All posts by admin

Mission: Discredit Co-Workers

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud –

…He was a bit disappointed to see that his attempts to slander Marcus had not brought about his removal from the office. During his brief visit with Vicky he had learned that Mariana had been sent back to Headquarters to work a desk job. Marcus was a little harder to discredit, being male and all…

The Culprit

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud

…He remembered his life in suburban Ohio and how his wife, a nurse, had loved to garden. His life had seemed so full of light back then. Life had been so simple as an insurance salesman, returning home at noon to have lunch with his wife before her shift at the hospital. Taking drives around the neighborhood at Christmas time to see the lights, dreaming of starting a family. When had he decided that that wasn’t enough for him? When had things changed so dramatically?

He knew the answer to that question. It was a progression. A slow dissatisfaction had crept over him year by year until he knew he had to make a change. Of course, there were triggers along the way. For instance, after many trips to fertility doctors, the realization that they could not have their own children had sunk in. He had watched the light in his wife’s eyes dim day by day. He had at first assumed it was his wife who was infertile; certainly his organs all worked properly. He would never forget the day that her tests came back and all eyes turned to him as the culprit. That was how he felt, he was The Culprit…

Dodging puddles of mysterious liquids…

From my latest book, Mingling in the CIA: Bloud:

…Dodging a puddle of mysterious liquid on the floor, he slipped out the back door into the brilliant daylight of a Fort Lauderdale afternoon. The ocean crashed to his left as he walked down the sidewalk filled with joggers and bikini-clad women. Despite the bright surroundings, he felt a sense of dread creeping over him, hastened by the many shots of tequila he had downed at the last bar in which he had spent his afternoon. He glanced with disdain at a very botoxed older woman with a small white dog on a pink leash who almost bumped into him as she fumbled for a cigarette in her purse. He hated women. No, he didn’t just hate women, he hated the entire human race. He suddenly felt the urge for a very strong drink…

Introducing a new character…. Bloud!

We first met Bloud in my book, Single in the CIA. You may remember some of the more memorable moments, included below:

…Apparently he had done some pretty exciting things years ago and he loved talking about his experiences, holding a captive audience in the young officers surrounding him. He delighted in telling tales of encounters with tigers and serving time in a hole in the ground somewhere in the Middle East. It was hard to imagine this slovenly, obese man doing anything besides eating pork rinds and drinking beer, but the stories were entertaining. He was given the Chief of Operations or third-in-charge position in the office…

…Bloud painted a somewhat pathetic picture of himself, explaining that without his career he would have nothing. He was nearing the mandatory retirement age, and he did not know what to do with himself once he was forced to retire. He described a haunting image he had of himself as a janitor somewhere, sweeping the floor, living out his retirement. He seemed like a sad and lost soul. That evening, when we both left to go our separate ways, we agreed that anything we talked about was just between the two of us…

…Bloud was in charge while Lawrence was gone, but that was not saying much. He had taken to throwing hissy fits and closing himself in his office any time he received news from Headquarters that he did not like. He would leave the young officers who needed his guidance out in the cold while he sulked behind a closed door. He had also begun a weekly ritual of cooking a slab of meat in a crock pot for the whole office and we were all expected to eat it and listen to him blabber on while the young officers kissed his butt. I dreaded being herded into the office kitchen for these little get-togethers…

…One day when Henningway was out of the office and Bloud was Acting Chief, Bloud spent the day locked in his office and refused to release any cable traffic while he was there. Even the youngest most impressionable officers saw the immaturity in this almost sixty-year-old man…

…I sat down across from him and he explained that Bloud had been telling Vicky a lot about me. He said that upon her arrival Bloud had met with Vicky to discuss the office and had only discussed two people for the entire meeting – me and Jon, a more senior officer who always seemed to be in the middle of a controversy. Among the crazy lies that Bloud had told Vicky was that I had told him I was sleeping with Barry and that I had bragged about….

Want to get to know more about this charming personality, Bloud? Check out the newest installment in the Mingling in the CIA series!

Floral patterns and vomit…

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…Suddenly, she pulled back and lurched forward somewhat violently all at the same time, and Jay was covered in a very warm liquid. She collapsed on his chest in a heap of brown hair and vomit. The stench was more than he could take and he felt himself gagging as he pushed her off of him on the bed, where her vomit began to blend in with the floral pattern on the comforter…

The forbidden dog…

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…During his early days in Konigstan, Jay had toyed with the idea of adopting a dog. Konigstan was not a particularly dog-friendly environment and stray dogs were often shot on sight or killed in very inhumane ways. One morning, Winston had spent an entire car ride complaining about how his daughter wanted a pet dog, but religious leaders claimed that dog ownership was                       , or forbidden                       . Winston, a doting father, had explained to his tearful daughter that dog walking had been prohibited, and it would not be fair to keep a dog cooped up in their small apartment. He had told Jay about a rare dog shelter just outside of Furstville and on one exceptionally long day of waiting for Headquarters to acknowledge Jay’s existence, Jay had asked Winston to take him to the shelter.
Pulling up outside of the desolate building that housed the shelter, Jay had recalled a dark memory from his childhood. One afternoon, woken from a drunken slumber, Uncle                        had become enraged by the persistent barking of a neighborhood stray. Jay watched in horror as his uncle produced a switchblade, and trapping the dog under his legs, had begun slicing the dog’s flesh as it screamed in pain and tried to wriggle free of                        grasp. At five years old, Jay watched in shock as                        left the dog, still alive but cut in pieces, to die a slow death in the dirt outside of their house. The dog had been one of Jay’s favorites, and he had often smuggled table scraps out to the dog…

Oops! I hope I didn’t just break it!

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…Jay was drained. He patiently explained what the box was, while Andrew and Grover looked out the window and exclaimed excitedly about the gorgeous pool area view.
“Oh wow, okay. I don’t know anything about                                  , but that sounds pretty cool,” the logistics officer commented, before heading over to the window to join Andrew and Grover in their people watching. Grover was just commenting on how large one woman’s breasts were.
Jay sat, defeated, on the sofa and stared at the television, where a daytime talk show was playing, and the man on the screen was denying the paternity of a sobbing woman’s child. The logistics officer suddenly realized what time it was, and broke away from the group, explaining that she needed to get back to the office. As she was leaving, she casually announced that she would ship                                   out in the next few days, and it would take a few weeks to get up to Headquarters. With that, she hurried toward the door, dropping the bag on the marble floor as she hustled out.
“Oh gawd, I hope I didn’t just break it,” she giggled, looking at Jay and shrugging…

I’m a lover, not a fighter…

From my latest book, Mission: Stand Down:

…The old door swung open to reveal a long table covered with machine guns. William began explaining where he had gotten them with Winston serving as a translator. Apparently the guns had been “discovered” along the border with Kriegland. They were American weapons, and Jay wondered what had happened to the soldiers that they had belonged to.
William was offering to sell the weapons to Jay. While he was sure that this had some sort of relevance to U.S. intelligence, Jay also knew that he would open a huge can of worms if he reported this to Headquarters. Not to mention, Headquarters would have a massive freak-out. He took note of some of the serial numbers, which he knew would soon be defaced, and tried to casually explain                                  , and that he would have to pass. William did not want to let it go so easily, but Jay managed to convince him with a little bit of humor.
“I’m a lover, not a fighter,” Jay explained, holding up his hands with a sheepish smile…

September 11th

One of the reasons I went to work for the CIA was September 11th. I’ll never forget seeing the Pentagon burning on the horizon that day. I had just been in New York City looking at the Twin Towers a couple of weeks before. Typically, the Washington DC area was such a cutthroat, grouchy area, but after the attacks everyone came together, regardless of beliefs, and people were actually nice and respectful to each other – even while driving in the miserable traffic of the area.

Never forget.