and then back to Damon. “Do you think the Grand Master is testing us?”
“This is certainly not what I expected.”
They were in the middle of Oklahoma, deep in farm country. The road they were on didn’t have a name and the house didn’t have a number. They’d stopped in the little town off the freeway and asked for the scientist’s house, which is what the Grand Master’s instructions had said. They’d been given directions that included abandoned tractors and big trees instead of street names. Strangely, it hadn’t been that hard to find. There was no other house in sight. The only other structures were some massive poly-tunnel green houses. It was just before noon and they’d been traveling since five am—they hadn’t been able to get flights yesterday but had been on the first flights out this morning. The day was taking on a surreal feel. Marco wouldn’t have been surprised if a little old lady had walked out onto the porch holding a cherry pie.
“Well, we might as well knock.” Damon started up the steps.
Marco put his hand out. “Wait.” He stepped to the side, searching for the hint of movement he’d seen. “I think there’s someone in that poly tunnel.”
“The what?” Damon asked as they rounded the house, taking a path back to the plastic and metal structures.
“That’s a poly tunnel.”
“Why do you know that?”
“When I’m bored I watch educational program ming.”
Damon snorted. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
Marco grinned. “I keep forgetting.”
“It feels weird to say it,” Damon admitted.
“Weird bad or weird good?”
“Weird good.”
The door to the closest greenhouse was open. Moving quietly, they crept to where they could get a better look.
A slim blonde woman wearing brown overalls and a white tank top was bent over a raised bed of plants. She was holding a little metal box with a probe on it, which she stuck into the soil. After a second, she picked up a clipboard and made a note. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid and covered with a navy-blue bandana.
As she turned, Marco caught a glimpse of her profile—Tasha.
“That’s Tasha,” Damon said. “Damn. I didn’t think I could be surprised again.”
Marco agreed. People were complex, but Tasha was a whole new level of complicated—from the sexy spy to the eccentric hacker and now the wholesome farm girl.
Without looking up, she said, “You might as well come in. I know you’re there.”
Marco led the way, entering the poly tunnel, which was humid and smelled of growing things. Inside it seemed even bigger—there were rows and rows of tables, each covered in lush green plants.
“Hello, Tasha,” he said.
She set down her clipboard and started picking dead leaves off the closest greenery.
“How did you know we were here?” Damon asked, folding his arms. He was wearing a suit and was already looking damp. Marco had on slacks and a dress shirt. They were both overdressed, but at least he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“I’m not so stupid as to think that I can’t be found. Even here.”
“And where is here?” Marco asked. Tasha still hadn’t looked at them.
“My home,” she said simply.
“This is where you live—in the middle of Oklahoma?”
“I have condos in other cities. I don’t get to spend all my time here.”
“But why here?” Damon asked.
Tasha wandered away from them down one of the aisles, fingers gently brushing the leaves. “I have a degree in agricultural engineering.”
Marco rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t expected that.
“It’s funny,” she continued, “because that’s what my parents wanted me to major in. That was part of their plan for me—probably some sort of bio-terrorism plot. When I got out of the CIA, I finished school—high school—and then went to college sporadically. I didn’t plan to study ag, especially since that’s what my parents had wanted, but all my best memories growing
“This is certainly not what I expected.”
They were in the middle of Oklahoma, deep in farm country. The road they were on didn’t have a name and the house didn’t have a number. They’d stopped in the little town off the freeway and asked for the scientist’s house, which is what the Grand Master’s instructions had said. They’d been given directions that included abandoned tractors and big trees instead of street names. Strangely, it hadn’t been that hard to find. There was no other house in sight. The only other structures were some massive poly-tunnel green houses. It was just before noon and they’d been traveling since five am—they hadn’t been able to get flights yesterday but had been on the first flights out this morning. The day was taking on a surreal feel. Marco wouldn’t have been surprised if a little old lady had walked out onto the porch holding a cherry pie.
“Well, we might as well knock.” Damon started up the steps.
Marco put his hand out. “Wait.” He stepped to the side, searching for the hint of movement he’d seen. “I think there’s someone in that poly tunnel.”
“The what?” Damon asked as they rounded the house, taking a path back to the plastic and metal structures.
“That’s a poly tunnel.”
“Why do you know that?”
“When I’m bored I watch educational program ming.”
Damon snorted. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for the rest of my life.”
Marco grinned. “I keep forgetting.”
“It feels weird to say it,” Damon admitted.
“Weird bad or weird good?”
“Weird good.”
The door to the closest greenhouse was open. Moving quietly, they crept to where they could get a better look.
A slim blonde woman wearing brown overalls and a white tank top was bent over a raised bed of plants. She was holding a little metal box with a probe on it, which she stuck into the soil. After a second, she picked up a clipboard and made a note. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid and covered with a navy-blue bandana.
As she turned, Marco caught a glimpse of her profile—Tasha.
“That’s Tasha,” Damon said. “Damn. I didn’t think I could be surprised again.”
Marco agreed. People were complex, but Tasha was a whole new level of complicated—from the sexy spy to the eccentric hacker and now the wholesome farm girl.
Without looking up, she said, “You might as well come in. I know you’re there.”
Marco led the way, entering the poly tunnel, which was humid and smelled of growing things. Inside it seemed even bigger—there were rows and rows of tables, each covered in lush green plants.
“Hello, Tasha,” he said.
She set down her clipboard and started picking dead leaves off the closest greenery.
“How did you know we were here?” Damon asked, folding his arms. He was wearing a suit and was already looking damp. Marco had on slacks and a dress shirt. They were both overdressed, but at least he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
“I’m not so stupid as to think that I can’t be found. Even here.”
“And where is here?” Marco asked. Tasha still hadn’t looked at them.
“My home,” she said simply.
“This is where you live—in the middle of Oklahoma?”
“I have condos in other cities. I don’t get to spend all my time here.”
“But why here?” Damon asked.
Tasha wandered away from them down one of the aisles, fingers gently brushing the leaves. “I have a degree in agricultural engineering.”
Marco rocked back on his heels. He hadn’t expected that.
“It’s funny,” she continued, “because that’s what my parents wanted me to major in. That was part of their plan for me—probably some sort of bio-terrorism plot. When I got out of the CIA, I finished school—high school—and then went to college sporadically. I didn’t plan to study ag, especially since that’s what my parents had wanted, but all my best memories growing
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