Jason got a report done, had lunch, then, waiting for the Assistant Director to call him upstairs to give him his assignment, built origami out of scrap paper, fiddled with his Rubik's cube, and bounced his red bouncy ball against the wall, annoying the people in the desk next to him. Donovan's probably swamped with work like usual, thought Jason, but he couldn't help but wonder if he was waiting deliberately, making him sweat it out to the last minute, just for the fun of it.

Finally, at about 3:30, Donovan's secretary called him and relayed the order to come to Room 1108. He went up the elevator, down the long hallway, then opened the heavy oak door.

"Jason," said Donovan, giving him a nod. He slapped a manila folder thick with papers onto the desk. "Your assignment," he said in his Scottish accent.

Jason picked up the folder, and Donovan slipped another, slimmer folder onto the desk. "Your partner." Jason took that folder too. "It's her first assignment, so don't be too hard on her."

Jason held back a smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Donovan peered at him over his reading glasses, as if he was about to say something back, but the phone interrupted him. "Yes, send her in."

Jason waited, fidgeting, until few moments later, a young woman strode through the door. She had dark hair and was tall and thin, with an immaculate black suit and skirt.

"I'd like to introduce you to your partner. Tasha Forbes, this is Jason Whittaker. Jason, Tasha."

Jason took her hand; her grip was strong and firm.

"Good to meet you," he said.

"It's good to meet you, too, Jason."

Donovan cleared his throat. "Since you're both here, I'd like to give you a basic overview of your assignment. Have a seat." He gestured to two chairs sitting on opposite sides of the door.

"Within two days, you'll be flying to Muldavia, a small country in central Europe that we've overlooked until recently because of its size and negligible geopolitical importance. In the early fifties, it was taken over by a tyrant called Erik Von Warberg. An opportunist by many accounts, he took the communist leanings of the country as an excuse to rally the people behind him. It's not certain whether he actually believed the ideals he adopted; he'd never shown any communist tendencies before. In any case, after assassinating the last monarch, King Roderick II, he and his descendants have been ruling with an iron fist ever since. It's been a consistent if not particularly powerful ally to the USSR.

"But recently, we've picked up signals from nearby countries, stirrings of a possible revolution that have been simmering in communist countries lately. The tide is changing. We want to be ahead of the tide, especially since Karl Von Warberg, the present premier, is showing potential aggression toward other nations. If we could help nudge Muldavia into revolution before Von Warberg makes his move, well, all the better.

"Your assignment will be the advance guard, shall we say. You will be setting up a listening post in a strategic location. Within the week, a more permanent delegation of agents will be sent, and you'll be able to move on to your next assignment.

"Your contact will be Josiah Munroe, a man with possible ties to the rebels. We aren't even sure if there are rebels at this point, or how many there are, because of our lack of relations with the country, and how closed it has been to outside influence. Munroe will meet you at the airport and escort you to your hotel.

"The second language there is English, so you shouldn't have much problem with communication.

"Any questions?"

"Yes, sir," said Jason. "What will our cover be?"

"You will be reporters, covering the new policy that, ironically, is letting you in in the first place. In mimicking the Soviet Union, they are going ahead with limited acceptance of foreign journalists. To show that you're above suspicion, we've made you sympathetic to their cause. You'll be journalists for a US communist newspaper.

"Then you will set up the preliminary observation site, with rudimentary equipment. Munroe will help you with this."

"Does he know we're with the NSA?" said Jason.

"Yes, he does."

"How do we know we can trust him?" said Tasha.

Donovan gave her a sharp look. "You never know who you can trust in this game. But the reason we think he has ties with the rebels is that he publishes an underground newspaper, The Vanguard. If there's anyone you can trust in that country, he's it.

"I think you have enough to go on for now. You have forty eight hours to study your assignment, and then you will meet back here before your flight on Thursday." He nodded, their signal to leave.

Jason rose; Tasha followed suit. Donovan was already bent over his desk, immersed in paperwork.

The receptionist gave them a cheery "Have a nice day," and they stepped into the elevator at the end of the hall.

"Well," said Jason. "What do you think?"

"I'm looking forward to my first assignment."

"What's your specialty?"

"Microbiology."

"Microbiology?"

She gave a small smile. "I know. This isn't exactly my field, but I'll go where they send me; codes are my other specialty—though that's a given here.

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'm good at pretty much everything."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I mean—What I mean is—" he laughed "I'm don't really have a specialty, per se. Encryption, tech stuff, weapons, you name it."

They stepped out of the elevator into the huge entry way. Her high heels clacked against the ceramic tiles, echoing through the vast space.

Just before stepping through the doorway, on impulse Jason asked, "Would you like to meet for coffee before you go home?"

She pushed through the doorway without an answer. Then she stopped on the sidewalk outside and looked at him, as if sizing up his intentions.

"I don't know," she said. "I should get home to study my assignment."

"Just fifteen minutes or so. If we get to know each other face to face, it'll save time looking through each other's files."

"That makes sense. All right, Jason."

After settling on a coffee shop in downtown DC, Tasha headed for her car somewhere in the jungle of automobiles. Jason got into his car, locked the assignment folders in the secret compartment in his briefcase, and maneuvered out of the parking lot.

About forty-five minutes later, he parked in front of Columbus CoffeeShop. Tasha was already there, sipping her cup of coffee and flipping through the pages of a book.

He sauntered up to the table. "I thought I was pushing the speed limit. Have a short cut I don't know about?"

She smiled cryptically. "Maybe, maybe not."

After ordering a macchiato, he sat down opposite her. "What are you reading?"

She flipped the cover back. Cracks in the Iron Curtain: why communist countries are built to fall.

"That's not exactly light reading."

She shrugged. "It's only a matter of time before the Soviet Union falls, along with most other communist countries."

"If it's inevitable, why are we going into countries like –the one we're going to?"

"Like Donovan said, we have to make sure we're ahead of the tide. We have to be there to pick up the pieces, make sure they're on our side when all's said and done.

"Don't you think it's inevitable?"

He nodded. "The Soviet economy is going downhill, and when it falls, others will probably fall, since they depend on it. But I think our role should be more proactive than to just pick up the pieces."

"We saw how well proactive policies worked. North Korea. Vietnam."

Jason shuddered inwardly at the mention of Vietnam. He took all disparaging remarks about the war as if they were attacking Jerry's memory. "I don't mean war. I mean….covertly."

"Oh. You mean us. Our role right now is to watch, quietly gather allies among the counter-communist forces. I don't see how we can be more proactive than that."

It was hard to speak candidly in a public place about a secret organization. "I agree with that. But if there's anything we can do to help move things along, we should take it."

She tilted her head slightly. "Maybe. If it's the right thing. I doubt we- I mean we, personally this time—will have much of a chance when we're there. That's for the ones who come after us to deal with."

Jason nodded, though his heart twisted with dissatisfaction. It's probably just my need to do something. I have to put that aside, and focus on what's right for the mission. Tasha's right, we probably won't have a chance to do much but lay the foundation for the more experienced agents. Someday, I will be one of the experienced ones.

"So," said Jason, "what do you like to do, besides read and drink coffee?"

She smiled, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She has very nice hands, he thought; the thought startled him.

"Lots of things. I like games, especially ones that challenge your mind. Strategy games like Risk. Chess. Puzzles that it takes weeks to put together." She laughed. "I love research—"

"Research?"

"Yes. That's why I'm in microbiology. And why I like books like this." She tapped the book's open page.

"You wouldn't happen to like paperwork, would you?"

"I don't mind it."

Jason shook his head. "Do you want to do mine?"

"Maybe. If I have time." A smile crept up on her mouth. Her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin; dark eyes danced in an elegant, aristocratic face.

Don't go there, he told himself. She's a coworker, and there's that little issue you're not quite over- Gloria.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I like games too. Puzzles…but I don't have the patience for ones that take too long. More technical stuff….I fiddle around with projects quite a bit. I like things that challenge you physically, adventures, finding new places. Travel. That was one of the reasons I wanted to work here—going to new countries every few months or so. That, and my father."

"What does your father have to do with it?"

"He worked for them, back in the day."

"Oh, so it's a dynasty of agents."

He smiled. "Dad kind of influenced me to go the direction I went. And I wanted to do something for my country. I thought about the military….but it's too structured. Everything just seemed to fall into place for me to go into…this work."

Tasha nodded. "Me too. Oh, not at first. Science is my first love. I wanted to study, do research, look at test tubes all my life. Then, in college, I kind of got to see how it could be more than that…I could do real good with it. Find cures. That's why I switched from chemistry to microbio. In grad school, some work I did got recognized, news travelled to the right places, and here I am." She set her coffee down. Closed her book. "On that note, I think it's time I get going. We'll have a lot more time to talk on the airplane, and during our mission."

"I'm looking forward to working with you." He stood; they shook hands. Then Tasha strode out the door, her book under her arm. Noticing his eyes were straying after her, he quickly turned back to the table to sip the rest of his lukewarm coffee.

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