“What don’t you like in Janice’s story, Major Wallace?” Cronley asked.
Christ, do I have to spell it out for you?
That it’s in the fucking newspaper at all, is what’s wrong with it.
And shit, she’s an Associated Press correspondent. That story went out on the AP wire.
The admiral and El Jefe will read it in the Washington Star over their morning coffee in Washington!
“For one thing, it’s got Colbert’s and Miller’s names on the front page of the Stars and Stripes,” Wallace said, a little awkwardly.
“Describing her as an ASA cryptographer,” Janice said. “Not a mention of the DCI, which Jim says is something patriotic Americans such as myself should not say out loud. What’s wrong with that?”
Wallace visibly could not come up with an instant reply.
A waiter appeared.
“Thank God!” Janice said. “I’m ravenous! That always happens when I exercise before going to bed. Correction, before going to sleep.”
Not only has she been fucking Cronley, she wants me to know she has.
“Orange juice, ham and eggs, easy over, rye toast, and fried potatoes, please,” Janice ordered.
“Same for me, please,” Cronley said. “Major Wallace?”
“Make it three orders, please,” Wallace ordered. Then he asked, “I gather you’re also ravenous, Jim?”
“If you’re asking why, I’ve been up since oh-dark-hundred trying to stuff two very large refrigerators into a very small jeep trailer. It was pretty exhausting.”
“How’d that go?” Janice asked.
“As we speak, the refrigerators are on their way to cement Franco-American relations in Strasbourg.”
Jesus Chr
ist, did he tell her about Strasbourg?
“Jesus Christ, what did you tell her about Strasbourg?” Wallace demanded.
“I suspect what you meant to ask is what has Jim told me about your problem with Odessa,” Janice said.
Right on the fucking money, sweetheart!
“I’m afraid of what I’m about to hear,” Wallace said.
“Jim said when you heard about this, you were going to be highly pissed,” Janice said. “So let’s clear the decks.”
Well, at least he got one thing right. Highly pissed is a gross understatement.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Wallace said.
“Whether you like it or not, Major—what’s your first name, by the way?”
“If you consider it germane, it’s Harold.”
“Okay. Well, Harry, whether or not you like it . . .”
She’s doing that to piss me off!