The Dead Drop Read Online Free Page B

pretty casual office environment, especially in the summer,” Caitlin continued. “My supervisor at the NCJA walks around in flip-flops half the time.”
    “Sounds like he aspires to go sit on the beach.”
    “I respect him for being so honest about himself.”
    “At the Spy Museum, it’s all about showing that you can ‘live your cover’.” “LIVE your cover identity” was a guideline Gilda had read in her Spy Savvy handbook. It wasn’t enough to simply look whatever role you were playing as a spy; you had to fully experience it in your everyday life. “Right now, my ‘cover identity’ is that I’m an experienced young professional who knows how to use a copy machine.”
    Caitlin laughed. “I’m sure they don’t expect you to know everything before you even get there, Gilda.”

    After Gilda and Caitlin boarded the Metro, Gilda took out her reporter’s notebook to quickly scribble a letter to Wendy:
    Dear Wendy:
    Here I am on the underground train on my way to work! The people on the train right now during morning rush hour look a lot different from how they did yesterday in the middle of the afternoon. For one thing, there are a lot more glum-looking, white-haired men wearing ties who sit behind newspapers with their shoulders slumped. Here I am, all ready to eavesdrop on incriminating conversations, and it’s as if everyone’s still half asleep.
    “This is my stop,” Caitlin announced as the train reached the Judiciary Square station. “You know where you’re going, right, Gilda? You get off at the Gallery Place stop, then just walk down F Street to the Spy Museum.”
    “Got it.” Gilda felt another flutter of nerves. “I’ll see you after work.”
    “Make sure you have that gourmet dinner waiting for me when I get home.”
    “Don’t worry,” said Gilda, playing along, “I’ll have the toast all buttered.”
    “And don’t burn it this time,” Caitlin joked. “I mean it.”
    “I promise I’ll get it right this time.” Witnessing this banter, people regarded Gilda and Caitlin with curiosity. A man slipped into Caitlin’s seat as she got up to leave.
    “Good luck!” Caitlin disappeared through the train doors.
    “Nice sunglasses,” said the man who had just sat down next to Gilda.
    “Oh—thanks.” Gilda prepared herself for the possibility that some weirdo had just seated himself next to her—something she had frequently experienced on Detroit city buses.
    “They make you look more interesting than the average government employee.”
    Gilda couldn’t help feeling flattered to hear this even as she felt wary of attention from a strange man. She glanced in his direction and saw that there was something almost handsome about his middle-aged, suntanned face and mirthful blue eyes. It was a likable face. She also wondered if she should conceal the true details of her identity just in case this man was actually a charming serial killer who might decide to follow her to the Spy Museum. “I’m actually starting a job on Capitol Hill today,” she fibbed.
    “Capitol Hill! Now that is impressive. What kind of job?”
    “The House, the Senate—you name it.”
    “Sounds demanding, but I can tell it won’t be any problem for you.”
    “Nothing I can’t handle.” Gilda was now enjoying the fantasy that her job involved passing important legislation.
    “And where is such an impressive young lady as yourself from? You don’t look local.”
    “California. San Francisco, to be specific.”
    “A wonderful city! Well, we’re approaching my stop here, Ms.—”
    “Stunn.” It was the surname of a fictional character Gilda had once created for a story, and it was the first alias that came to mind at the moment. “Penelope Stunn.”
    “What a charming name!” He extended a hand, and Gilda shook it. “I’m Jake Clarke.”
    Jake Clarke sounds like a fake name , Gilda thought. On the other hand, there was something maddeningly familiar about the name; she felt she had heard it