Eugene Bevard shook his head as he ran a finger over the gold name plate on his desk. He scoffed, tossing it aside. Two years into a marriage he was forced into for his job, with the lamest fake name ever, and he was going out of his mind. Sure, the woman he quickly married to appease the CIA gods was beautiful and a decent wife. But if he was honest with himself, he barely knew her. He cared for Calista and she had been good to him. They even had a great sex life. The bedroom was the one place where sparks ignited between them.

But, life in the suburbs of New Jersey was boring. He commuted into New York city each day, to his office and back again. It just wasn’t the life he wanted to lead. He should be the one out there, tracking down and arresting the drug lord he pissed off, not some other lucky agent. Sure, in trying to catch Ricardo Bendez, Gene had caused the death of his brother. Jesus Bendez. Ricardo had been hunting Gene, putting out contracts on his life since. Hiding from danger was not what Eugene was about.

Clarence Ellard, his CIA handler, commanded that he hide out until the heat was off, until the rumors of contracts on his life, and searches for Agent Grayson Connor had ceased. It had taken almost three months for him to get used to the name Eugene or Gene. Even his back story was dull. Raised by grandparents after his parents died, they were gone, he was alone. His fake job, sitting in an office, and pretending to be a financial consultant wasn’t any better. What he really did, was online research and tracing for the CIA. He still had a job, just not his job.

Clarence kept assuring Gene that they were close, and he could soon return to a normal life, if that was what he wanted. But Clarence also kept suggesting married life was good for men of a certain age. As if to prove a point, Gene spent massive amounts of his free time at the gym, up keeping the rock-hard body, the one he had achieved through constant training and hard work.

Certain age? Gene though angrily. It’s not like he was elderly. At thirty-five, sure, he had a decade on other agents. But that ten years brought an experience and patience that those young bucks didn’t have. He ached to be back in the field. Stalking terrorists with a sniper rifle, hand to hand combat with bombers, that was where he needed to be. Working a day job, going home to the suburbs, mowing the lawn on the weekends, cookouts with the neighbors, it was all too Stepford for him.

Gone were the days of different cities each week, rescue missions, killing bad guys who deserved it and having a purpose in life. When he killed the brother of Columbia’s top drug cartel leader, he was put undercover, basically the CIA’s version of witness protection, and it sucked.

The intercom on his desk buzzed. Gertrude, the older woman assigned to him, was the only person in this pretend life, other than Clarence, that actually knew who and what he was. “Mr. Ellard is on the phone, Gene,” her soft, grandmotherly voice came through.

“Thanks, Gertie,” he picked up the phone on his desk. “Clarence, tell me you got good news?” Leaning back in the chair, Gene put his feet up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. Damn suits, he missed his jeans and shirts, comfortable clothes that allowed him to blend in with any area. He missed being a chameleon.

“Gene,” Ellard sounded exasperated. Every time he called, it was the same question, same answer. It was their dance ritual. “I guess you could call this good news.” Those words took a moment to register with Gene. He launched forward, planting his feet on the floor.

“What? Really? I can come back to work?” There was no way to hide the excitement in his voice. Heart racing, his blood roared against his ear drums. Although, for a moment, he was sad. What about Calista? Could he tell her the truth? Would she be able to handle it? Was that even a life she would want to be a part of? Ignoring the questions in his head, he listened to the conversation, tabling the what ifs for later.

“Now Gene, calm down please. Let me explain. It’s not what you think.” It was like a sucker punch to the gut. The breath rushed from his lungs, and he collapsed back into the chair with such force it rolled backwards a few inches. “We need your help with a case, but it’s not exactly on the books for us. More of a freelance job. It wouldn’t mean you can come out of hiding yet.”

Gene huffed, squeezing his eyes tight. He counted to ten under his breath and then opened them back up. “Ok, what is it.” At this point, he would take whatever he could get. A little action was better than none.

“Well, you’ve heard of Artemis?”

He had. She was thought to be the best assassin in the world right now. Highly sought, though never seen. Any job she took had to be someone referred by a former client, and apparently, she was extremely picky. Two, maybe three jobs a year, but all high profile. This woman was also a ghost. There were no traces, nothing left behind, except a small business card with a golden bow and arrow. Never, had the CIA been up against someone like this, that they could not find one single lead to go on. They didn’t even know for sure she was female. It was a hunch, based on the fact that Artemis was the Greek goddess of hunt. A female. Gene actually admired her, whoever she was. Her marks had ranged from dangerous arms dealers to a dictator that had massacred hundreds of people. Every one of them deserved what they got. But vigilante justice wasn’t justice, just a quick means to an end.

“Yes, Clarence. Who in this business hasn’t?” It was like the FBI’s most wanted list. The CIA had their own. Mostly suspects that no one else knew about unless you were in the company.

“I got a top-secret file on my desk today. The CIA had gotten sick of trying to figure out who Artemis was, and decided to use her instead. Since she wasn’t exactly a threat to us, we’ve given her jobs. Even the contact here who gave her targets, payments, whatever, hasn’t seen or spoken to this person. So, we’re still in the dark.”

Gene rolled his eyes. It was typical of them to exploit someone with skills like that. Until they got caught doing so, then that person would become their most wanted criminal and take all the blame. Whatever kept the United States from taking any responsibility to unethical practices.

“Of course they did. And?”

“And, instead of hitting their last mark, an ISIS leader who was planning a large-scale attack, she took out an Army General of ours. Along with her calling card, we found evidence that he was the one supplying this cell with the materials and information they needed to pull it off. Yes, everyone is happy to have found a traitor, but at the same time, they are angry at the disobedient behavior. That’s not protocol. Had we found out, there could have been a trial, showing our country we are protecting them from all enemies, foreign and domestic. That chance gone, we have to explain why a general was assassinated and a terrorist left to run free, and why we sent this person instead of capturing them. Senate and Congress are calling for her head, and there’s an inquiry into the CIA.” Clarence stopped, clearing his throat.

To Gene, it all seemed like the right person was taken out, a traitor who deserved to die. Especially a man with high security clearance that had claimed a dedicated life to his country. But as a patriot, he also saw where they were coming from. Constituents want to see their elected officials taking charge and handling things. This certainly was a mess.

“Gene, I’ll be honest. The powers that be want you to take out Artemis, capture really, but no one would bat an eye if she came back dead instead of alive. It would save from her getting on the stand and divulging other missions she had been sent on, if you catch my drift.”

“If no one knows who she is, how is that going to happen?” He held back the laugh that he felt coming on. His first chance to get back in the field and they want to give him an impossible mission?

“They haven’t mentioned their displeasure to her. She was paid, everything seems fine, at least to her. Their plan is basically to set up another contract. But you will know the times and places this person will be, and can arrange to intercept.”

“Why haven’t they done this before? Set up a contract and had them followed, capture her?”

“We did once, and our agent was left hog tied to a light pole in the middle of Paris. It was quite embarrassing. They figured she would make a better asset than enemy, that’s how it goes. You know how it is with us spooks. When you’re useful, you get jobs. When you’re not, you no longer exist.” Clarence lowered his voice. “I don’t like this. I’ve been given a command. I’m to give you this job. But to be honest, it feels like a suicide mission to me. You can decline. Technically, you’re not an employee, and it’s not a required job. Off the books, they can’t force you. That would mean paperwork, and they want this hush hush. I’m just afraid if cornered, she will attack. We both know that means loss of life to those who are in the line of fire. Either from her or for failure.”

Gene thought on it for a moment. No one had been able to get close to Artemis. And Clarence was right. Anyone who failed, seemed to disappear. At this point, he’d rather risk his life and use this as leverage to get back into field work, than let the opportunity pass him by. “I’ll do it, send me the info.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. We both know this is something they don’t expect you to come back from.”

“I will succeed, then I want to go back to my old life.” The line was silent for a moment.

“Ok, I’ll get that approved and send the file. They have a team already picked, so be careful. This means someone will have instructions to take you out if things go bad. And Gene, good luck.”

Clarence hung up, and Gene turned to look out the window at the New York City skyline. Things were finally looking up. He was gonna get his life back, things would be normal again. He needed the action like he needed air.

“Gertie,” he buzzed his secretary. “We have classifieds coming in. Please bring them to me as soon as they get here.” Then he began making a list of items he would need. Failure was not an option.