The Asset (Asset Series #1) - SAMPLE

Chapter Five: Assets & Liabilities

Song: Poe - "Angry Johnny"

The fragrance of homemade marinara sauce hung in the air while I finished wiping down the counters of the now spotless kitchen. After asking if I could crash at her place for the next few days, Georgia chided me for asking in the first place before she slid her spare key to me and told me she'd be home by six.

Georgia Kaplan had been with the Bureau for nearly twenty years. She was one of the few people I trusted with my real name, as well as most of the details of my past. Her reputation was one of a fiercely protective hardass in the field and a loyal friend and mentor to her colleagues. I was someone lucky enough to see both, and it was because of that she was one of my closest friends.

After several months of hardly any contact, I was looking forward to catching up and talking to her about my thoughts of retirement. Barton might claim he was framing his concerns as a parent, but he was still my boss and it was his job to keep me on the payroll. Georgia had no such agenda. Now that Jackson was no longer a distraction, the issues that had been pushed to the back of my mind started to roam free. Aside from my possible career change, there was one other lingering concern.

The rogue shooter in Prague hadn't been captured or even identified, which troubled me. I wasn't wholly comfortable with someone targeting me still on the loose, but I could hardly turn down an opportunity to finally get closer to Gio Sardi. It could be argued, and it had been on several occasions, that I was obsessed with bringing the man down. Who could blame me? Thanks to him my parents were only a memory who missed every milestone behind and in front of me.

And that was all thanks to some shithead mobster. The same shithead mobster I vowed to kill and was no closer to finding five years after Felton promised me that joining the CIA would do just that. At the realization my thoughts were becoming increasingly bitter, I shook myself mentally. I really needed to get my head clear and talk to Georgia about my career path.

It probably sounded cool to the layperson to live the life as a secret agent. Go undercover, travel to exotic places, and sometimes kill people. Dream job, right? What could go wrong?

In a word, everything.

To say working for the CIA was stressful was a gross understatement. The job included working under the constant threat that any action or error could get someone seriously injured or killed. Testifying before Congress was no walk in the park but living with the guilt that someone else suffered or perished because of your fuck up was worse.  Gregor Janus, the officer killed in Prague wasn't due to an error on my part, but it weighed on me.

Death was part of the job, but as a sniper I was more often the dealer than the savior. It sounded callous, but it all depended on the will of the person or committee who ordered me to pull the trigger. That wasn't to say everyone I saved was a good person or vice versa. Unfortunately, that was how the world worked.

The phone rang, bringing me out of my reverie.  I picked up the receiver from the kitchen wall.  "Kaplan residence."

"Hey, I should be there in about an hour," Georgia's cheerful voice beamed through the line. "Should I grab anything on the way for dinner?"

"Maybe some garlic bread?"

"I'll see what they have at the store. How are you doing?"

"Just a lot on my mind."

"Well, let's see what you, me, and a bottle of wine can get through after dinner.  I'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone and thought of retirement as I stared out the kitchen window. I'd worked for the CIA for nearly five years but worked for both agencies as "The Asset", straddling the line between the FBI and the CIA, for a little over four. It didn't seem like a long time, and it wasn't based on most people's career paths.  Most people, however, didn't have a continuous supply of deception, death and destruction as parts of their job.