Free Cold Shot by Mark Henshaw Page B

west-by-southwest heading. Extend the line and it looks like her port of call will be Puerto Cabello. If that’s right, she’ll dock by noon tomorrow. Drescher has asked the National Reconnaissance Office to keep a bird on her and let us know if she changes course, but they’re not in a hurry to retask a satellite just to prove Jon’s theory.”
    “I’m sure,” Cooke said. There had been an unhappy note in the younger woman’s voice. The director looked up from her coffee. “So what’s on your mind?”
    “I’m thinking maybe we could get coverage the old-fashioned way?”
    “We should send someone down there?” Cooke offered.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Are you volunteering?” Cooke asked her.
    “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t willing to do it,” Kyra finally answered after a second’s pause.
    “There’s a difference between ‘wanting’ and ‘willing.’ Which is it?” Kyra pondered that for several seconds, long enough for the silence itself to tell Cooke that the younger woman wasn’t sure. “Kyra, why are you still in the Red Cell?” the director finally asked.
    “Ma’am?” The question had left her off balance.
    Cooke stared at the younger woman long enough to make sure she had her full attention. “You weren’t thrilled about becoming an analyst when I first assigned you to the Red Cell last year. The last time we talked down at the Farm, you weren’t even sure you wanted to stay at the Agency. But you’re still here and you’re still working with Jon. I’m the CIA director, so I don’t have career conversations with people at your level as a general rule. But you have two Intelligence Stars, both of which you earned within six months after you came on duty, and I’m pretty sure that’s never happened before, so I’m making an exception. Not to put too fine a point on it, you’re a very good analyst but you proved that you can be a better case officer and I don’t want you working in a job where you’re performing below your talents. People who do that usually just drag down their unit before they finally quit. So, again, why are you still in the Red Cell?”
    Kyra felt her cheeks flush. She hadn’t expected the CIA director to be quite so honest or blunt. She exhaled, a long, slow breath. “I can speak freely, ma’am?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ve been a case officer. In my first two field assignments, I got shot, assaulted, chased, and almost caught shrapnel from an antiship missile that would’ve hit the Abraham Lincoln very close to where I was standing if the CWIS gun hadn’t shot it down. I admit, I don’t want to spend my life behind a desk but every field op I’ve run came this close to getting me captured. That’s not really what I signed up for. I thought I’d be working a cover job at an embassy or as a NOC, attending conferences, meeting with assets. I didn’t expect people to try to kill me quite so often.”
    Cooke nodded. “I do understand that. I know those stars didn’t come easy.” The director stopped talking and Kyra waited for her to start again. The silence dragged out and became painful. Finally she spoke. “You know, when the World Trade Center came down, it became obvious that we couldn’t go after terrorists and tyrants the same way we did the Soviets, but we couldn’t change overnight and a fair number of people around here fought it when we started. For a long time we were too dependent on case officers who still wanted to work the cocktail circuits and meet with assets in hotel rooms over crab and caviar. Change isn’t just hard, it’s painful, and we’re still not there.” Cooke stopped for a moment, embarrassed just a little by the passion in her voice. Then she looked the younger woman square in her green eyes. “I don’t mean to preach to you but we don’t just need people who can work the streets, we need people who can work the street and the bush . Different worlds, different tradecraft. You proved in Caracas and