Minute Zero by Todd Moss

Serena. “And nice to see
you
again, Dr. Ryker,” she said to Jessica before slipping out and shutting the door.
    “Serena, of course!” said Judd. “That’s how you got up here.”
    “Girls’ secret,” Jessica replied, pressing an index finger to her lips. She had put on bright red nail polish, Judd noticed.
    Then she approached Judd and gave him a delicate kiss. He closed his eyes to accept and relaxed his shoulders.
    “Very nice. Now let me take you out of here,” she said, waving her hand dismissively at his messy desk.
    “I’ve got a lot of work before my flight.”
    “It’ll be good for you to clear your head for an hour. Plus you’ve got to eat.”
    Judd nodded his assent.
    “Where do you want to go?” he asked. “There’s not much choice around here. Foggy Bottom is a food wasteland.”
    “Well, we’re not having dinner in this place,” she said emphatically.
    “So, you’ve eaten at the State Department before?”
    “No. But I’ve heard . . .”
    The couple walked out the employees-only back door of the Harry S. Truman Building, which deposited them onto Virginia Avenue. “If we walk north toward the World Bank, the restaurants get better.”
    After a few blocks, they found an intimate Italian bistro and took a quiet table at the back, out of sight. Once they had settled into their seats and ordered a bottle of red wine, Judd began, “So, any news from Papa?”
    “Nothing more than what you heard this morning. He’s still laying the groundwork for the project.”
    “Which is . . . ?”
    “Clean water retention systems. You remember I told you about it yesterday? We are infiltrating the underwater aquifers and installing new polymer tank and piping systems to enable OCSWP.”
    “Oh, right.”
    “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
    “Remind me. What’s OCSWP?”
    “Off-grid concentrated solar water purification. See, you don’t remember. Or maybe you weren’t listening.”
    “No, no, I remember. Just too many acronyms, Jess. I’m really interested. I promise. OCSWP sounds pretty cool.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Jessica warily. “Let’s change the subject. I came here to talk about you. Where are you flying to?”
    “Zimbabwe. The midnight flight to Johannesburg, then I’m catching an early connection into Harare.”
    “I see.”
    “You aren’t surprised?”
    “Nope. I saw on the news about the dead tourist. An American jumped from the bridge at Victoria Falls. How terrible. I figured that would have the State Department in a tizzy. I guess Rogerson came to his senses. The old goat finally realized he needed you.”
    “Not exactly.”
    “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”
    “The Secretary’s office air-dropped me on Rogerson’s team for this one. I’m going to Zimbabwe over his objection.”
    Jessica laughed. “That’ll teach him.”
    “I doubt he sees it that way.”
    “Look on the bright side: The Secretary of State must be genuinely worried about Zimbabwe blowing up and she knows you can be helpful. That’s great news, Judd. Powerful people are seeing the value of S/CRU. They see the value in
you
.” She raised her wineglass. “Let’s celebrate.”
    “Or someone thinks Zimbabwe is going down in flames and they want to lay this disaster on me,” Judd said. Jessica dropped her arm. “There’s a good chance this is a cover-your-ass disaster dump,” Judd explained.
    “So own the disaster.” Jessica shrugged. “Show them. I don’t see you have much choice. Seize it.”
    “I know. I need a big win. The budget is being cut and the Crisis Reaction Unit is vulnerable. Zimbabwe could be do-or-die for S/CRU.”
    “So it’s sink or swim,” Jessica said.
    “Yep.”
    “Fish or cut bait.”
    “Yes, that’s it.”
    “Shit or get off the pot.”
    “All right already! I get it, Jess.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “I’ve been working on some new cutting-edge data analysis. I’ve got radical ideas for transforming U.S. strategies