Whichis whyIdon’t just stroll the nearly two miles upMarketStreetto my extraction point.Idouble back.Igo around.Itake a bus, a commuter train, and atrolley, of all things.Iam as adept at evading obstacles in the field asIam at avoiding social commitments back home.And, of course, the entire way,Inavigate construction detours, which take about the same level of tactical planning as evading capture.Atleast the orange cones are less intimidating than armed guards.
Luckily,Packston, the tech op in my ear is very good at seeing the overhead view and directing me to locations at precisely the right time, becauseI’malso in a big hurry to get back toLangleywith the case.Thisis a big city, but the longer a game of cat-and-mouse goes on, the more likely the mouse is to get caught.AndInever get caught.
Icross over theSchuylkillRiverthe second time on foot, and asIapproach the building with the private heliport,ItellPackston, “I’vehit the extraction point.”
“Rogerthat,Zoe.Initiatingprotocol ‘RooftopRendezvous.’Andjust for the record, since our evasion pattern had more twists than a roller coaster factory, the subjects called off their pursuit of you.Harrisonis on standby, rooftop level.”
Idrum the fingertips of my free hand against my leg as the elevator takes me up the six stories and onto the roof, whereHarrisonis, indeed, waiting for me in the chopper.Itsblades are turning slowly like it’s powering up in preparation to take off the momentIstepaboard.Thesecond the elevator doors are open enough for me to slip through,Irun toward the helicopter.
Likequite a few flat rooftops inPhilly, this one is grassed to help with stormwater runoff.MaybebecauseIwas just traipsing through the city in less-than-typical pedestrian paths, or maybe becauseI’min a hurry to get back,Ichannel my innerPythagorasand run the hypotenuse, becauseI’mall about taking the shortest distance between two points—the straight line.
WhichmeansIam cutting across the grass instead of walking on the sidewalk like a civilized pedestrian.Exceptit’s not grass, it’s more like a ground cover of succulents, and it seems that it rained last night.And, apparently, ground cover on a gravel roof isverysquishy.
Ibarely slow my run, though, as my shoes are getting soaked through, andI’malmost to the helipad when my foot catches on a plant andIfall.Inmy pre-intelligence operative life,Imight have fallen flat on my face.Instead,Iexecute a perfect tactical roll back to standing.Whichmeans that instead of getting my entire front side soaked,Iget my entire backside soaked.ButIdon’t lose hold of the case—Ikeep my grip tight, at the expense of my hand.
Irecently slacklined on a one-inch wide polyester webbing between thePetronasTwinTowersinKualaLumpur.Itwas 700 feet across, andIbarely wobbled.Andhere,Ifall on a soft, mostly flat surface?Iam trained in a dozen different weapons, yetIam no match for succulents. (WhichIalready know, becausePackstongave me a potted succulent to “personalize” my desk once.Apparently, theyactually have limits on how long they can go without water.)
Myface heats, andIam wondering ifPackstonor anyone else back atLangleywitnessed my fall— they haven’t exactly commandeered a satellite to watch my op, but there are probably cameras on this rooftop— whenPackstonsays, “Interestingchoice of escape route.”
Sometimesit’s difficult to tell whenPackstonis being serious or sarcastic, butIcan hear the smile in his words.SoIrespond with, “Missionupdate: succulents are now classified as hostile entities.I’mproceeding with caution.”
Ilook at my hand that held the case.Itore a fingernail down so far that it’s bleeding.Ishake it off and climb into the helicopter.Mynails are in such sorry shape that it’s not like it makes them look much worse.
Harrisonglances back at me, andIdon’t need my expertise in reading body language to tell me that he saw the fall and that he’s feeling a mix of amusement and pity for me.Whetherit’s for my injured nail, the embarrassment of falling, or the fact that the entire backside of my body is now soaking wet is anyone’s guess.Whatever.Igot the case, and that’s what matters. “Justkeeping up my skills in gracefully evading ground-based threats.”
Harrisonchuckles and goes back to piloting, lifting us off the building and back towardLangley.
Thethirty-two minutes we are in the air isn’t nearly enough time for my clothes to dry, but it’s enough to make them not look like they’re soaked.Oneof the benefits of wearing dark colors.Iglance down at my utility belt and then at the bag at my feet that holds the caseIacquired from the targets.Ihave, on my person, gadgets for every possible mission scenario.ButIdon’t bring extra shoes?I’llhave to start packing a thin, foldable pair for my next mission because my feet are feeling way more humid than feet should ever feel.
AsIwalk into theGlobalIntelligenceDivisionin theCIAbuilding atLangley, carrying the caseIacquired,Ireally hope that the squishingI’mpretty sure my shoes are making with each step is all in my head.Myeyes rove over the heads in the room and immediately findPackston’sblond curls, and we give each other a nod before my eyes findSullivanReynolds, the director, on the opposite side.
I’malmost toPackston’sdesk, halfway to the director, when my co-worker,Troy, swaggers up to me, coffee in hand, trying to appear superior.It’stoo bad for him that our field records don’t back that up.
“Iheard you made quite the splash on your latest op,” he says. “Ididn’t even know you had taken up diving,Steele, yetIheard you executed a perfect forward tuck.”Hepats me on the shoulder like he’s “congratulating” me whenIknow it’s to see how wet my back still is.
“Thekey word in that sentence is ‘perfect.’”
Hemakes a show of drying his hand on his pant leg. “Youknow,Ihadn’t thought about wearing a wetsuit on a non-aquatic mission.That’san interesting touch.”
“Youshould try it sometime,”Isay. “Itmight help you to stay cool under pressure.”
Iglance atPackstonasTroydisappears back toward the bridge he lives under.
“Hey, in my defense,”Packstonsays, holding up hishands, “ifI’dhave had any indication you were going to get all acrobatic,Iwouldn’t have tapped into the rooftop cameras or put it on the big screens.”
Icringe that my slip-up was on the big screens, butIfeel the compliment behindPackston’swords—Idon’t mess up, so he wouldn’t have had any indication thatImight.I’lltake it.
DirectorReynolds, who is also my case officer for this mission, stands straight from where he’d been leaning to look at one of my coworkers’ computers, and he spots me before his eyes immediately go to the case in my hand and he smiles.He’salways proud of me at the end of a successful mission.Ikind of live for it.
WhenIreach him,Ihold out the case, and the first words that come out of my mouth are, “WhywasLedgerLancasterthere?We’veworked really hard on this op— theCSAisn’t just going to steal it from us, are they?”Iam not whining.Myvoice is coming out as strong and unyielding as steel.Justlike my last name.
Heaccepts the case. “Theyaren’t going to steal it from us.Don’tworry, it’s still your operation.”
“Good,”Isay, crossing my arms.
“Butwe are going to share the contents of the case with them.”
“What?!”Myshoulders immediately tense back up, which is funny, because the director’s sag just a bit at my outburst.
