Sam paced his snow-covered deck; he was wearing a light jacket on top of a sweat suit, not feeling the cold, not noticing the winter wonderland landscape unfolding behind his home. There were many ways this could go terribly wrong. He’d been out of the spy business for six years now, and yes, some things never change, but this deal that Robert had gotten himself into seemed intricate and treacherous, a real can of worms.
Sam scratched his clean-shaven head, thinking hard. He had options, quite a few, some legal, some not so much. He could call his former boss, still working for the CIA, and hand this case over on a platter and let them do whatever they saw fit with it. There were many other alphabet agencies he could call, with the same results, including throwing Robert in jail for a very long time. All these were his lawful options. He was now aware of a crime being committed, and under the law, he was obligated to report it. OK, yeah, but fuck that, he thought, moving on to less lawful options.
A smile curled the right corner of his lips. Do I still have it in me? One more case? He flexed his left arm, feeling his bicep with his right hand. He stretched his legs and tried a couple boxing moves, made his feet dance, and threw a couple of jabs in the air. Yep, still alive, he thought. But I can’t do this on my own, that’s for sure. I need a team.
He went back inside the house, grabbed his encrypted cell, and retrieved a number from the phone’s memory. A man’s voice answered almost instantly.
“Tom Isaac speaking.”
“Hey, ol’ buddy, this is Sam Russell; how are ya?”
“Hey! Great, really great, how have you been?”
“All good, retired and all, just getting old and stale, that’s all,” Sam said jokingly.
“That’s bullshit if I ever heard bullshit before. You, old and stale? Never gonna happen!” Tom laughed.
“Hey, listen,” Sam’s voice turned serious out of a sudden. “Are you in the same line of business?”
“Yes, absolutely. What can I do for you?”
“How soon can you get here? There’s someone you need to meet. You’re on the West Coast now, right?”
“Yep, that’s where I am. Let’s see . . . ” Tom paused, checking flight options online. “It’s early here, so I can hop on a flight before lunch. How’s nine tonight your time? Landing in Reagan National? Fast enough for you?”
“That’ll work. Can we meet inside the airport?”
“Sure,” Tom responded, his answer delayed by a split-second of hesitation. “Wherever works for you.”
“Text me at wheels down.”
...31
...Saturday, January 16, 9:52PM Local Time (UTC-5:00 hours)
...Flamboyant Avenue
...St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands
Alex enjoyed the Caribbean more than she had expected. She didn’t care she technically had to run from San Diego because of Kramer and other potentially loose and dangerous ex NanoLance executives. Her bruised ego healed in exactly five minutes of being in St. Thomas. Steve’s impeccable taste in beaches, convertibles, dining, and overall entertainment was helping as well, but Alex enjoyed his presence most of all.
“What are you smiling about, Miss Hoffmann?” Steve interrupted her reverie.
You, she thought, her smile widening. “I’m having a great time; thank you so much for putting up with me,” she said instead. “I took over your vacation without notice or invitation, and I appreciate you taking me in.”
“Always a pleasure,” Steve replied, frowning a little, a shadow coming over his blue eyes.
There were many unspoken things between them, the relationship that could have been but Alex had rejected because of her own insecurities and the complications such a relationship would bring to their work. Steve disagreed with her reasons, but of course he did; he was the shrink. He always disagreed, always challenged her thoughts, her feelings. They had stopped arguing about it though, both valuing their friendship to the greatest degree. It still felt awkward at times though. Deciding not to think about it anymore, Alex lifted her arms, playing with the wind and enjoying the high speed convertible ride.
“So, tell me, do you have one of these customized cars brought over when you travel?
Steve’s frown evaporated.
“This? This is a rental; it’s not customized at all. But it was, in all fairness, very difficult to find.”
“Why the extra trouble? You can’t drive the average rental sedan for a few days?”
“Seriously? How can you ask that? I will always put in the extra effort to ensure I enjoy my ride. It’s