Spies of Sochi

Chapter one: The Interview

Lieutenant Shawn Holten awaited in the luxurious waiting room in Langley, Virginia. He was sure to get something, East Germany, Warsaw, or maybe even the "bear" itself, the Soviet Union. He graduated Annapolis with a degree in Naval Intelligence, so he was well qualified. He spent 3 years in NIS, Not to mention six years in the Navy as an MP and Gunnar onboard a destroyer, so he had the experience, the training, and the compitence. He sat, looking over his paper work to make sure it was all there. OPSEC, Health and Safety, Background Check, Spousal History; and the actual application, which included income, military history, and other tedious information. He stirred him self some tea from the small bags at the end table.

Then his name came,

"Holten" A man in a US Marine Corps uniform called.

The star on his shoulder told him that he was a Brigadier General, an o-7. Upon entering, he noticed the stunning cleverness. His eyes were strait, always looking at the person, he evidently had no trouble with confrontation. His uniform was perfectly groomed, it had no wrinkles around the third button down, meaning, that this man was not lazy, he buttoned and unbuttoned his clothing all the way, Holten could tell from this that he was usually on time to get home, he got his work done ahead of time, and had plenty of energy when he got home, probably stayed up an hour after arriving. He comprehended this in a matter of milliseconds. Thinking over any plausible information to show off and increase his chances of getting deployed. But before he could say a word. The General gave some deductions of his own. Holten's eyes wandered nervously, he quickly realized his mistake and corrected to avoid being read.

"So, how're you doing today?" He asked.

"Outstanding sir!" Holten replied out of habit.

Though, they weren't in a military environment, the habit of seven standard responses stuck for anyone with leaves, birds, or stars on their shoulders.

"Your nervous about the odds of getting this job, your avoiding eye contact because you are trying to act as though your trying not to read me; but you already have, and are looking at books, pictures, and style for possible hints or tells about me." Said the General.

"You can see how well that's working?" Holten commented.

The shelves had only what Uncle Sam issued and no more. The only pictures were on his desk.

He was used to clever people, but never ones who caught things that subtle.

"So, what have you got on me?" The man asked.

Holten responded confidently, "Well. your uniform told me most of it, every night, you stay up just over two hours. Your wife is awake most of the time, but as with all things, not always, You iron your uniform in the mornings, not the nighttime, because you find it cold after getting out of the shower. You drive here in your own car, which has a tight

clutch, a four speed gearbox, and nylon seats."

"How do you know, I want to be sure that you didn't just see my car of something." He responded with playful suspicion.

"Your left leg is farther extended then your right, indicating you drive a manual car with a tight clutch pedal, Nylon seats because your pants were scrunched slightly, and all the chairs here are leather, which is more slippery than grippy. I know you iron your uniform in the morning because of the absence of wrinkles on the upper sleeves which would indicate being on a hangar for long periods of time without being ironed. And four speed gearbox was a balance of probability based on what most large, expensive, manual, cars have."

The general reacted with pleasure. He was glad that the new operative would be capable of reading other agents and militants.

"Ok, give me your paperwork."

Holten obeyed,

"You'll most likely be hearing back from us; so, keep an eye on your mail." Said General Finch. "You seem well qualified, compitent, self diciplined, and deductive. These are qualities we need in an operative."

"Thank you sir." replied Holten.

He left with an optimistic grin on his face.