Friday, March 14, 2008

The Seduction of Sarah Walker: A Tale of the CIA, Chapter 3: "The Sparrow School"

Okay, I will admit that in this chapter I may have pandered to the immature male psyche just a little bit. However, I felt like this was an important part of Sarah’s story.

Also, there is some mature content in this chapter. Mostly implied, but it's still there. Read on at your discretion.

* * * * *


Sarah Walker had been in training to be a deep-cover operative for five months now. She had undergone hundreds hours of classroom training for fieldcraft, training on how to drive a vehicle in an emergency situation, how to fly an aircraft in a DIRE emergency situation, and over a hundred ways to kill a man.

Her physical training had been continued with Gunny Adams. He turned out to be a much more pleasant individual in a one-on-one situation when the trainee was eager to learn. In a strange way, he reminded her a lot of her father.

Her martial arts skills had been highly refined. Several martial arts masters were in the employ of the CIA, and they had fine-tuned the skills she already had, while teaching her other skills that she didn’t even know existed.

Her language skills had been increased. She was no longer fluent in seven languages and could speak passably in seven more; instead, she was now fluent in all fourteen and was learning Mandarin.

Unfortunately, she was not looking forward to the training she would be undergoing in November of 2002. She, along with a number of other female deep cover and field agent trainees, would be attending a training program run by the CIA that was jokingly known as “The Sparrow School.”

The Sparrow School was what spy novel author Tom Clancy had dubbed a certain school within the training program for the defunct Soviet Bureau for State Security, otherwise known as the KGB. The role of the Sparrow School was to train KGB agents in the art of sexually manipulating individuals in order to further their mission.

And that was precisely what the “Sparrow School” in Monterrey, California, did. The top deep cover and field agents, those who were expected to draw the most advanced assignments, were sent to the program.

For Sarah, of course, even though her sexual addiction was part of a person that no longer existed, it was still very, very real for her. She knew that the only way to keep that from re-awakening was to shut her mind off during the training, become completely inured to sex. This prospect in itself concerned her, because she was afraid she would lose the capacity for the emotional intimacy that went with a sexual relationship, and she wanted to actually have a worthwhile relationship with somebody SOMEDAY.

The school trained both male and female agents, but never at the same time. At any given time, the population of the school would be made up of the trainees of one gender. The staff of the school were a group made up of both genders, all of whom – from the housekeeping staff to the program director – were Agency employees who had volunteered with the knowledge that they might become a mark for seduction. The idea of the school was to teach the agent to seduce anybody, either gender, any where, at any time.

The identity of the program director was a rather unexpected shock. She introduced herself as a rather well-known adult film star, and explained that she had been training CIA agents for nearly twenty-five years. She said that since she was good at what she did, she figured she’d give it a shot in the public sector as well. She had become a millionaire in the process, but kept working for the CIA out of a sense of duty.

“In its most basic form,” the program director explained, “it’s very simple. Have any of you seen any episodes of Joss Whedon’s new show, Firefly?”

Every trainee in the room raised a hand except for Sarah. “No, Agent Walker?”

“No, ma’am. Sci-fi’s just not my cup of tea.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, within the show, there’s the concept of somebody known as a Companion. This individual’s primary objective is to be a sexual companion, but with training in intelligence gathering and fighting. Now, obviously, your primary goal as agents of the Central Intelligence Agency is to gather intelligence, but when you leave this program, you will be sexually trained in the same fashion as a so-called Companion.”

The director paused and looked around the room. “Are there any questions before we move on?”

No hands were raised.

“Very well. Let’s start off with a very basic question, and just get this out of the way first thing off the bat. How many of you have had sex?”

A quiet giggle ran through the room, as every woman there raised her hand. “Alright, how many have had more than one partner?”

A couple of hands went down. “More than two partners?”

A couple more hands went down. “More than five partners?”

Half the hands in the room went down. “More than… ten partners?”

All but three hands in the room went down. Sarah’s was one of the ones still in the air, and she could feel a warm blush moving up the back of her neck.

The director continued. “More than twenty partners?”

Sarah’s was the only hand remaining in the air, and as she realized that, she quickly pulled it down, the blush climbing the rest of the way up her head and enveloping her face completely. She battled back tears.

Seeing this, the director quickly said, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Agent Walker. I think it’s shameful how our society demonizes women who have had multiple sexual partners, when it’s considered a sign of virility in men.”

She looked around the rest of the room and continued, “Quite frankly, Agent Walker’s experience puts her at an advantage. She will likely require less training, and finish the program well before most of you, meaning she will have to endure less.”

As small a consolation as that was, it was nonetheless a ray of hope for Sarah. The sooner she got out of Monterrey, the better she would feel.

“You will each have a personal instructor,” she went on. “This instructor will teach you the art of seduction, will judge your progress, and will decide when you have completed the program. Are there any questions?”

There were none. With that, the director went outside, and when she returned, a group of women trailed behind her. They appeared to range in age from about 25 to about 40. All were dressed in black.

“These are your instructors,” she said. “You have each been paired with an instructor based on an evaluation by the Agency. Some are Agency, some are not.”

She had each of the women come forward one at a time. As each came forward, she would call off one of the trainee’s names, and they would go off within the facility to become acquainted with their instructor.

A tall, statuesque red-headed woman stepped up. “Sarah Walker,” the director called.

Sarah got up from her seat, and went forward. “Carina Hansen, DEA,” the woman said, extending her hand.

“Sarah Walker, CIA,” she responded, shaking the woman’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Agent Walker. Let’s go for a walk.”

* * * * *

The identity of Carina Hansen was to this woman what the identity Sarah Walker was to Sarah. However, she had come to fully live it. Her cover story was practically identical to her real life story – born in 1977 in Finland, came to the United States with her parents when she was a small child. An almost unpronounceable Finnish name had been changed to “Hansen”, and after watching two of her best friends die of overdoses in high school, she had decided to join the Drug Enforcement Administration to help put a stop to those types of events.

“I volunteer a month of my time every year to this program,” she explained. “It’s important to have agents with these types of abilities, and honestly, it’s really fun teaching inexperienced kids how to seduce people.”

Sarah laughed. “I am, um, far from inexperienced.”

“Is that a fact,” Carina replied. “How many sexual partners?”

Sarah held her breath for a moment. “Twenty-nine.”

“REAL-ly,” Carina breathed. “You’re right up there with me. Well, not quite, but close. Any group encounters.”

“Uh-huh,” Sarah said quietly, nodding. “There was one, but I was so drunk that I don’t remember it.”

“Ew,” Carina replied, wrinkling her nose. “I hate it when that happens. Those are the worst.”

Sarah just looked at her. “I take it you’ve had these experiences?”

“More than once, Agent Walker. I’m a big fan of sex.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

“Come on, it sounds like you are too.”

She sighed. “Not really. When I was in high school, I used sex to escape my life. Things sucked at home, and sex took my mind off of it. The thing was, I had sex and without any sort of, you know, emotional intimacy that I would get bored with one partner quickly, and move on to the next. Of those twenty-nine, twenty-six were during my last three semesters of high school.”

“Ah,” Carina said. “I stand corrected.”

“I went into counseling when I went off to college,” Sarah continued. “They told me I had developed a sexual addiction, so I pretty much quit cold turkey. I started going to group meetings – they called it Sex Anonymous, if you can believe it. I had a… a relapse, I guess, right after 9/11, with one random guy, and then, the last two were the… um, threesome I told you about, right before I dropped out of school and joined the Agency.”

Carina was quiet for a moment. “So, I’m assuming you really don’t like the idea of being here.”

Sarah laughed bitterly. “I’d be lying if I said I did.”

Carina looked at the younger woman. “Then don’t do it,” she said. “Tell the program director you can’t do this program. I’ll talk to Director Graham. There are plenty of worthwhile things for agents to do that don’t involve seduction.”

Sarah shook her head emphatically. “If I’m going to be trained, I’m going to go the whole nine yards,” she replied. “I’m not going to do a half ass job. Either I’m an agent, or I’m not. If I can’t complete this course, I don’t deserve the title of Agent.”

Carina raised her eyebrows. “You really are dedicated to this, aren’t you?”

Sarah nodded.

“Then let’s do this thing.”

* * * * *

Sarah really didn’t have the first clue about seducing somebody. Carina had to really go from the beginning. In high school, Sarah hadn’t had to really work at it – just wear a low cut blouse and a tight skirt, and the boys kind of developed a flock-and-fuck mentality.

Carina decided that Sarah needed a practical demonstration, and so she went to the motor pool and found one of the chauffeurs. She put the moves on him smooth as silk, and before Sarah knew it, Carina was dragging the chauffeur into an empty office – and making Sarah come in as well.

Sarah couldn’t believe her eyes as she watched what essentially amounted to live porn. She felt very odd watching two people have sex, live and in person, but it was like a bad car wreck – she couldn’t look away.

Afterwards, Carina made a point of one thing. “Always, always, ALWAYS convince your mark you had an orgasm,” she emphasized. “It will make them think that they’re hot shit, and they will probably tell you just about anything.”

“Oh, joy,” Sarah replied drily. “That should just be a blast.”

After a number of classroom lessons with textbooks and videos – SO much fun – and a few “practical demonstrations”, Carina informed Sarah that it was time for her to give it a shot.

Sarah had picked out her first mark days before – nobody who was anything like the chauffeur. She had decided, instead, to go for a kind of nerdy looking guy in the administrative offices.

“Why, exactly?” Carina had asked.

“Let’s think about it. A chauffeur might overhear his boss talking about something. MIGHT. But an administrative assistant is going to handle hundreds of sensitive documents, be privy to top secret information… a much better source of intelligence.”

Carina had nodded appreciatively. “You’re good, Sarah, you’re good.”

When Sarah approached the admin guy at the copier one day and started flirting with him, he almost broke down and wept for joy. Nonetheless, he did put up a bit of resistance, making Sarah work to get him into her bedroom.

When they had finished, Sarah kissed him good night and sent him on his way. As she turned around to prepare to get ready for bed, something very strange happened.

The full length mirror on the wall swung outward, and Carina stepped out.

“What. The. HELL?” Sarah asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, I have to judge you SOMEHOW,” Carina replied. “And you did well, mostly. You looked kind of bored, and you need to not look bored. You need to be completely into it. But for the first time in that sort of situation, you did pretty well.”

Carina told Sarah to be a little more ambitious for her next mark. Sarah went above and beyond ambitious. She decided to go for the department head, a CIA career man with twenty years of service who was in charge of the facility.

He was a little surprised, but pleased to be approached by one of the trainees. It took Sarah even longer with him than it had with the guy from the admin pool, but sure enough, by the end of the night, he was walking out of her bedroom with a very satisfied look on his face. He made sure to report Agent Walker’s superb performance to Agent Hansen.

“You did extremely well with the department head,” Carina informed her the next day. “In my observation of your performance, you markedly improved over the last time. You looked like you were enjoying yourself and having fun, and he said it was the best he’s ever had.”
As ambivalent as Sarah was about the whole program, that remark did please her. It was nice to be regarded as “the best.”

“Quite frankly, I think one more, and you’ll be ready to be done with the program,” Carina informed her. “But I get to pick this one.”

Sarah frowned. “How will I know who it is?”

“Simple,” Carina responded. “Your mark will meet you at the Taphead Pub, Saturday night, at 10:00. He or she will greet you with the remark, ‘How ‘bout them Packers’.”

“What?”

“As in the Green Bay Packers, Sarah. And do make sure not to actually wear any Packers gear, so that nobody says it to you on accident.”

“Right.”

* * * * *

Sarah arrived at the Taphead Pub at 9:30, wanting to get the lay of the land first – just like any good intelligence officer would. Having figured out the layout of the pub, she took a seat at the bar and got a Long Island Ice Tea.

Looking across the bar, she saw what was clearly a college-age couple – a taller, kind of nerdy, but still good-looking guy with curly brown hair, with his girlfriend, a striking brunette with nerd glasses that she somehow made look sexy. They were laughing and clearly having a good time.

That could be me, she thought. She sighed when she overheard the brunette say, “Love you Chuck,” and heard him respond, “Love you too, Jill.”

Why couldn’t that have been me? I could’ve had a normal life.

“How ‘bout them Packers?”

Sarah’s eyes widened at the voice, and she whirled on her bar stool. Carina stood behind her in a low-cut slinky black dress.

“Are you kidding me?!” Sarah hissed.

“Not at all,” the DEA agent replied. “Get to work, Agent Walker, you’re not getting this one for free.”

And so Sarah got to work, all right. Her anger made her more aggressive, and it wasn’t long until Carina Hansen was like putty in her hands.

When they began to draw lingering looks from a number of the men in the bar, she knew it was time to go. She didn’t stop on the drive back to the School, though. By the time she and Carina got back to her room, Carina was practically tearing her clothes off.

What Sarah didn’t know was that this time, the program director was behind the mirror. “Here we go,” she muttered as the door opened and the two agents practically fell into the room.

* * * * *

Three days later, Sarah Walker left the Sparrow School. She had passed with flying colors, and was certified to move on to the final stage of mission training. She was VERY happy to leave Monterrey in her rear-view mirror.

The Seduction of Sarah Walker: A Tale of the CIA, Chapter 2: "Welcome to the CIA"

As she walked out the door of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church, Beth Reynolds – SARAH WALKER! – saw a black Lincoln Towncar come around the corner and pull up in front of the church. As it rolled to a stop, the right rear door swung open.

She got into the car – and there was Art Graham, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Walker,” he said.

“Director Graham,” she replied.

“So you know who I am, yes?”

“Father O’Halloran filled me in pretty well,” Sarah said. “I have to ask, though, before anything else – what did he mean when he said he was an asset handler?”

“Simply put,” Graham stated, “it means that he is the contact for foreign agents in Boston who work for us. There’s two members of Russia’s FSB – or, if you prefer, the KGB – one French DGSE agent, and one Israeli Mossad agent, all of whom are in Boston, and all of whom are on our payroll. Father O’Halloran oversees all their operations.”

Sarah nodded. “I see. But I always thought that the CIA only did international operations.”

“That’s correct,” Director Graham replied. “Technically, this is not an operation. We have compromised several of their agents, and so they work for us, providing foreign intelligence to us, and providing false intelligence to the foreign agencies.”

“Interesting. So, is that the kind of work I’ll be doing?”

Director Graham looked shocked. “Oh, good heavens, no. You’re far too valuable for that.”

He steepled his fingers, looking over them at Sarah. “We have plans for you to be what we call a deep cover operative. This goes beyond standard field agent work. It’s why you’ve been given a different name – that is who you ‘are’, and you take on different ‘covers’ for different missions. On one mission, you may be Sarah Walker, on another mission, you may be Natasha Fatale.”

She looked back at him. “I assume I won’t be chasing down a moose and squirrel, though, sir.”

Graham smiled. “Quite right. I’m impressed that you got the Rocky and Bullwinkle reference.”

“I used to watch it on Saturday mornings with my fat- oh, god dammit.”

“Yes,” Graham said, shaking his head. “You have to completely forget everything. You have a new childhood, a new past to relearn. Now, I would imagine that something as innocuous as watching Saturday morning cartoons with your father is perfectly fine, but it needs to be part of Sarah Walker’s past.”

“Understood, sir.”

For the rest of the drive to Boston’s Logan Airport, she didn’t say much, just listening as Graham explained to her some of what was going to happen. At Logan, she boarded a private jet, with no markings save for its identification code. That jet flew her to Langley Air Force Base, where she was met by another Lincoln. This one took her to a farm in the middle of Virginia horse country.

“You’ll be staying here during your training,” the host informed her and seven other recruits who sat in the living room of the huge old farm house with her that evening. “You are free to move about the property; however, if you leave the property, you leave the CIA. If you wish to become part of this program, you must do exactly as we say.

“There is nothing planned for this evening except for dinner at 7:00 PM. After that, lights out will be at 12:00 midnight. Physical training begins at 6:30 AM; you are expected to be up and on the front lawn at that time.”

He picked up a small garbage can. “Before going to your individual rooms, please deposit your cell phones in this can.”

There were a few grumbles about that, but those recruits with phones complied. Sarah didn’t have a cell phone, so it wasn’t a problem for her.

In her assigned room, she was shocked to discover not only her laptop computer, but all of her books and her entire wardrobe. There was no Internet connection for the computer, but she was still pleased to have it.

Dinner that night wasn’t very impressive, but it was edible, and it was filling. Sarah was in bed, asleep, by 10:00 PM – the earliest she had fallen asleep in months.

She woke at 5:30 the next morning, went to the kitchen, and had a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. By 6:00 AM, she was on the front lawn, doing martial arts exercises to stretch and warm up.

By 6:30 AM, all seven of the other recruits had joined her. They were dressed in a variety of different outfits – tracksuits, basketball shorts, workout clothes. As a result, when the man in battle dress uniform walked into the morning sunlight on the front lawn, he stood out.

“Good morning, recruits,” the house host said. “This is Gunnery Sergeant Martin Adams. He is a twenty-two year veteran of the United States Marine Corps, and is a drill sergeant at MCRD Parris Island. Gunny?”

“GOOD MORNING, RECRUITS,” the man boomed. “We don’t have much time, so I’m going to give you the quick and dirty version of the procedures that you will follow while under my command. When I say, ‘Good morning, recruits,’ you will respond with, ‘Good morning, drill sergeant, sir!’ So, Good morning, recruits!”

“Good morning, drill sergeant, sir!”

“That was pathetic! GOOD MORNING RECRUITS!”

“GOOD MORNING, DRILL SERGEANT, SIR!”

“Better, but still weak. When I give you an order, you will respond, ‘Yes, drill sergeant, sir!’ When you speak to me, your sentences will begin with ‘sir’ and end with ‘sir.’ Is that clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

“You learn quickly! Now, let me make something clear. If you think you’ve seen Marine Corps boot camp because you’ve watched Full Metal Jacket, then you have another think coming! I will make Drill Sergeant Hartman look like a god damn pansy! Is that clear?!”

“SIR, YES, SIR!”

“Good! Now let’s see what kind of pathetic group of losers we have here!”

He stepped in front of the first recruit, a Latino man who looked to be two or three years older than Sarah.

“Recruit Alberto Juarez!”

“SIR, YES, SIR!”

“Why do you want to be in the Central Intelligence Agency, Mr. Juarez?”

“Sir, I want to prevent another 9/11, sir!”

“Oh really. And do you plan to do that by your god damn self?”

“Sir?”

“Don’t just sir me! You tell me right now, do you plan to go into Afghanistan, and find Osama Bin Laden by yourself, or will you be part of a larger good?!”

“Sir, I wish to be part of the larger good, sir!”

“Then stop being such a selfish son of a bitch, Juarez! Your goal should not be to prevent another 9/11, your goal should be to work with this country to make it safer! Do I make myself god damn clear?!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Gunny Adams moved down the line, similarly interrogating each of the recruits. When he came to Sarah, his eyes were almost even with hers – he was only about half an inch taller than her.

“Recruit Beth Reynolds!”

She didn’t say a word.

“RECRUIT BETH REYNOLDS!”

Sarah remained silent.

“GODDAMMIT, RECRUIT, SAY SOMETHING!”

“Sir, I am not Beth Reynolds, sir!”

“LIKE FUCKING HELL YOU’RE NOT BETH REYNOLDS! I’VE SEEN YOUR FILE, I’VE SEEN YOUR PICTURE!”

“Sir, my name is Sarah Walker, sir.”

“BULLSHIT! YOUR NAME IS BETH REYNOLDS! SAY IT! TELL ME THAT YOUR NAME IS BETH REYNOLDS!”

“Sir, I can’t do that, sir, because it would be untrue, sir.”

“GOD DAMMIT, REYNOLDS, GET YOUR ASS ON THE GROUND AND START DOING PUSH-UPS! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE GET UP UNTIL I TELL YOU TO STOP!”

Sarah didn’t move. She just remained standing, staring into the drill sergeants eyes.

“REYNOLDS, IF YOU DON’T GET ON THE GROUND RIGHT FUCKING NOW, YOU’RE GOING TO BE BREATHING THROUGH A GOD DAMN HOSE!”

“Sir, I am not Beth Reynolds, sir.”

Adams moved faster than a snake. His left fist flashed upwards, catching Sarah under the chin and knocking her to the ground. Stunned, she lay there for a moment, aware of Adams moving to stand over her.

“GET UP, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! GET UP, AND SAY THE WORDS, ‘SIR, MY NAME IS BETH REYNOLDS, SIR!’”

Sarah just lay silently on the ground for a moment, collecting her breath.

“GODDAMMIT, REYNOLDS! I WILL DESTR-“

She moved swiftly, faster even than Adams had when he punched her. Sarah used her arms to propel herself off the ground, using years of various martial arts trainings to sweep Adams off his feet with the movement of just her left leg. He tried to correct his fall, but Sarah kicked out with her right foot, hearing bone snap as she made contact with his arm.

Adams hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. He lay there, sucking in oxygen, cradling his left arm, as Sarah got to her feet. Murder in her eyes, she stared down at him.

“Sir. My name is SARAH WALKER. SIR.”

“That’s enough!”

The now-familiar voice of Director Graham floated across the front lawn. The eight recruits snapped to attention, including Sarah. Behind her, Gunny Adams groaned as he struggled to his feet.

“You all, every single one of you, just failed,” Director Graham said, a note of irritation in his voice.

“Except for Sarah Walker. She was the only one who did not respond to a name that no longer exists. She refused to answer to that name, instead maintaining her cover.

“A deep cover operative must be able to maintain his or her cover, no matter the circumstances. From what I saw here, the only one of you with the ability to do that is Ms. Walker.

“The other seven of you will be escorted from here back to the Langley Training Facility. You still have the opportunity to become field agents; however, it is a serious mark against you to be dismissed from this training program.”

Director Graham paused. “Thank you for your time. You’re dismissed.”

They all headed for the house, seven with looks of shock on their faces, and Sarah trying desperately not to smile. “Ms. Walker!” Director Graham called, stopping her.

She stopped and turned to face him, as he walked toward her. Gunny Adams walked behind him, gingerly cradling his arm.

“I don’t want to compliment you too much, but that was a very impressive display,” Graham said. “However, I would recommend a little less force in the future.”

Sarah grimaced and looked at Adams. “I’m sorry about the arm, sir.”

He waved off the apology with his good hand. “I should’ve been prepared,” he replied. “But then, so should have you been prepared when I punched you. Let that be a lesson.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He looked at her with an appraising eye. “I think you’d make a good Marine, Walker.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Graham chuckled. “Don’t you dare, Adams. Go have the host take you to get that arm taken care of, and stop trying to steal Agent Walker.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. Agent Walker.

Graham saw the look on her face, and interpreted it correctly. “That’s right. From this point forward, you are Agent Walker. You will answer to that title, and you will be addressed by that title. If anybody refers to by ‘Walker’ or by any other title from this point forward, you may feel free to correct them.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, I want you to understand something, Walker.”

“Agent Walker, sir.”

Graham smiled. “Of course. Agent Walker. You must understand. This was the easy part. From here on in, everything gets more difficult. I believe that you have what it takes to handle it. The question is, do you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”

Graham nodded. “Good. You’ll spend the remainder of the day here, being briefed on CIA policies and procedures by staffers who will be coming in from Langley. Tomorrow morning, you will accompany them back to Langley to begin further training. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Good,” Graham replied. “Welcome to the Central Intelligence Agency, Agent Walker.”