Page 53 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Thank you,” I return as if his service is expected. I guess for Tanzi it is.

Once in my room, I brush my teeth, dump my travel clothes, and connect with my handler. He’s in a casual Georgetown tee, and I try not to look perplexed. “Casual Monday? Tuesday? I don’t know what day it is where.”

“There’s an app on your desktop to let you know time, date, and day for your Chicago headquarters and your current location. And it’s after ten here. Get your glasses. Let’s make sure I can see the feed.”

From the ridiculously expensive bag, I slide on the eyewear that makes me more robot than double-oh-seven. When I set them in place, I’m amazed that on my screen is my screen, meaning I can see from Brody’s perspective everything I’m viewing.

“It’s high-density resin,” he starts. “Should be undetectable with how little metal is in it. No more than the screws that hold the arms to the lenses. Metal detectors and scanners shouldn’t pick anything up. Still, if you have any concerns, wipe your bridge or remove and destroy. But have a damn good reason for destroying government property, Jones. I’ll need a good reason when they investigate.”

I give a thumbs up in front of the lens. It’s caught on the camera as well, giving me double vision.

“I’m dark until you’re back on the plane unless things go south. Then reach out.”

My screen goes black, and I move to the window, looking out over Taipei and its hustle and bustle, its mountains, and its greens and reds.

I exhale a huge breath and bounce on my feet, shaking my fingers out. “Okay, Shackleford, let’s do this thing.”

Strider

Here I sit, between a rock and a hard place. Times two.

Margie’s right. The crew working under Price O’Neill is definitely skimming. Six guys plus Price since he gets the overtime when they do. Or, in his case, comp time. So his vacation bank is full to bursting and all with stolen time—thirty minutes here, an hour there.

The question is whether he brought the scheme to his crew. It’s really not. They’re all stealing. It’s straight-up theft from me and from the rest of the team. We run from a place of honesty and integrity.

Margie wasn’t lying when she said it impacted her bonus. Staff bonuses are based on company profitability. We’re not a charity. We don’t run at zero sum. And O’Neill’s team impacts every person at this company.

It’s also employees we can’t afford to lose with our backlog of work.

Human resources says cut all the fat, no severance packages, pay out unpaid vacation, and offer no unemployment. I countered with allowing them to come clean and resign with no legal ramifications. It’s the worst time of year to take away someone’s financial security. My brain swiftly reminds me that each did it to themselves. But still, I hate the idea of being the guy who terminates or forces a man’s hand this close to the holidays.

An idea forms, but I need to sit with it. It’s more aggressive than I usually play things. I have no problem being the nice guy. I know that means being taken advantage of at times. I also know I sleep well at night, treating people with dignity and respect and with the integrity on which this company was founded.

The bad apples have always worked themselves out since character is touted here. It seems O’Neill is planting an orchard.

I shoot an email out company-wide, reminding them of our Thanksgiving potluck next Wednesday. The company provides the turkeys and ham. Everyone else brings something to share.

I flip to a new tab on my browser and book an early Thanksgiving morning flight to Denver. There’s no reason to even think about Wednesday travel when I can be there by breakfast.

The office is closed, and barring any big emergency, I’ll have a couple of days in the shadows of the Rockies with my sister and soon to be brother-in-law.

Flight booked. I’ll be there on Thursday.

I send the flight details.

Lolo

I’m so excited. I’m baking all the things!

I’ve had Lorien’s baking. How she can mess up a recipe is beyond me, but she does and with gusto.

Let Mom help. You know she’ll be disappointed if she’s relegated to the side.

Also, if she has to eat your terrible attempts.

For sure. I can’t wait to show you my place.

Can’t wait to see the place where it all started.