CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Winning Side
The Asp called Sherwood into his office. “You and Jenner have pulled it off. I’ll admit I had some doubts about anybody being able to handle that job on such a short fuse. But Dagger was done under budget and met every spec, and all in fifteen months.” He considered his pipe rack and chose just the right pipe for this conversation. He offered his tobacco pouch to Sherwood who removed his own pipe from his pocket.
“You both have fine futures at COPE, and I can recommend you highly for whatever positions you might want. Whatever you do, I’m sure COPE will benefit. I’d be very happy, of course, if you’d choose to stay on here in Dorsal Fin, however COPE encourages its brightest people to get exposure to diverse areas. There are other projects within Dorsal Fin …” He drew in a river of smoke and mixed it with the rest of his sentence. “… or even Shark Bait, where you would be most welcome. I talked with Jenner a few minutes ago, and she’s decided to stay with me for another year or so.”
Sherwood held his pipe in his hand, not wishing to compete with the Asp. If I could only work with a spider on a mission, he thought. “Project Dagger,” he trolled, looking squarely at the Asp, “has given me insight into COPE that few have experienced.”
“The every-day missions for a spider,” the Asp parried, “might elude someone with a zealous imagination such as yourself. I hope you’re not jumping to conclusions about its utility.”
Sherwood’s gaze met the ASP’s on a silent battlefield. “Yes. I understand,” he finally replied. Another period of silence matured as both men analyzed each others eyes and telltale lines in their faces for signs of weakness, for cracks through which some personal inference could be drawn.
Sherwood said, “I made the move with COPE to this new headquarters originally in hopes of working my way into a field assignment. The electrical engineering degree that COPE allowed me to pursue seemed to complement the electronics devices I built when I was younger. It also seemed to be an excellent way to raise myself from the menial jobs I held with COPE earlier in my career. In retrospect, it seems to have been a fortuitous choice since I ended up right in the middle of some very exciting and challenging programs.” He put the pipe to his lips while studying the Asp.
“Your performance in Dagger was most gratifying,” the Asp responded. “You’ve shown excellent commitment to COPE and the ability to work effectively under pressure. But most important, you’ve shown intuition—the ability to choose the best alternative. I think you have an excellent career ahead of you, whether you stay in engineering or move into the field.”
“Thank you for your praise, sir. I have given some thought to the direction I wish to go, and I think field work would be best for me.” With spiders, he added to himself.
“Most of the investigative work COPE does is fairly routine,” said the Asp, “the stuff that produces those boring reports in the newspapers and the endless personal-history data on millions of Americans. There are some positions in the field, though, that might be exactly what you’re looking for. Each of the two major parties has about a dozen regional offices. Attached to each office is at least one COPE Liaison Officer who effectively works directly for the Regional Director of the party. In reality, these liaison officers are on the COPE payroll, but for appearance sake, they’re party employees with titles like Special Assignment Manager. COPE found that investigative activities were more efficiently performed and publicly less onerous when carried out in the field from within the party at the regional level.”
Sherwood devoured every word and said, “So the party is actually a platform from which to perform investigations. But who is being investigated?”
“Anyone who might be a threat to the political freedoms of Americans. And the duties occasionally go beyond just investigation and data gathering. The liaison officer is sometimes called upon to work closely with our enforcement division.” He paused. “So it isn’t a place for pansies.”
Now Sherwood was riveted on the Asp, although he fought to give no outward appearance of his building passion.
“I believe you may go far in a COPE field assignment,” the Asp said to his protégé. “Since it’s viewed by many as a steppingstone position, there’s a frequent enough turn over in these positions that several openings come up every year. It’s actually an excellent place for someone with strong analytical talents and an interest in investigation. How does it sound to you, Sherwood?”
“I can handle it, sir.”
“In that case, you’ll probably need some grooming for the position. Your background in political science may be incomplete, but that can be easily mediated by a stint at the COPE Institute. After six months of intensive training in the history, theory, and reality of politics, someone as bright as yourself would appear to have spent a long career in the political arena.”
Sherwood enthusiastically grasped the opportunity and opted for the training, which he knew, would lead him to the cloak-and-dagger world of a field investigator. Just as he’d chosen engineering as a way to advance in the high tech world of COPE, he embraced this new opportunity to get closer to his ultimate niche.
But he dreamed of more than agents, hidden cameras, and blackmail. He had spiders on his mind. He had spent thousands of hours molding spiders into an image he fantasized for himself. He admired their strength and swiftness, their powers of memory and focus, their sensitivity to the most subtle disclosure. But most of all he revered their mastery of intimidation and prowess at homicide. He fantasized having his own spider. I may yet end up a real spy, he thought, and on the winning side.