Ch 18, Red Queen Contest

James parked and got out of the rented sedan. The warm Virginia breeze felt pleasant on his face as he squinted to check out the imposing buildings surrounding the parking lot.

So, this was the Headquarters! And he had just arrived for the black ops section chiefs annual meeting to be followed by specialized briefings for Africa and Asia with regional analysts, and then a week's advance course in 'new technologies' in the areas of surveillance, threats and neutralization strategies.

He heard the car beep locked as he started walking towards the entrance of Block C, where he was expected to report.

James knew his direct boss would be the Black Ops Director out of Langley, whose name was always kept confidential, but the truth was that his point of contact would be Castel Fioto.

He sensed he was smiling to himself as he went through the metal detector: He had met her more than 20 years ago in the Colombian jungle, on an estate belonging to the entity believed to be the largest cocaine producing cartel in South America. She had been a 'friendly' cartel connection then, Finch had told him. And now, she had been doing Finch's job for more than 10 years, and with a lot more grace than her predecessor.

He headed towards the elevators on his way to meeting room 371G on the third floor, when he spotted a bathroom sign and made a turn in its direction. One left turn and then one more. The corridor was painted in pleasant tones and the office doors were all metal. He caught himself mentally comparing everything he saw to the Mossad headquarters where he had visited Avi Moshe last year. After the last turn he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

His mind rushed to decipher what he was looking at: Three young men in black training uniforms had just exited the men's facilities and were conversing while walking in his direction.

The one on the left his oldest son Tony, who had told Teresa and him just last week that he would be 'visiting' the naval school in Baltimore, where he considered continuing his education.

What the fuck is he doing in the CIA headquarters?

Then he realized that new recruits usually get a tour before being shipped to the training facility.

That's when Tony saw him and also stopped dead in his tracks.

James heard his son tell the other two young men that he would meet them in class. When they were gone and Tony stood a few feet away from him, James realized he was at a loss of words.

"Let me guess!" finally came out with a sigh. "You were recruited by Castel Fioto's men to serve and protect the 'motherland'!" James felt some indignation rise in his chest, which he knew was hypocritical because he himself had agreed to come back to the Agency. But his 18-year-old son was a different story. Teresa had been livid when they had talked about the Agency being interested in Tony because of his fighting skills at the time Marcel had joined Castel in her Black Ops group. It was a life full of risks and lies and he understood she didn't want it for her son! Hell, he didn't either!

Then Tony raked his hand through his hair in a familiar gesture and said: "I haven't met Senora Fioto yet! I am hoping to…soon."

"So, how did they approach you?" James asked.

"How did they approach YOU?" Tony countered.

"Listen…Tony…" James could feel his patience evaporate. "I have come back…because I…ahh…have beef with certain parties and because my work will be out of Cape Town! Did you know that I was affiliated with the Agency?"

"Marcel told me." Tony states simply.

"I'm gonna kick this man's ass!" James was breathing a little harder. "But he won't approach you without her permission!" he added.

"Whose permission? Senora Fioto's?" Tony asked.

As James only glared at his son, Tony dropped the matter and said: "I wanted to see it…the program. See what the training is like…And they flew me two months ago…And I loved it. No one forced me!"

"You loved sailing the same way and went to a naval school. Now this…What will it be in two years?" It was James's turn to run his hand through his hair. "And who told you to keep it a secret from us?"

"I'm 18 and am not required to tell you, guys, anything! Did you tell your mother when you ran out?" The boy was getting defensive.

"It was different. She practically kicked me out…while we are paying for your school, genuinely believing you study there!" James's voice was raised, and Tony looked at his feet as he realized his father had a point.

"It's not about being free…or not…" James exhaled and leaned against the wall. "It's about the respect you owe your family…and I would hope the love you have for your parents…which would not allow you to lie to them about such a thing!"

"We were informed that to become agents we need to keep things secret!" Tony said and leaned on the wall next ot his father.

"That's for …ahh…ordinary folks." James said. "We are not!"

"This is not Black Ops, Dad. This is regular preparation for the Farm…where I have to compete to make the cut and stay. So, if I don't, I go back to Athens. If I do, I still go back later...because being a Captain of a vessel is a good cover." Tony seemed excited and went on even as James turned his head to look at him. "They loved my boxing and karate skills. I'm pretty good with Hebrew and Greek on top of Spanish…and I am an American…So, I fit!"

"You're an American on paper." James said. "Life here is much different than at home!"

"I will be given a chance to study Arabic and Farsi…to complement the Hebrew!" Tony's voice was a notch down as he stared at his shoes.

James straightened his body from the wall and said: "You'll be late. Go now. I will talk to you tonight."

And before Tony could say anything, James had walked past him and into the men's room.

After they had finally exited the soundproof room where the nine Black Ops sectional directors had their initial meeting, James followed Castel Fioto to the office temporarily assigned to her.

They had refreshed their coffee before they had left and as it tasted sourer than in the morning, James mumbled: "The coffee at Langley sucks!"

Castel chuckled: "All office coffee…actually…all US coffee sucks!"

James couldn't help but laugh: "Well in my offices, it won't! When you come to …ahh…supervise …I'll be able to offer you Colombian!"

"You know that I don't travel much. That's why we have regional Sections. But you may see Marcel more often…because he covers Central Africa and Tel Aviv!" Castel sat at the desk and looked pointedly at James: "Come on, ask me! I know you met your son already!"

James shrugged: "It's not like you're going to give me this big revelation!"

"So, you're not upset?" She looked surprised.

"I was!" He got up and stood by the window staring outside. "I don't think Teresa will like that…at all!"

Castel took two steps and stood beside him: "She is a smart woman and knows it's not her decision. Besides I had the feeling she was on our side after what Moreno did to Pote…under Wong's orders. I think she wants to help but cannot stomach a return to this life. "

"She won't ever come back to this life!" James looked at Castel sharply. "But she is a smart woman and hopefully will understand."

Castel chuckled again and changed the topic: "Who will run your businesses? Pote?"

"Pote and George…my younger son." James said noncommittally. "I myself have an account to settle with Marcus Moreno…over what he did to Pote and to Lena…But Wong is just Chinese secret police…If it's not him, it will be someone else. That's a fight we can never win!" He shrugged and looked at her briefly.

"Are you going to tell her?" Castel cocked her head to the side coming suddenly back to the first topic.

" About the recruitment?" James sounded off.

She rolled her eyes: "No, about recent troop movements near Gaza! Of course, about the recruitment, James!" Castel was trying to make light of his serious state of mind, which felt overwhelmed with the details and the pressure of the day's events.

"I have to!" He raked his hand through his hair.

"We need the best we can get!" Castel said.

James just shook his head, the gesture expressing agreement, then mumbled: "That won't help with the pain and the worry. She once told me that as the boys were not American, the Agency won't be interested in them…But now I know that this restriction doesn't include Black Ops."

"Well…your children are American, just born outside of the mainland. And it's too early to say where he will fit best!" Castel noted. "We are in a …Red Queen contest with the narcs all the time…and we do need to stay on top!"

"Red Queen contest?" James looked at her again.

"Yes, it's a matter of simple biology. The host, a person' body and the viruses, are locked in competition with each other. When the parasite attacks, the host develops a defense. Then the virus changes to beat that defense, so the host gets a new defense!" She stared through the window, then went on:

"The same with society. This competition keeps on going. It's called Red Queen contest!" She scoffed and added: "It's from the story, you know, Alice in Wonderland."

Castel looked at her red nails and then at James who was still looking at her with a weird face.

"Teresa was the one reading Alice in Wonderland to my daughter…" James said, to which Castel noted:

"She will understand then!…Don't worry! In the story Alice meets this Red Queen, who runs incredibly fast but never seems to get anywhere. She tells Alice that, in her country, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place."

Castel turned around and went back to sit in her chair.

James just turned around to look at her as she went on:

"And that's like us with the narcs, and the eastern governments. They keep coming up with new routes and techniques…to make it harder for us. And we keep finding new ways to intercept them. And this circle repeats and repeats. It's a Red Queen contest, and we all have to run real fast just to stand still!"