Field Piece: the Complete Series

Field Piece, The Complete Series, By Daniel D. Ferry

I finally recognized I was drowsing off after I’d proofread the same paragraph of my  report over and over again without the least bit of comprehension.  Outside the temperature had climbed to ninety degrees, somewhat unusual for early June in the nation’s capital.

Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I stood up and looked out the window at a steaming Washington, D.C., then stretched and yawned loudly.  With a frown I pulled one of my visitor chairs underneath the air conditioning vent and stepped up to hold a tissue near it.  Lukewarm air wheezed out of the greasy holes and barely disturbed the tissue.  I had called maintenance several times already about the problem, and I suspected by now they had a check next to my name that meant “ignore all complaints from Steve Walker.”

The only way I was going to make it through the afternoon was to get some caffeine.  I jumped off the chair and took the back stairs down one flight to the third floor and got a can of Coke out of the small refrigerator with a computer-printed sign that said “Jake’s Treats.”  I didn’t know Jake, but he charged less than the vending machines, and we all appreciated his efforts to keep the refrigerator stocked with sodas and candy bars.  My pockets were empty of change, so I tossed a dollar into the open box of coins and retrieved two quarters.

On the way back to my office I took the front stairs, planning to stop at the offices of some co-workers and chat.  This was somewhat of a ritual with me, Cokes and visiting, and by the time I made it back to my own office I’d be finished with the Coke and ready to start in again on my report.

The door to the front stairs opened right next to the desk of Kathy, my boss Rob Cromwell’s secretary, and she was there, typing away.  Kathy had the finely chiseled face of a soap opera star and her personality made her seem even prettier.  From past experience I knew she would be willing to drop whatever she was doing and talk for a while, so I popped open the Coke and started to complain about the air conditioning in my wing.  At this end of the building the air conditioning seemed to be working too well, and there was a chill in the air.

I’d barely got a sentence out when I heard my boss’s raised voice from his office.  “Steve, I need you in here.”

I rolled my eyes at Kathy, who smiled indulgently and went back to her typing, and I turned around to go into Rob’s office.  The engraved sign next to his door read “Robert John Cromwell.”  Rob tried to live up to the reputation of his distant relative Oliver Cromwell by running the State Department Bureau of Intelligence and Research with an iron hand, but Rob and I had worked together several times in the field, and I knew that he was mostly gruff voice and heart of gold.  We had attained the same grade level, but Rob elected the management track instead of fieldwork, which was why I was now working for him.

I started to sit down but he gestured at the door.  I swung it shut. “God, I hate these closed-door meetings.  I hope to hell we’re not going to lose more people.”  I sat down in the visitor chair and put my feet up on his desk.  He was used to me doing that and ignored it.

He opened his right desk drawer and pulled out his pipe and started filling it with his own special blend of four tobaccos.  Technically no one was allowed to smoke in the building, even in his own office, but the rules were overlooked in the case of certain senior officials such as Rob.  He took his time, tamping down the tobacco in the bowl and flicking the flint on his old, worn, stainless steel Zippo lighter.  The flame wavered and caught, and then he sucked it into the bowl.  Clouds of blue smoke began to spread out from him as he put the lighter away in his suit coat pocket and leaned back in his chair, which creaked with his weight.  Rob and I were the same height, and he filled the chair at his weight of two-fifty.  His shirt buttons strained when he leaned back.

“When was the last time you were in Iran?”

“You know I haven’t been there since I was six.”

“How’s your Farsi?”

“Pretty good.”  He knew very well that for the last two years in my spare time I’d been teaching Advanced Farsi at the Middle East Institute on N Street.

“How about your Arabic?”

“Passable.”

“Huh.  How would you like to go back to Tehran?”

Field Piece, The Complete Series on Amazon USir?t=lauobraut 20&l=as2&o=1&a=B00EB3F2RS or Field Piece, The Complete Series on Amazon UKir?t=lpcrwr 21&l=as2&o=2&a=B00EB3F2RS

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2 Comments

  1. Frank Maguire

    It is an interesting start but I don’t have the option of reading much as I write such a lot myself.

  2. Dan Ferry

    “Field Piece” special pricing $1.99/£1.99 in US/UK Kindle Store until November 17

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