2
“Kathryn Krane, you’re a patriot, not a murderer,” her handler told her the next morning on the private, unmarked plane that would take the two of them to London, where they’d catch a commercial flight back to the United States. They often flew commercial. Sometimes it was easier to stay in the shadows when you were out in the open.
“Six of one, a half dozen of the other,” Kathryn muttered, checking the online news report of Yuri’s “accidental” death and then tossing the phone onto the empty leather seat beside her. She looked up at her handler, who only went by the name Mel. Mel was in her late fifties, a slim, cold-looking woman who nonetheless could fake a shocking warmth when she wanted. She must have been a very good killer, Kathryn thought as she gritted her teeth and squinted out the window.
Below her she could see the deep blue of the Caspian Sea, that old body of water bordered by both Iran and Russia. There was oil in the Caspian Sea, which meant there was always trouble in this area. There would always be trouble in this area. Until oil stopped being important. Hah! Like the powers in control would ever let that happen!
“I’m done, Mel,” Kathryn said calmly, pushing away the thoughts of conspiracies, thoughts that were a part of her life, had been a part of her life for over ten years now, ever since she’d been recruited straight out of medical school. She’d been on her way to becoming a psychiatrist, and then Mel had somehow swooped in and talked Kathryn into serving her country. “This was the last one. I can’t do it anymore.”
Kathryn waited for the onslaught from Mel, but it never came. The woman just nodded.
“No one can do this forever,” Mel said quietly, her eyes narrowing and softening at the same time. There was that fake warmth, Kathryn thought. Careful now. Mel is one of the best at what she does, which is to manipulate people into doing what I do.
What I did, Kathryn thought firmly, holding the eye contact with Mel and wondering if she could hypnotize the woman. No chance. Hypnotism only worked if the subject was receptive and off-guard. Or drunk and already open to suggestion.
“Don’t even start with me, Mel,” Kathryn snapped, knowing the sales pitch was coming before Mel said another word. “I know you as well as I know anyone. The one before Yuri was supposed to be the last, but then there was Yuri. And he was the last. I’m done. Get me out.”
“Out?” said Mel, frowning as if she was truly surprised. “You want out of the CIA altogether?”
Kathryn smiled. “Am I even in the CIA? I mean officially? Technically I’m an agent, not an officer, yeah? Just a contractor. No pension plan. No Navy Seals swooping in to rescue me if I’m taken.”
“You know I slept with a Navy Seal once,” Mel said quietly, and her dark gray eyes looked almost blue for a moment. What the hell had happened to this woman’s eyes over the years, Kathryn wondered. And what the hell was that comment out of the blue? Was Mel actually human? Was she actually a woman?
“That was my last one,” Mel continued, a thin smile cutting across her face. “He was the last.”
The last man you ever fucked? When was that, like twenty years ago, Kathryn wanted to say. But she held her tongue when she reminded herself how long it’d been since she’d been with a man. Like really been with a man. She glanced at Mel and then it hit her. “Your last one? Wait, you killed a Navy Seal?” Kathryn asked, her eyebrows almost jumping off her usually calm round face. “How? I mean why? Why was that even your job? If he’d gone rogue or committed treason, the military would take care of it internally. I don’t understand—”
But Kathryn did understand. People like Mel and Kathryn were only called in when there wasn’t enough evidence for a judge or jury. They truly were the shadows. After the Patriot Act and 9-11, all it took was for the right senators to talk to the right folks in Homeland Security and the CIA, and there was no need for judge or jury. Poof, and then they were gone.
“If this is your pitch to get me to stay on, then I gotta say you’re losing your touch, Mel,” Kathryn said, knowing immediately that Mel wouldn’t say anything more about it. It had been an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability from Mel, and Kathryn frowned as she tried to read her handler.
And then she got it. Mel already had another job lined up. And this one was important. That’s why Mel was on edge in her own way. Kathryn really did know Mel as well as anyone, didn’t she? God, was this woman the closest thing she had to a friend? Shit, she needed to get out more!
“You’ve already committed me to one more, haven’t you?” Kathryn said quietly as the plane hummed its way past the western shores of the Caspian Sea.
Mel nodded once, her gray eyes turning down for a moment and then back up into Kathryn’s baby browns.
“Who?” said Kathryn, blinking but holding the gaze.
Mel shook her head. “Even I don’t know. John Benson wants to see you alone when we get to London.”
Kathryn scrunched up her face. “Benson. I’ve heard of him. CIA Station Head in Dubai, right? What, he wants me to take out some extremist Sheikh or something?” She tried to smile, but a chill ran through her for some reason. Benson was famous in CIA circles. He was plugged into the Middle East scene like no other, and rumor had it he maintained close relationships with several powerful Sheikhs . . . some of whom were now married to American women. Benson was different. He had a military background, but he wasn’t a brute force guy. He was a finesse guy.
Stop, Kathryn told herself, realizing that the chill she’d felt was the beginnings of that terrifyingly addictive rush of adrenaline that came every time she got a new assignment. This was the reason she needed to stop. She was getting too good. She was getting too damn good . . . and with that came detachment, dehumanization, a coldness that took root at the deepest levels.
You can’t end up like her, Kathryn thought as she glanced at Mel. Where your most precious memory is the Navy Seal you fucked and then murdered. Walk away while you’re still human, Kathryn. Walk the hell away.
But then Kathryn heard herself speak. “You didn’t answer my question, Mel.”
“What question was that?”
“What do you think Benson wants me to do? You must know something. If he asked for me, then it’s clearly something that needs to happen quietly, behind the scenes. You guys don’t call me when a drone strike or a sniper can do the job.”
Mel shrugged and turned back to her phone, a flash of color passing across her pale, long face. “Your guess is as good as mine on this one. Maybe he does want you to put on that black dress and take out some Sheikh.” She almost smiled as she glanced up again. “Though with your wide hips and big butt, I’d go with some harem pants.”
Kathryn laughed and slapped her hands against her thighs, finally getting Mel to smile all the way. Then they were both silent, and Kathryn reclined her seat and glanced lazily out the window, watching the white mist of clouds drift by as she thought of harem pants, desert sands, and Sheikhs. Was she really going to the Middle East? That actually sounded interesting. Maybe one more. Maybe just one.