After a few more moments of contemplation Wade felt Jenkins had been dismissive, and that fact didn’t sit well. Perhaps Jenkins’ demeanor was a way of preparing Wade for bad news. At least he was going to tell him in person rather than over the phone. Wade wondered if there was anything he could do to prepare for the meeting.
Wade began to assume the worst and prepared himself in advance for an unwelcome response. Time in the swamp had allowed him to focus on a Plan B option, which was what kept him going. Just knowing there was a Plan B anchored him. If I can get the Navy to do my shoulder surgery and rehab, it would give me at least another twelve months before they could deploy me for undersea service.
He kept reciting his Plan B option to himself. It wasn’t that bad. Everything was going to be just fine. The Plan B alternative wasn’t ideal, but neither was deploying for sea duty in the next six months, or staying in New Orleans. Under Plan B, assuming he could avoid being seen by the mob in New Orleans, perhaps he could go to an out-of-state college and have the Navy do his surgery. This would give him another year before he could be called to sea duty.
He might even call back Commander Benson and take Captain Hodges’ offer. Perhaps college was not going to happen for Wade right now. Regardless of how events turned out, though, he couldn’t stay in New Orleans any longer. Wade kept his affirmations positive: Everything is going to work out fine.
At the last meeting, Wade had presented Jenkins with a detailed outline of what he wanted in order to work for the Intelligence Agency. He felt the outline was fair to both parties, while capturing what he needed in order to be part of the dangerous world of intelligence work.
But proposals were behind him now. He didn’t know if he would even have the chance to respond to Jenkins’ questions, assuming he had any. At this point everything was in the government’s hands, and they controlled the rules of hire. Jenkins would unfortunately be the only “government” in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
The Wave Restaurant was set back from the road, nestled in the corner of an oyster shell lot across the water inlet from the lighthouse where West End turned into the yacht club.
Jenkins and Hanna arrived at the same time and proceeded to an isolated table at the back of the largely-empty restaurant. The heavily nautical motif emphasized seafood but also life under the sea — an environment Wade was trying to forget.
Images of sharks and undersea plant life seemed real behind the polished brass portholes lining the wall. The underwater scene made you feel you were looking out from a sunken ship’s hull. Several large aquariums with colorful fish complemented the wall décor, suggesting guests might be swimming with the fishes.
Thoughts of his near-death undersea experience caused Wade to wonder if Jenkins had purposely selected the restaurant for its subliminal messages. The undersea images did seem to have some effect on Wade as he fought flashbacks of his Prowfish experience.
Seafood gumbo was the house specialty, and both men ordered a large bowl. The waitress first brought freshly-baked French bread. Both men reached for slices before the waitress’s basket rested on the table between them.
Jenkins seemed sullen and unusually quiet, giving no indication of the government’s position or how this discussion would proceed. His stoic posture suggested there would be no celebration at this meal. Wade thought he would break the ice with some small talk. He knew Jenkins’ travel schedule must be grueling and thought the subject might conjure easy stories to share.
“Do you travel much?”
“A bit.”
“Where do you normally travel?”
“All over.”
Jenkins wasn’t in a sharing mood. They finished the rest of their delicious gumbo in silence before Jenkins stiffened his posture even further. Caught off guard by this new “official posture,” Wade wondered what he was about to say.
The stiffened posture projected bureaucratic authority, which seemed a bit misplaced in the dark corner of an almost-empty restaurant. The only audience was Wade and perhaps a passing waitress, so it was hardly the place for a public announcement.
Jenkins cleared his throat several times, calling attention to his uncomfortably erect posture.
“I think we should get this meeting started.”
With that announcement, Wade expected to hear a drum roll, but there was no drummer in sight. He couldn’t figure out what the hell Jenkins had in mind and why he thought it was necessary to give a formal announcement that the meeting was starting. What are all the theatrics about?
Instead of speaking, Jenkins pulled some papers from his briefcase as though he were testifying before a congressional hearing. Positioning the documents upright, Jenkins created a white paper wall between himself and Wade. For some reason he held the papers as if to discourage Wade from grabbing them. The thought of reaching for the documents hadn’t even occurred to Wade.
The last expression on Jenkins’ face was resolute as he disappeared behind his newly constructed paper wall. Jenkins read in silence, clearing his throat every few minutes as a reminder of his importance.
After a long silence Jenkins finally lowered the paper wall. He stared into the empty restaurant as though trying to reconcile some complex legal dilemma in the text. Wade waited patiently, focusing on the tableware.
Wade wasn’t about to give Jenkins the satisfaction of showing either anticipation or fear, although both were crossing his mind at the same time. For the third time he smiled and craned his head toward the cute waitress checking silverware placement at empty tables.
Jenkins was either having fun at his expense or was enjoying the importance of his own power for some perverse reason. Perhaps the old bureaucrat was making the best of the remaining few authoritarian roles he had left in an otherwise thankless career.
For no obvious reason, and without further dramatics, Jenkins broke the silence.
“I have good news to report. The government has accepted your proposal as written.”
With Jenkins’ long-awaited comment Wade offered a guarded smile. He stifled a happy cry and hid the frustration Jenkins had just put him through.
Wade simply responded, “I’m pleased the government found my position acceptable. What’s next?”
After reshuffling papers in his hand, Jenkins answered while handing Wade several typed pages. “I have a draft employment contract for you to consider. Your outline is attached as Exhibit A to the contract. Please take a moment to review the agreement and take whatever time you need to have your attorney review it.”
The agreement had been prepared in detailed legalese. To Wade it sounded both governmental and official, and after quickly reviewing the document, he looked up at Jenkins.
“I understand most of this, but I’m going to have our family attorney check it over.”
“You can have your attorney call me with any questions. If I don’t have the answer, I’ll have someone from our legal department get back to him.”
Wade sat back in disbelief. It finally sank in that despite all his fears, his Plan A had succeeded. This meant he would soon be employed by the Agency, his college education costs covered, his complicated shoulder surgery paid for, and he would receive his intelligence training — and all of this out of town and out of reach of the New Orleans mob.
Outwardly Wade maintained his reserved demeanor with Jenkins. A few questions were asked and answered about certain paragraphs referencing training locations and dates.
“If there’s anything vague in timing or schedules, it’ll have to be worked out as you move forward in the program.”