Bobby felt a cold sweat pop out across his forehead and saw the light of a torch as the man scanned the office. His beam seemed to settle on the desk for a moment then he heard muffled speech. Bobby clenched his jaw and strained to listen. “Can you capture his coms?”
“Negative. It’s a scrambled frequency.”
Bobby watched as the beam from the torch fanned out then disappeared. “Is he gone?”
“Not far. Hold tight.”
Bobby held his breath and listened, preparing himself to react if the situation called for it. He nearly jumped when Gregg came back through his earbud. “He’s leaving.”
Bobby pushed the chair out and slithered out from under the desk. As he came up on his knees and glanced through the glass of the office, his eyes fell on the digital camera sitting atop the desk.
“Fuck me.”
“Not even for money.” Gregg’s deadpan reply wasn’t as funny as it sounded in his head.
“I left the camera on the desktop,” Bobby groaned as he came back to his feet. “Is he clear?”
“Affirmative. You are clear to proceed.”
Bobby switched the monitor back on and focused on the task at hand. “You reckon he noticed the camera?”
“No outside electronic devices are allowed, so yeah. He may have. Give me a moment.”
Bobby returned to the monotonous task while Gregg did his thing. “Yeah, they logged an ‘unknown device’ left out on your floor.”
“So I guess whoever owns this office will have some explaining to do in the morning.” Bobby continued snapping photos and closing the opened documents.
“Unless you’re caught.”
“If they come back I’m throwing him out the window and riding him to the ground.”
Gregg snorted in his ear. “You’re sixty feet from ground level. No amount of fluff will keep you from breaking something important.”
Bobby tried to ignore his negativity as he continued snapping photos. “How’s Jim and Deric doing?”
“Status quo. We may have to come up with another exit strategy.”
Bobby grinned as he continued, “I came up with one, but I guess I wouldn’t wanna break something important.”
“You could always just land on your head.”
“Ha. Ha. Everybody is a comodian tonight.”
“You mean comedian.”
“Not if your sense of humor is toilet worthy.”
Langley, VA
DARREN CHESTERFIELD FELT like a small child about to be lectured by a parent or principal. He stood in front of Colonel Nelson’s desk, his hands shaking from nerves, lack of sleep, and far too much caffeine. When Colonel Nelson closed his computer screen, he looked up at the withered shell that was once an agent for the Company.
“I suppose I have to ask.”
Darren shook his head. “About what, sir?”
“Why was Weston here again?”
Darren swallowed hard and his gaze wandered. “She had more intel.”
“Your targets are out of the country, aren’t they?”
Darren nodded, realizing that it would do no good to lie. “I thought they were holed up in a safe house somewhere still in Karachi.”
“You were wrong.”
He nodded slowly. “I was.”
Colonel Nelson leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his chin. “I have no idea why, but I have a soft spot for you, Chesterfield; sadly, I tend to feel for the underdog. I don’t want to see you fail on this op.” He stood slowly and walked to the corner of his office. “This is the kind of op that can make or break a man’s reputation.”
Chesterfield looked at him, his bloodshot eyes searching the man for some explanation. “Sir?”
“Oh, you knew that this op could be something to start your career climbing up the ladder.” He pulled a small box from a wall safe and peered to the corner of his office. His hand withdrew an illegal Cuban cigar and he slipped it into his uniform shirt pocket. He placed the box back into the safe then moved casually to his chair. “Funny thing about government though…” He flipped a button under the edge of his desk and the security camera mounted to the wall of his office went dark. He smiled and pulled the cigar out from his pocket, running it under his nose and inhaling.
“What is that, sir?”
“This is a fucking cigar, you dimwit.” Nelson bit the end off then lit it, puffing thick clouds of grey smoke into the air.
“No, sir, I meant…what is funny about working for the government?”
Nelson tossed his lighter back into his desk drawer and took a long draw from the Romeo y Julieta. “The funny thing is, if you really excel at your job, you can find yourself stuck in the same position for your entire career.” He took another long pull and blew it high into the air. “But if you fuck up…and I mean really screw the pooch, like, a royal screwing…you tend to end up in the highest positions.”
Chesterfield’s face scrunched in confusion. “Sir?”
“You heard me right, son.” Nelson tucked the cigar into the corner of his mouth and chewed the end. “It’s the royal fuck ups that get promoted the highest and the fastest.”
“I’m not…”
Nelson leaned back again and gave the man a smile. “Either way, you’re going to make your mark with this op. You’ll either find a way to pull it off or you’ll fuck it up so royally that they’ll feel the need to put you in a position of power so you can’t screw up that bad again without them knowing it before you do.”
Chesterfield doubted that his words rang with any truth, but he grasped at the thin straw of hope that Colonel Nelson dangled in front of him. “T-thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, son.” He leaned forward and pulled the stogie from his mouth. “Thank Uncle Sam.”
Chesterfield nodded, unsure what the purpose of the entire conversation was other than to ensure he knew that the Colonel was aware of everything that happened in the building. “Yes, of course, sir.”
“Take a moment and pull your head out of your ass.” He stood and laid the cigar on the corner of his desk. “I know you’re sleep deprived and you probably couldn’t
