Annie made a pot of coffee and scrounged up a tube of easy bake cinnamon rolls from the back of the fridge. She assumed Danielle left them behind. They were cutting it close, but the expiration date was still a week away. Good thing those things kept forever.
"So," Lucy appeared, freshly showered, in another of Annie's casual dresses, rubbing a towel on her short wet hair. "Do they know what's going to happen with Charlie?"
"Who?" Annie asked blankly.
Lucy blushed. "Zhen Yang."
"Oh. He's going to trial, definitely," Annie bit her lip. She hadn't heard anything yet, but these things usually didn't end well for ex-accomplices. Yes, Lucy was a compliant asset, and that would probably keep her from a trial of her own, but Annie expected a subpoena or a polygraph demand any day now.
Lucy deflated at the thought. Annie looked at her seriously. "No one is ever going to leave you alone with him again, okay? Even if you have to testify against him."
Lucy took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "So, what's this about a farm?"
Annie pulled the rolls from the oven and placed them on a trivet. "Well, you know you did really well on this last mission, right?"
Lucy blushed. "Thanks."
"Really, really well," Annie repeated. "You have what some might call 'raw talent.' That said, the Agency doesn't like to just let people like that slip away."
"What's my raw talent?" Lucy asked, confused.
"How many languages do you speak?" Annie asked.
"Fluently?"
Annie laughed. "Yes. List 'em."
"Um, my Mandarin is really good," Lucy said, brow furrowed. "I took it all through high school, and then Charlie and I sometimes spoke it at home. But with my major they had me taking Arabic and Farsi."
"You know Auggie speaks Arabic."
"You're kidding."
"There's a lot you could stand to learn about him. Is that it?"
"I speak bits and pieces of Spanish and French."
"That's incredible for someone of your age," Annie said. "I'm a linguist myself."
"So... Is that what you meant?"
"You've also demonstrated excellent reflexes, instinct and ability to keep a secret."
"What does this have to do with a farm?"
"Lucy, The Farm is where agents go for training. Before they become agents. Not everyone graduates, because not everyone is talented or prepared. Some people have a lot to lose. But you know who tend to make exceptional prospects?"
"Who?"
Annie grinned. "Scorned women."
"You sound like you speak from experience."
Annie took a bite of a cinnamon roll and licked icing off her thumb. "I met a guy, had a sexual awakening in Sri Lanka, and one morning woke up next to nothing but a note. I thought he was the one, and when he was gone, I felt I had nothing to lose. I channelled my anger and disappointment into something I could control: my performance. I was instated as an agent before I could even complete the program."
"So you're really serious about me joining the CIA?"
Annie smiled. "I've always been serious. It was your uncle that resisted."
"What changed his mind?"
"I think he finally saw that you've got nothing to lose."
...
If Auggie hadn't known better, he'd have guessed that Arthur's office was empty. The room was completely still and silent for almost a minute before he spoke, voice low as a growl.
"What in the fuck has gotten into you?"
Auggie's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't necessarily expecting that.
"You deliberately threw a polygraph," Arthur snapped like an angry parent. "And not just any polygraph, a Bureau polygraph."
"Permission to speak, sir."
"Permission denied," Arthur roared. "You have one of the longest leashes in CIA history, and then you go and pull a stunt like this? This might come as a shock to you, Anderson, but not everyone in the US government gets along with everybody else. Every time we follow protocol by passing a case along to the FBI, we put the Agency in a certain degree of jeopardy. We jeopardize our usefulness to the country, our necessity, our funding, our future."
"Permission to speak, sir."
"Denied. And every time a CIA agent makes a jackass of himself, he makes a jackass of everyone else, too. You and Walker have one of the worst track records for that."
"Permission to speak, sir."
"Denied. You may be the golden boy of the DPD, but the FBI doesn't care if you or your niece live or die. Intentionally blowing a polygraph may have been one step forward for your little ego, but it is ten steps back for everyone else. This was supposed to be handled by Joan, but I've been dragged into it. I just got out of a meeting where I had to explain why an asset was no longer in CIA custody, why an agent was assigned to turn a relative, of all things- and of course, I said it was because that agent had proven he could handle it, only to find out that NO, apparently, he can't."
"Permission to speak, sir."
"WHAT?"
"The asset is in CIA custody, sir."
"Pardon?"
"The asset is in the custody of Anne Walker."
Arthur ground his teeth. "Bring her in for a polygraph of her own."
Auggie nodded. "Yes sir."
"Your job, Anderson, depends on it."
Auggie sighed. "Yes sir."
