Capitol Crimes. H.L. Katz

Mike was far and away his favorite and Biggs believed he was also the Agency’s future. More than anything else, Biggs knew that Mike was the one man who could get the job done as clean and as quick as possible.

      “I know you can handle it, which is why I won’t send you,” Biggs said. “This is gonna be a massive cluster-fuck and you don’t need to be anywhere near it.”

      Mike sat down on the other side of Biggs’s desk, bent over and rested his face in the palms of his hands.

      “I can’t let something happen to you because this agency is caught in a political football game. I can’t do it,” Biggs said, impressed with the maturity of his 6’4 pupil.

      A minute later, Mike sat up straight, leaned back in his chair and stared directly into Biggs’s eyes. “Ted, I need this…I can’t sleep…I can’t eat…this was horse shit and you know it.”

      Mike stood up. He placed both palms flat on Biggs’ desk. “I told you this was going down…I was not the fuck-up on this, y’all were.”

      “Yeah. You told me that already.”

      “I want this guy and I’m going to go find him whether you assign me to this or not.”

      “Mike, you don’t have the experience for a gig like this…”

      Mike straightened up. “Experience, my ass. Do you think I can do this?”

      Biggs hesitated. “I think you can do anything we assign to you.”

      “Assign me to this, because I’m going whether you do or not.”

      Mike turned around without waiting for a response. He walked out of Biggs’ office, closing the door behind him.

      Mike ended up in Quebec where he personally hunted down and killed three of the architects of the tower bombings, but missed finding Ibrahim in his safe house by less than three minutes. The apartment Ibrahim was holed up in had one lamp, an old desk, a mattress without a box-spring and a small black and white TV in the corner. On the floor under the mattress was a key from a storage facility in Toronto. Inside 21C, the small storage closet Ibrahim had rented, were surveillance photos of not only the Khobar Towers in Saudi Arabia, but also buildings and landmarks in Russia, Israel, Great Britain, Algiers, Yemen, Buenos Aires, Pakistan and the United States. After taking stock of the contents, Mitch met up with Todd, who brought all the evidence back to Langley, along with the key he was holding in his hands.

      “Yeah, I remember that key. What did they say, three minutes? If I was three minutes earlier, I could have saved the world a whole lot of pain and suffering.”

      Todd zipped his knapsack then pulled out a stick of trident gum from his shirt pocket, unwrapped it and stuffed it in his mouth. “If I called you five minutes earlier, we’d have had him. You can’t keep blaming yourself.”

      “But three minutes…”

      “Got to deal with what you can control, not what you can’t, partner.”

      “I know…just pisses me off is all.” Mike took his gym bag and flipped it onto his right shoulder, then motioned for Todd to follow. “Let’s get outta’ here.”

      Four

      “It was strange,” Callie said speaking into her cellphone. “He threw me under the bus in front of the entire firm, then accused me of doing the same thing to him.” On the other line was Mike Ferguson, her boyfriend of almost six years.

      “Hasn’t he done stuff like that before?”

      “Not to me, he hasn’t.”

      Mike walked into his office at the headquarters of the CIA and set his jacket over the black chair that was situated directly across from his desk. He had first met Callie on a muggy July evening in 2005 while playing on his neighbor’s co-ed softball team during a local tournament. Mike had taken off from first base and debated whether or not he should slide into second. The answer hit him square in the forehead and Mike knew it was going to hurt well before he saw her release the ball. Reacting to a hard ground ball hit to shortstop, Callie scooped it up on a hop, stepped on second then threw a laser onto first to complete the double play, but the ball never got there.

      Sprawled on the infield dirt, all he heard the girl say was, “You should have slid.” No apologies, no sympathy, only advice he already knew. She made sure to check up on him after the game and slipped Mike her number, “In case you want to file a lawsuit or take me out to dinner,” then she turned and jogged away. He had never met anyone quite like her. Within a few days, he took Callie up on her offer for dinner, but reserved the right to file suit. By the time three months had passed, they had become a couple. Thereafter, they were known to everyone as Mike and Callie.

      “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Mike said. “Barry is Barry. Just let it go.” He settled into his desk chair and brought his computer to life.

      “Easy for you to say, you don’t work with him.”

      “Hey, I’m gonna be home late tonight, some sort of briefing then a meeting with Biggs afterwards.”

      “I’ve got things to do anyway. You won’t be missed.”

      “Note to self, forget the ‘I’m sorry roses’ for Callie.”

      “You always know what to say to make a girl feel wanted.”

      “Think I should send the roses anyway?”

      “I gotta’ go, hon. Love you.”

      Mike heard her disconnect before he had a chance to say good-bye. He smiled as he stared at the phone, having grown accustomed to her many habits and idiosyncrasies. All these years later, she was still different than any other woman he’d ever met and the more he got to know her, the more he wanted to be with her.

      Callie hung up the phone and found Barry standing at the open doorway to her office. She motioned him in and waited for Barry to walk towards her. Instead, Barry headed for the set of chairs that surrounded a small conference table to the right of her desk and sat down in the chair at the head of it. Callie stood up, followed him, then took a seat and waited for him to talk. As she watched Barry turn to the bar behind him to pour himself a drink, her thoughts drifted to Mike and the first time he bought her roses…

      • • •

      “Callie? You here?” Mike had said, as he gently placed the flowers he was hiding behind his back onto the antique red table in the foyer. His townhouse was pitch black with the exception of the flickering light that emanated from the two candles on the dining room table.

      “Cal?”

      The aroma of lamb chops and garlic bread overtook his senses. Mike closed his eyes and enjoyed the long moment of subtle pleasure that came with the recognition of a well cooked meal enveloping his home. Walking up discreetly behind him, Callie gently wrapped her arms around his body and slid his winter coat off his tall, muscular frame. She loved how his sinewy torso seemed to never end and how the touch of his hand sent chills across her entire body. She stood on her toes, seductively kissing the back of his neck, while slowly taking off his necktie. Mike waited until she removed it, then latched onto her hands, spun her around and kissed her passionately on the lips.

      “Honey, I’m home.”

      “Mmmm…yes, you are,” Callie said before she kissed him again. She held the kiss for a moment longer, pressing her body up against his and running her hands through his thick light brown hair. “I got the job…”

      “You got the job?”

      Callie kissed him another time. “I did. 140 to start, full benefits.”

      “Know what?”

      “What?” Callie asked and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

      “I’m thinking it’s time to celebrate,” Mike lifted Callie into his arms and carried her over to the couch.

      “Hold