file toward him and then looked away as he opened it and studied the stolen orders.
“Pretty damn industrious of Uncle General, isn’t it? I’m sure the U.S. Navy would like to learn how he got ahold of transit orders before the ink was even dry on them.”
Anya smiled at the naiveté that Carl showed sometimes, as he liked to believe everyone in the world was as aboveboard as himself and his friends in America. It was always amazing when she had to explain the hard truths to him.
“The same place your CIA gets their information, Carl, and you know that. Some little analyst with a cheap computer broke into another computer and got the orders before release.”
Carl shook his head as he closed the folder. “Yeah, I know about little analysts and their computers and what a pain in the ass they can be. Only the computer they use isn’t cheap.” He smiled, thinking about his old friend Pete Golding and his “girlfriend,” Europa, and then reached out to take Anya’s hand. “I guess someone in Washington needs to learn to read a resignation letter. I’m done with all of that.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as I hope you’re done with the Mossad.”
Anya released his hand abruptly and then stood so suddenly she knocked the chair over as she turned for the window. “Carl, I’m leaving for Tel Aviv and you’re going home before those orders take effect. You may have enough time before you have to report to Houston to do what needs to be done.”
“Time for what, and what needs to be done?” he asked as he finally reached for the yellow envelope. He saw Anya wasn’t going to answer so he opened it and pulled the two photos free along with the report that accompanied them. He saw immediately that the written report was butchered by long, black editing lines cutting off information not meant for Carl’s eyes. He read as he looked at both pictures. His brows rose when he recognized Charles Hendrix of the defunct Centauris Corporation. He looked at Anya, who was still facing toward the mountain outside. When Carl finished the analyst’s conclusions as to the collusion between Hendrix, Assistant Director of Operations Daniel Peachtree, and this Hiram Vickers, he became silent as his fingers closed around the likeness of Vickers. He studied the man’s face and didn’t notice when Anya turned and went to Everett and sat next to him. She forcefully removed his fingers from the photo and then closed both of her smaller ones over Carl’s.
“It’s time for you to go home, my handsome captain. Both our countries need us home.” She quickly released one of her hands and swiped at the tear that rolled down her right cheek. She hated herself for being a girl as she thought if it, but this was her life, her love that she was going to force away from her. “Your friend Jack needs you, and for the little bit of time you have left before your navy steals you, you can help him end this horrible thing that befell his sister. The general says we are running out of time—about what, he didn’t say, but I believe him when he says Israel needs all her children back home.” She smiled and leaned across and kissed Carl. “And so does America.” She smiled broadly as she pulled back after kissing him. “She needs all of her Captain Americas.”
Carl swallowed as he realized his time with Anya was at an end. It was because Carl knew just what the Mossad general was referring to when he mentioned they were all running out of time. It could only mean one thing, and that business had to with the Event Group’s small green secret in the desert. But it was the other that concerned him at the moment. The information he now held could only be delivered by hand to Jack, as he could never trust sending it through any other means. Yes, he knew he had to return to Nevada and he knew he had to help Jack before the real-world problems started burning the world to cinders. Carl lowered his head as he found he was unable to speak.
“Pretty damn industrious of Uncle General, isn’t it? I’m sure the U.S. Navy would like to learn how he got ahold of transit orders before the ink was even dry on them.”
Anya smiled at the naiveté that Carl showed sometimes, as he liked to believe everyone in the world was as aboveboard as himself and his friends in America. It was always amazing when she had to explain the hard truths to him.
“The same place your CIA gets their information, Carl, and you know that. Some little analyst with a cheap computer broke into another computer and got the orders before release.”
Carl shook his head as he closed the folder. “Yeah, I know about little analysts and their computers and what a pain in the ass they can be. Only the computer they use isn’t cheap.” He smiled, thinking about his old friend Pete Golding and his “girlfriend,” Europa, and then reached out to take Anya’s hand. “I guess someone in Washington needs to learn to read a resignation letter. I’m done with all of that.” He squeezed her hand. “Just as I hope you’re done with the Mossad.”
Anya released his hand abruptly and then stood so suddenly she knocked the chair over as she turned for the window. “Carl, I’m leaving for Tel Aviv and you’re going home before those orders take effect. You may have enough time before you have to report to Houston to do what needs to be done.”
“Time for what, and what needs to be done?” he asked as he finally reached for the yellow envelope. He saw Anya wasn’t going to answer so he opened it and pulled the two photos free along with the report that accompanied them. He saw immediately that the written report was butchered by long, black editing lines cutting off information not meant for Carl’s eyes. He read as he looked at both pictures. His brows rose when he recognized Charles Hendrix of the defunct Centauris Corporation. He looked at Anya, who was still facing toward the mountain outside. When Carl finished the analyst’s conclusions as to the collusion between Hendrix, Assistant Director of Operations Daniel Peachtree, and this Hiram Vickers, he became silent as his fingers closed around the likeness of Vickers. He studied the man’s face and didn’t notice when Anya turned and went to Everett and sat next to him. She forcefully removed his fingers from the photo and then closed both of her smaller ones over Carl’s.
“It’s time for you to go home, my handsome captain. Both our countries need us home.” She quickly released one of her hands and swiped at the tear that rolled down her right cheek. She hated herself for being a girl as she thought if it, but this was her life, her love that she was going to force away from her. “Your friend Jack needs you, and for the little bit of time you have left before your navy steals you, you can help him end this horrible thing that befell his sister. The general says we are running out of time—about what, he didn’t say, but I believe him when he says Israel needs all her children back home.” She smiled and leaned across and kissed Carl. “And so does America.” She smiled broadly as she pulled back after kissing him. “She needs all of her Captain Americas.”
Carl swallowed as he realized his time with Anya was at an end. It was because Carl knew just what the Mossad general was referring to when he mentioned they were all running out of time. It could only mean one thing, and that business had to with the Event Group’s small green secret in the desert. But it was the other that concerned him at the moment. The information he now held could only be delivered by hand to Jack, as he could never trust sending it through any other means. Yes, he knew he had to return to Nevada and he knew he had to help Jack before the real-world problems started burning the world to cinders. Carl lowered his head as he found he was unable to speak.
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