by C. G. Cooper
Decker shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t believe any of the candidates are involved.”
“You know for sure they’re not, or are you just hoping?”
Decker saw Zyga’s jaw grind out of the corner of his eye, so he spoke before the other man said something he’d regret. “The vetting process was thorough. I feel confident we didn’t miss anything. The leaked information was classified. The chances one of our candidates got his or her hands on it are slim to none.”
“We gave them strict instructions,” said Zyga. “Stay within the confines of their rooms, the classroom, or the cafeteria.”
“Have they all been adhering to those instructions?” Thatcher gave Decker such a pointed look that Zyga turned to him with an eyebrow raised.
“Higgins has been exceptionally difficult to pin down,” said Decker. “The other night when I met up with Abrams, he was already in his room.”
Zyga turned abruptly. “And this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
“We’ve been a little busy, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Does he know about Abrams?” said Zyga.
Decker sighed. “Yes.”
Zyga balled a fist and rested it on the arm of the chair.
Abrams had been a plant to test the sharpness of the candidates. Two of Decker’s top choices had sussed him out, and none of Zyga’s had come forward at all, not even with suspicions.
“So, we’ve got some wildcards?” Thatcher said.
“I don’t believe so, sir.” Decker leaned forward. “Wherever this leak is coming from, I think it’s within the instructor cadre.”
The director turned his attention to Zyga. “Do you feel the same way?”
Zyga scratched at his chin for a moment before answering. “Yes.”
The director leaned back in his chair. “Who gains if this program doesn’t succeed?”
“Someone who wants to see me kicked to the curb,” Zyga said.
“I can count on one hand how many people had access to your whereabouts,” the director said.
“I think we should assume that whoever the culprit is, he has just as much insight into my time in Beirut as the three of us.”
“I want to know who was affected by Beirut,” said Thatcher. “Who could have a vendetta.”
“Sir,” Decker said, shifting in his seat. “I think we should put the candidates on this.”
Zyga scoffed. “Are you nuts? Absolutely not.”
“Your reasons?”
“They don’t have clearance, for one thing. Opening up information about what happened in Beirut would be turning the leak into a tidal wave.”
Decker held up a placating hand. “I’m not saying we tell them everything. I’m just saying we let them sniff out the trail. That’s what they’re here for, right? We brought them in because of their skills. They can put a picture together with half the puzzle pieces missing.”
Thatcher looked between Zyga and Decker, weighing his options. “Right. Pull your top choices together. Make a team. Fill them in and get to work. I want this bottled up yesterday.”
Decker stood up to leave. “Thank you, sir.”
“But Decker,” the director said, leaning forward on his desk, “if this goes sideways, Agent Zyga isn’t the only one who’ll be packing for home. Do you understand?”
Decker didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely, sir.”
Outside the office, Zyga waited to speak until they were well out of earshot of Thatcher’s office. “You have to stop throwing yourself on the grenade for me, Joe.”
“I’m only doing it because I know it’s a dud.”
“You think it’s a dud,” Zyga responded. “There’s a huge difference.”
“I’m confident in our candidates. Aren’t you?”
“Some of them.” Zyga stopped outside his office and leaned against the wall. “But I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Like you said, we must plug this leak before it gets out of control. We might as well use all the resources at our disposal.”
Zyga looked up at Decker and cracked a smile. “I have a feeling I know who you’re going to pick.”
“Higgins and York.”
“Of course.” Zyga crossed his arms over his chest. “Goddammit.”
“They’re good for each other,” Decker said. “Higgins doesn’t know how to talk to people. York can buttress him there. Ever hear of good cop-bad cop?”
“Please.”
Decker ignored him. “York is a chameleon. She knows how to turn it on and off. She’s not quite as meticulous as Higgins. Together they should make a great team. They complement each other.”
“Higgins needs to toughen up.”
“And he will, with training and experience.” There was a moment of silence. “And your picks?”
“Johnson. He’s not as quick as the others, but he’s a good agent. He has good instincts. If we ever need them in the field, he’d be a good bodyguard if nothing else.”
“Thinking of the future already, Chuck?”
Zyga laughed. “If they can do this, they deserve to be inducted, don’t they?”
Decker nodded. “Do you have a second pick?”
“Abrams,” Zyga said without hesitation.
“He’s not part of the program.”
“Sure, he is.” Zyga unfolded his arms and unlocked his door. “We’ve been testing him as much as the others, and he’s passed with flying colors. He deserves to be more than just a plant.”
Decker smiled. He felt good about their budding plan. “And what about the other candidates?”
Zyga sat down at his desk and turned started opening a manila envelope. “Keep them around. We don’t want them to get suspicious. Maybe one or two of them will prove themselves by the end. Who knows?”
“You’re almost sounding optimistic. Should I be worried?”
Zyga didn’t respond. His face went from shock to confusion to stony determination. When he looked up, Decker knew something wasn’t right.
“There’s a new element in play.”
Decker took the piece of paper Zyga held out to him, the one that had been in the envelope. It was from a contact in the Middle East that they’d both used frequently over the last decade.
“We thought there were only two suicide bombers that day. But someone else was there. A third terrorist.”
Decker could tell Zyga was already three steps ahead. “Jesus. What’s the plan?”
“Form the team. Stop the leak. Then it’s time to really see what our candidates can do in the real world.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Higgins was escorted into the private meeting room by Decker himself. Abrams and York were already there. Zyga arrived a few minutes later with Johnson, the latter wearing a look of utter confusion on his face.
“What’s this?” Johnson asked.
“Just relax.” Zyga’s gruff voice had the opposite effect of his words. “You’re not in trouble.”
“Sit down.” Decker’s usual sense of enthusiasm was gone. Higgins wondered if the seasoned agent was still angry with him. “Alright, listen up. You four have been chosen for a special task. Your permanent and immediate acceptance into our fledgling program relies on its completion. This is, essentially, your final examination.”
“Sir?” Johnson looked confused. It appeared the two agents hadn’t given him a heads-up.
“Right,” Decker said, sitting down at the head of the table. Zyga remained standing, pacing against the far wall. “It looks like Johnson is the only one in the dark.”
Higgins tried not to take any pleasure out of that.
“Abrams was our man on the inside,” Zyga informed his star pupil. “His job was to act like a candidate and see if anyone could figure it out. A test within a test.”
“And Higgins and York figured it out?” Johnson asked.
“They did.”
Johnson looked like he was torn between being angry with himself and angry at Abrams for getting on
e over on him. “Why am I here, sir?”
Zyga clasped a rough hand on his shoulder as he passed by. “You’ve proven yourself in the interrogation room and in the field. As much as Decker and I don’t see eye to eye, we’ve realized this program doesn’t need a new foundation.”
“We just need a couple support beams.” Decker looked proud despite his dour mood. Higgins kept his own pride in check. He could feel the tension in the air. Something big was coming.
“So, we’re the dream team?” Abrams asked.
“Johnson’s got combat experience,” said Zyga. “Higgins can read people like Sherlock fucking Holmes. And you, Abrams, have proven your ability to gain information in different ways.”
The room was silent for a beat. “And me, sir?” said York. Her voice sounded unsure for the first time since Higgins had met her. She was still calm and composed, but there was a vulnerability in her eyes that she couldn’t hide. She wanted to be here, maybe even more than he did.
“I’m going to be honest with you, York,” Zyga said. “I don’t know what your role is going to be. You’re brilliant and capable. You might just be our secret weapon.”
York looked more disappointed than proud.
“Secret weapon for what?” Higgins asked. His voice came out gravelly, and he realized for the first time how dry his mouth was. He didn’t like not knowing what was coming next, and in this case, he had no clue.
“There’s a spy within our ranks,” Decker supplied. “We think it’s someone close to the action. Maybe even someone inside this very program.”
“Our idea is two-fold,” Zyga said, finally ending his march around the room. “We cause a distraction by looking for our perpetrator elsewhere while you four find the real culprit.”
“That will require access to classified information,” Higgins said.
“We’re well aware. You’ll get all the information you need.”
Abrams spoke slowly, weighing his words. “Sir, this is… unorthodox.”
“Indeed, it is.” Zyga sounded resigned. “But Director Thatcher knows our plan and has signed off on it.”
York, Johnson, and Higgins all exchanged glances, all equally surprised at the turn of events.
“What’s next?” Higgins asked.
Decker reached under the table and brought out a brown leather briefcase. He snapped it open and took out a stack of folders, some thicker than others. Zyga began to pass them around.
“These are the files on everyone involved in the program, including your fellow candidates.”
Johnson took his stack with a furrowed brow. “I thought you said it was most likely someone involved with running the program.”
Zyga handed Higgins a particularly thick group of folders, then moved on to Abrams.
“Most likely, it is. But diligence is key here. As the saying goes, leave no stone unturned. This is a detailed overview of each agent or consultant. If you feel there’s a need to look deeper, we’ll work out how to do that without compromising confidentiality.”
Higgins looked down at the folder on top of his pile. In neat script, the tab read, “York, Victoria A.” He looked up at Zyga. “You’ve included us, too?”
Decker stood. “Transparency. If you’re going to be working together for the foreseeable future, you’ll have to learn to trust one another.”
“Trust should be earned.” York’s voice sounded sharp. Higgins looked over at her in surprise and saw that she was eyeing the folder in his hand. “Trust should be given, not taken.”
Zyga looked amused, though not entirely apathetic. “You should know by now, York, that we like to throw our people headfirst into the deep end. There’s no better way to learn how to swim than when you don’t have a choice.”
Higgins cleared his throat awkwardly, tucking York’s folder underneath the others in front of him. He was burning with curiosity, but he didn’t think York had anything to do with the leak. Her file wasn’t a priority. “What will you be doing in the meantime?”
Decker and Zyga headed to the door, more united than Higgins had ever seen them. “We’ll start poking our noses in places they don’t belong,” Zyga said. “Maybe even cause a ruckus.”
“A ruckus?” Decker looked amused. “It’s been a while since we caused a ruckus.”
Zyga opened the door, and the two stepped out into the hallway, but not before the room heard him say wistfully, “That it has.”
An uncomfortable silence passed over the room after Zyga and Decker left the four team members behind. Higgins’s gaze darted around the table, trying to gauge everyone’s mood. Johnson still looked confused. Abrams looked annoyed. York seemed dejected.
York straightened the folders in front of her, making sure all the corners lined up. “They’ll expect us to work independently. No help from them. We need a leader to make the final call. We have a lot of profiles to get through. We’ll need to be efficient. It’s better to talk about this now than later when we run into problems.”
Higgins couldn’t find a flaw in her logic. His voice was quiet when he said, “You have my vote.”
York scoffed. “I’m flattered, Higgins, but I’m not the right person for the job. Someone with more experience than the two of us should take the reins.”
Johnson and Abrams exchanged a look, then both tried to speak at the same time. They stopped and started again, until Abrams motioned for Johnson to talk first.
He worked his jaw for a few seconds before cracking his neck on one side, then the other. When he looked back up at Abrams, there was a hardness to his eyes. “It should be you.”
Abrams looked as surprised as Higgins felt. “What?”
“You were already working with them, right? They trust you?”
The annoyance returned to Abrams’ face. “Apparently not enough.”
“You knew more than us,” York said, her voice gentle. “They trust you to work with us.”
“My point is, it should be you.” Johnson shifted in his seat and cast his eyes down to the table. “If I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that I’m a good agent, but I may not always be the best leader.”
“I agree,” Higgins said. Johnson looked up at him sharply, so he stammered on. “I m-mean I think Abrams would make a good leader. I vote for Abrams.”
“Then it’s unanimous,” York said. A smile played around her lips. “So where do we start, boss?”
Abrams looked down at the stack in front of him and sighed deeply, as if he were only reluctantly accepting the title of leader of their little ragtag group of misfits. “Alrighty then. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Start making piles.”
The others nodded and stood, spreading out around the table and parsing out their folders. Higgins separated the candidates from the agents, tucking York’s file at the bottom once again. Maybe if he didn’t look at it, his curiosity would be abated.
Higgins wrapped his hand around the thickest file in his pile, which was Zyga’s. Unlike York’s overview, Higgins had no desire to find out what was inside his superior’s dossier. He had gotten a glimpse of the burden Zyga bore because of Beirut, and he had no interest in delving deeper. He put that file on the bottom of the group containing information about other agents.
“I’ve got Decker and Johnson here. I’m setting those aside,” Abrams said. “We’ll start with the agents, since it’s more likely they’re the culprit.”
Johnson flipped open one of his files. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary.” Abrams seemed frustrated again. “Start by going with your gut. They didn’t exactly give us much to go on.”
York offered, “Look for anything that looks like a reason why someone would be targeting Decker, Zyga, or even Spencer.”
“It’s more than that.” Higgins was staring down at the file in front of him. It was Spencer’s. “The program is the target. The bomb could’ve killed Decker. The smear campaign was directed at Spencer. We can’t prove that the mole was tar
geting someone specific.”
York was nodding along, following the train of thought Higgins was laying out for her.
“I get why Decker has a target on his back, but what’s special about Spencer?” Abrams wondered. “Why was he singled out?”
Higgins held up Spencer’s folder. “I guess that’s my job.”
Abrams motioned toward the pile in front of him. “I guess the rest of us will just start from the top.”
Johnson scoffed. “The top?”
“It’s the best we have,” York said, flipping open one of her folders. She checked her watch. “Let’s see how much we can get done in an hour, then we can regroup. If we need to find another angle, we will.”
“That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Abrams said, leaning forward over one of his own folders.
A derisive smirk appeared on Johnson’s face. “I guess this is where you shine, Higgins. Your face buried in papers?”
Higgins ignored the remark and turned back to Spencer’s folder. It was heftier than the others, but by no means as large as Zyga’s. Before looking through the paperwork inside, Higgins filtered through everything he knew about Spencer already. It wasn’t much. The man was a lot like Zyga, offering few words and a cold look rather than anything useful.
From his observations, Higgins thought Spencer was a capable agent. He was organized, decisive, and efficient. Over the last few weeks, Higgins never saw Spencer speak out of turn or question the orders he’d been given. He’d always kept to himself, not really interacting with the other agents, besides Zyga and Decker. He didn’t give off the same approachability as someone like Kinkaid.
Flipping open the file, Higgins began poring over every sentence he found in the dossier. It painted a surprising picture. Spencer had joined the agency at a young age, volunteering for missions at an impressive rate. His record was solid, though early on he proved to be a bit of a handful. He took risks no one else would. Sometimes they paid off. Sometimes they didn’t.
On one mission, one of Spencer’s men was killed. It was clearly an accident, but the psych evaluation attached to his profile showed how hard Spencer had taken it. He wasn’t the same after that. He was more careful, but also more violent. He blamed the enemy as much as he blamed himself.
