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Authors: Shaun Tennant
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Mr. Hinkston here.”
Hinkston snorted but said nothing.
Senator Anderson interjected. “I think you see the conundrum. CIB is supposed to root out corrupt CIA agents when the need arises. Can’t exactly send CIA agents in here, but at the same time the CIB is clearly compromised. Son, we need someone, to put it bluntly, like you.”
Quarrel nodded. “Who had access to Crowe’s mission files?”
Milton answered, “Nobody but me. However, there are a number of highest-value agents who have above-top-secret clearance. Any one of them could theoretically have gotten into our files, either here in the building or on the server, without my knowledge. But we have no record of anyone accessing the records in either manner.”
“How many agents are we talking about?”
“Seven. The seven best agents the CIB had ever employed. One of them is a traitor.”
Quarrel nodded, thinking. “ At leas t one. More than one of them could have turned.”
“We’ve considered that,” said Hinkston.
“OK,” said Quarrel, “why me? No offence, I’m happy to be here, but why call in a junior analyst from Canada to look at a leak at the highest level of American intelligence?”
“Because you’re nobody. Because you aren’t from here, you don’t know me, and my agents have absolutely no idea that you exist. If I’m going to find this bastard I need someone on whom I can rely, and unfortunately that doesn’t include any agent within my office or the CIA. I need a total outsider. And because yesterday you pulled some intel out of thin air that saved one of those seven agents from a slow and painful death.”
Definitely Nice . Quarrel took it in. “I really just remembered a location.”
Anderson smiled. “Brilliant and humble. This is your big break, kid.”
“Not until I know he’s my man,” said Milton. “Do you want the job or not?”
Quarrel hesitated.
Milton smiled. “If you’re wondering, the answer is yes, they are all capable of killing you. If you take this job, you’ll very likely die if the traitor thinks you figured him out.”
Now Chris cracked a smile. “Actually, that’s exactly what I was wondering.” He paused, thought of Carol and Erica and the others, and looked Milton in the eyes. “I’m your man. Let’s have a look at those files.”
#
Milton’s top seven agents were the legends of the intelligence business. Quarrel had heard of three of them before, but all seven had startlingly impressive resumes. The three Chris had heard of were Samantha Boswell, William Thorpe, and Jack Hall. Boswell was the All-American girl: gorgeous, athletic, and brilliant. She had completed over two-hundred top-secret missions by the age of twenty-seven, before going into a lighter workload and a semi-retirement. Chris had heard her name during his time at a CSIS training camp a year earlier, where a particularly nimble backflip off a roof and into a window below was called a ‘Boswell entry.’
Thorpe was an old-timer, now almost sixty. He was English, serving in MI-6 for decades. He had their American file, and spent more time in America than at home. His relationship with CIB had become so intimate that he was allowed into their archives on several occasions. He was the master of seduction, and several women Quarrel had met in his years at the Service had told stories about Thorpe. Never any detail—that would break confidentiality—but Quarrel had seen enough professional women blush at Thorpe’s name to get the idea.
Quarrel now learned that Thorpe’s codename was Triple-Eight. He had been captured on the English Channel and held in Nice, until Quarrel’s information saved him. He had not been treated well by the captors, which led Quarrel to think he wasn’t likely to be the mole.
Jack Hall was the same man who had operated the training camp where Quarrel failed to graduate only a week prior. Mid-forties. American, he was brought into the CIA/CIB after a distinguished career in the
Hinkston snorted but said nothing.
Senator Anderson interjected. “I think you see the conundrum. CIB is supposed to root out corrupt CIA agents when the need arises. Can’t exactly send CIA agents in here, but at the same time the CIB is clearly compromised. Son, we need someone, to put it bluntly, like you.”
Quarrel nodded. “Who had access to Crowe’s mission files?”
Milton answered, “Nobody but me. However, there are a number of highest-value agents who have above-top-secret clearance. Any one of them could theoretically have gotten into our files, either here in the building or on the server, without my knowledge. But we have no record of anyone accessing the records in either manner.”
“How many agents are we talking about?”
“Seven. The seven best agents the CIB had ever employed. One of them is a traitor.”
Quarrel nodded, thinking. “ At leas t one. More than one of them could have turned.”
“We’ve considered that,” said Hinkston.
“OK,” said Quarrel, “why me? No offence, I’m happy to be here, but why call in a junior analyst from Canada to look at a leak at the highest level of American intelligence?”
“Because you’re nobody. Because you aren’t from here, you don’t know me, and my agents have absolutely no idea that you exist. If I’m going to find this bastard I need someone on whom I can rely, and unfortunately that doesn’t include any agent within my office or the CIA. I need a total outsider. And because yesterday you pulled some intel out of thin air that saved one of those seven agents from a slow and painful death.”
Definitely Nice . Quarrel took it in. “I really just remembered a location.”
Anderson smiled. “Brilliant and humble. This is your big break, kid.”
“Not until I know he’s my man,” said Milton. “Do you want the job or not?”
Quarrel hesitated.
Milton smiled. “If you’re wondering, the answer is yes, they are all capable of killing you. If you take this job, you’ll very likely die if the traitor thinks you figured him out.”
Now Chris cracked a smile. “Actually, that’s exactly what I was wondering.” He paused, thought of Carol and Erica and the others, and looked Milton in the eyes. “I’m your man. Let’s have a look at those files.”
#
Milton’s top seven agents were the legends of the intelligence business. Quarrel had heard of three of them before, but all seven had startlingly impressive resumes. The three Chris had heard of were Samantha Boswell, William Thorpe, and Jack Hall. Boswell was the All-American girl: gorgeous, athletic, and brilliant. She had completed over two-hundred top-secret missions by the age of twenty-seven, before going into a lighter workload and a semi-retirement. Chris had heard her name during his time at a CSIS training camp a year earlier, where a particularly nimble backflip off a roof and into a window below was called a ‘Boswell entry.’
Thorpe was an old-timer, now almost sixty. He was English, serving in MI-6 for decades. He had their American file, and spent more time in America than at home. His relationship with CIB had become so intimate that he was allowed into their archives on several occasions. He was the master of seduction, and several women Quarrel had met in his years at the Service had told stories about Thorpe. Never any detail—that would break confidentiality—but Quarrel had seen enough professional women blush at Thorpe’s name to get the idea.
Quarrel now learned that Thorpe’s codename was Triple-Eight. He had been captured on the English Channel and held in Nice, until Quarrel’s information saved him. He had not been treated well by the captors, which led Quarrel to think he wasn’t likely to be the mole.
Jack Hall was the same man who had operated the training camp where Quarrel failed to graduate only a week prior. Mid-forties. American, he was brought into the CIA/CIB after a distinguished career in the
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