"Good morning, Agent Borin."
Amidst the sea of mariners, port employees and uniformed Coast Guard personnel Abigail Borin pushed her way through the morning crowd to retrieve her first caffeine boost of the day. The popular coffee franchise located just outside the main gate of the Port of Baltimore was divided by class, business suits to one side daintily sipping their specialty coffee opposite the blue collar crowd with their sugary baked goods and breakfast sammiches. Appropriately situated between the two CGIS Agent Borin, leaning in no particular direction, stepped up to the counter and smiled warmly at the familiar barista.
"You know the drill, Jesse," Borin said out of routine.
"Venti black," Jesse relayed to her coworker, black dye-job pigtails bobbing atop her head as she scooped up a familiar blue cup of Anchor Press, emblazoned with a white anchor namesake and used a white marker to scribble Agt Abby in barely legible font. "How's Arlington treating you?" the Goth barista asked, using the butt of her marker to push thick black framed glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"My two weeks as assistant SAC are over and you'll be, once again, seeing me every morning, Jesse," Borin promised with a sigh of relief as she passed a crisp five-dollar bill to her regular caffeine dealer, the one person she could communicate with before her first mouthful of coffee of the day. "Good thing too," Borin added. "The Anchor Press kiosk outside the Arlington office just doesn't do your coffee justice."
Even in exchange for a $2.45 cup of joe Jesse dropped the $2.55 in change into her tip cup without offering it back to one of the Anchor Press' most regular clients. "See you again at ten," she said as a statement rather than a question even though the clocks still read 7:37.
"You know it," Borin said as she lifted her freshly brewed cup, complete with white lid, in a sign of appreciation as Jesse moved to eagerly greet her next customer.
Looking the part of business elite, the customer caught Borin's eye as she passed, dressed to the nines in his well-tailored dark blue suit, light blue shirt and a gold tie complete with high end cuff links. The gentleman with his broad runner's physique, brown hair coiffed to one side and comfortable 6'1" height triggered something in the CGIS agent's memory. He was attractive but a little too put together, she observed, pretentiously tugging back his left sleeve to flash a genuine Rolex as he pulled out his phone.
"Tall non-fat vanilla latté, double shot," Borin over-heard the young man in his early twenties order, a far cry from her basic black coffee. Thumbing open an app to electronically pay for his order he again flashed the gold bling on his wrist. Borin never understood the method of payment, easily snatched out of thin air by a device designed for such means of fraud.
"What's your name, hon?" Jesse cheerfully asked, cup and marker in hand, despite the customers terse manner void of any greeting, please or thank-you. "You must be new to these parts," she added, familiar with 99% of the men and women who entered her domain.
"Topher," the customer replied, flashing a barely over-whitened set of expensive dental work. "Get use to these pearly whites. You'll be seeing them a lot more."
"Topher," Jesse repeated as she scribbled, sharing an eyeroll with Agent Borin as their eyes met and exchanged the same impression. "Pick-up down the line, hon."
Distracted from her own coffee which miraculously remained yet untouched Borin found the man in question picking up his order and making a bee-line for her. As the line grew rapidly between her and the exit, flooding with those due to begin the 8am shift, Borin found herself at his mercy.
"Agent Borin?" he called out in a sudden stutter which, for the moment, shut the curtain on his confident façade presented by his attire and accessories. "Are, are you Agent Abigail Borin?"
Sensing the conversation awaiting her would take its toll Borin snuck in a good-sized gulp of her coffee and allowed herself to bask in its rich powers to awaken and energize her for the day before replying. With a satisfying perhaps orgasmic sigh she opened with, "Now you may speak."
"Special Agent Topher Welch," the kid introduced himself, coming right out of the blue as far as Borin was concerned. "I've been assigned to Sector Baltimore's regional office," he further stated with an eagerness, again not at all meshing with the uppity rich boy façade as he outstretched his right hand. "I just finished FLETC on Friday. I'll be working with you, or for you, and Agent Montgomery too I guess. But I was told I'll probably never see him and you're usually in charge. I guess I might meet him at some point…"
"Breathe," Borin interrupted as the kid rambled, his head hanging in limbo before she finally accepted it with a firm handshake. The pieces fell together as she connected her sense of familiarity with the revelation this young man was, according to him, a member of her investigative unit on base. One of those pieces was confusion however as Borin recalled an application with his likeness coming across her desk as a candidate for an interview but knowing full well she had never gotten around to doing interviews for an open position as she was loaned to the office nearby in Arlington, VA.
"I am Agent Borin," she at last confirmed for the young agent. "Usually just Borin," she threw out there, wondering how she was going to fare with this new addition when it had taken nine years to housetrain Kyle Omagi.
"Or boss," a voice came from the entrance as none other than said Agent Omagi, Borin's number two, inserted himself into the meet and greet after wading through the still dense line of caffeine seekers in the Anchor Press' lobby. "And never ma'am," he wisely advised with a grin as he rubbed the base of his skull, a ghost head slap still lingering since the first and only time he used the same address for Borin almost a decade ago.
"Kyle Omagi," the senior agent introduced himself, quick to offer the junior his own handshake.
"And what do I call you?" Welch asked, his stutter hidden as he stood more at ease with Omagi.
"That would-be sir," Kyle definitively stated with absolutely no hesitation before allowing a grin to break through revealing all was in jest. "Just Kyle is fine," he relented.
"Couldn't wait in the car, Kyle?" Borin asked now that everyone had met and were playing nice.
"You got a call, boss," Kyle replied, holding up Borin's phone for emphasis, the latter having left it in their car. "I took it."
"Couldn't wait two minutes?" Borin asked as she grabbed her phone and lead the two men out of the café.
"Not when it comes from the director, boss. Who was personally awoken by the assistant commandant of intelligence after a 6am wake-up from the Homeland secretary's office," Kyle relayed off the top of his head as he reached the passenger side of a white four-door Dodge charger sedan identified as an agency vehicle by its government plates and Port of Baltimore drive-on decals.
"Need a ride?" Agent Borin offered from the driver's side door.
"Not necessary," Welch said with a sudden return of his confidence as he held up a car remote dangling two keys from its ring. With a twirl around his finger he hit the unlock button with what he must have thought was a sense of style.
Accompanied by two chirps a set of headlights flashed from a car parked directly behind the CGIS sedan. Following the direction of Welch's finger Borin and Omagi looked behind them to find a fully restored blue two-door 1969 Chevy Camaro with two white racing stripes along its hood.
"See you inside," Welch said complete with a strut as he walked to his vehicle.
"Daddy's got dollars," Kyle remarked aside to his boss, admiring the set of wheels via his rear view mirror as Welch ducked into the classic.
"More than just dollars," Borin asserted having come to a fresh realization. Already finishing up her first morning brew she tossed the cup into the back seat where it came to a noticeable clunk against at least one other cup laying somewhere on the rear seat floor.
"You know something I don't?" Kyle asked as Borin started the engine and head for the gate.
"His father is CGIS Director James Welch," Borin revealed, most certainly with some amount of annoyance.