So I rode every Friday and Saturday, into the night. In the early evenings it was its own form of torture, trains filled with people rushing to or from parties or whatever. The couples were the worst, smiling and giggling in the corners, reminding me.I brought books and used them as shields. Mark Twain would keep me preoccupied until the crowds had gone and it was just me and the night and the empty tunnels of the subway.Until that night.It was a Saturday. I got a seat next to the door and tried to hide behind my book, but the noise of the crowd sometimes distracted me; snatches of conversations, laughter. I looked up once and saw a young couple kissing as they boarded, and I'm afraid I cried a little.As my eyes slid back to my book, I saw to my embarrassment that someone had noticed me.She was about 20, I'd guess. Tall, or at least taller than me. A long oval face framed by a savage sweep of streaked blonde hair that clung tightly to the sides of head and then swept away just as it. As soon as I arrived at my office I contacted the Treasury IG and asked him to look into the causes for the four of us being audited.By the end of the day I still hadn't heard a thing.Two days later he called back. It turns out that the IRS is almost as independent an operation as my own department. They have the power to go after pretty much anyone they want, for reasons known only to themselves. The Treasury IG couldn't even find out what their justification for auditing the four of us was.In the eight years that I'd worked at the CIA my salary had increased once a year; the traditional annual GS wage increase. By the time we received the audit notifications I was making just under two hundred thousand a year. That sounds like a lot, and I suppose compared to what I made while in the Army it was. But consider this; we lived in one of the more expensive areas of the country, we paid to put Peggy thru college and Vet school out of our own money, we had four children to raise, a home.
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