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The Agent

Lawrence McKinley got off the metro train at the Pentagon City Metro station. At 9:00 Am, he could already smell the wood-burning oven from Matchbox, figured that's where he will go for lunch. Walking past the Ritz Carlton hotel and over to the street island across from the Nordstrom entrance, Lawrence saw his colleague Alex Smith sitting under the gazebo-like honing. At first glance, you would probably pass him up for some homeless person. But, he was actually one of the many sentries guarding the entrance. 

Lawrence gave him a nod and faced the concrete basin at the far side of the honing. As he knocked on the brick, the keypad emerged. Entering his code, and the door unlocked, opening up to a long staircase leading downwards. He was always amazed at how people take the world they see for granted. The door closed behind him as the dark hallway illuminated with green fluorescent lighting. No one looking would have ever seen Lawrence enter or exit. In fact, to the world, there is no record of him. That was the way it was supposed to work. 

After entering his credentials, the second steel door opened up. The place was busy as usual. The latest assignment from Moscow just came in, just another day at the office, he thought to himself.

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