A Tradition of Service

Chapter 1

Monday, June 2nd, 1997

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter there," the voice behind Kendra Davis said as she stood on the sidewalk looking up at the building that housed the Federal Counterintelligence Agency, or FCA. She'd done her homework; she knew that until early 1993, when President Bill Clinton directed that it come out of from behind its cover, the sign in front of the building had said "International Federal Film".

She turned, already prepared to dislike the speaker, with his cocky attitude and smart mouth, and saw a young man her own age with sandy brown hair and very, very blue eyes regarding her with definite interest. He was across the street, leaning against a late-model Saturn sedan, and he smiled and started walking towards her.

"You misquoted Dante, but most people do," she said shortly. With long experience in repelling unwanted pick-up lines, she was confident that she could handle this cocky stranger with no difficulty. "It's 'All hope abandon, ye who enter here; Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate.'"

"Italian, no less, and with a decent accent. Am I supposed to be impressed?" he asked.

"That would be too much to expect. Wait a minute- I know you. You were a Thornton Fellow too. We met at the conference here in D.C. last summer. You're from….UVA?"

"That's right. Phillip King, and you're from George Mason."

"Yes. Kendra Davis. Did you apply for a job here too?"

"No, I didn't think that would be a very good idea, and I didn't really want to anyway; not my scene."

"How do you mean?"

"My mother is the Director of New Agent Recruitment, and my stepdad is Director of Field Agent Operations."

"Oh, wow. Yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want to apply here; no matter how good you are, you'd be constantly fighting the perception that you got the job because of who your parents are. Not that they would have hired you if you couldn't do the job, but why start out with a reputation as 'teacher's pet', especially since it's 'not your scene'? So where are you working?"

"I'm an intern over at the Thornton Foundation, writing policy papers. I just came over here to drop some stuff off with my mom. You know, you don't have to be in there until ten."

"I know, but I wanted to come look the place over."

"Did you drive?"

"Are you kidding? In this town? No, of course not; I took the Metro as far as Foggy Bottom and then caught a bus."

"Where do you live?"

"Arlington, same place I've lived for the last two years while I've been at GMU. How about you?"

" Also Arlington, but in a house, the same house I grew up in. My grandma's been widowed twice, and she needed someone to take care of the yard and do the household repairs, so I live there in return for reduced rent. My Mom and Lee have another house a couple of miles away that they bought about ten years ago."

"That would be Lee Stetson?"

"Yeah. Look, do you want to go for coffee? I came here to drop off some papers my grandma needs my mom to sign, and I don't have to be back at the Foundation right away. There's a good little shop just around the corner, so I don't even have to move the car," he said. "If you ever have to drive in, there's usually space where my car is, if you get here after the residents leave for work and leave before they get home."

"Good to know. You know, when you first made that smarty-pants remark a few minutes ago, I almost told you to go peddle your papers."

"Yeah, but you didn't, and I appreciate your forbearance. The offer of coffee is still open."

"Then, yes, I think I'd like coffee."