“You said it,” Chelsea agreed.
For a while no one uttered a word. Then Penni looked tentatively at each of them and finally ventured, “Uh, mind if I ask why your people”—she bobbed her chin toward Chelsea—“decided to pull back and let you three work the case alone? I mean, considering Wint…er, considering Lord Voldemort is one of your own, I’d think The Company would be sticklers about being the ones to bring him in.” Her New York accent dropped the r sounds on the ends of her words, making “sticklers” sound more like “sticklahs.”
“In a different situation,” Dan said, tapping his menu against the table, “that’d be the case. But, until recently, the CIA had themselves a little rodent problem.”
Ugh. Until about six months ago, Chelsea would’ve bet her best handbag it was impossible to have one traitor inside the CIA, much less two of them.
“Rodent problem?” Penni asked, eyebrow raised.
“A mole,” Dan clarified.
“Oh,” Penni said. Then, “Oh! You mean someone besides He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”
“Just so you know,” Dan said, “I’m on Zoelner’s side when it comes to the nickname. The Harry Potter references go against my better judgment as a man of advancing years.”
Chelsea snorted. “Advancing years my ass, Dan. You’re a good decade or two away from needing Fixodent and fiber pills. And just so you know, I’m pretty sure a mole isn’t actually a rodent either. I don’t remember where in the hierarchy of biological classification they fall, but—”
“Jesus!” he swore. “Seriously? I guess I shoulda paid more attention during my middle-school science classes ’cause I’m zero for two today.”
“Huh?” Penni blinked.
Chelsea waved a hand in dismissal. “It goes back to a conversation we were having earlier and… You know what? Doesn’t matter. To answer your original question, The Company had a second mole who was disseminating classified information to our enemies. And given there was a fire-hose-sized leak inside our ranks, the president didn’t trust us to find him on our own. So these two”—she shot a finger gun first at Z and then at Dan—“were tasked to run a simultaneous and clandestine snatch-and-grab mission. Sort of like, May the best men win.”
Unfortunately, no men had won. Yet. Chelsea hoped that wouldn’t remain the case for very much longer. Her reputation within the CIA—and, you know, the fate of the world—hinged on them bringing Winterfield in sooner rather than later. No biggie.
“So you’re telling me there are two traitors inside The Company?” Penni whispered. Her face was the picture of astonishment.
“Were two,” Chelsea stressed, defending her organization. “The other has been found and is being interrogated.”
“And the capture of the second mole meant we could come out of hiding and let the spooks know we were also searching for…You-Know-Who,” Z said.
Chelsea beamed at him for playing along with the no-name game. He gave her a long-suffering look and shook his head.
“But having two teams in the field never works,” Dan added. “Not only is there inevitable dick-measuring and stovepiping when it comes to Intel, but there’s also competition to be the ones to actually get the job done. So we convinced ’em to let us take over.”
Chelsea watched Penni give Dan the side-eye. “You’re telling me you were able to simply convince”—Penni made the quote marks with her fingers—“the CIA to back off in their search for one of their own rogue agents?” She snorted. “Spectacular tale. Have you thought about adapting it for the stage?”
A Potterhead and spunky. Penni DePaul just climbed a notch higher on Chelsea’s imaginary list of potential best gal pals.
“Well, we may have had some help,” Dan admitted with a lopsided grin. “Someone above our pay grade mighta been the one to actually call ’em off.”
“Uh-huh.” Penni nodded. “I would have liked to be a fly on the wall when they got that order.”
“Considering that in their eagerness to bring in Wint…the sorry SOB, they’ve been about as covert as a car wreck, barging in like Keystone Cops and blowing whatever chance Zoelner and I had at snatching him,” Dan said. Chelsea winced at the truth in his words. Her colleagues had screwed things up pretty spectacularly over the last few months. “I figure they shoulda been happy to be kept in the loop,” he finished.
“Which, as you’ve already guessed,” Chelsea said, “is where I come in. I’m the loop.” And she was determined to do the CIA proud. I mean, somebody has to, right?
Their conversation came to a halt when the waiter arrived to take their drink orders. “Let’s make this thing look legit, shall we?” she mumbled. Then, louder, “You like Malbec, Penni? They have a great one here from Argentina.” She pointed at the menu.
“I, uh, I’m still trying to get used to the altitude,” Penni said. “I’ll stick with sparkling water.”