Free The Shadow Protocol by Andy McDermott Page A

straight up to the admiral so we can get the entire USIC on it. Anything that gives us a shot at al-Rais …”
    “I’d be happy to take the shot personally against that son of a bitch, sir,” said Baxter.
    “I’m sure we all would. All right, Tony, get back to work on Syed. The rest of your chewing-out can keep until you get back to Washington.” His image disappeared.
    “So, uh, are we done, Tony?” Levon asked drowsily from the other half of the screen. “Not that I don’t mindbeing dragged out of bed to be shouted at by the boss, but I’d kinda like to get back to sleep now.”
    “We’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever damn day it is in DC,” Tony told him. Levon grinned, then the screen went dark. “Okay, Adam, Holly Jo—let’s get back to it.”
    “Whoa, a three-way,” said Kyle, smirking at Holly Jo as she stood.
    She sighed and gestured toward the emergency exit. “Can I kick him out of that hatch?”
    Tony smiled. “If you take care of the paperwork.” He led the way back down the cabin, pausing as he reached Albion. “Roger, is this friend of yours really good enough to take your place?”
    “Oh, nobody’s good enough to do
that
,” Albion whispered, with a feeble smile. “But she has the right background in medicine and psychology, and has … a good handle on people. I think she’ll be able to fill in until I’m back on my feet.”
    “You make sure that doesn’t take too long, okay?”
    “Get well soon, Roger,” Holly Jo added.
    Adam, behind her, said nothing, staring down at Albion in silence. For a brief moment his eyes widened, taking on the intensity—and anger—of Syed’s gaze … but then it faded.
    Only Tony had noticed. “I think we need to finish the debriefing,” he said quietly.
    Adam looked at him, face now blank. “I think you’re right.”
    The following hours saw the jet pass over the Arctic wastes of Greenland and Canada, cruising above Quebec and New York State before beginning its descent toward the eastern seaboard. The debriefing was finally concluded. Every secret Syed knew about the terrorist organization’s operations and members had been exposed, the Pakistani’s memories picked clean.
    Now it was time for another kind of cleansing.
    Adam emerged from a washroom, drawing a double-take from Holly Jo. “Wow. I almost didn’t recognize you,” she said, only half joking.
    Toradze’s mustache was gone, the black dye rinsed out to return Adam’s hair to its natural dark brown. Even his eyes had changed, the piercing blue of the Georgian’s gaze a softer gray now that the contact lenses had been removed. The expensive clothing had also been replaced by an unremarkable shirt and slacks, the gold jewelry returned to an evidence bag.
    Shorn of the arms dealer’s distinguishing marks, what remained was … 
anonymous
. Had random onlookers been asked to describe Adam Gray after glimpsing him in a crowd, that would have been the recurring word. He was handsome enough in a way that could charitably have been described as “generic,” none of his features particularly distinctive. Even his background was hard to determine; most of the hypothetical onlookers would have thought him Caucasian, but the more observant might have picked out other traits. Some Hispanic ancestry? Persian, perhaps, or Arabic? It was impossible to be sure.
    “It’s an improvement,” said Tony, looking up. The other team members were in various states of sleep throughout the cabin. “Welcome back.”
    “Not quite yet.” Adam held up the case containing Albion’s medical equipment. “There’s one more thing to do.”
    “You don’t want to let it happen naturally?” Holly Jo asked. “You look exhausted—you’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. You really need some sleep.”
    “I want Syed’s persona wiped.” There was a tinge of disgust to his otherwise flat voice. “Now.”
    Tony looked toward Albion. “Will it be safe without Roger to work out