Free JET II - Betrayal (JET #2) by Russell Blake

CIA had been in Cambodia, where he had been stationed undercover as a small time exporter, collecting data on strategic targets in the region and developing a network of informants. From there he moved around, to Vietnam, and then ultimately to Thailand, where he had been the most senior field agent in-country. The operations he was involved in were classified at a higher level than the file could reveal, but she could read between the lines with Myanmar right across the border. A senior field agent with these skills would have been involved in information gathering, insurgency sponsorship, and assassinations – whatever was required.
    He’d been offered promotions to desk positions in Langley three times over the last four years and had declined them all. Apparently, Hawker liked to play the field. She understood the type of personality – once you lived in the parallel reality that was covert ops it was hard to ever go back to living any kind of a normal life. It was addictive, even if hazardous to one’s health.
    She looked at the photos again and noted that his eyes had the same flat, expressionless gaze that her photos always had. A professional skill learned early. The eyes were indeed the windows to the soul, and one of the first lessons had been that it was best to shutter them at all times.
    Hawker’s personal relationships were limited to casual girlfriends that never got serious – the story she knew all too well from having lived the life. You avoided entanglements and compartmentalized everything – there was no way of knowing on any particular day whether you would be redeployed the next, or have to run. It was a difficult existence where an operative was an island unto himself, isolated from all the usual connections that humans naturally sought out. For that reason, her relationship with David had been forbidden and would have provoked immediate consequences, had it ever been discovered. You could never grow close to anyone. It was dangerous, and endangered your partner. Better to keep it limited to the superficial, never growing attached.
    Nothing in Hawker’s background suggested anything but a model agent. There could have been no warning that he would betray the master he’d served obediently for close to two decades.
    His last assignment wasn’t described in the file. Which was understandable. At some point, all documentation became vague as an agent became immersed in more sensitive areas – as Arthur had intimated, in affairs that required discretion and deniability.
    She pored over the information again, committing it to memory, and then stretched and yawned. It was two in the morning. The rest would have to wait till the following day.
    Jet locked the front door deadbolt, slid the security chain in place and peered through the window. The two agents were hardly visible in their government sedan. She padded to the bedroom, took a quick shower and brushed her teeth – making a mental note to go shopping soon and get some clothes. Hers were due for a change.
    The bed was blissfully comfortable, and she was asleep within a few minutes of her head hitting the pillow. The cameras and eavesdropping devices recorded her tossing and turning several hours later, along with a few muffled cries as her slumber was disturbed by visions of her daughter being torn from her bosom, and of a white-tufted monster covered with scar tissue tormenting her as she lost her grasp.
     
    Jet awoke at eight and, for a few seconds, didn’t know where she was. Then the prior day’s events came rushing back to her, and she forced herself to roll out of bed and start the day.
    She pulled open a drawer and found a pair of elastic waist running shorts that sort of fitted her and several extra-large T-shirts that didn’t. She pulled one on and studied her reflection in the dresser mirror – not the height of fashion, but it would do.
    The orange juice was a welcome breakfast complement to the energy bars she found in the