The Maverick Experiment Read Free

officer gave deference when passing the stars on the wall. The old entrance was a solemn yet inspiring passage that only a few people ever saw, these days.
    Derek approached the first group of turnstiles, swiped his badge, and entered his personal identification number. Access granted.
    As he made his way past the medical center, the CIA museum, and portraits of previous agency directors, Derek ran into an old friend, Eric Stanley.
    “Holy shit! Derek, that you, man?”
    “It is. How are you, Eric?”
    “Fuck, man. Good to see you. I'm good. Just plugging along, you know. Diane is pregnant, and yeah … well, that's it, I guess. Nothing new here. Just reading and writing.”
    Derek was always amused with how people who had been in the field, even analysts, felt it was necessary to swear in order to come off hardened. Eric, for instance, had been a huge help to Derek in Afghanistan and had provided great insight into some of the cases he had worked, but Eric was not operational. The truth was, most agency personnel who deployed to combat areas never left the green zone and in most cases didn't know their heads from their asses when it came to street smarts or tactics. Still, having been abroad, in their minds, warranted growing a beard or getting a tattoo and adopting the swagger and salty language of a field operator.
    “How you been?” Eric wanted to know.
    “Great. We are living in Florida now and getting by. What are you doing here on a Saturday?”
    “I had duty hours today, but just until this afternoon. Then I'm going hiking for a bit over at Great Falls. So, you have kids now?”
    “No, not yet, although Heidi is pushing. I just want to slow the travel down a bit first.”
    “I thought you were done traveling?”
    “Well, yeah, me too. I stopped for the last seven months but just got called up yesterday for something.”
    “What is it?”
    “Honestly I don't know anything about it. You know how it is; who knows, right?”
    “Those are always the best. More exciting than what most of us do around here.”
    “Yeah, I know. That's what I'm afraid of … Hey listen, I gotta run, but I'll catch you sooner rather than later, hopefully. Good seeing you.”
    “You too, man, and good luck.”
    Derek thanked him and rushed on toward Starbucks.
    Headquarters had become a completely different building over recent years and now offered many of the same commercial services civilians could find on the outside. Starbucks was just one example. The agency offered several popular restaurant choices, ATMs, and other services and amenities, all within a building complex that was rife with mystique and history.
    Starbucks was a warmly welcomed addition when it came in 2006, but the place wasn't overly conducive to work. Computers be damned, coffee and a comfy chair always made for a better work environment, as far as Derek was concerned. The problem was, with reports and writing being the biggest function of everyone's job at the agency, Derek was technically a professional deviant. He didn't care.
    The more he thought about it as he walked, the more he agreed with Eric's assessment: the assignments that could not be discussed and that were part of “new programs” often had the most sex appeal … at least, to the officer working the program. But he or she would never tell a soul of the project. The black ops in the agency were the only ones worth doing anymore. The problem was, Derek was looking to slow down and become a family man, not put himself into more critically dangerous situations.
    “Derek. Derek, over here.”
    Derek turned to see two gentlemen standing with cups of coffee in hand, waiting. One of them approached him. “Derek, Carlisle Davenport. Pleased to meet you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
    “No problem.”
    Carlisle wore a green badge, indicating he was, like Derek, a contract officer at the agency. He was an older man, likely in his sixties, but still appeared to be in decent shape. He