CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“The meatloaf isn’t bad today.”
Leroux glanced at Sherrie White’s plate. “Looks like just the right amount of burn on it.”
Sherrie nodded, stabbing the block of ground meat with her fork. “That’s the key. A little crispy on the outside, moist and juicy on the inside.” She stuck another bite in her mouth and chewed. “Or I’m just craving good ole American food.”
“How’s the training going?”
“If someone had told me that I’d need to learn how to identify and enjoy pretty much every food and drink from around the world, I might have thought twice about taking the job. Do you know that I ate actual scorpions today?”
Leroux covered his mouth, his stomach churning. “How about we skip the dirty talk.”
Sherrie beamed a smile at him, reaching over and patting his hand. “You okay, dear?”
He smiled at her, taking a drink of water. “I’ll live. I’m just glad this mac and cheese is fairly bland.”
Sherrie pushed the salt and pepper shakers toward him. “I’m always telling you that you need to add seasoning.”
Leroux eyed the shakers. “I always thought it was an insult to the chef to do that.”
Sherrie laughed. “Yeah, Chef Ramsey will bite your head off and teach you a few new swearwords, but here, I think you’re safe.”
“Uh huh.” He shook on some salt.
“Don’t forget the pepper.”
He gave her a look. Then shook some on. He shoved his fork into the mass and swirled it around a bit then took a bite, nodding in appreciation.
“See, told you.”
“Right as usual.”
“Never forget it.” Sherrie leaned back, patting her impossibly flat stomach. “I’m stuffed.”
“Already?”
“Hey, I’ve been eating all day. This was just a palette cleanser.”
“What are you eating tomorrow?”
“The delicacies of Mother Russia.”
“Ahh, borscht and vodka.”
Sherrie smiled. “What the hell is borscht anyway?”
“Something pickled, I think. I think they pickle everything over there.”
“Including their livers.”
Leroux snorted in mid chew, grabbing for his napkin. He swallowed. “In America, you eat food. In Soviet Russia, food eats you?”
“Oh, don’t get me started on the Soviet Russia jokes. Yakov Smirnoff is like required viewing.” She checked her watch. “Do you want me to wait up for you?” She leaned forward. “Maybe I can ‘welcome’ you home?”
Leroux flushed, nearly dropping his fork as he felt a shoeless foot run up his leg. He looked around, the crowd light at this time of night, but the fine dining table cloths that might hide her game of footsies were nowhere to be found at this CIA cafeteria.
He cleared his throat, reaching down and blocking her foot.
She appeared hurt.
“You’re going to get us in trouble,” he hissed.
She bit her finger. “But it’d be worth it.”
“It would be, but then we’d both be unemployed, I wouldn’t be allowed to violate people’s privacy, and you wouldn’t be allowed to kill them for what I found. And what fun would that be?”
Her foot dropped as she laughed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Okay, you’re right, life would be boring.” She tapped her watch. “So, am I waiting up for you?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t know when I’m coming home. We’re processing so much footage trying to identify possible terrorists, everyone is working overtime.”
“How’s it looking?”
“Let’s just say, disturbing. We’re getting dozens of hits. There’s no doubt there’s infiltrators.”
“And what’s being done about it?”
Leroux swallowed another bite of his mac and cheese then wiped the corners of his mouth. “We pass it up the chain and I assume it gets shared with the Five Eyes but I don’t know. It might explain why those countries have been reluctant to admit the refugees too quickly, and with the agreements signed between the intelligence agencies, they can’t release that data so their public is in the dark.”
“Might help wake up some people if they knew the truth.”
“True, but it would also tip off the terrorists that we know they’re coming. I can only hope someone is trying to round them up, quietly.”
His phone danced across the table and he read the message, sighing. “Chief wants me.”
Sherrie pushed her almost untouched meal back a few inches. “I guess you better go then.”
He rose and leaned over, giving her a kiss. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she replied, smacking his ass as he turned to bus their trays.
One of his junior staff members, Randy Child, grinned at him and Leroux flushed.
Why oh why did it have to be him that saw that?