Operative — The Shadowboxer Files

MISSION ONE

“Who’s the Spook?”

Brill sat at the back of a small room with seven sailors seated in front of him. An eighth man, their Lt stood beside a projection screen at the head of the room. None of the men turned around to look at him, though they all shot appraising looks as they entered in quiet order and took their seats.

“He’s not a Spook,” said the Lt as he nodded at Brill. “He’s on loan to us from Homeland.”

“Isn’t Homeland a Spook business?” shot back one of the men. He was the tallest in the group, with a buzzed haircut and piercing blue eyes.

“You want to explain?” the Lt asked Brill.

He shook his head no.

His instructions were to say nothing and observe and he planned to follow them to the letter. This was his first assignment after nine months on the Farm, a CIA training facility in the Virginia countryside. He had been flown down this morning in an F 16 to Naval Station Key West to task with the SEAL team that operated from there.

“Loose lips sink ships, am I right?” one of the sailors turned to grin at him. He had dusky black skin and etched muscles. He held out a corded forearm.

“Washington,” he kept grinning. “Like the President.”