Worth Dying For Read Free Page A

the academy, she had been assigned to the Forensic Unit in Quantico, Virginia and reported directly to him. That was over twenty years ago.
    In addition to her duties at Quantico, she was also responsible for the FBI recruiting at the local colleges. To this day, every person she recruited had excelled and prospered in the bureau. Over the years, they had become very good friends. Edwards trusted her judgment, but more importantly, he trusted her with his life.
    He picked up the next folder and opened it. He looked at the photo of Special Agent Carl Stevens and laughed. Stevens looked just like Herman Munster. The resemblance was so uncanny they could have been brothers.
    Stevens had been with the bureau as long as Edwards had. They were in the same graduating class, their wives were friends, and their children attended the same schools. He felt bad for Stevens when he was promoted over him but Stevens took it like a man—took it in stride. He reminded Edwards of a duck when it came to dealing with life—he just let everything roll off his back without giving it another thought. It was a trait that he had always admired about Stevens and secretly wished that he himself could let things go as easily.
    Stevens was also a good friend, and he knew he could always count on him. He had chosen Stevens for this assignment because no one in the bureau, next to the Deputy Director, knew more about the Mob and its inner workings than Stevens did.
    He pushed the folder aside, picked up the next one, and flipped open the cover. Arthur Janson was an odd sort, to say the least and he laughed as he looked at the picture of Artie, and the signature red and white bow tie the bespectacled little man wore. He wondered how many times Artie had been beaten up in school.
    He was your typical nerd—complete with pocket protector but Artie was a good agent. He had been with the bureau for almost as long as he and Stevens and spent most of his career in counter-terrorism, with the last two years in drugs. He thought about what Ron had said earlier regarding Alice and hoped that Artie would be all right.
    He picked up the last folder and glanced at Ron’s photo. The man had been through a lot in the past year and a half. He didn’t know how Ron was getting through it all and wondered how he himself would deal with the news if he were told his wife; Tess had less than a year to live. He shuddered at the thought.
    Like everyone else on the team, Ron joined the bureau right after college. He started his career in Civil Rights where he worked for almost ten years before transferring to Investigative Support to become the Sr. Programmer. Besides Edwards, Ron was the only African-American on the team. If anyone could find the leak and a possible common denominator between the deaths of the bureau’s informants, it was Ron.
    He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. He knew Tess would be waiting up for him when he got home, just as she always did. He thought about his wife for a moment and smiled. They had an anniversary coming up next month—it would be thirty-five years on the fourteenth. As far as he was concerned, Tess was the most amazing woman on the planet. She knew what the life of an active FBI agent entailed and not once had she ever made demands on his time or questioned his loyalty to the bureau. No matter how late or how long his job kept him away, she was always there waiting, always loving him. He glanced at the clock again and realized it was almost time for the meeting. He grabbed his tie off the desk and headed out the door.

    ###

    Artie Janson stepped out of the conference room and walked briskly down the hallway. He hit the men’s bathroom door, knocking it into the wall with a bang. He jerked his cell phone off his belt and walked into the open area lined with urinals and looked around. He listened for sounds coming from the stalls. Confident he was alone; he hit the redial button and waited for the voice to answer on the