This is my first attempt at a Covert Affairs story. I've only seen a few of the episodes, but it doesn't take long to find out that Auggie Anderson is the glue that holds so much of the series together. I don't own any of the show or Auggie (damn) but it sure is fun to write about him. Thank you, girlwithoutfear, for being a great beta reader.
Family Matters
Chapter One
Auggie Anderson leaned forward at his desk inputting a complicated algorithm into his program. There were too many agents' earwigs dropping off the airwaves around the embassies of the former Soviet block countries. He and his team's diligent research had come up with part of the electronic barrier but they had to break through all this newly created wall of static before somebody, especially a certain female blond somebody, needed to touch base.
"Hey, boss man," Stu's voice jarred Auggie out of his work induced funk. "Don't you have an appointment tonight?"
Auggie's hand immediately went to his watch to check the time; it was 5:45. "Thanks. Stu, call the car service to pick me up out front."
"Where's you 'Annie Walker' cab today?"
"Annie is in Berlin listening to old Stasi tapes and checking for whatever ancient secrets Joan wants to find." Anderson pulled on his Burberry trench coat.
"Auggie," Joan barreled into the tech office, "do you have… August Michael Anderson, where did you get that?"
"What have I got?" He turned toward his boss, "Spinach between my teeth?"
"No," Joan circled him twice before running her hands down the coat's lapels. "That is alpaca. Arthur has been dreaming about having an alpaca Burberry for ages and can't open his wallet far enough to fork over the grand it costs."
"Actually I believe it costs closer to 1500 bucks and it was a gift. I'm only wearing it tonight because I have an important meeting at seven and I have to go now or I'll be late." Auggie placed his laser cane on his desk and pulled out the folding white cane he used outside Langley. "Now, whatever you need, this is the one night I can't get it for you, do it for you, find it for you or make it for you. I'll be in tomorrow bright and early so send me an e-mail and I'll do whatever you need first thing in the morning."
Before anyone could say anything else Auggie fled out the door and headed to the exit where his ride would be.
Turning toward the nervous tech, Joan smiled "Stu, who is Auggie meeting tonight?"
"I wish I knew?"
0o0o0
"Here we are, Mr. Anderson, 37th and O St." The driver peered at Auggie through his rear view mirror. He liked driving Anderson but carefully kept the relationship on a strictly professional level. He'd seen too many of his CIA clients disappear with no explanation so he was not getting close to another one. "Need any help from here?"
"No, I've been here enough times to know where I'm going." Auggie smiled as he exited the car. "See you in the morning." He turned, unfolded his white cane and tapped it twice to lock it tight. Before him was the campus of Georgetown University and his father was waiting for him in the Faculty Club. Auggie pulled in a deep cleansing breath and started the obstacle course called the campus to get to the restaurant. Trust Dad to make sure he had a challenge before the upcoming interrogation commonly known as dinner.
It took Auggie fifteen minutes to get to the Faculty Club, but once there it took less than fifteen seconds for his father to latch onto his arm.
"August, I'm so glad you managed to get here today. That job of yours monopolizes far too much of your time."
"That's what jobs do, Dad," Auggie grimaced, folding his cane. He gently pulled away to rearrange grips so Auggie held on to his father's arm above his elbow instead of the other way around. "So what brings you to D. C. this time?"
His father laughed. "Secret and mysterious things; I was asked to…"
"Doctor Albert Anderson, I've finally found you." A hearty bass voice cut through the dinner time clatter as the sound of heavy footfalls announced the voice's arrival. "Please come join us. I want to have a chance to persuade you to join faculty here as the good Fathers will no doubt be trying to do."
Auggie's head snapped toward his father. "Dad, you're thinking of leaving Notre Dame?"
"We are hoping your father will jump at the bait this time," the overly loud voice broke in again as the heavy hand attached to it pounded him on the back. "Hello, I'm Casper Van Damme, specializing in maritime and international trade law and you must be one of the famous Anderson boys. We've been trying to get your father away from that Midwest law ghetto and closer to the pulse of the world here in Washington." The man grabbed Auggie's right hand and pumped with hard enough force to tear his rotator cuff. "Where are you teaching, my boy?"
"Van Damme," Dr. Anderson cut in, "this is my youngest son, August. He works for the Smithsonian Institution and I don't get him all to myself very often. You know, without the rest of the family taking over."
"Of course not, Anderson, of course not," the heavy hand pounded Auggie's back again. When your father comes here we'll be seeing more of both of you, I expect. Well, Albert, tomorrow you'll be at the Dean's cocktail party and we'll touch base then." The heavy footsteps receded quickly.
"Sorry, son; that man seems to think loud equals interesting."
Auggie wasn't about to let the incident get glossed over by his father. "Hold on, Dad, please explain to me what that was all about?"
"Before we eat? August I get offers like this all the time," he said as he tried to pull Auggie forward. "And giving up tenure is out of the question but I'm being offered a visiting professorship and I might just take this one. Think of the times we could have here, you and I."
"No Dad," Auggie dug in his heels. "You can't just drop this somewhere between soup and dessert. Let's go somewhere we can actually talk about you coming here." He unfurled his cane and turned toward where he knew the exit was, "I know a just the place to talk."
Anderson reached for his son's arm again. "Auggie, this isn't that important."
"It isn't? Come with me, Dad. I know things are bad when you call me Auggie." With that he headed out of the Faculty Club. Auggie just hoped his father was following him. Even if he wasn't sure of his tail Auggie was heading to Los Cuates. He needed a shot of Patrone and he knew where to get it.
A quick but silent cab ride got them to Los Cuates Mexican Restaurant. They could have walked, but Auggie wanted find out what was so secret and mysterious that his father had to talk to him face to face.
"This is a good idea, August," Dr. Anderson smiled as he followed his son into the restaurant. "We'll have no interruptions from nosy, noisy, potential colleagues." His head swiveled to take in the décor. "I'm going to need you to show me around so I don't look like a tourist."
"If I can find the time, Dad, I do have a life, you know; full time job, hobbies, friends.
"Auggie Anderson," the hostess smiled at one of her favourite diners, "where's your pretty blond girlfriend tonight?"
He flashed his thousand watt grin. "Sissy, tonight I have my father visiting from Illinois and I want to show him the best place in all D.C. to have chimichangas."
"Well, I'll just have to get you the best table in the place."
"Yes, and make sure a shot of Patrone comes with my menu," Auggie winked as he took the hostess' arm. "And it might be a good thing if you made that drink a double."
Dr. Anderson followed silently behind his son. He didn't like it when August flirted with the hostess, but waited for them to be seated before letting his displeasure be known. "Must you always act like a wolf on the prowl?"
"So Dad," Auggie ignored his father's complaint and then smiled after he'd downed his tequila in one gulp, "when did Georgetown University suddenly become the place to spread your special brand of legal knowledge."
"Georgetown is simply one of many colleges that have offered me a visiting professorship."
Auggie leaned forward, "you hate Jesuits. How many stories did I hear throughout my childhood about the Pope's Black Army? Two, ten, one hundred… you wouldn't send any of us to any school with the taint of Jesuits in the faculty."
"I believe I've mellowed, August," Albert Anderson put on his casual look as he scanned the menu before him and then he realized that this maneuver wouldn't mean a thing to August; his youngest son was blind and therefore immune to his controlling tactics. "I have found I can do anything when the motivation is great enough."
"And what is your motivation for this about face?"
"Why, you; of course."
TBC