"CHAPTER FOUR: The Perfect Mess"
1200 ZULU (1500 LOCAL)
Al Udeid Air Base
QATAR
An hour after we landed at Al-Udeid, where Webb had organised to operate from, we were all gathered around a large plastic table in one of the bases unused rooms. James and Princeton were presently hauling electronic equipment out of boxes and complaining about the lack of power outlets in the room. Ryan was sitting in a chair, his feet on the table with his eyes closed, trying to be asleep. Phil was pacing up and down. She'd been hyperactive since we set foot on land. I was looking for another coffee, the lack of sleep beginning to make my eyelids heavy. Emil Jackson and Petty Officer Mohammed were chatting about sport. I wasn't quite sure how anyone could manage to make small talk after the day we'd had, but apparently, they were up to the task.
Changing time zones had thrown me off a bit. All I wanted to do was crawl into a bed and sleep until next week, but Webb had other ideas. As soon as James and Princeton stopped shuffling computers around, he called everyone to the table and sat down.
"Right, we're going to start as soon as possible. One day here in Qatar to adjust to the time zone, then we head to Kabul. As soon as we're in Afghanistan, you assume your identities and roles, and its all systems go. Before then, we need to get some stuff cleared up, and you all have personal things to attend to. That can be done tomorrow. Today, we're going to learn who you guys are and brief you on where you're going, what you'll be doing and why you're going there."
"You're going to tell us why we're going somewhere?" Ryan asked, opening one eye, "Woah, the CIA is getting sloppy with it's 'say nothing to frustrate the hell out of everyone policy'."
There's that reason the Marines and the FBI share Quantico.
"We give information on a need-to-know basis. Since you'll be out there, we don't want you to go in blind. There are some things you need to know."
The cop shrugged and closed his eyes again.
I looked around the group as Mohammed nodded, Jackson bowed his head once in agreement, Ryan continued to pretend to sleep and Phil continued to pace.
Webb turned to her, "Would you desist?"
She swallowed a remark, and said, "Do I have do?"
"You know it annoys the hell out of me when you do that."
"Some things never change," she muttered as she took a seat next to me, reaching for the pen in front of me and tapping it against the table idly.
"No," he answered, "You're right."
There was a brief and awkward pause, accompanied by the soft tap-tap-tap of the pen against the table.
"Right, let's get back to it then," Webb announced finally, tearing his eyes away from Phil and pulling a manila folder in front of him, "The place you'll all be living in for the next few months or so is called Aylaq-i- Situn. It's a small Afghan village, just inside the border of Afghanistan and Pakistan and deep in the Hindu Kush. The terrain is mountainous to say the least, but I think you'll enjoy the place. It's not my first choice for a holiday destination, but it's quiet. Aylaq-I-Situn is run by a local warlord, Hashim al-Farrah. There are rumours this guy is very happily involved with several anti-America jihad groups, which means we're onto him. Also, he's very closely involved with several people over the border in Pakistan and some of the ex-USSR Republics in the area, so the CIA is all ears for any evidence this guy is doing shady deals with Russia."
"Explain," Mohammed commanded.
"There's a lot of ex-KGB walking around unemployed. There's a lot of Soviet nukes lying around unaccounted for. The KGB knew everything that went on in Soviet Russia. If someone decides that a few million would be nice in their account, all they have to do is reveal the location of one of those unaccounted for nukes and they're sitting pretty for retirement. Lord knows in today's world there are enough groups willing to bid for a weapon like that."
"So you think this al-Farrah guy is the middle-man for Fah'd and his nuke?" I asked.
"Something like that."
"Woah, woah, woah. Backtrack a little here Webb, what are we talking about now?" Phil asked, "That Paraguay stuff was filled with blanks and I'm sure a lot of people here haven't even read the reports."
Webb sighed, "Ok. A few months ago, a CIA operation in Paraguay discovered that a terrorist by the name of Sadik Fah'd had obtained cruise missiles to use in attacks against Americans. Luckily, the missiles were destroyed, but Fah'd escaped. Just a few days ago, we intercepted a few guys working for a charity that was backing Fah'd and his extremist friends. They confessed that some of the diamonds that were being used to buy the missiles in Paraguay and as general cash for the terrorist group were missing. That is, our people in Paraguay didn't take all the cash. Due to a talented operative, we were able to establish that a large amount of money had recently moved though this charities accounts to other organization. Eventually we located $5 million US dollars in a European bank."
The group was listening intently as Webb sucked in a breath, "We tried to lock the account, but diplomatic channels were working slowly, and the money was withdrawn before anything happened."
"Five million was drawn all at once?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Because I'm assuming it was cash not a cheque."
Webb nodded, "It was cash. The money was simultaneously removed all over Europe at 0900 GMT while we were up in the air. The new situation with borders in Europe makes things awfully convenient for terrorists and people who don't want to be seen. A few of the men who made the withdrawals were under our surveillance and the surveillance of local authorities, but they've all disappeared."
"Your people lost a whole bunch of terrorists walking around with their share of 5 million dollars?" I queried incredulously.
"These things aren't as easy as they look," was the calculated response, "We have very little jurisdiction in Europe. You're a lawyer, you know how it is. Anyway, the 5 million is missing. Fah'd is missing, presumed to be lurking around in Iran and Afghanistan, although our network in the area is weak at best. We know that Fah'd knows our player in Afghanistan, al- Farrah. They met a few months before Paraguay and exchanged an unknown amount of money for a reason no-one knows."
He paused, "Coincidentally, al-Farrah contacted some of the local farmers growing opium. A few days later, those farmers happened to talk to a few friends in South America a few days later."
"Are you saying this guy is involved with Paraguay?" Phil inquired, her eyes guarded but her tone slightly enthusiastic.
"It's possible. The links are tenuous and its totally circumstantial, but bear it in mind while you're in there. Al-Farrah has links to weapons dealers, Russians, terrorists, poppy-seed farmers... hell, a whole lot of people he shouldn't have contacts with."
"That doesn't make sense," I interrupted, "Afghans hate the Russians."
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend?" he suggested.
I agreed, "Makes sense, especially if their going to get their hands on nuclear capabilities."
"All that aside, al-Farrah has two of our aviators as hostages, which brings to light a rather embarrassing leak in the CIA's network. We've been watching this guy for a while. A lot of interesting people have passed through his village of late. After his latest, we're convinced he's up to something, hence you guys. Now, this mission has two primary objectives, and these are in order of importance: One, find our leak and plug it. Two, get Rabb and Graham the hell out of there. I mean that, the first and foremost priority is locating the leak. Any gaps in our intel network could be potentially fatal, for you and for Americans everywhere."
The room was silent for a moment. Much as it annoyed me he put finding the leak above finding Harm, I knew he was right and swallowed my argument.
"Due to this leak, you go in assuming you can trust no-one. I'll give you a list of CIA operatives in the region. Check them all out thoroughly, but don't let on who you're working for. You guys are a team, so rely on each other for whatever you need. You can't afford to trust anyone else. As for our leak, we're looking for someone relatively influential in both our network and al-Farrah's, someone who knew what Rabb and Graham were doing the night they were shot down."
"Doesn't that narrow it down a bit?" Hawkes asked.
"Anyone could have been listening in on any of the agents who knew about that mission," James pointed out.
"Exactly," Webb continued, "You have to assume that each and every one of those agents is a traitor. We need it fixed... before anything else goes wrong."
There was another pause while Webb took a sip from his mug, "Right, let's get onto cover stories. I don't need to tell you that it is vitally important your covers are not blown while you're in the field. Stick to your stories people, I don't want to be the one telling your mother you're not coming home. Ok, Jackson, we'll start with you. Your name is Jahan Mohammed. You're a waiter and you work at the local tea-shop... and don't scowl at me like that. You'll be running my agents in the field and you need a position from where you can contact them. If they stop in for a cup of tea every now and then, it will hardly be suspicious."
"No sir," he answered with a grin.
"Ok. Phil..." she sat up straight and listened intently at the sound of her name. By the look on her face I could see she'd switched to professional spy mode, "You're Jackson's wife."
"Score," Jackson muttered.
Phil glared and the rest of the group laughed. I rolled my eyes with a smile.
"Yeah, she's too good for you Jackson," Webb jibed, continuing, "Mahin Mohammed, a teacher in the next village. That works because the next village happens to be halfway between this guy al-Farrah's stronghold and Faiz'a's village. Faiz'a is working for us. Some of his men will meet you at the school every now and then, or send messages with their children. You'll be my main source of information running, understood?"
"Yes Sir."
"Also, you and Jackson, set up an intel network like you've been trained. That's your job. It's also your job to manage and collect the intel from these guys," he pointed to Ryan, Mohammed and I, "You're my leaders, don't screw up."
They both nodded.
"You two will be flown into Kabul the day after tomorrow. From there, you can travel up to the village on your own. The tea-shop in question is a favourite of ours. It's going to be attacked and a waiter is going to die in the next few days. That means they'll be looking for staff."
"Enter me stage left," Jackson completed the thought.
"Phil your job is already set up thanks to our friend Faiz'a. You just rock up to work everyday."
"What, by donkey?" she asked.
"Something like that. Ryan?"
The dozing cop immediately opened his eyes and sat forward in his chair.
"You are going to ask for work as a stable-hand for al-Farrah. Apparently they need hands, and you've got experience with horses. Name is Mustafa Kumar. Your from Peshwar, looking for work. As a stable-hand you'll get to talk with a lot of al-Farrah's men, get a feel for the place. The basic deal is keep your eyes and ears open and report anything and everything to Jackson and Phil. You're going to travel to Kabul with a group of Pakistanis from Peshawar. From there, you'll head up to the mountains with a local escort. Once you get there, hang around town for a few days and drop in for some tea. Phil will point you in the right direction from there. Once your attain employment, you'll be inside the fort and ready to roll."
"And if I'm not employed?"
"You will be. If not, well we can always eliminate the competition."
Ryan nodded, "Yes Sir."
"Mohammed. You're a doctor?"
"Yes Sir."
"Guess what, you're now a hakim looking for work. You fly in with Phil and Jackson, but hang around Kabul a couple of days. I don't want too many people arriving at once. When you get there, you'll want some tea. You'll also want to know if there's any place to set up a business. That's what you're going to do, set up a surgery and work from there. People will come to you for all kinds of health problems and they have a funny habit of telling their doctors things doctors shouldn't know."
"I have a feeling I love tea right?"
"No, but Sohail Da'ah does. That's your name by the way."
"Right, Doctor Da'ah," Mohammed joked, accepting the file Webb slid to him between two fingers and flipping through it after Webb moved on.
"And Mac."
The way he said that scared me. I knew there was a reason I hated working with that man. I waited for my cover story. Phil looked at me, noting my reaction with amusement.
"Congratulations," Webb announced, "You're getting married."
"I beg you pardon?" I interjected, surprised.
"Sara al-Farrah," he tossed me my file as he had everyone else, "Haytham al- Farrah's American wife, or you will be."
"I have to convince the guy to marry me?"
"No, it won't take much convincing. You're the daughter of a very rich, very influential Westerner working in Iran. He's going to meet with your 'father' today, looking for a business deal I told him to set up. Your dear dad is going to say no unless Haytham agrees to marry you."
"Nice father," I muttered under my breath.
"Haytham is going to say yes, because he likes his CIA paychecks. You'll fly into Iran while the others move into Afghanistan to meet al-Farrah. The whole thing might take a few weeks, but you'll be married before the end of the month. From there on in, you're his wife and you're in an excellent position to gather intelligence. Haytham is al-Farrah's son. Junior lives with his father inside the fort, so you'll be with him. As his wife, you'll be the guest of the hour among the ladies so listen for any gossip. Women are women no matter what head-dress they're wearing."
Next to me, Phil snorted.
"Your cover is the hardest, but it's the best. Any questions?" he asked me.
"Only one: do I have to be pregnant this time?"
Webb rolled his eyes and addressed the group, "Read your stories people, and learn your family history, relatives, education, that kind of thing. You've all been assigned rooms with the other personnel, but I don't want to see anyone in bed before the sun goes down. You've got to get this time zone thing right quickly. And don't talk to any of the military guys around here. They may be on our side, but they don't need to know who you are or where you're going, understood?"
There were nods and mumbled yeses around the table.
"Right, read the files, learn your stuff, get some rest. We have work to do tomorrow. Get the hell out of here people."
The sound of chairs scraping against the floor and people moving echoed in the small room with bare and pale walls.
"Mac."
I turned at the sound of my name.
Webb met my eyes, "I'd like to speak with you. Could you wait behind?"
James was the only one left in the room, and was lurking under the doorframe.
"Alone," he added for the analysts benefit, "And shut the door would you?"
"Sir," James nodded and left.
We stood staring at each other in silence for a minute, before a B-2H landed, making the ground shake a little and the windows rattle, effectively destroying the awkwardness of the situation.
"I've missed you," he offered, stepping towards me.
I laughed, "I miss me too."
"You Ok?"
"Considering I haven't slept in, oh, about 24 hours and I'm going to be getting married to a stranger in a few days, yeah, I'm fine."
"I wanted to tell you, you're leaving for Iran tomorrow. The others won't fly until the day after, but I wanted you to meet your father in Iran and have a chat to him about Fah'd. You have to meet Haytham al-Farrah too."
"Ok, what time?"
"Early," he confessed, "I tried to get a military transport, but nothing is going to Iran obviously, and since we're CIA it's always hard. You have to fly commercial, which is probably best. You're flying to Heathrow first from Doha, then catching a connection to Tehran from where your father will pick you up."
"Who is this father of mine?"
"Thomas Bolden, and American businessman involved in oil. He works in Iran and Saudi Arabia."
"An agent of course?"
"And a trusted friend," he assured me.
"Ok," I pressed my lips together, "Do you have clothes and things or will I have to shop around a bit? I'll need something as soon as I get of the plane in Iran of course."
"Someone from the embassy will meet you at Heathrow."
"Thanks."
"Hey listen, I'm sorry the guys were such jerks. I told them about what you did in Paraguay and on numerous other occasions, but you know how it is sometimes..." he trailed off and reached for my hand.
"Yeah, spooks are jerks," I teased, smiling.
"Really?" he asked, trying to look hurt.
"Well maybe not all spooks," I conceded, allowing him to pull me into an embrace.
"I need some sanity in my world Sarah," he murmured into my hair.
"Hey, are you Ok?" I pulled back to study his face, but he avoided my eyes.
"The answer to that is that I am Ok because I have to be."
"Does Paraguay... is it hard to talk about like that?"
"Hell you've had the nightmares."
I nodded, "But in the end they're just nightmares."
He agreed in a low voice, "But with this Fah'd thing happening, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to believe al-Farrah isn't involved, I just, it's going to hang over every aspect of this operation and I don't want to have to draw those parallels."
"Hey," I touched his face, "Hey look at me."
He complied rather reluctantly, and I swallowed suddenly, surprised by the unguarded pain in his glassy eyes. He blinked a few times but didn't look away.
"This isn't going to be like that."
"How do you know?"
"Because I have faith."
"In what? What is there to believe in in this world?"
"Don't talk like that," I whispered, almost choking at the defeated tone his words took.
"Why not? I think you better prepare yourself for the fact that there are a lot of unseen evils in this world and that we can't fight them all. No matter what, there are going to be people who hate us. People who want to put nukes into our major cities and kill our children. This operation isn't going to be successful," his voice was even and unemotional, "This is going to be another screw-up like Paraguay. Rabb and Graham are probably dead already. I'm sending you into danger again, this time when I know it will probably get you killed. Phil, despite everything that's happened, is still a friend of mine, and I'm sending her off on a suicide mission too. That team, they're all good men, with families. And if Fah'd gets that nuke? Well I'm not quite sure I could live with myself if this thing went that sour."
"That won't happen."
"How can you say that? How can you have so much faith in the good of this world after everything that's happened to you?"
I shrugged, "I don't know. All I know is that when I watched those towers collapse I thought the world had changed, but then I realised something. The world doesn't change. There are different times of trouble and different people, but the basic human struggle is always the same. And you know, they don't remember terrorist attacks in Babylon, or dig up evidence of it from Assyria. History, in its true form, happens everyday. Archaeologists dig up artefacts and preserved bodies and documents, not terrorism. And you know, when I saw those pictures, of the firemen going in even when they knew it was dangerous, and of people covered in dust and debris helping others walk because they couldn't do it alone I realised that the greatest evil brings out the best humanity has to offer. That gave me hope. Whenever this War on Terror crap starts getting too much to deal with I think about those two people and that photograph. So that's how I know we'll do this- because it can bring out the best in us too."
"You honestly believe we'll pull this off? Why?"
"Because I have faith. Faith in myself to do things right. Faith in Harm to not be dead. Faith in you do run this properly. Faith in our team. And because we have a job to do. Because there are people in America right now taking their kids to day care and saying goodnight to their partners. You and I, we do it in different ways, I put on a uniform, you say things are classified, but we're here because we have a job to do and that job is to keep those people in America safe. I have faith that we can do that too."
"You amaze me," he said, leaning in to touch his lips to mine.
"And inspire me."
Another kiss.
"And you know, for a Marine, you're a pretty good anchor."
"See when things are like this, I know exactly what we're fighting for."
He tightened his hold on me and I leant my head on his shoulder, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."
"You won't lose me."
"You don't know that."
"I'm coming home. I have to."
"Why?"
"I want to see the Superbowl."
He laughed softly, the afternoon sunlight settling in through the window and casting shadows across the room.
"My life makes sense when I'm with you Sarah."
I sighed and pulled back a little, leaning against the table, "Will you promise me you wouldn't talk like that again?"
"Like what?"
"The defeatist dogma and pessimist's view of the world?"
He swallowed, "It's just sometimes, since Paraguay, nothing... everything seems out of control."
"It is," I murmured, leaning up to him once more, "We live in a rainbow of chaos and life is the perfect mess."
1400 ZULU (1700 LOCAL)
Al Udeid Air Base
QATAR
I found Phil collapsed on the top bunk of the room we were sharing, having claimed it for her own, studiously studying her cover.
"Hey," she said as I entered the room, "Sara."
"Hey yourself Mahin. Checking out your cover story?"
"Yeah, it's pretty easy. Yours?"
"I'm not sure I like the idea of Haytham al-Farrah being my husband, but at least I don't have to wear that ridiculous stomach again."
"Paraguay?"
I nodded, "I swear, it almost cured me of pregnancy for life."
"Almost?'
I smiled, "I don't think you'd ever turn me off completely."
"You're full of surprises."
"What?"
"I've never heard someone who's with a spy talk about having kids."
"Yeah well, you've thought about it haven't you?"
"Thought, but you know how it is... I have a career and..."
"And you need the right person at the right time."
"Do you ever wonder if you had the right person but the timing was all wrong?"
I swallowed nervously, "Every day."
"Anyway, I heard you ship out a day early."
"Yeah, apparently it's an early start for me. I've got a BA flight to Heathrow then a connection to Tehran."
"I suppose you'll be calling it a day then?"
I shook my head, "With all this nervous energy I doubt I'll be able to sleep, no matter how exhausted I am."
Phil grinned, "Nervous energy? Now that is a concept I'm familiar with."
"You too?"
"Oh always. Before I go in country, I can't sit still."
"Hence the percussion in the brief."
"Yeah. That's one of the ways I deal with it."
"Really? I run until I can't think anymore."
"I do that too."
"I don't suppose you want to join me then?"
"Nah," she shook her head, but slid down to the floor, "Because the paperwork is so much more interesting."
"Does that mean you're coming?"
"Indeed it does Colonel."
1415 ZULU (1715 LOCAL)
Al Udeid Air Base
QATAR
Being on an Air Base during a war, there's usually not a whole lot of places you can run, so Phil and I headed to the gym and in an unanimous decision, decided to wear out the Air Force's treadmills.
"So why did you join the CIA?" I asked her.
"Why did you join the Marines?"
I shrugged, "I needed a bit of direction in my life and my uncle suggested it. Answer my question."
"It's complicated. I left home and went to university at Georgetown, but... it didn't work for me. I finished my degree, walked into the CIA and asked for a job. It was a combination of wanting to serve my country, and boredom."
"And you ended up with Webb how?"
"Accident."
"Isn't everything when Webb's involved?"
She laughed and shook her head, "Nothing ever goes according to plan, but... well to be honest we ran into each other, literally, when he was undercover in Tel Aviv. I was working from the embassy at the time, and together we managed to pull together enough intel to put a suicide bombing group out of action."
"Isn't that the job of the Mossad?"
"Yeah, but it was an anti-America group too."
"Kind of like what we're up against now."
"I guess. After that, we just worked together on everything. He did a few independent things for a while, but when Kershaw and I were transferred to Iraq, working in the consulate, he turned up. Every transfer after that, we were moved together."
"Someone was impressed with your teamwork."
"We work well together. I'm a bit passionate sometimes, too eager to act on what we know. He's level-headed and brutally rational about things. Our styles compliment each other. Isn't that what makes partnerships work?"
"Yeah I guess."
"So this Rabb guy..."
"Phil," I warned.
"No, you guys have worked together for how long?"
"Going on eight years."
"I see a history there."
"Harm and I's history would take all night."
"Right, where'd you meet?"
I didn't reply, "In the Whitehouse rose garden."
She didn't reply. When I turned to see the look on her face, she had one eyebrow raised and was staring incredulously.
"Sounds like some stupid romance movie I know. If only you knew... we were assigned to investigate the theft of the Declaration of Independence. The thief was my uncle."
"Crazy life events just follow you around don't they?"
Rolling my eyes, I replied, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you half of it."
"I do unbelievable things for a living."
"You've been in the CIA how long?"
"Oh, going on," she did the math in her head, "12 years."
"I'm sure you've got some interesting battle stories."
"I've had my days. You ready to quit here?"
"Yeah, I guess."
She stepped onto the floor and grabbed a water-bottle, downing half its contents in one mouthful.
"What happened with you and Clay?" I asked, following her.
"Feel threatened by me or something?"
"To be honest I think everybody knows that Clay and I are,,," I raised my hand in question, "Open to threats."
"You mean you're not a done deal?"
"I didn't say that. I just... well you know as well as I do that things can change."
"They can. But the past can't. What happened? He fell in love with an asset, and she betrayed him, or so I thought. The actual problem was her sister, who was a spy for the other side. The asset lived with a spy for the enemy, but I didn't figure that out until I'd already shot her. Her sister pulled a weapon on me and Clay figured out what had happened, but nearly let her shoot me when he saw what I did to his asset," she paused, "I made a bad call. I screwed up and our network was compromised because it. After that he didn't want to work with me anymore. That's never going to change."
"Don't look now, but you're working together," I pointed out.
"I had to beg him to let me do this."
"So did I," I reminded her, "Listen, you may have made a mistake, but he did too. Someone once told me that love and this business don't mix."
"And being in love with your assets and this business sure as hell doesn't mix, but it was still my mistake. Someone innocent ended up dead and an operation ended up blown because I screwed up. I can live with it now. It's just, he won't forgive me, and I think the point is that you have nothing to worry about in the way of threats from this spook."
"That's not what I was asking."
"What were you asking then?"
"Well that's not why I asked."
"I know."
"Are you in love with him?"
She turned to stare at me, "Just like you love your partner."
"Then... "
"Then what? I am a threat?"
"No. I mean... I suppose you know as well as I do that sometimes partners don't love you back."
"I really thought he did for a while back before it happened. But after that, there really was no question in my mind."
I nodded, "I've been there."
"Is that why you're with Clay?"
"No! I mean, everyone thinks that we're not together for any of the right reasons but that's not true. I can talk to him. He makes me happy."
"And this partner of yours?"
"Is..." I searched for words, "My best friend in the entire world, but we're not in a good place of late. Hell, I don't know if we ever have been. He's just so..."
"Full of mixed messages? Deathly afraid of commitment? Terrified of his own feelings? Arrogant? Overly proud?"
"All of the above."
"You should've met Clayton Webb 10 years ago."
"After that description I'm kind of glad I didn't."
She snickered, "In some ways my life would've been a lot easier, but in others..."
"It wouldn't be the same."
She shook her head.
"You know I think you're the first person I'm on the same page with when it comes to this," she stated finally, "A lot of people tell me I love him, but not a lot of them get it when I say it never would've worked between us."
Distracted by her choice of words, I didn't reply for a moment.
"There's only one problem--it's never going to work out between us because we both want to be on top and that's physically and emotionally impossible..."
"Do you really think that?" I finally turned to question her.
"Oh in another time and place for sure, but not in this life."
"I know what you mean."
"Let's get back, you need to sleep and rumour has it the food disappears fast around here."
"It's probably nothing to rush back for anyway."
"Can't be worse than Langley."
"You know, I'm inclined to agree with you."
"Come on, I'll race you."
"I'll win."
"You may be a Marine, but I have an ulterior motive."
"You're a spook, why does that not surprise me?"
She broke into a sprint without warning and called over her shoulder, "I want the first shower."
"Hey, that's cheating," I protested.
"You can't cheat in this business," was her answer.