Chapter 4

The sleep-deprived Marine Security Guard was yawning like a weak sister and his playmate companion was sound asleep on his shoulder. Her drool was on his Izod golf shirt and he hoped it would come out in the laundry because it one of his favorites and his mother had sent it to him for a present the previous Christmas. It sure wasn’t sexy to be drooling like that, but he did like this Canadian MILF in a way that was hard to describe. He didn’t see her as a mother, a sister, or even a piece of ass to be kept close for a rainy day. In fact, he saw her more as a friend and it surprised him that he had a female friend like her when he spent almost all his time with other men and hardly ever with women because that was the way things were in this strange situation.

He woke her up before they drove into the Embassy garage because he knew she wanted to call the nanny about her children and find out where she could gather them up to take them to dinner at the Embassy club where they simply adored the cheeseburgers and the French fries.

He had put a sticker on the windshield that allowed her to park in one of the Marine Security Guard spots with the excuse that he was using it for his personal use instead of using one of the Embassy vehicles with the distinctive plates that attracted a lot of attention at a time when attention was the last thing he really wanted.

A couple of the local drivers were out smoking cigarettes on the sidewalk since smoking was not allowed on the premises under the direct order of the Ambassador. Actually, it was a continuation of the policy of the previous Ambassador and one of the few policies that the new Ambassador followed word for word. The two were from opposing political parties and lately the role of government inside the beltline and in all the Embassies around the world were changing with the times. It was never intended that the State Department ever become a hotbed of political intrigue but in recent decades the flavor of government had changed to a more non-partisan relationship between the parties and it seemed like they were at odds with each other over the smallest details just to harass each other and score points with their base whenever possible.

“Oh my God, we are back at the Embassy already. Let me look in the mirror. I must look a fright. I have to call right away to check on my darlings. Hand me my purse, dear and don’t look when I fix my bra.”

Florence kept her eyes down not looking Sergeant Wilson directly in the eye. He knew from his resistance to interrogation classes that was a sure sign that she was feeling guilty about their recent up close and personal companionship. He knew for a fact that she was a quick one to take on an aggressive pussy chaser because she was naturally curious to see if he something of value inside his trousers, but that she was ultimately a normal wife and mother and ready to become just as boring as the next housewife if that was demanded to fit into her social circle.

In a way, he felt sorry for her husband.

The guy was a pretty good dude. He was into American football and baseball and he doted on his children every free minute. Sergeant Wilson was fairly certain he did not screw around with the Embassy female staff with the possible exception of the local girl that was the afternoon receptionist over in the attached consulate that mostly processed visas and passports and served as an alternative location for special events and conferences that was too big for the main Embassy building.

“Don’t tell anyone there that I am with you in the car right now. They might think it strange because you were gone overnight and put two and two together. Better just say you were with a girlfriend at the Embassy.”

Florence smiled at him and he could tell she was amused by his deceptive attitude.

“Hello, Bojana, can you tell the nanny that I am back at the Embassy and will wait here in the Embassy Club for the kids to take them to lunch and then she can take off the rest of the afternoon because I will take them back home and get them ready for the pre-Christmas party at the Brazilian Embassy. They have lots of toys as prizes and I heard they have a Santa Claus available for the entire affair ready to bounce them on his lap and hear their Christmas wishes.”

“Hello, Mommy will see you both soon. Tommy, you tell your sister to make certain she wears her glasses. Mommy always wears her glasses and she better be just like Mommy.”

The listened to the other end of the line and then blew a kiss into the phone and put it away with a smile that lit her face like Luna Park.

He parked her car inside the garage and walked with her up the stairs to the Embassy Club where she made a beeline to the bar and he continued on inside the Embassy compound to report the conclusion of his mission to the female half of the resident CIA team Doris and to arrange to have the photos entered into a classified file folder for that project. He would just be identified by a code number as the source and his source credentials were entered next to his code number for later reference. Nothing they ever did in the field was considered to be “intelligence” unless they had two separate and distinct sources of the proper credential levels to vet the data and change it from just unconfirmed information to actual intelligence classified at the correct level for distribution on a “need to know” basis.

Doris was frowning when he saw her at the desk inside the “bubble”. They usually discussed these collection matters inside the security bubble so that there was no chance of leaking the matters under discussion to electronic eavesdropping. Of course, there were random checks of the entire Embassy proper with detection devices but sometime there were passive plantings and they were activated only at a time of crisis to gather front line intelligence. The RSO (Regional Security Officer) moved from Embassy to Embassy in his sphere of influence and he or she insisted that the bubble be used on all matters that concerned intelligence collection.