End Game
“He was short, something under five ten, with a stocky build that had turned a little soft over the years. His eyes were wide and deep blue—his best feature, his wife, Stephanie, told him. The worst, the back of his head, where a bald spot was growing bigger every year.
This was his favorite time of the day, just before dawn, when everything was cool and peaceful. The campus always looked the prettiest to him at this hour. The lights of the OHB in the distance—American’s bastion against the real... world—safe and secure, reassuring.
He parked around the side, unlocked the service door, and powered up the three garage doors, behind which were the riding mowers, tree-trimmer buckets, and other grounds equipment.
He lit a cigarette and then brought the Starbucks he’d picked up on the way in from Garrett Park, across the river, to the open door, where he breathed deeply of the woodland scents.
He was wearing his usual white coveralls, the CIA’s logo on the breast pocket, totally spotless.MoreLess
This was his favorite time of the day, just before dawn, when everything was cool and peaceful. The campus always looked the prettiest to him at this hour. The lights of the OHB in the distance—American’s bastion against the real... world—safe and secure, reassuring.
He parked around the side, unlocked the service door, and powered up the three garage doors, behind which were the riding mowers, tree-trimmer buckets, and other grounds equipment.
He lit a cigarette and then brought the Starbucks he’d picked up on the way in from Garrett Park, across the river, to the open door, where he breathed deeply of the woodland scents.
He was wearing his usual white coveralls, the CIA’s logo on the breast pocket, totally spotless.MoreLess
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