“What grad school?” I asked. It wasn’t as if I’d know if he were lying, but maybe he’d stumble.
“Georgetown,” he said.
“Yeah? What professor?”
“Why? Are you in the program? Don’t get me wrong, but you don’t seem like a scientist type of girl.”
Compared to Nick, neither did this guy. Continue reading Cassie: Part 5
The CIA provides Mom with a car when she needs one for work, so Mom doesn’t keep one in D.C. Even if they were loaning her one that day, I knew I couldn’t take it. I walked a few blocks and took the Metro, D.C.’s subway.
It was rush hour. Almost every seat on the train seemed to be full—men and women in suits, little kids sitting on their parents’ laps, tired maintenance workers still in their uniforms.
I hung on to a metal pole in the aisle, thinking maybe I should have gone for her car. As the possibly dangerous product of mad science, I probably had a thick file (or more than one) with an official assessment of my level of threat to the United States. That made my entertainment needs a matter of national security, and part of Mom’s job, right?
In short, Uncle Sam owed me a trip downtown, but I knew I wouldn’t get to take him up on it—not that night, for sure. Continue reading Cassie: Part 4