare she chastise her son for doing the exact same thing she did. In the past five years, no man was admitted past date three.
At that thought, Captain Micah Reid popped into her brain. He was so damned handsome. How no woman had ever captured his heart was an amazing feat. Or maybe he’d had the love of his life once and lost her. Or perhaps so many years in bachelorhood had made him too nasty to live with.
She shuddered at the thought that his whole home might look like a teenage boy’s bedroom filled with sweaty socks, stinky jocks, and clothes that should have been washed weeks before. No woman deserved that horror.
Thoughts of Micah led her to thinking about Teagan Jackson. She was going to be in town that weekend. Berit considered giving her a call and asking her out for a drink. Teagan had gone from a single woman to a new family immediately filled with two children and she might enjoy a few hours away. Had she still lived in town, they might’ve been friends.
Maybe she’d call Teagan later in the day.
Chapter Three
Berit leaned forward and mindlessly set her empty coffee mug on the coaster that her son had made for her when he was six years old and she was stationed in Ankara, Turkey. The crude ceramic handprint had adorned every one of her desks for the last twenty years. Dozens of such keepsakes were scattered around her office, her way of keeping the memories, and Makensey, close.
Scanning all three computer screens for anything important, she decided everything could wait until she skimmed down the list of the day’s reports. The latest information coming out of Iran snagged her attention. Even though she was no longer Deputy Group Chief of the Counterterrorism Center, she continued to keep her finger on the pulse of the shadow world. Sure, it helped her anticipate the agents’ future requests, which was part of her current job, but more importantly,, it kept her in touch with the purpose of the CIA…intelligence.
As she read through the list of military equipment that had arrived at Lake Urmia, the exponentially growing home of the New Islamic State, Berit couldn’t believe that Nassar al-Jamil still wasn’t on the Top Ten Most Wanted Terrorists list. After spending fifteen years in the field, five of them as station chief at various locations in the Middle East, she considered him an extremely dangerous man.
He hated the U.S.A. and its Western ways.
As she read on, she wondered where the hell had he gotten enough money to purchase tanks. Sure, they were old M1 Abrams—probably left decimated on the battlefield during the last twenty years of war—but no country was going to give them away for free. She clicked through to check on al-Jamil’s asset sources only to discover that no forensic accountant had been assigned to track the money flow. Weird.
Berit slowly shook her head. The CIA had limited personnel, and since Nassar al-Jamil was not a top ten priority, no one was working on him.
For the next thirty minutes, she read reports from all over the world. Rumblings and grumblings abounded out of both North and South Korea. Same shit they’d been hearing since 1945. Glancing at the list of handlers in the area, she noticed two hard-charging up-and-comers. The rhetoric was the same as always, but someone was now listening, especially to the new female agent. Korea was also a hot point with the President facing reelection.
A beep came over the intercom before her administrative assistant interrupted. “Ms. Barker, Director Lambert would like to see you.” Carol Dobbs had been her administrative assistant while Berit was Deputy Director of the National Clandestine Service. They’d worked together so well that when Carol had stepped into the interview room, Berit didn’t hesitate to promote her.
“Did he ask for an appointment or is he expecting me now?” She wondered what menial task he had for her this time. Since she had been assigned as the Deputy Director for Support a year ago, Joseph Lambert had given her personal assignments that should have been handled by someone with less than five years of service, not twenty-five.
“He’d like to see you right after lunch.” Carol’s pronouncement didn’t surprise Berit. Of course Joseph Lambert wanted to see her this afternoon. It was Friday and he probably had a personal project for her that would take the entire weekend. Sometimes she didn’t mind, but Mak was home.
Berit was sure that in Lambert’s misogynistic mind, she was nothing more than a woman who was there to serve him. At least he didn’t have any expectations of herservicinghim. She cringed at the thought of his sex life…although she’d heard rumors he was into BDSM and some strange kinks.
She knew better than to believe gossip. There were more than enough rumors about her sleeping her way to the top just because she was a woman. Lies. All of them. She’d worked hard, dragging her son through some of the poorest countries in the world, making a name for herself based solely on her work performance. Besides, when it came to undercover work, no one ever suspected a single mother. She had earned every promotion she had ever received, especially the last one.
Berit sighed heavily. “Did he say what this pertains to? Did he request you bring in any spreadsheets? Data?”
“I asked and his administrative assistant said he didn’t need me.” She paused for only a few heartbeats then added, “He wants to meet with you. Alone.”
Rolling back from the well-worn desk, she stood. “I’m on my way out to lunch.” She needed to eat, but more than that she needed to get her head in the right place before she walked into her boss’s office. If he assigned her another menial task, she’d tell him no. She was over his condescending treatment of her. She would recap her previous positions and skill set.
Her encounter yesterday with Captain Reid reminded her of a perfect example…the funeral of Senior Special Agent Gabriel Davis. Someone down in Personnel Resources should have handled the arrangements and then been designated the liaison with Mrs. Davis. Berit still couldn’t figure out why her boss had insisted she handle everything herself. Most likely just another male dominating power play.
When she had been promoted, Berit had looked forward to learning more about the solid side of the CIA. Support did exactly that, they supported everything. The department was responsible for building and operating facilities all over the world, acquiring and shipping critical equipment to wherever it was needed, and handling the financial services required to keep the agency running.
She had spent nearly fifteen years in the field at various locations around the globe. She recalled being hip-deep in some Third World country and needing currency acceptable in that area. Sometimes it had been gold, sometimes diamonds, sometimes a ton of rice, and one call to Support was all it took. Handshakes in the dark kept information flowing.
Berit especially liked the human services part of her new job; recruiting, training, employee assignments, and personnel safety. One of her proudest accomplishments so far had been changing the standard sidearm back to a solid .45 caliber pistol like the one she currently had tucked into the holster at the small of her back.
She had been recruited while in college, and pregnant. The demanding physical fitness as a trainee helped her regain her pre-pregnancy body, one she had tried to maintain throughout her career.
At forty-eight, gravity had taken its toll. Thank God for underwire support bras because her breasts hadn’t been perky in two decades. She truly preferred thigh-high cotton to the pretty, lacey panties in the Victoria’s Secret flyers they sent her every month. She sure as hell, though, used the coupons. Ten dollars off one of their expensive bras was a savings she couldn’t resist, especially on a civil servant’s salary living in the D.C. area. As a single mother, she’d learned the value of coupons, particularly in the teenage years of her growing son. Even though she had been continually promoted, she still lived a frugal life…except where Mak and his friends were concerned. She would happily spend her last dollar making their life easier and happy.
