"Do have any idea how expensive manicures are anymore?" I snarl at TV's prone figure. "I had my nails done only this morning! So they remained presentable for only…" I peer at my watch, "ten hours. Pathetic."
Wait a second… &#%%!#$!
It's 8:45. There goes my date. I spent all day trying to make these morons angry enough to get rid of me. And I failed. I do not fail. These people are just really, really, really thick-skinned.
This is really one of those moments that makes you look back on your life. You debate the futility of railing against fate and resolve to be more flexible in the future. Or you just get really ticked off. I choose the second option.
DiNutso is getting up from the floor. My foot twitches almost imperceptibly and he falls back down. I whirl around and sit on McGoober's desk, flipping open my cell phone and dialing my fiancé's number.
"Hey Brett," I say, completely normal for the first time this entire day, "I'm going to have to cancel tonight. Unexpected work emergency."
He's not thrilled, but he does have a sense of humor. I can't stand people without a sense of humor. I can tell he's smiling when he replies "Top-secret, don't-ask-me-or-I'll-have-to-kill-you type of thing?"
"Don't ask don't tell," I reply, "Without the politics." Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the Director coming down the stairs with a man that I recognize immediately as the Secretary of the Navy. Uh-oh. "I gotta go," I mutter, hanging up quickly as they approach. I slide casually off Techie's desk so that I'm only leaning against it now.
"Which one of you is Whitman?" barks the Secretary.
"That would be me, sir," I step forward and nod my head politely.
"CIA?"
"Yes."
"You cooperated with NCIS today to track the men involved in the hit of a CIA officer?"
I wouldn't exactly call it cooperating, but I'm not here to argue semantics.
"Yes sir," I respond smoothly.
"What's this I hear about you apprehending the suspect?" He's not angry; he seems to be testing me.
"I do apologize for that, sir," I reply, ignoring DiNutso's light snort, "However, I believe it was necessary."
"You think you know better than the experts who wanted him to be merely followed?"
"No, sir, but in light of new information gained while following those orders, I made a judgment call. In the restaurant, I noticed a marked resemblance of the suspect to a man wanted by my agency for five years, now. We had thought that he altered his facial features surgically, but had no confirmed reports," I hesitate for dramatic effect, "His eyes were rather distinctive, though, and I was nearly certain that it was him. Later, our suspect was employing discreet tactics on the road, tactics designed to make a tailing car quite obvious. When he resorted to certain distinctive, more flamboyant moves, I knew that my earlier suspicions were, in fact, correct. I decided to stop him. I don't doubt that he would have fled underground if given a moment's hesitation.
"Frankly, sir, neither of our agencies has the resources necessary to chase each criminal down multiple times. If you believe that his arrest will reflect badly upon NCIS, I am certain that my agency will take the man, his partner, and the fall-out, if there is any. I don't believe there will be." I finish smoothly.
He studies me closely, "The CIA has a shoot first and ask questions later policy, yes?"
Not exactly. But he isn't interested in hearing that, so I smile apologetically, "We are trained that way, sir. Again, I do apologize for not following NCIS protocol, but I did what I believe was necessary."
"Very well, Officer Whitman, I'm impressed. Don't worry, NCIS will take full responsibility for the arrest of the men."
He means he'll take the credit.
"I'm sure it was an enlightening experience for representatives from the CIA and NCIS to work together," he continues.
He means that it was a necessary evil. I can hear DiNutso grind his teeth from across the room.
The Secretary blathers on, "Perhaps this will lead to greater cooperation in the future. Inter-fighting between agencies is terrible inconvenience."
He means that he wants information from us but he doesn't plan to return the favor.
"Hopefully so, sir," I reply, "When governmental agencies don't get along, the ones that truly suffer are the American people." I had intended to sound a little cheesy and a suck-up, but this is painful. I struggle not to grimace.
He nods, "Thank you, Officer Whitman. I'm sure you've greatly aided the investigation today. You may leave now and return to your agency with my thanks."
He means get out of my hair.
"Thank you, sir."
He turns and heads for the elevator without another word. Director Red and the rest of the team stare at me.
"Where did that come from?" asks DiNutso in disgust.
"Politicians are so easy to manipulate," I shake my head with mock sadness. A moment later I yawn and stretch, producing a popping sound from my knuckles and spine. My wicked smile slides back onto my face. "It was a pleasure working with you all. Especially you, DiNutso."
"It's DiNozzo," he growls.
I feign shock, "Oh dear, and I've been calling you DiNutso all day now. Why didn't you tell me before?"
There's no response. I smile sweetly.
"Well, goodbye then," I say as I saunter towards the elevator.
"Good-bye!" mutters Ninja.
"Good riddance," snaps DiNutso.
"She's a freak," says McTechie.
The elevator doors close. I grin. Poor NCIS; they don't know what's coming. I just received a text from one of my colleagues. The NCIS criminal response team is coming over to Langley in a week's time to help on one of our cases. I'll get to see my lovely new friends again. They think that I'm crazy. Wait until they meet the rest of my coworkers.
Those agents won't know what hit them.