The Target

Robie was escorted back to their room. Reel had not yet returned.

 

Their duffels had been brought to the room and Robie quickly dressed. He had no idea what was next on the agenda, but he preferred clothes over being in the buff.

 

He looked around the room and his experienced gaze caught four different surveillance devices, two audio and the other pair video feeds. The video cams were strategically placed so that there was no hidden angle anywhere in the small space.

 

He wondered how Reel’s exam was going.

 

It was not lost on Robie that Reel was really the marked woman here. He was just along for the ride. She had killed two CIA agents. Tucker had his gunsights set on her. Robie was, at best, collateral damage.

 

He looked around the small space again. This might be the last place he ever saw. Training accidents happened at the CIA. They were just never publicized. Smart, dedicated people lost their lives all the time as they trained to be the best they could be to serve their country.

 

Celebrities broke a nail and they immediately took to Twitter, alerting their millions of followers to the “injury,” which in turn elicited thousands of replies from people with apparently not enough going on in their lives.

 

And all the while brave men and women died in silence, forgotten by all except their families.

 

And I don’t even have family to remember me.

 

“Agent Robie?”

 

Robie glanced up to see a woman in her thirties standing at the door. She was dressed in a black skirt, white blouse, and heels. Her hair was pinned back. Around her neck was a lanyard with her ID in a plastic case.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Will you please come with me?”

 

Robie remained seated. “To where?”

 

The woman looked flustered. “Some more tests.”

 

“I’ve already had my physical. I’ve already had my butt dragged all over this place. I’ve already been shot at, nearly drowned, nearly blown off a ledge six stories up. So exactly what tests are we talking about?”

 

“I’m not authorized to say.”

 

“Then get someone in here who is.”

 

The woman glanced up at one of the surveillance devices on the wall.

 

“Agent Robie, they’re expecting you now.”

 

“Well, they can expect me later.”

 

“I’m not sure you have that latitude.”

 

“Are you armed?”

 

She took a step back. “No.”

 

“Then I have that latitude until they send people who are armed and who are prepared to shoot me.”

 

The woman glanced nervously around the room once more. In a soft voice she said, “It’s psychological testing.”

 

Robie rose. “Then lead the way.”