“What? That wasn’t fun for you?”
“Hawk, I swear one day I’m gonna teach you how to have some real fun that doesn’t involve breaking laws and shooting people.”
“I’ll welcome that lesson,” he said. “Just don’t make me dance.”
CHAPTER 2
Two weeks later
Washington, D.C.
HAWK PULLED OUT Alex’s chair before settling into the one next to her. Blunt was sitting across the table, reading a copy of The Washington Postbetween bites of the chips and salsa situated in the center. After slipping the chip into his mouth, he let out a satisfied grunt once he’d finished.
“Enjoying the chips, Senator?” asked the waitress, who was at least forty years his junior.
“Always, Ella,” he said.
“Perfect. Are you ready to order?”
He shrugged. “There’s pretty much only one thing on the menu—those delicious fish tacos. Alex? Hawk? You two good with that?”
“Sure,” Alex said. “Anything to get food here more quickly. I’m famished.”
Hawk nodded his approval at Ella before she bounced away toward the kitchen. He scanned the dive, complete with rustic brick walls and wooden booths. There was even a clunky metal cash register devoid of any digital readout that dinged every time it slid open. Hawk also noticed there were no security cameras or wi-fi. Even the menu was artistically drawn in chalk on a blackboard behind the register. Only a single flat-screen television mounted on the wall served as a lone reminder that this wasn’t 1960.
“This is like the place time forgot,” Hawk said.
“It’s like heaven to me,” Blunt said. “You can barely get a signal on your phone here. They don’t even accept credit cards at this place. Amazing in this day and age.”
“Anything interesting in The Posttoday?” Alex asked.
“A curious drowning by a Russian attaché in the Potomac,” Blunt said. “His car careened off the Roosevelt Bridge.”
“That takes a special talent to get over the edge of that bridge,” Hawk said.
“Apparently, he was drunk off his ass, speeding around in a Ferrari.”
“How often do you come here?” Hawk asked Blunt, changing the subject. “You know the waitresses on a first name basis?”
“I come more than enough,” Blunt said. “And I’ve only ever known the waitress as Ella. She was college roommates with my niece, Darcy.”
“You have a niece?” Hawk said. “How come I didn’t know that?”
“It never came up.”
“Well, let’s get down to business so we can eat when the food arrives,” Alex said.
The television behind Blunt was on CNN. They all stopped talking when the newscaster began a report about Al Hasib.
“Intelligence officials are telling us that following the failed terror attack in London last month that resulted in the death of Al Hasib leader Karif Fazil, the terrorist group has virtually collapsed and no longer poses a threat to national security.”
The anchor woman appeared on the screen again.
“President Young, who has been stumping for fellow party senators and congressional representatives on a swing through the southeast, had this to say at a political rally earlier today.”
Footage of President Noah Young gripping a podium as he spoke rolled across the television.
“We refuse to cower in fear to these radical groups that have no agenda other than to cause harm to our people,” Young said. “The systematic takedown of Al Hasib would’ve never happened without the dedicated members of this great country’s intelligence staff working tirelessly to keep all of us safe and to root out evil in the darkest places of this planet. Because of our intelligence organizations, not only is America safer but so is the rest of the world.”
A thunderous applause followed his comment, which led the newscaster into introducing a panel of foreign intelligence experts who debated the veracity of President Young’s statement. That inane banter drove Blunt to ask Ella to mute the television so they could have a productive meal without having to listen to people shouting at each other.
Blunt turned toward Hawk and Alex.
“I appreciate all your work in Venice. That was a major coup for us.”
“When you say us, what exactly do you mean?” Hawk asked. “Our country? You personally? The CIA?”
“Take your pick,” Blunt said. “Perhaps, all of the above. But I know what you’re driving at.”
“What’s that?”
“You want to know what team you’re on. Who do you report to? Who’s going to bail you out if you find yourself in a jam? Who sets the mission parameters?”
“That would be nice to know,” Alex said, “that is, if you intend on all of us continuing to work together. In fact, that’s vital for me. If I don’t know who’s in charge—”
“I’m very well aware of what you do, Alex, when there isn’t structure in place.”
She smiled. “That’s what you love about me, isn’t it? Just admit it.”
Blunt chuckled. “The real irony is that not only are you returning to work for the CIA now, you’re going to be doing so as a celebrated hero.”
She scowled. “Nobody said anything about working for the CIA. I liked Firestorm. It was the perfect setup for me.”
Blunt waved dismissively. “Before you get all twisted up about this, just calm down and hear me out. Okay?”
Alex crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. “You know I don’t like being lied to,” she said, glaring at Blunt. “That’s why I was more than happy to leave the CIA when they showed me the door. But I expect more out of you. I expect—”
“Honesty? Integrity?” Blunt said, holding his hands out. “Look, we’re in the espionage business. Openness and accountability aren’t two traits that are high up on the list when it comes to being successful. People by nature are deceitful. Then when you hire one to spy on another person—”
Blunt let his words hang, the implication plain enough.
“Wecan be different,” she said. “We can be just like all the other spies when it comes to operating elsewhere, but among us, among thisteam, we need to shoot each other straight.”
Hawk nodded in agreement. “I know Alex has strong feelings about this
