crew?"
"What?"
"Aren't there five of you?" Tyrone
asked.
"The rest are sleeping. We're on watch,"
Baruch replied.
"Yeah, they needed some rest after that
intense game of blackjack earlier tonight," Seth cracked.
He looked over at Baruch
as they headed back to the house to see if he'd react at
all. But he didn ’ t show much.
Tyrone pulled out a pack and lit one up.
Three rings of smoke left his mouth, dissipating into the night
air.
Seth's eyes followed the
glowing red stick of tobacco and carcinogens go from the mouth to a
slack, relaxed position down at Tyrone's side. "I thought you quit that habit."
The African American
licked his lips and said with a straight face, "Giving up smoking
is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it
thousands of times." "Mark
Twain."
"Are you gonna fix me a cup of coffee or
what?" he demanded with a wink.
"Coming right up, boss," Seth said shaking
his head and smiling.
Tyrone followed him into the house, taking
a few more puffs as he went which prompted Seth to turn around and
say, "Oh no, you're gonna have to extinguish that if you wanna join
me in the kitchen. You're walking into a smoke-free
environment."
Tyrone curled his upper lip in disgust.
There were no ashtrays around so he dropped the joint where he felt
like it and stamped it out. The shifty character did something
unexpected by reaching in his rear pocket for something. Tyrone’s
guilty eyes darted around making sure no one was watching. In a
stealthy move the man placed a note where it’d eventually be seen,
just not in the moment by Baruch or Seth.
He retraced his steps back to the porch.
Tyrone then looked up at the heavens, casting a suspicious long
look. Because of what he knew he couldn't look at the sky the
same.
Tyrone stuck his hands in his pockets and
turned towards the house. He noticed a low plank set on stilts
underneath a window with a face brick wall as the backdrop. A small
resigned sigh proceeded him as he lowered his weight onto the
bench.
His dark eyes traveled
the free range. There were nothing but low hills and fields between
them and Ukraine's southern border. Heavy
footsteps from behind made the plank boards of the porch creek.
Seth had returned with Baruch.
The latter man held a flask in one hand and
a sour expression on his face. There was little wonder as to what
the contents were. Seth meanwhile carried two short white mugs with
thick handles.
He handed the steaming beverage to Tyrone
and watched the thankless man sip and contemplate.
"We have less than five days, boys," he
said at last.
Baruch's drink dripped from his beard.
"Till what?"
"The end of the world."
--
Barcelona, Spain
By mid-afternoon his case officer felt the
need to check in.
"What are your plans tonight, agent?"
"I'm going on a date, actually."
It was unclear whether
or not the impersonal voice on the other end appreciated the
facetiousness. The fact is, these guys learned to go through life
without much of a sense of humor. "The
German state secretary and commissioner?"
"Yes."
"Need backup?"
"It could be dangerous..." Alfonso
joked.
"Do you plan on bringing them in?"
"I plan on enjoying this."
"Agent Marcelo, are you going to be an
asset or a liability to us?"
"Send a tag team to pick us up. Don't keep
me waiting."
"What have you learned from them so
far?"
"Not over the phone. I'll brief you when I
come in tonight."
"I expect to be read in first thing,
agent."
There was more the case
officer had to say, but Alfonso wouldn ’ t let him finish.
"Gotta go."
In truth, he had a couple of hours to
kill.
Alfonso didn’t like working with his
handler very much. The man didn't know how to separate work from
personal affairs and as a result the breakdown interfered in how he
managed assets. On more than one occasion Alfonso had to bluff his
way out of hot spots his handler created for him. The mistakes
needed to be stopped before they jeopardized Marcelo's life for the
last
"What?"
"Aren't there five of you?" Tyrone
asked.
"The rest are sleeping. We're on watch,"
Baruch replied.
"Yeah, they needed some rest after that
intense game of blackjack earlier tonight," Seth cracked.
He looked over at Baruch
as they headed back to the house to see if he'd react at
all. But he didn ’ t show much.
Tyrone pulled out a pack and lit one up.
Three rings of smoke left his mouth, dissipating into the night
air.
Seth's eyes followed the
glowing red stick of tobacco and carcinogens go from the mouth to a
slack, relaxed position down at Tyrone's side. "I thought you quit that habit."
The African American
licked his lips and said with a straight face, "Giving up smoking
is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it
thousands of times." "Mark
Twain."
"Are you gonna fix me a cup of coffee or
what?" he demanded with a wink.
"Coming right up, boss," Seth said shaking
his head and smiling.
Tyrone followed him into the house, taking
a few more puffs as he went which prompted Seth to turn around and
say, "Oh no, you're gonna have to extinguish that if you wanna join
me in the kitchen. You're walking into a smoke-free
environment."
Tyrone curled his upper lip in disgust.
There were no ashtrays around so he dropped the joint where he felt
like it and stamped it out. The shifty character did something
unexpected by reaching in his rear pocket for something. Tyrone’s
guilty eyes darted around making sure no one was watching. In a
stealthy move the man placed a note where it’d eventually be seen,
just not in the moment by Baruch or Seth.
He retraced his steps back to the porch.
Tyrone then looked up at the heavens, casting a suspicious long
look. Because of what he knew he couldn't look at the sky the
same.
Tyrone stuck his hands in his pockets and
turned towards the house. He noticed a low plank set on stilts
underneath a window with a face brick wall as the backdrop. A small
resigned sigh proceeded him as he lowered his weight onto the
bench.
His dark eyes traveled
the free range. There were nothing but low hills and fields between
them and Ukraine's southern border. Heavy
footsteps from behind made the plank boards of the porch creek.
Seth had returned with Baruch.
The latter man held a flask in one hand and
a sour expression on his face. There was little wonder as to what
the contents were. Seth meanwhile carried two short white mugs with
thick handles.
He handed the steaming beverage to Tyrone
and watched the thankless man sip and contemplate.
"We have less than five days, boys," he
said at last.
Baruch's drink dripped from his beard.
"Till what?"
"The end of the world."
--
Barcelona, Spain
By mid-afternoon his case officer felt the
need to check in.
"What are your plans tonight, agent?"
"I'm going on a date, actually."
It was unclear whether
or not the impersonal voice on the other end appreciated the
facetiousness. The fact is, these guys learned to go through life
without much of a sense of humor. "The
German state secretary and commissioner?"
"Yes."
"Need backup?"
"It could be dangerous..." Alfonso
joked.
"Do you plan on bringing them in?"
"I plan on enjoying this."
"Agent Marcelo, are you going to be an
asset or a liability to us?"
"Send a tag team to pick us up. Don't keep
me waiting."
"What have you learned from them so
far?"
"Not over the phone. I'll brief you when I
come in tonight."
"I expect to be read in first thing,
agent."
There was more the case
officer had to say, but Alfonso wouldn ’ t let him finish.
"Gotta go."
In truth, he had a couple of hours to
kill.
Alfonso didn’t like working with his
handler very much. The man didn't know how to separate work from
personal affairs and as a result the breakdown interfered in how he
managed assets. On more than one occasion Alfonso had to bluff his
way out of hot spots his handler created for him. The mistakes
needed to be stopped before they jeopardized Marcelo's life for the
last
Similar Books
