Disclosure

The coffee wasn't that good, but we were permitted a break for a cup and so we tended to linger over it in order to avoid having to go back to work.

There was a tendency to swap stories over coffee because stories take time and you can't both talk and drink your coffee.  

The stories we told on ourselves and on people we knew were lifesavers.  They reconnected us with the world and reminded us that there was a life before we got to this place and, with any luck, we might get back to it.

We burned through the stories about kids, wives and girlfriends right away.  If you spent too much time thinking about that stuff then you'd never get out.  Those are the stories that are easiest to tell and the ones that can do the most damage.

Third party stories are best, that way you can all laugh at somebody else.  Our situation might be for shit, but at least we're not THAT guy.

We also told jokes, all the jokes we knew.  It's surprising how little it takes for ordinary, decent people to get to some pretty disgusting jokes.  It's like they've been saving them up, perfecting them.  They get hung up on the precision of a one-liner, but immerse themselves in the gratuitous details of the dirty joke.

Ramirez passed the Talking Stick to me and I froze.

The room fell silent and I could feel all eyes on me.

If I didn't say something then there was no reason not to go back to work.

Staff had noticed the lull in conversation and were stirring from their perimeter positions.  In a moment, they would be rousting us out of our chairs and forming us up to head back down to our workstations.

I had to say something, but what?

They told us at the briefing there were undercovers in our group who were just waiting for a bit of marketable intel so they could report us out.

I knew enough to know that by transferring me here, they knew more about me than my cover legend.  This was where they brought serious people.

Anything that came out of my mouth was going to be checked against what they knew, or thought they knew, about me.

I played for time by swirling the contents of my cup and watching the fine grounds climb up the inner walls.

What could I say?

What had I already said?

I had asked for this assignment and right then I couldn't remember why.  I couldn't remember how long I'd been there.  It's surprising how big a difference a little thing like a window can make.

I tried to console myself with the idea that the cavalry was coming, but I didn't know when.

And then I couldn't remember how.  How were they going to come?  Was I supposed to get word to them when it was time?  I didn't remember any signal.

This was the kind of thing that Phelps was good at.  He would know what to do and when to do it.

Wait.

The staff member over there..., isn't it...?  It can't be....  Has he been here all along?

I put down the Talking Stick, picked up my coffee and drained it.

It wasn't very good.