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“Cup of coffee?” Donna asks as they go into a small and orderly kitchen. “I can boil up some water, make a cup of tea if you’d like.”
“No, thanks,” Noa replies, thinking how odd Donna is acting, how she seems resigned to her visit, like she had been expecting someone to come to her front door for some time now.
Another shrug, and Donna says, “Well, I guess we can sit down in here. Bailey, behave!”
Noa nearly stumbles as the cat nips her ankle, and they all go into a living room. It’s crowded but neat. Donna sits in a chair with a knit afghan covering it, and Noa and Wendy take the couch. The black-and-white cat jumps up between them, starts licking his paws. On the low table in front of them are neatly stacked copies of theEconomist,theWall Street Journal,andWashington Post. Bookshelves contain equal amounts of paperback and hardcover books, along with a handful of DVDs.
Noa has a feeling that this young single woman sits alone on this couch with her cat, either reading or watching a foreign language film with subtitles, but she instantly tamps down her sympathy for her.
“Donna, you’ve been a financial resource officer for the Directorate of Support for seven years,” Noa says. “Do you have anything to say for yourself before we proceed?”
Another slight shrug. “You two are from the Directorate of Operations, right?” She smiles slightly. “That’s where my dad served. God, he loved the Agency so, and once I got hired and he could tell me some of his old operations … I really wanted to follow his trail—Operations was starting to open to women recruits backthen—but this,” and she taps her eyeglasses for emphasis, “kept me out. Still, like my dad, I love the Agency.”
She waits for a moment. “But why aren’t you from the Counterintelligence Mission Center? That’s their job for situations like this, not the Directorate of Operations.”
“Because they seem to be dragging their feet. Putting your matter at the bottom of their list of priorities. We have other priorities.”
Donna says, “That sounds odd. Don’t you agree?”
Noa agrees but doesn’t want to say it aloud. It is strange, that she and her team would be here, chasing down a leaker who works for the Directorate of Support. But the president had personally given Noa the orders and background to snap Donna out of her job and take her away to be interrogated.
Noa says, “Earlier you said you were proud of the Agency, and the work your dad did. Then why did you do what you did?”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Pass on classified material to unauthorized personnel on at least six occasions,” Noa says, feeling like this slight woman is playing a game with her. “I have the photographic evidence to show you if you care to deny it. You chalking a trail sign at Cherry Hill Park, and then placing an envelope underneath a nearby park bench. Ten minutes later, the package is retrieved by an individual we know is stationed at the Chinese embassy.”
“You know that for sure, the person is from the Chinese embassy?”
“We do.”
Donna looks sad. “Guess I was going to get caught, the longer I did it.”
Wendy says, “Why did you do it, Donna?”
“I did it for the greater good,” Donna says. “And for the Agency, of course.”
Noa doesn’t know what to say.
Donna says, “Am I under arrest?”
“No,” Noa says. “You’re just being detained.”
“But you want me to come with you, right?”
“That’s correct,” Noa says.
“Can I bring Bailey with me?” she asks hopefully.
“I’m afraid not,” Noa says.
Tears come to the woman’s eyes. “Then what’s going to happen to him? I don’t want him to be put in a shelter. He’ll think he’s being punished or did something wrong.”
Noa has faced some challenges in her career, but this is a new one, and Wendy comes to her rescue. “I’ll take care of Bailey.”
Donna’s face lights up. “Really? You’d do that?”
Wendy says, “I promise.”