3 Lies by Helen Hanson Page B

personally give each one a complete physical just to be sure.”
    The smiles returned.
    Clint rubbed his ankle with his thumb. “Yeah, I should take lessons from you.”
    “You’re my buddy. I’d do anything for you, you know that.”
    Todd would. Clint knew that.
    “The past months have been rough.”
    “That’s one word for it.”
    “But, maybe the baby is another chance for you and Paige. Hell, I don’t know. But if you’ve got to chase this new skirt—”
    “She not just a skirt. Don’t you get it? This whole thing is surreal. If she wants to dump me, this is the most bizarre set up imaginable. If not, I don’t know. She could be in serious trouble. Either way, I’ve got to find out.”
    “I’m sorry. You do what you need to. Just be careful, man.”
    Careful.
    The cop gave Clint the same warning.
    Until recently, that was the only way he’d ever lived.

Chapter Sixteen
    Doug Bryant worked alone in the strategy room, his coffee cold from neglect, preparing for his briefing with Natalie. He followed data across three monitors. He wasn’t sure which part of the project held the most promise: the chance to investigate genuine espionage or getting up-close-and-personal with Natalie the Femme Fatalie. Then again, sticking it to Albert trumped both those pleasures.
    He thought his new-found importance would elevate his stature. It merely left him with fewer conversations. Albert kept him under the microscope but rarely spoke to him. A bonus. Posey, jazzed initially at the break from his routine, expected Doug would ‘fess up on the operation after a few beers. When Doug wouldn’t go out to lift a pint, Posey got all female and quit speaking to him. It almost made Doug glad he didn’t have a girlfriend.
    “Bryant.” Chester Spivey barked his name as if it were roll call in boot camp.
    Doug resisted a flinch. At least someone wanted to talk to him.
    “Good morning, sir.”
    Chester stood flagpole straight over him. “What have you got, son?”
    “I’m pinging the live assets first. As you might imagine, not all operatives are quick to claim ownership even on the authorized missions.” His hands dropped to his lap. “I’ve got an entire roster of inactives, too. I can’t rule them out.”
    “Not if you want a promotion some day. You need any back-up getting agent confirmation, you let me know. I haven’t kicked any butts yet today. What about hard assets?”
    “I’ve had Posey and Natalie’s team running those since we broke yesterday.”
    “How about planes?” Chester said.
    “Nothing so far.”
    “Two months ago an Al Qaeda suicide bomber lifted a King Air turboprop from an operation base outside of Timor-Leste in southern Indonesia. He took it upon himself to kill the Australian Prime Minister who was visiting Darwin.”
    “The Prime Minister? She’s in good health, last I heard. What happened?”
    “He crashed the damn plane before he hit Aussie airspace. It seems the plane he hijacked was grounded for a rudder malfunction. We tracked him as he flew a long, slow arc into the side of a mountain.” Chester sat on the table edge. “Being a dangerous sonovabitch didn’t make him any smarter.”
    Simon knuckle-rapped the glass door as he balanced a stack of folders. Chester waved him in. Simon plopped his files on the table and took a seat across from Doug. Stringy hairs lined his scalp.
    “Natalie’s on her way.”
    Doug pushed his chair back toward the door and awaited her arrival. Not all girls acted like Posey. Or looked like him. Fortunately.
    Without greeting, Albert slipped into the room. Doug watched as he settled the broad end of his pyriform body into a chair with a slight groan. A roll of antacid tablets spilled from his black binder. He freed two orange disks and dropped them onto his grey tongue.
    “Good, looks like we’re all here,” Natalie said.
    Doug whipped around as Natalie breezed by wearing a Ferrari-red dress. It reminded him why he’d been thinking about her