Free Rise of the Order by Trevor Scott Page A

coat off,” she said, and then took a long draw of beer.
    Jake started to unzip his jacket, but then remembered Albrecht’s package inside. “You don’t look too happy to see me.” He took a drink of beer.
    â€œShould I be happy?”
    What it the hell was wrong with her. “You left me,” he said, his voice more harsh than he intended.
    She finished her beer and slammed the bottle on the table. “I was called back to the Agency. You know that.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to go. I thought we were doing great together.”
    Her jaw tightened and she looked like she might cry. Something Jake had only seen her do a few times, and those tears usually followed extreme pain, not emotion. Jumping from her chair, she went to the kitchen and returned with another beer. She paced back and forth, her arms against her chest, and finally sat down.
    â€œI heard you were shacking up with a Chinese chick,” she said. Accused actually.
    That’s what this was about? “I wouldn’t call it shacking up. More like helping her out.”
    â€œRight. Helping her out of her clothes.”
    Jake smiled. “You’re jealous.”
    â€œI’m not jealous,” she demanded.
    â€œWhat you call it then?”
    Taking a drink again, she swished her head from side to side and said, “I came back to Innsbruck to tell you I had gotten the station chief position in Vienna.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œA couple months ago.”
    â€œYou didn’t come to the apartment.”
    â€œI did. I saw you with her. She was all over you.”
    Jake thought back a few months ago, and realized she might be right. He and Chang Su had been lovers and lived together for more than six months. Until she got back on her feet and was allowed to move to America.
    â€œLike I said. . .you left me. I met Chang Su while working in China and the Russian Far East. A part of your damn Agency, by the way.”
    She lowered her head somewhat. “I heard about what happened to you in Russia.”
    â€œWe lost a couple of good officers on that job.”
    Putting her feet under her legs, Toni leaned back against the soft leather.
    â€œAre you going to help me with what’s going on here?” Jake asked her, his eyes on hers, and her knowing she could not lie to him. Never could, despite her considerable training in deception.
    She sipped her beer and then said, “I can’t help you.”
    â€œCan’t or won’t?”
    â€œIs there a difference?”
    â€œThere is to me. Let’s me know where I stand with you and the Agency.”
    Toni shook her head. “You have no idea the pressure I’m under at this moment.”
    â€œWhen did you become such a bureaucrat?” He spit the last word at her like a cobra spewing venom.
    She started to rise, the anger steaming within her, but settled back into her chair. “Nice try.” Choosing her words carefully, Toni said, “We’re at war. I hope you know that.”
    Yes, he did. But this war seemed to never end, and he was sick of people using it as an excuse to do or say things that had nothing to do with the actual act.
    â€œI should still be in the Middle East,” she continued. “But there are many fronts, and the powers that be thought I could better serve here. Who am I to complain? Let me see, hot nasty deserts, or fabulous cultural events in one of the world’s finest capital cities?”
    Who the hell was this? Jake had no clue. She was so much more callous and indignant than he had ever seen her before. Something wasn’t right. She had changed as much as Europe.
    â€œSo, you’re saying you can’t help me?” Jake said, rising to his feet. He left his half-finished beer on the coffee table and started for the door.
    â€œWhere you going?” she asked.
    He stopped and turned. She had no smile or frown or any expression he understood in her. Nothing. There