Blue with Black Dots (The Caprice Trilogy Book 2) (5 page)

              “Maybe it was the oxygen that got to you,” said Alan.

 

              “So what was the answer?” asked Tanis.

 

              “We don’t know,” said Hagan, “They didn’t tell us.  I don’t know if escapology was part of the exercise or if it was team work or working together in a tight space under pressure or something like that.”

 

              “I doubt there was an answer,” said Georgia.

 

              “So do I,” said Yvette.

 

              “We’re speaking about pin-and-tumbler locks,” said Alan, “I’d have to say that was my favorite part of the forty weeks.”

 

              “Why?” asked Hagan.

 

              “It was the most practical,” said Alan, “C’mon, I mean stuck in a steel box with an electronic lock with Diane.  That sounds more like the plot of a pornographic film than reality.”

 

              “In which case,” said Bryan, “Maybe I should have been a pornographer.”

 

              “Please,” said Tanis, “Hard or flaccid you’d never be ready for your close up.”

 

              “Damn,” said Alan, “She’s back.  But for real, most locks aren’t electronic which means that in the field you’re probably gonna have to pick a regular pin-and-tumbler lock, if you have to pick anything at all.  If you do have to go through some sophisticated electronic lock, well you’re gonna know about it beforehand and you’re not gonna have thirty minutes while you’re losing air.  That’s not a real-world scenario.”

 

              “He’s right,” said Georgia, “Of course we have to realize that pretty much everything we did the past forty some-odd weeks was psychological training.  Even the physical part.”

 

              “What makes you say that, Gigi?” asked Diane.

 

              “The old adage
practice how you play
,” said Georgia, “Alan’s right.  The scenario of being trapped in a box is more James Bond.  Even then it would only apply if Bond did something wrong.  If he were caught by Auric Goldfinger, only then would he be locked in a box with decreasing air supply.  But our training has been to avoid such situations.  They’ve been teaching us to think in a certain way.  In which case, I think the two of you passed.”

 

              “How?” asked Diane.

 

              “You stayed together,” said Georgia, “You didn’t turn on each other.  And you divided your resources to work on different solutions.  You worked on the lock.  Hagan tried to get a supply of air.”

 

              “If either one had worked,” said Tanis, “You’d be better off.”

 

              “I liked the trust roles,” said Yvette.

 

              “Why?” asked Tanis.

 

              “Because I think that’s what we’re doing,” said Yvette, “Our country is putting us in operation to do what we can on behalf of it.  There’s a lot of trust going both ways.  Plus, out in the field you’re going to have to make a quick decision to trust someone.”

 

              “Did you like the polygraph exercises, as well?” asked Bryan, “That part was also part of the trust roles.”

 

              “Yeah,” said Yvette, “But were those actors or what?”

 

              “I think they were trainees from the Navy otherwise Camp Peary,” said Alan.

 

              “They couldn’t have been from Camp Peary,” said Bryan.

 

              “Why not?” asked Yvette.

 

              “They wouldn’t have taken the risk that we’d recognize them,” said Bryan, “We did entry training at Peary.”

 

              “But that was going back over a year now,” said Diane.

 

              “We don’t know where they were from,” said Alan, “But for sure they weren’t actors.  There’s no way the Agency would let plain actors onto The Point.”

 

              “They already have,” said Tanis, “Look at all of us.”

 

              “Oh,” said Alan.

 

              “Ladies and Gentlemen,” said Bryan, “She’ll be here all week.”

 

              “Speaking of all night,” said Diane, “Where’s country boy and my salt.”

 

              “Knowing him, he probably wants you to come find him,” said Yvette.

 

              “Yeah,” said Alan, “He’s probably waiting in the next room under a mountain of salt waiting for you to come lick it all off.”

 

              “That’s gross,” said Diane.

 

              “That’s exactly why he would do it,” said Alan.

 

              “True,” said Bryan, “True.”  The motel room door opened. 

 

              “I’m trying to get drunk,” said Patrick, “And I’ve got a feeling I’m not the only one.”  Patrick tossed a handful of salt packets onto the bed with Diane.

 

              “You’re welcome Darlin’,” said Patrick.

 

              “Where did you get these?” asked Diane.

 

              “From the lady at the front desk,” said Patrick, “My neighbor Martha.”

 

              “Your neighbor?” said Diane, “No one wants to live next to you.”

 

              “Indeed,” said Patrick, kneeling in front of Diane’s face, “Why live next to me when you can live with me.”  Diane pushed Patrick’s face back.

 

              “Halitosis,” said Diane, “Good fences make good neighbors.  Bad breath, well you can figure out the rest.”

 

              “That’s nothing a little tequila won’t solve,” said Patrick, “Stuff’s like
Listerine
.”

 

              “Taste’s like it too,” said Tanis.

 

              “If you don’t like,” said Diane, “That’s more for me.”

 

              “Enjoy,” said Tanis.

 

              “And now you have salt,” said Patrick.

 

              “Thanks to you my dear husband,” said Diane.

 

              “Moving up the ladder, Big Man,” said Alan.

 

              “Yeah,” said Hagan, “You were an asshole last hour.  Now you’re Mr. Diane Connor.”

 

              “Wait,” said Patrick, “When did we agree to me changing my name?”

 

              “One night,” said Diane, “You were drunk.  You don’t remember.”

 

              “Sounds like truth to me,” said Patrick, “Alan can I get some of that
J&B
?”

 

              “Sure,” said Alan, “What did you buy?”

 

              “
Wild Turkey
,” said Patrick.

 

              “Wow,” said Alan, “Bama Boy’s a bourbon boy.”             

 

              “All my life,” said Patrick.

 

              “What do you think?  You’re like Hunter S. Thompson?” said Alan.

 

              “Yeah,” said Hagan, “Isn’t he from Bama as well?”  Alan shook his head.

 

              “Kentucky,” said Alan.

 

              “Close enough,” said Hagan.

 

              “Goddam Nor’easter boys,” said Patrick, “You guys think the South is all the same.”

 

              “Isn’t it?” said Bryan.

 

              “Another Nor’easter,” said Patrick, “Fuck, I’ll have to hide in my watering hole.”  Patrick walked toward the bathroom.  He came back in to the main room with a paper
Dixie
cup filled with
Coke
and bourbon.  Patrick kicked his shoes off and sat on the boys’ bed next to Alan who was still seated in his chair. 

 

              “Wait,” said Diane, “Doesn’t Mr. Diane Connor think he should get me a cup while he’s up?”

 

              “He’s no longer up,” said Patrick.  Alan leaned in and whispered into Patrick’s ear.  Patrick got up and went to the bathroom.

 

              “What was that?” asked Diane.

 

              “I told him he’s the one of us who’s got the best chance of getting any tonight so he needs to act the part,” said Alan.  Diane started laughing.  So did Tanis.  Yvette laughed as much as she could.

 

              “Why you gotta spoil it?” said Patrick, coming back into the main room with a paper cup.  Patrick walked over and handed the cup to Diane.

 

              “For you my dear,” said Patrick.

 

              “Thanks, Hon,” said Diane.

 

              “You bet,” said Patrick.  She poured a little margarita mix on her finger and skimmed it along the lid of her paper cup.  She poured salt in her hand and rotated the cup in her hand, grinding in the salt.  She set the cup down on the nightstand and let pour a little margarita mix.  She flushed it with tequila and took a sip.

 

              “Tastes like forty weeks worth of life,” said Diane.

 

              “There you go,” said Patrick

 

              “Patrick,” said Bryan, “While you were gone we were talking about what we liked most about training.  What’s your pick?”

 

              “I liked evidence gathering and source recruiting,” said Patrick, “But I’m leaning toward source recruiting.”

 

              “Why?” asked Diane.

 

              “I’m the kinda guy who likes to feel like I’m moving forward,” said Patrick.

 

              “Are you talking about moving forward with Diane?” said Tanis.

 

              “Can I finish?” said Patrick.  Tanis nodded her head.

 

              “When you’re collecting evidence or approaching a new source I feel like that’s my job,” said Patrick.

 

              “It’s all your job,” said Diane.

 

              “Yeah,” said Patrick, “But writing intel assessment reports, I understand the reason behind it.  But I just wanna have my feet on the ground and not my butt in a chair.”

 

              “There’s no way to know what we’ll have to do,” said Hagan, “We’ll have to do what we’ll have to do.”

 

              “We are all in the capable hands of Director Witt,” said Alan.

 

              “Capable indeed,” said Diane.

 

              “We will never see each other again,” said Yvette, “Tonight is it.”                           

 

              “Don’t say that,” said Georgia.

 

              “It is true though,” said Yvette.

 

              “Between you and the booze we’re all going to get severely depressed,” said Bryan.

 

              “Haven’t had enough booze yet for that,” said Patrick.

 

              “Anyone got any jokes?” asked Hagan.

 

              “No jokes,” said Diane.

 

              “How about this,” said Bryan, “How about we talk a little about ourselves?  We don’t know about each other.  We’ve been through a lot.  I mean we’re the reboot program, right?  So
Project Full House
may continue after us or it may not.  They scrapped the Peer Program and brought it back with us.  That should mean something.”

 

              “I don’t wanna talk about myself,” said Hagan.

 

              “Neither do I,” said Diane, “I’d rather hear jokes than some life story.”

 

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