Sigma Division

Chapter 10

Unable to believe he was actually doing it, Spicer left his apartment and walked over to Esther’s. He was feeling like a teenager which was silly. He had done unimaginable things, shown courage dozens of time, and his stomach fluttered at asking his neighbor out on a date.

And she said yes.

They went out to dinner and then, when he asked her what they should do next, she suggested the FDR Memorial. Designed over more than seven acres, the monument consisted of four outdoor rooms filled with sculptures representing the highlights of Roosevelt’s presidency. The evening was mild and Spicer enjoyed walking along with Esther.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been here before,” she said.

“I used to live in Miami, I only came out here for meetings and such. I never really had the time to hop on a tour bus.”

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere. All evening we’ve only talked about me. You’ve learned I spend my days at the Common Sense Alliance, that I took a sabbatical from the law. I told you about growing up in South Dakota, about high school. You’ve told me you used to live in Miami and work for the government.”

“I told you I was married before,” he said.

“Okay, that’s right. But does it really count as personal information if it was 20 years ago?”

“It does if my heart is still broken.”

“Is it, Gene?”

He looked at her sideways and grinned before shaking his head. He had indeed been married in his 20s but it hadn’t lasted more than a few years. His wife couldn’t cope with his deployments. The silver lining was that they hadn’t had any children to get caught up in the storm of divorce.

Spicer remained silent for a minute before deciding to give her a small dose of personal information.

“I work for the CIA.”

That took her aback. “Is that why you can’t talk about it, you’re a secret agent?”

“No, I can talk about it. I work for what we call the Office of Security. I check on people’s background, that sort of stuff. Phone job, really. I used to work out of Miami but with the budget cutbacks they’re bringing everybody back to DC.”

They passed by a sculpture of FDR sitting in a wheelchair and Spicer glanced at it. He felt a bit like him right now, vulnerable and on display.

He continued. “You haven’t told me what you do at the Common Sense Alliance.”

“I recruit volunteers, train them.”

“That’s right, it’s an election year.”

“You say that like it just occurred to you.”

He nodded. “It did just occur to me.”

“How can that be? It's a presidential election year. That’s all the news talk about. There are posters, ads everywhere. It’s especially exciting since our little third party is neck and neck with the Democrats and Republicans.”

He shrugged off what sounded like an accusation. He hated politics on principle. Politicians had dictated his life for the past 30 years. The Common Sense Alliance had started out as a loose think tank of libertarian intellectuals and exploded into a widespread grassroots movement. They had done what the Tea Party had failed to do by straddling the fence between liberalism and conservatism, cherry picking the best of both parties.

“You thinking about getting into politics yourself?” he asked.

“Actually, I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s a dirty world.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

They reached the end of the monument. By a common accord they dropped the subject. He liked how feisty and passionate she was about the subject. There were still glow of idealism in her eyes. It was something to admire. For a long minute they walked in silence.

“I’ve had a really nice time, Gene.”

“Me too. I hope I didn’t screw up anything.”

She arched her eyebrows, puzzled. “No, why?”

“I haven’t been on a date since the Hundred Years’ War ended, and I wound up marrying her.”

“Let me assure you that you did just fine. I won’t say yes to your proposal just yet. So you know.” They both smiled. “What happened with your wife anyway?”

“She left me for a cheesy lounge singer.”

She chuckled, unsure if it was a joke or not.

“I’m glad you asked me out tonight.”

“So am I.”

He stared into her eyes for the longest time. He could have kissed her — he should have kissed her — but he was rusty. Besides, it was probably best to take it slow.