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  I could see he was proud of her himself. “Who are her parents?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  That didn’t matter. I’d find out. “How do they feel about the possibility of her becoming WBIS?”

  “As long as she’s happy with what she’s doing….”

  “Are they aware of our reputation?”

  “Of course, and it doesn’t matter to them. But I must ask… they have the right to know what she’ll have to do.”

  “Are you asking if Valentine work will be part of her job description?” I’d done it myself—sleeping with a target—and although in the WBIS it was pretty much at the agent’s discretion, I couldn’t tell him she wouldn’t have to do it.

  “Non, non.” He poured the boiling water into our cups. “Will she be required to kill?”

  “Be a wet boy? Girl? No.” He seemed relieved, and I hated to burst his bubble. “But what if she does have to kill a man? If it comes right down to it, she might have to stand close enough to smell his breath and slide a knife between his ribs.”

  “Or put a bullet in his brain?” He nodded. “I understand. And if she needs more training in that, I can help her.” He took a container of milk from the fridge and put it on the table beside the sugar bowl, then arranged cookies on a plate and offered them to me. “I made these myself,” he said with obvious pride.

  I bit into one and chewed thoughtfully. “Lemon?” They were good, dusted with powdered sugar and with just a hint of tartness. “Mind sharing the recipe?” I’d been doing more cooking, and it would be fun to surprise Quinn with a dessert that didn’t come from the freezer.

  “Not at all. I’ll see you have it by the end of the day.”

  “Thanks.” I took the teabag from my cup with the spoon, wrapped the string around it and tugged gently to get the last bit of liquid from it, then set it on the saucer. “Now, about Rayne...?”

  He told me more about her, some of it not in her file. It sounded like her parents had groomed her for a position like this from the time she’d been in kindergarten.

  “... and I do have hopes for her in the next Olympics.”

  “If you need an additional fencing partner for her, feel free to call on me.” If the US hadn’t boycotted the Summer Olympics in 1980, I’d have been on the Fencing team. And I’d have met Quinn, who’d been selected for the Equestrian team. We chatted for a while longer, and then I glanced at my watch. “I need to get to a meeting.”

  “Bien sûr.” He accompanied me out to the fencing hall.

  The junior agent had returned and was fidgeting with his helmet. “Uh... do I need to come back again?”

  “No. We’re done here.” I’d grab a shower and head down to Stanley’s office. I shook hands with M. Bélanger. “Thanks for the match and the snack. And the information.”

  As I’d suspected, Stanley was pissed. “The WBIS lost three good men and Browne’s little finger, and the Division did nothing. I’ll be damned if I help them out now.”

  I cleared my throat. “De Becque and his people were some help.”

  He scowled at me. “Only after you stepped in. And apparently they’re no longer Division.”

  “Want me to deal with it, Trevor?” I asked casually.

  Stanley looked surprised. At my suggestion or that I’d used The Boss’s first name?

  “No need, Vincent,” Stanley said. “This is my department. I’ll deal with Robert Lynx.” He said the name like it was a sour taste in his mouth.

  “Well, just call on Mark if you need any help.” The Boss rose to his feet, indicating this meeting was over, and I got up as well.

  “Huh?” Stanley looked puzzled.

  “Congratulate him, David. If anything happens to me, Mark will be taking over.”

  Stanley started laughing. “That’s going to burn some butts.”

  “It will, won’t it?” I grinned at him. I was sure it would also keep The Boss safe from any other idiots like Davies who wanted him to have an accident.

  “I want to bring Romero into this.” Romero didn’t go out in the field, but he made sure the agents who did wouldn’t be caught short.

  “Certainly, David,” The Boss said. “Keep me posted as to what happens with the Division. Mark, I want you to accompany me to the elevator.”

  We left as Stanley pressed a key on his intercom and informed his secretary he needed to see Romero, ASAP.

  “I’ve contacted Davies, and I’ll be meeting him for drinks after dinner,” The Boss said as he pressed the call button for the elevator.

  “Do you want me available?” I eyed him surreptitiously. Why was he taking the elevator for one floor?

  “Did you doubt it?” He gave a dour smile. “Keep your cell phone turned on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just one other thing.” The elevator arrived and the door opened. He rested a hand on the edge of the door, keeping it open. “I want you to keep me in the loop regarding Grey Rayne.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t particularly surprised by this. He’d given me a similar request when I’d started training Matheson last year.

  He rested his hand on my shoulder for a moment before stepping into the elevator. “I’m quite well, Mark.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m taking the elevator because I have a meeting with Allard in about two minutes, not because I’m on my last leg.”

  “Sorry, sir.” I kept my expression blank. How had he realized I was concerned about him?

  He smiled and pressed the button for ten. That was The Boss: still large and in charge. The door slid closed, and I went to the stairwell.

  Chapter 21

  I met with Humpty Dumpty in his office after lunch, and it was an interesting meeting. “Fill these out.” A stack of pages about six inches high was on his desk, and he pushed them across the blotter until they were in front of me. “No rush, but I’ll need it before the end of the week.”

  “Thanks so much,” I said dryly.

  “Don’t mention it,” he responded just as dryly. “Now to get down to the nitty-gritty. It’s about time we did more for our secretaries than kick them out after they got pregnant. And you’re right. Paternity leave is a good idea too. Although frankly, it boggles my mind trying to picture some of our operatives changing a diaper.” He chewed on his lower lip. “Ever think you’ll give parenthood a try, Vincent?”

  “Good God, no! In case it’s escaped your notice, I prefer guys.”

  His jaw dropped. Maybe it had escaped his notice? Some in the intelligence community might think I was straight, but I’d never hidden my orientation from the people I worked with.

  He shut his mouth and cleared his throat. “You could still go the surrogacy route. I’m sure Wallace would help in any way he could.”

  “No, Humphrey. No, no, and… in a word… no.”

  He chuckled, and I realized he was pulling my leg. He quickly became serious. “We’re going to need some additional operatives to cover the ones who go out.”

  “Were Travers and Sinclair ever replaced?” They were two of the Foreign Affairs operatives we’d lost to Prinzip. As for Josephson, his slot in Interior Affairs never had been filled.

  “I’ve got some applications that look promising, and I’ve turned them over to Stanley.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll have three.”

  “Out of all the ones I sent you?”

  “Yeah, and next time, don’t do me any favors. I don’t know what half those applicants were thinking of.”

  “So tell me, who’d you choose?”

  “I’m leaning toward Johnson and Ahrens, and I’ve got Grey Rayne working on something.”

  “Oh? I thought she was a shoo-in.”

  “The Boss and M. Bélanger have nothing but good to say about her, but it’s my department, so the final choice is mine.”

  “Well, they’re good choices. I was pleased when they applied.”

  “How’d Rayne find out about the position?�
��

  He shrugged. “One day her file was on my desk.”

  I didn’t bother asking how she could have a file if she’d never worked here. With backing from both The Boss and M. Bélanger, it was moot.

  “To get back to the matter at hand, I’ll give it some thought, brainstorm with Bixby, and see what we can come up with.”

  “Fair enough. But just as an FYI, two of the secretaries in my department are pregnant, and if the WBIS doesn’t look after them, I will.”

  “Don’t get on your high horse. I said it was a good idea. Now, get out of here and let me get to work on this. Changing policy isn’t done in the blink of an eye. Oh, and don’t forget this needs to be done.” He tapped the stack of papers.

  With a growl, I scooped them up and returned to my office, and for the next few hours I filled in the blanks.

  God, I hated paperwork.

  It was getting late in the day, but I figured Rayne should have some idea of what it could be like working for the WBIS. This wasn’t a nine-to-five job, in spite of what some of the senior directors might think.

  “When you come in tomorrow, go to Human Resources.” I was about to send her home. “It’s on four. You’ll be filling out paperwork.”

  “I will?”

  “Congratulations. You’re WBIS now.”

  A huge smile stretched her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Vincent.”

  I took out my cell phone. “Let me have your phone number. You’ll need to be available at all times.”

  “Yes, sir.” She rattled off her number, and I logged it in my phone.

  Then I gave her my number. “You will not use this unless it’s the apocalypse.”

  “No, sir.” She keyed in my number, and although her head was down, I could hear the amusement in her voice. “You won’t regret this, I promise you!”

  I was pretty sure I wouldn’t.

  She’d done a good job on the files, actually coming to me with one. “Mr. Vincent, there’s something about Travers’s actions last year that concerns me.”

  “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

  “His 401(k) was emptied shortly before he left for that assignment in Europe. If you don’t mind, I’d like to look into this more.”

  “I don’t have a problem with that, but you’ll have to do it on your own time. And just remember Travers was Stanley’s agent. Come talk to me if it looks like you’re going to step on any toes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “After you’ve filled out the paperwork tomorrow, I’ll take you out to the shooting range and you can show me what you can do.”

  “Should I bring my Browning?”

  “No, you’ll be issued a Glock.” My cell phone rang, playing “Bad to the Bone,” and I flipped it open. “Yes, sir?”

  “It’s Mr. Wallace?” She started laughing, trying to stifle it when I gave her a cool stare.

  “I need your help, Mark.” The Boss sounded like it, and I stiffened.

  “Should I bring a body bag?”

  “And a shovel.” He told me where he was.

  “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Don’t get a speeding ticket, Mark.”

  “Don’t you look suspicious.” I hung up, then used the office phone to call Rogers in Supply. “It’s Vincent. I need a body bag and a—”

  “Excuse me, sir. May I go with you?” Rayne asked.

  I looked her over. Might as well throw her in at the deep end, in spite of what The Boss had said. “And a couple of shovels and two pairs of gloves. I’ll be right down to collect them.”

  “They’ll be ready for you.” He knew better than to make a remark about needing them again so soon after Friday.

  “Thanks.” I hung up and turned to my newest agent. “All right, Rayne, just so you know, this probably isn’t going to be pretty.”

  “Are you telling me this because I’m a woman?” She actually let me see that thought pissed her off.

  “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you falling apart in front of The Boss.”

  “I won’t embarrass you or... or Mr. Wallace.”

  “See that you don’t. I personally don’t care if you toss your cookies all over the alley, but The Boss seems to think highly of you. And the last thing you want to do is leave DNA at the scene.”

  Her blue eyes grew enormous. They reminded me of someone’s, but for the moment I couldn’t place them. “We’re going on a job?”

  “Yeah, and for the time being, that’s all you need to know.”

  “You said something about shovels and a body bag.” She looked down at herself. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

  I looked her up and down again. It would be a shame to ruin that suit. “What size are you?”

  She flushed—did she think I was coming on to her?—but she answered coolly. “This suit is an eight.”

  I did some fast calculating as I went to the storage closet. I pulled out a pair of jeans that were a twenty-nine inch waist. Another once over, and I decided on a medium sweatshirt and a pea coat.

  “What size are your shoes?”

  “Eleven.” She looked away, obviously embarrassed.

  “Shit. How much do you love those shoes?”

  “They’re comfortable. Why?”

  “I don’t have anything that will fit you.”

  “My shoes will be honored to give their all.” She gave me a cheeky grin. “Theirs not to reason why.”

  “Yeah, but they were talking about the Light Brigade at the time, not shoes. Okay, take these clothes and get changed in the ladies room. Do you know where Supply is?”

  “On six, I believe?”

  “Meet me there as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Yes, sir!” She saluted and hurried off.

  I’d have to remind her she wasn’t in the Marines anymore.

  I expected to have to wait, so I sent a quick text message to The Boss, letting him know I might be delayed, but Rayne must have been a quick-change artist. I’d just collected the body bag, shovels, and gloves when she rushed in.

  “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, sir.” She was holding the suit she’d changed out of. “Uh… I didn’t know what to do with this. Your office was locked.”

  “This is Rayne.” I introduced my newest agent to Rogers, who was in the process of shutting down Supply for the day.

  “You can leave them over there, ma’am.” He pointed to a closet off to the side.

  “Thanks.”

  He followed her with his gaze. “Y’know something, Mr. Vincent? She reminds me of someone.”

  “Yeah?”

  Rayne must have overheard. She grinned over her shoulder. “I guess I have that kind of face.” She hung up her suit and returned to me. “All set, Mr. Vincent.”

  “Okay, let’s go. ’Night, Rogers. Thanks again.”

  Chapter 22

  From the directions The Boss had given me, I knew where I’d find him. I was curious as to how the fuck he’d gotten Davies to this part of town without him becoming suspicious, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone around as I approached, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I killed the lights, threw the Dodge into reverse, and backed it up, positioning it so what was in that alley was concealed.

  Rayne and I got out and approached The Boss.

  He stood in the shadows, but I could still see his shoulders hunched against the chill of the night. A few feet away, Davies was sprawled on his back, a neat hole between his eyes.

  “Did you use a silencer?” I asked The Boss.

  He frowned. “You have to ask?”

  Yeah. “Sorry. Did you get splatter on you?”

  “No. I don’t know.”

  “We can’t take any chances.” The fact that he was uncertain shook me. “Take off your overcoat and give it to Rayne.”

  “Rayne? Why did you bring her with you?”

  “She has to get her feet wet sometime.”

  He growled under his breath.

>   “Are you all right, D-sir?” Rayne asked.

  “I’m fine.” He didn’t sound it. As a matter of fact, he struck me as pissed. He slid a glance my way. “I liked that coat.”

  Well, that was what he got for not leaving the job to me. However, I didn’t say that.

  “And I know, I deserve nothing less for not letting you do the job.”

  Jesus, how’d he…. I cleared my throat. “Do you have a knife, Rayne?”

  She actually patted herself down. “No, I’m sorry. I must have left it in my suit.”

  “Next time remember to empty your pockets.” I tossed her my pocketknife. “Don’t cut yourself on it.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Cut out the lining.” I opened the Dodge’s trunk, took out the body bag, and laid it out next to Davies. “Any idea what you want to do with him?” I asked The Boss as I went through Davies’s pockets. A gun with the safety still on, his wallet with ID, insurance card, and driver’s license, a money clip holding a thousand dollars, mostly in fifties and hundreds—I held it up. “Do you want this buried with him?”

  “No. You know what fund we’ll donate it to.”

  “Yes, sir.” I tossed it to him, not surprised when he caught it easily, and went through the rest of Davies’s pockets, removing a handkerchief, ballpoint pen, car and house keys, and a recording device... Shit. “Are you aware he was recording your conversation, sir?”

  “I had the feeling. He kept asking very leading questions.”

  I unbuttoned Davies’s shirt, but we’d lucked out. “He wasn’t smart enough to ask the CIA to wire him. Rayne, I keep some plastic bags in the console for garbage.” I unhooked the house key from the ring and tucked it into my pocket. “As soon as you’re done, get one and put this junk in it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Boss cleared his throat. “I thought we would use our burial site at Prospect Hill Cemetery.”