OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
Is there any booze on this plane?” asked Mike Califano. With effort, he leaned forward in his plush leather seat and scanned all around the sleek cabin of the Gulfstream.
“It’s against regulation,” Thorne replied. She was seated across from him in the Gulfstream’s mahogany-trimmed cabin. Other than the pilot and copilot, they were all alone on the luxury aircraft as it traveled at Mach 0.8 through the lower atmosphere, 35,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, en route to Dulles, Virginia.
“Figures,” Califano mumbled, slumping back into his seat.
“SOP 20.2.1 prohibits CIA personnel from drinking alcohol while on duty,” Thorne explained. “Unless it’s directly required by the circumstances of a mission. And if that weren’t enough, the director’s standing order thirty-seven specifically prohibits drugs and alcohol aboard any CIA vessel, including aircraft.”
“Whatever,” said Califano with a sigh.
Ana watched him for a few seconds and then smirked. “But . . . I guess some rules were meant to be broken.” She rose from her seat and retrieved a bottle of chilled champagne from a cabinet on the port side of the airplane. She placed it on the table between them, along with two flute-style glasses, and then resumed her seat.
“Now you’re talking,” said Califano with a crooked smile.
“Want to do the honors?”
With a wince, Califano leaned forward and unwrapped the foil and wire from the bottle and then quickly popped the cork. He poured two glasses of the bubbly liquid and handed one to Ana.
Ana raised her glass. “Here’s to . . .” Her voice trailed off as she tried to figure out who or what to toast.
Califano took over. “Here’s to the Office of Disruptive Technology Analysis and Intervention.”
Ana laughed. “That’s a mouthful.” She clinked her glass against Califano’s and took a sip. Then they both settled into their seats and relaxed with their drinks.
“So I was wondering,” said Califano after a long stretch.
“Hmm?”
“If I came to work for DTAI, would you be my boss?”
“Whoa,” said Ana, holding up her hand. “Who said anything about you joining DTAI? First of all, you’d have to be admitted into the CIA.” She paused for a moment and considered mentioning the issue of Califano’s prison stint, but she decided to let it go. “Then there’s a ton of training you’d have to go through. Classroom work, physical training, weapons training, and the whole adventure down at Camp Peary. Then you’d have to work your way up to a billet like DTAI. Trust me, there’s a lot of grunt work for new recruits.” She took a sip of her champagne and shrugged. “But yeah . . . in theory, if you came to work at DTAI, I would be your direct supervisor.”
“Cool,” said Califano, nodding his head slowly. “I think you’d be a good boss to have.”