Free 0.5 Meeting Monday by Robert Michael Page B

are here. I hope you all enjoy the festivities. I hear President Buschheuer is planning a wonderful party,” he said. Compton, Wesson, and Johnson remained behind the ambassador. Halley could see that Compton was not pleased.
    “If you will be so kind, sir. We must be going. I have been informed that a crowd is forming at the entrance to Schloss Bellevue. We cannot compromise your safety,” Compton pleaded.
    Ambassador Welsey looked as if he were about to argue, then nodded.
    “Of course. You are right. We are already running behind aren’t we?” His placating smile was not lost on Halley. He despised Compton. Welsey reached out and gently touched the back of her hand. “I am so glad you are here,” he said tenderly.
    She tried to smile, but it wavered. She did not want this attention. She could see Compton’s disapproving look.
    “Thank you, Ambassador.”
    Just as Clavelle and Johnson helped the Ambassador into the rear of the Ford Expedition, Halley turned to see Compton whispering to Travers. Compton was staring at her and Travers was smiling as though they were sharing a particularly funny joke.
    Another man—tall, with dark unruly hair—towered over Compton, slapping him on the back with a loud clap.
    “Agent Compton! I don’t believe that is appropriate discussion for an agent. Wouldn’t you agree?” He maintained a smile, his hand resting amicably upon Compton’s shoulder. His eyes were locked on hers. They were ice blue. Halley felt a shiver run down her spine and her mouth drop open. She was ashamed of herself, but hopeless to stop it.
    “Mind your own business, Agent Vine,” Compton said brusquely.
    Agent Vine nodded.
    “That is good advice,” he said and released his grip upon Compton’s jacket. He walked toward her and as he passed, he turned. “And, Agent Compton, I will have you know that my name is not Vine. I denounced that name several years ago.”
    “I continue to forget,” Compton said, venom in his voice. “Agent Monday.”
    Agent Vine/Monday nodded and then glanced down at her.
    “Don’t trust them,” he said out of the side of his mouth and then ducked into a Suburban.
    Driscoll and Travers followed him and the SUV peeled out from the curb.
    “Let’s go,” Compton commanded.
    Halley stared off after the SUV for one moment.
    “Is he really the President’s son?” she asked.
    Compton looked at her with disdain.
    “Agent Parks, don’t ask stupid questions,” he said. “Everyone knows this. That is why he thinks he can get away with talking to me like that,” he explained.
    She nodded.
    “I see,” she said.
    Halley climbed into the vehicle, ignoring the derision in the eyes of her team mates.

Berlin, Germany July 16, 2020
    Schloss Bellevue

1950 hours, CEST
    J ake leaned against the cold limestone wall, wishing the night would end. He wanted to get back to the States. His father had dreamt up this assignment. Jake was opposed to the whole operation. He found this was typical when it came to his father.
    Jake was still fuming from the encounter with Agents Compton and Clavelle. He knew the men and their reputation. Compton was a hard line ex-CIA operative that had experience with mercenaries the world over. His temper was seen by his superiors as an asset, keeping the younger agents on their toes.
    Jake’s personal opinion of Clavelle was even more clouded. Clavelle was always on the borderline of criminal. His methods were questionable, his contacts unreliable. His specialty had been working counterfeiting in Chicago. A large bust went awry and Clavelle was force onto bodyguard duty. He voluntarily joined Compton’s detail. The two had been almost inseparable since.
    Despite his simmering anger at the slight, Jake did his best to do his job. The Senator was a visible figure, the other four agents shadowing him wherever he went. Jake’s job was to scout and provide threat assessment.
    He picked a piece of lint from the sleeve of his bespoke custom Trofeo Zegna