Intelligence Community.
Mark’s eyebrows rose. “That operation’s dead—the Russians succeeded in making us chase our tails. Ten years, millions of dollars in wasted resources. Langley hasn’t expended this much effort on a mole hunt since Angleton,” he said. Angleton ran the CIA’s decade-long Cold War mole hunt that destroyed the careers of dozens of case officers and never yielded an insider spy.
The duty officer chimed in, “There’s no proof that ICE Phantom even exists.”
“Except two dead sources,” Six replied.
“ FBI sources,” Mark injected.
“Yeah, one of which we ran on their behalf until his hand arrived in the mail yesterday,” Six countered. “ICE Phantom or not, we better figure out who the hell is responsible before Golikov sends another—and the next one could belong to the source we can’t afford to lose.”
Mark nodded again. Six had made his point. The most high-placed recruitment they’d ever had within the SVR ranks was in danger. At least until the FBI apprehended ICE Phantom. Losing him would cripple their operations, not only in Moscow, but around the world.
“Agreed. Time to get Langley involved. And someone will need to report this to J.J.,” Mark said as he turned to his colleague. “Six?”
He agreed to deliver the dreaded news. Damn! Six thought to himself. J.J. would conceal her devastation well, but he knew another depression loomed. Losing her second source in as many years, her unbearable guilt for leaving another family without a father, might propel her over the edge this time. He’d warned J.J. a thousand times that her job wasn’t to care. Her job was to recruit and exploit. J.J. cared too much. Loyalty and emotion drove her business—a fatal flaw for an FBI agent. Her steadfast concern both annoyed and endeared her to him. J.J. would succumb to the sadness; she always did. But consolation was just days away. He’d resume his rightful place in her life, help her pick up the pieces—and
then make J.J. his wife.
Chapter 1
Saturday Morning…
T he lashing FBI Special Agent J.J. McCall planned to deliver to her traitorous boss must not be tempered by common sense or conscience, and her mind churned over that thought as she arrived on the edge of the bourgeois Northern Virginia suburb. She couldn’t wait for her visit with Jack to end. For J.J., time crept by and the entire morning, dragged. Why me? she asked herself again and again like a tired, broken record. Her burgeoning anxiety was irritating at best, so she leaned on Belvedere despite her promise to Tony. Only a small sip, though. Just enough to soothe the nerves and loosen the tongue.
Except for the barbed wire and armed correctional officers, the state jail looked more like luxury condos than a place to imprison hardened criminals. She took a deep breath, flashed her credentials and ambled inside the detention facility, dreading the moment she’d be forced to see his face, hear his voice. Her heart thanked Tony, the best co-case agent she could ask for. He was already inside waiting on her to arrive, refused to let her go it alone.
A sheriff led her through a series of security doors to the interrogation room where Jack awaited her arrival. The door buzzed, and the lock popped before she walked inside. Her teeth ground as she headed toward her seat, the one farthest from him and closest to the exit.
Jack sat solemn, pensive, shackled at the wrist. He rapped his hands on the table and waited for J.J. to sit down and speak. Seemed relieved, a feeling that no doubt dissipated when he realized the sentiment was in no way mutual.
“Jack,” she spat, unsmiling and cold. She fought the urge to tell him how well he looked in orange. She couldn’t force even a microscopic modicum of sympathy, not after he’d destroyed so many lives and treated her like shit for so many years.
“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he replied, in no position to spout his usual venomous remarks.
She pursed
Mark’s eyebrows rose. “That operation’s dead—the Russians succeeded in making us chase our tails. Ten years, millions of dollars in wasted resources. Langley hasn’t expended this much effort on a mole hunt since Angleton,” he said. Angleton ran the CIA’s decade-long Cold War mole hunt that destroyed the careers of dozens of case officers and never yielded an insider spy.
The duty officer chimed in, “There’s no proof that ICE Phantom even exists.”
“Except two dead sources,” Six replied.
“ FBI sources,” Mark injected.
“Yeah, one of which we ran on their behalf until his hand arrived in the mail yesterday,” Six countered. “ICE Phantom or not, we better figure out who the hell is responsible before Golikov sends another—and the next one could belong to the source we can’t afford to lose.”
Mark nodded again. Six had made his point. The most high-placed recruitment they’d ever had within the SVR ranks was in danger. At least until the FBI apprehended ICE Phantom. Losing him would cripple their operations, not only in Moscow, but around the world.
“Agreed. Time to get Langley involved. And someone will need to report this to J.J.,” Mark said as he turned to his colleague. “Six?”
He agreed to deliver the dreaded news. Damn! Six thought to himself. J.J. would conceal her devastation well, but he knew another depression loomed. Losing her second source in as many years, her unbearable guilt for leaving another family without a father, might propel her over the edge this time. He’d warned J.J. a thousand times that her job wasn’t to care. Her job was to recruit and exploit. J.J. cared too much. Loyalty and emotion drove her business—a fatal flaw for an FBI agent. Her steadfast concern both annoyed and endeared her to him. J.J. would succumb to the sadness; she always did. But consolation was just days away. He’d resume his rightful place in her life, help her pick up the pieces—and
then make J.J. his wife.
Chapter 1
Saturday Morning…
T he lashing FBI Special Agent J.J. McCall planned to deliver to her traitorous boss must not be tempered by common sense or conscience, and her mind churned over that thought as she arrived on the edge of the bourgeois Northern Virginia suburb. She couldn’t wait for her visit with Jack to end. For J.J., time crept by and the entire morning, dragged. Why me? she asked herself again and again like a tired, broken record. Her burgeoning anxiety was irritating at best, so she leaned on Belvedere despite her promise to Tony. Only a small sip, though. Just enough to soothe the nerves and loosen the tongue.
Except for the barbed wire and armed correctional officers, the state jail looked more like luxury condos than a place to imprison hardened criminals. She took a deep breath, flashed her credentials and ambled inside the detention facility, dreading the moment she’d be forced to see his face, hear his voice. Her heart thanked Tony, the best co-case agent she could ask for. He was already inside waiting on her to arrive, refused to let her go it alone.
A sheriff led her through a series of security doors to the interrogation room where Jack awaited her arrival. The door buzzed, and the lock popped before she walked inside. Her teeth ground as she headed toward her seat, the one farthest from him and closest to the exit.
Jack sat solemn, pensive, shackled at the wrist. He rapped his hands on the table and waited for J.J. to sit down and speak. Seemed relieved, a feeling that no doubt dissipated when he realized the sentiment was in no way mutual.
“Jack,” she spat, unsmiling and cold. She fought the urge to tell him how well he looked in orange. She couldn’t force even a microscopic modicum of sympathy, not after he’d destroyed so many lives and treated her like shit for so many years.
“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he replied, in no position to spout his usual venomous remarks.
She pursed
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