Си Паради - Dancing With Shadows

Bottom of the Sea repeats? The submarine was attacked by one once."

Bumping her partner with a hip, Megan said, "I’m being serious. I thought they died out a long time ago," she said, turning her attention back to the giant squid display. "I wonder if they’ll find one? When we get home I’m going to go online and check for the updates on this web site."

Tony shook her head amused that Megan found giant squids so interesting. "Come on. Let’s go see the dinosaurs."

Megan feeling the need to get back at her partner, said, "Don’t tell me, Jurassic Park is your favorite movie."

Tony laughed. "Maybe not favorite, but I liked it. I thought the T-Rex was cool."

"You would. I’m surprised you didn’t like the raptors the best," Megan retorted before looking into the mirth filled blue eyes watching her and breaking into laughter.

Walking along, trying not to miss anything, Megan looked up when she heard Tony call her name.

When Tony had the smaller woman’s attention, she continued in a stage whisper, "Your stomach’s growling."

"What do you expect? You walk my legs off all day and all we eat is a sandwich."

Tony gave Megan an affectionate adaptation of her look, and said, "Excuse me? And just who was originally going to try to see all the museums in one day?"

"I know you’re not talking about me. I’m the tourist, remember? I don’t know any better. You’re supposed to be the tour guide. Just because you tried to starve me today, don’t blame it on me."

Tony rolled her eyes and said with an exaggerated sigh, "Somehow I don’t think I’m going to win this one."

"Got that right," Megan said grinning.

"Would the tourist care to join the tour guide for dinner back at the hotel? Room service with all amenities?" Tony asked, bowing her head.

Laughing, Megan said, "The tourist would be delighted to."

The wind blew softly bending the blades of grass around the water. Standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial facing Reflection Pool, Megan was filled with a sense of peace and well being. Tony stood next to her, their bodies barely touching, but both comforted by the contact. It was a quiet moment in an otherwise busy day.

Megan thought about all they had crammed into the last several days and of how considerate Tony had been making sure she got to see everything she wanted to, culminating in their visits to the monuments today. She had been a patient, attentive guide and saved this stop for last.

Megan thoughts turned to the remaining stop on their vacation. She wasn’t sure what the next few days would bring, and for now she didn’t want to think about it. Later would be soon enough. Megan raised a hand to brush a stray piece of hair out of her face. The breeze felt good after the hot afternoon sun.

The sun was beginning to sink but the Washington Monument was still mirrored in the water and Megan glanced up at her partner and found the blue eyes watching her.

Smiling, she said, "It’s really nice here. It’s so peaceful."

"I know. I used to come down early in the morning and sit on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and watch the sun come up." Tony knew a moment of pure contentment just standing there with her lover.

A short time later the two women began walking back toward the mall entrance to catch the metrorail back to the hotel.

The alley was devoid of light and quiet except for the muted sound of soft-soled shoes striking the pavement at regular intervals. A lone figure moved confidently down the alley at home in the darkness. Stopping in front of a door that would have been invisible except for the faint hint of light where the door met the frame, he opened it. His ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sound amplified by the deep bass of musical instruments reverberating off the walls. Walking down the dimly lit hallway, he stopped at a door with the word private written across it in gold script and entered, the din left behind.

The room was designed for comfort with four overstuffed chairs and two love seats arranged around a large marble top coffee table. The furniture was soft earth tones accented by plush beige carpeting. Lamps covered with ornately decorated glass shades lit the room creating uneven shadows on the wood grain paneling. On the other side of the room was a table that provided a large wood surface for anything from playing cards to holding a meeting. Tonight it would be used for the latter.

Looking at the five occupants sprawled comfortably around the room he nodded in greeting and received nods and murmurs of, "Hey Ben," in return.

Ben walked over and set his briefcase on the large table. Turning to the fully stocked bar he quickly perused the labels. Settling on MacAllan, he poured two fingers and then added ice. Ben was in his forties with chestnut brown hair that was just beginning to gray. At 5’10" and 180 pounds he was in top physical condition, and moved with the grace of a natural athlete. He was dressed casually in black chinos and a blue, button down sports shirt worn open at the neck.

Taking a large swallow of the scotch, he said, "Let’s get started." He waited for the three men and two women to take seats around the table, cognizant of the puzzled expressions on their faces. He had never called all the operatives to a single meeting before. It was the first time most of them had seen the others.

"I called this meeting tonight because we have a potential problem. An ex-wet Ops/infiltration agent has filed a complaint that her reports have been tampered with. This could cause us some serious problems. The repercussions from this accusation could close us down permanently. And I don’t even want to think about what would happen if the press got a hold of it."

Pausing, he ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. Only one man present knew him well enough to recognize that simple action as extreme agitation. "Our backers are already getting nervous. My sources say an unofficial investigation is being planned. For right now I am going to halt our activities and try to find a way onto the investigating committee."

The group had originally been formed as a means of quality control to check out some of the agents’ reports and to ensure the standards of the FBI were being upheld. They were fifty-three members strong, and their official function was to infiltrate random targets a second time and independently report their findings. The targets to reinfiltrate were provided by the Quality Control Division. Over the course of the last few years, there were several instances where these operatives’ impressions differed from the original agent’s.

Two members of the Quality Control Division, unbeknownst to the others and hiding behind the guise of what was best for the country, had begun earmarking some of the files for further action. Subsequently, an unofficial subgroup was formed consisting only of the operatives present at this meeting. Their sole function was to carry out termination orders.

One of the men, dressed casually in jeans and a maroon pullover, cleared his throat. Ben looked up at the sound. "You have a question?"

"Is this investigation being planned because of an accusation of one operative?" Sherman asked, knowing that for an investigation to ensue there had to be strong evidence of foul play.

"Yes it is. Her word carries a lot of weight with the Director."

"Well, seems to me they couldn’t very well investigate if the only complainant wasn’t around," Sherman answered, a cold smile turning up the corners of his mouth. At 35, he was one of the oldest operatives in the room, and the most deadly. He had been recruited into wet Ops straight out of the academy based on his psychological profile. Sherman enjoyed killing and felt absolutely no remorse. The Agency weeded out the recruits with sociopathic tendencies in the psychological testing. But tests don’t always accurately assess personality traits.