Patsy’s on Fifty-Sixth Street was a simple but comfortable Italian restaurant often frequented by high-profile people. It had been family-owned for two generations. The inviting smell of sauce and cheese enveloped a quarter-block area in a sweet, invisible vapor. Patsy decorated the interior to imitate stereotype Italian restaurants. Red and white linen tablecloths covered the ancient wooden tables. A chianti wine bottle, complete with requisite candle, graced the middle of each table. Paintings of the Italian countryside and autographed photos of famous film and sports celebrities who had enjoyed Patsy’s cooking covered the walls.
Gabriella wore a simple form-hugging below-the-knee white skirt. Her black sleeveless low-neck blouse complimented her golden hair and her figure. She appeared taller than her five-foot eight-inch frame as she walked towards Lance. The black closed-toe stiletto heel shoes made a soft tapping noise on the hard floor with every step. The narrow ankle straps added a sense of sexuality.
Lance whistled softly as she approached.
“So, what’s good for dinner here?” Gabriella asked as she gave Lance a quick air-hug.
“The veal parmigiana is absolutely the best in the city, Gabriella. You must try some.”
Lance flagged down a waiter. “I’ll have a bourbon, neat, and the lady will have a Moscato.”
The waiter nodded and was off.
“You didn’t ask me what I wanted, Lance.”
“I’m sorry. I thought since it was what you ordered the last time, it would be your choice for dinner tonight, too.”
“So, you’ve never been married. Right?” Condescension was clear in her voice.
“Well, no, Gabriella. I haven’t, but why did you ask that now. It seems out of place.” Lance’s eyes narrowed as he pulled back from her.
“It isn’t out of place, but it was rude of me to probe. Forgive me?” Gabriella asked.
“Sure, but I still don’t get how you got to that statement.”
“So, what’s new at work?” Gabriella said, changing the subject. “I don’t know what you do for the Army, other than give orders and do your end-arounds. I think Ralph once mentioned his boss was head of an analysis group. That would be you. What does your group analyze?”
“He did, huh? It’s okay, it’s not quite an analysis group, although we do a lot of analysis. You do it too on your job, right?’
The waiter came carrying drinks and asked if they selected a dish. He thanked them for their veal parmigiana order and walked off toward the kitchen.
“As I was saying, yes, I do, Lance, but it’s dull and similar to a cooking class. Mix stuff and see what comes out,” she said with her best attempt at being charming. It was working.
Lance’s eyes softened as he relaxed.
“You must use computers a lot at work then, to do the analysis I mean. Did you write your own programming for it or do you use an off-the-shelf package,” Gabriella gently probed again.
“Oh, we can’t use ready-made packages. We develop everything in-house. It’s all proprietary and works better than the programming even research colleges can build. We have more development money. It’s complex and can crunch huge amounts of data.”
“In my lab,” Gabriella said, “we have a lot of data to crunch, but it all comes from inside the lab. Our departments send the data to the programmers and analysts. Do people send in their data for you to analyze?”
“Good question,” Lance said, getting ready to throw out more bait. “Most send in the data, but sometimes we have to reach out to get it ourselves.”
Gabriella laughed. “To an uninformed person such as myself, it almost sounds like hacking and industrial espionage. I’m sure it’s light-years away from cyber-crimes, though.”
“To us, yes it is,” said Lance, setting his hook.
The waiter delivered their dinners. “Gosh, that was fast,” admired Gabriella.
“Yes, ma’am,” the waiter said. “We try. Will there be anything else?”
Lance raised his empty drink glass. “I’d like another bourbon, neat again. Would you like another, Gabriella?”
“No, thank you. One drink is enough for me,” Gabriella said warily. The waiter left their table.
“So, as I was saying,” Lance continued, “sometimes we have to reach out and help ourselves. Our programmers are excellent at what they do. Most security systems are not very robust.”
Gabriella frowned.
“Look,” said Lance, “I can see it concerns you, but think of it this way: the Army needs the information to keep the nation safe. If the data is not readily available, we have a sworn duty to find a way to get it.”
“Whatever it takes?” asked Gabriella.
“Whatever it takes,” answered Lance. “But our dinner is here. I’d rather not get into shop talk too deeply. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
“I’m all for it, Lance.”
That information came too easily. Did I play him, or did he play me?
Lance ordered two more bourbons after dinner.
Gabriella saw the trend line of their date going downhill.
“Gabriella, you are an amazing woman. You are smarter than most. It would be a lot of fun to tell you more about what I do for the army. Who knows, what we do may even affect you. Never can tell.”
“I’m always ready to listen. Your work sounds fascinating.”
“It is, Gabriella,” Lance said, a slight slur in his voice. “You would love it.”
“I’m sure I would. Tell me more. The night is still young.” Looks like the booze has loosened him up. This could be my chance to get some dirt on him.
“Great,” said Lance, enthusiastically gesturing outward with both hands. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk freely. I don’t live far from here. How about my place?”
“Ah, sure. I guess so. We could go to your place to talk.”
Lance put his hand on Gabriella’s derriere as they walked outside.
Gabriella flinched in revulsion. Okay. The orders were to do whatever I had to do to get information from him.
They stood on the curb as Lance raised his arm to hail a cab.
Thoughts of Paul and Alexi flashed through her mind. Paul said he had to be morally straight to serve as an example for Alexi, even when no one was watching or would ever know. He wouldn’t live a double life. Love doesn’t do that.
Lance lowered his arm and put his hand on Gabriella’s side. He ran it up and down her blouse between her hip and arm.
She turned to Lance, “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Things have changed in my life. I just can’t do this.”
Gabriella jumped into the cab that was pulling to the curb. “Lance, I’m so sorry. I hope you can understand and forgive me.” The taxi whisked her away alone.
Lance stood at the curb and watched her disappear around the next corner. “You’re not as sorry as you will be, droid-lady. Nobody turns down Lance Coopers!”