A little teaser chapter! Thank you to all the followers...I hope you are enjoying this so far...I promise that answers are coming in the next few chapters :)


Washington, DC

Two Days Later

The door slammed shut, waking the older man from the light sleep he'd fallen in to.

"Retired Agent Henry T. Sharpe. Member of the CIA from 1963 until retiring in 2008. Countless missions, numerous accolades….quite the career," Gibbs indicated, looking up from the file he was reading.

He met the wrinkled, tan face of a smiling Sharpe, the older man shrugging. "Just did my job, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs threw a few files on the table and sat across from Sharpe, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms.

"I take it Agents McGee and Bishop told you why you were being brought here."

"To help with a current case that connects to one I worked for the CIA…yes," Sharpe replied, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. "Though I must admit, I'm surprised they found me."

Chuckling, he continued. "Not many people come looking for me anymore. In this line of work, it's hard to keep friends…let alone family. And I didn't give the agency my change of address. Funny how you were able to track me down."

While Sharpe may be retired, Gibbs knew there was still a sly agent inside the eighty year old man sitting across from him. And Sharpe was fishing for information as to how he had been found and the details of the current and former case. But Gibbs wanted to give out information in his own time…not Sharpe's.

"Technology has advanced….easier to find people who don't want to be found," Gibbs replied, opening the second file he'd brought in to the room.

He laid out two pictures in front of Sharpe. "Do you remember these two men?"

Sharpe pulled out a pair of glasses from his shirt pocket and studied the photos for a brief moment.

"Can't say that I do. Were they involved in a case I worked? Photos look quite dated."

Gibbs nodded. "These were taken back in the '80's. We're working on getting updated photos but haven't found these men yet."

"In the wind?"

"For now."

"Where?"

"Not sure."

"And that's why I'm here?"

"Possibly. You're sure you don't remember them?"

Sharpe shook his head again. "I don't. Not by pictures anyway. What are their names?"

"Anton Vanin and Alexei Petrov."

"Russians."

Gibbs nodded. "Ring any bells?"

"Can't say that they do."

Gibbs pulled out another picture from the file and set it on top of the others.

"How about him?"

Sharpe leaned forward to study the photo.

"Remember this guy?" Gibbs asked when Sharpe didn't respond immediately.

"Yes…of course. Anyone who worked in the agency from the late sixties through the eighties remembers him."

"Name."

"Maxim Renkov," Sharpe stated clearly, sitting back and taking off his glasses. "I am guessing these two men were associated with Renkov and his organization? That is what you're getting at?"

"You worked on the Renkov case, didn't you?"

"Almost all of the CIA was involved to some degree."

"But you were listed in the report," Gibbs replied, his tone firm as he planted a large file labeled "RENKOV 1984" in front of Sharpe. "Not everyone in the CIA was."

Sharpe sighed. "Let's cut to the chase, son. You send two agents to bring me back to DC….a place I haven't been in over ten years. You sit me in this interrogation room and start asking me about people I don't know and names I haven't spoken in almost forty years…"

The older man laid his glasses on the table and clasped his hands over the Renkov file, not once looking down at it.

"So tell me Agent Gibbs, what is it you want from me?"