get going to my meeting in Georgetown.”
“Is it with that KGB guy?”
“Very good guess. You’re right.”
“Could you use some help from an intern?”
“I think I’ve got it covered.”
“It’s just—I would love to see what goes on at that meeting,” said Gilda. “It must be so fascinating.”
“It’s not like we’re going to go stake out his house.”
“Still—it’s not every day you meet a Russian spy.”
“He’s not a Russian spy anymore; he’s been on our side for some time now.”
“I know. I’d just love to meet him and learn how you find all these cool things for the museum.”
Matthew thought for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “All right, then—why not. Let’s go.”
“Oh, yay! Let me grab my bag.” As Gilda hurried to her desk to grab her handbag, she noticed a faint grimace crossing Janet’s face, as if she had just bitten into something bitter. “April isn’t going to like it,” Janet muttered.
Sitting next to Matthew Morrow in a taxi heading toward Georgetown, Gilda couldn’t help imagining that she and Matthew were partners like the FBI agents Mulder and Scully on one of her favorite shows, The X-Files.
“So what made you want to spend your summer at the Spy Museum?” Matthew asked.
“It sounded really cool,” said Gilda, immediately wishing she had come up with a more interesting response. “I mean, I thought it would be a really good opportunity to improve my tradecraft.”
“Your tradecraft?”
“You know. My spying skills.”
“Sounds like you’re really serious about becoming a spy.”
“Well, I kind of already am a spy.”
“Spies don’t usually announce themselves as spies.”
“I figured it’s okay if we’re both in the same field.”
“I’m not a spy; I’m a historian of spying.”
“Same diff.”
“It’s not the same at all.”
“I know; I was just kidding. So—what made you want to become a historian of spying?”
“Well, just think about all the untold details of history—all the events that happened because someone behind the scenes gave someone else secret information. Not to mention all the events that turned on the handling of inconclusive classified information, like the Iraq war.”
Matthew looked out the window at the embassy mansions along Massachusetts Avenue. “Besides, I like having fun at work. I used to be a teaching assistant at a university but this is way better.”
Gilda watched a sleek black car glide into the guarded entrance to the Russian Embassy.
“People who live in this neighborhood say they still get bad TV reception because of all the surveillance activity that still goes on around the Russian Embassy,” Matthew explained, following her gaze. “Not to mention the tunnel leading from the basement of a house in this neighborhood; the U.S. secretly built it when we were trying to listen in on the Russians’ conversations.”
Gilda was curious about the Russian Embassy, and she was also curious about Matthew. She knew he wasn’t married, and she had overheard Marla and April in the ladies’ room having a whispered conversation about a mutual friend who “broke his heart,” even though “he won’t admit he can’t get over it.” At the same time, Gilda found herself wondering whether Matthew and her roommate Caitlin might make a good couple. She imagined herself introducing the two of them. They would both be impressed with her for knowing such smart, successful young urbanites, and grateful to her for bringing them together. The three of them would become best friends. With this matchmaking scheme in mind, Gilda decided to learn more about Matthew’s hobbies. “So Matthew—what do you do when you’re not quizzing interns at the Spy Museum?”
“Not much,” said Matthew. “I work on some writing projects and I run at least ten miles a day. I’m probably addicted to the endorphins.”
“So what are you running from?” Gilda made a mental note to look up the
“Is it with that KGB guy?”
“Very good guess. You’re right.”
“Could you use some help from an intern?”
“I think I’ve got it covered.”
“It’s just—I would love to see what goes on at that meeting,” said Gilda. “It must be so fascinating.”
“It’s not like we’re going to go stake out his house.”
“Still—it’s not every day you meet a Russian spy.”
“He’s not a Russian spy anymore; he’s been on our side for some time now.”
“I know. I’d just love to meet him and learn how you find all these cool things for the museum.”
Matthew thought for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. “All right, then—why not. Let’s go.”
“Oh, yay! Let me grab my bag.” As Gilda hurried to her desk to grab her handbag, she noticed a faint grimace crossing Janet’s face, as if she had just bitten into something bitter. “April isn’t going to like it,” Janet muttered.
Sitting next to Matthew Morrow in a taxi heading toward Georgetown, Gilda couldn’t help imagining that she and Matthew were partners like the FBI agents Mulder and Scully on one of her favorite shows, The X-Files.
“So what made you want to spend your summer at the Spy Museum?” Matthew asked.
“It sounded really cool,” said Gilda, immediately wishing she had come up with a more interesting response. “I mean, I thought it would be a really good opportunity to improve my tradecraft.”
“Your tradecraft?”
“You know. My spying skills.”
“Sounds like you’re really serious about becoming a spy.”
“Well, I kind of already am a spy.”
“Spies don’t usually announce themselves as spies.”
“I figured it’s okay if we’re both in the same field.”
“I’m not a spy; I’m a historian of spying.”
“Same diff.”
“It’s not the same at all.”
“I know; I was just kidding. So—what made you want to become a historian of spying?”
“Well, just think about all the untold details of history—all the events that happened because someone behind the scenes gave someone else secret information. Not to mention all the events that turned on the handling of inconclusive classified information, like the Iraq war.”
Matthew looked out the window at the embassy mansions along Massachusetts Avenue. “Besides, I like having fun at work. I used to be a teaching assistant at a university but this is way better.”
Gilda watched a sleek black car glide into the guarded entrance to the Russian Embassy.
“People who live in this neighborhood say they still get bad TV reception because of all the surveillance activity that still goes on around the Russian Embassy,” Matthew explained, following her gaze. “Not to mention the tunnel leading from the basement of a house in this neighborhood; the U.S. secretly built it when we were trying to listen in on the Russians’ conversations.”
Gilda was curious about the Russian Embassy, and she was also curious about Matthew. She knew he wasn’t married, and she had overheard Marla and April in the ladies’ room having a whispered conversation about a mutual friend who “broke his heart,” even though “he won’t admit he can’t get over it.” At the same time, Gilda found herself wondering whether Matthew and her roommate Caitlin might make a good couple. She imagined herself introducing the two of them. They would both be impressed with her for knowing such smart, successful young urbanites, and grateful to her for bringing them together. The three of them would become best friends. With this matchmaking scheme in mind, Gilda decided to learn more about Matthew’s hobbies. “So Matthew—what do you do when you’re not quizzing interns at the Spy Museum?”
“Not much,” said Matthew. “I work on some writing projects and I run at least ten miles a day. I’m probably addicted to the endorphins.”
“So what are you running from?” Gilda made a mental note to look up the
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