He jumped up and charged me again. I clotheslined him at the neck, flipping him down with a thud onto his shoulders. “And you just ruined a two thousand dollar suit,” I said as I walked away and got into the back seat of the sedan.
He slowly climbed to his feet as we pulled away. “To the airport, Troy,” I said.
On the way, I sat back and touched my lip, still tingling from when Tammy Noamer tried to suck it off my face. I smiled just before a phone rang. It took me a second to realize it wasn’t my phone—it was Wes’s. I still had it in my pocket from when I picked it up out of the tray.
I grinned as I answered. “Burner,” I said.
“God damn it Burner, I’m going to cut your nuts off and feed them to my dog,” Came a throaty growl from the other end.
“What’s wrong with you? Do you know how much shit I’m getting from above?”
“Nope,” I replied, hoping short answers would precluded Wes’s boss from realizing he wasn’t speaking to Wes.
“Well that’s it mister,” he said. “You’re cut off. You’re riding a desk for the next six months and if I even hear that you’re looking at a hedge fund you’ll be verifying daily trade numbers with an abacus until you’re on pension…you got me?”
“Yep,” I replied.
“Now get your ass back to DC.”
The call ended abruptly, leaving me sitting there suddenly feeling bad for the obnoxious little boy scout. I took a deep breath. “Turn us around, Troy…we forgot someone.”
We pulled a U-ie and headed back toward the garage. As we approached, Wes was walking away from us.
I rolled down the window. “Hey,” I yelled.
He didn’t look back, he just waved at me dismissively over his shoulder.
“Don’t be a baby,” I said as we pulled up along side. “Get in the car.”
“I don’t need your charity,” he said sounding pathetic.
I rolled my eyes. “Let me out here,” I said to Troy. “Hang close as long as you can and then circle the block if you have to.”
“Yes sir,” he replied as I got out and shut the door.
“Don’t,” Wes said as I approached him.
“What? You’re pissed off that I didn’t let you knock me down?”
He just grunted and shrugged.
“Wes, you didn’t do bad. You just aren’t a match for a trained operator.”
He turned his head slightly and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “What exactly were you trained to do?”
“Just another boring civil servant,” I replied.
He shook his head. “I can’t even get a straight answer about that.”
I breathed out in resignation. “I was an operative. A three letter agency man.”
“I’m a three letter agency man.”
He dropped his head and shook it again.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I shouldn’t be so dismissive about the importance of the FDA.”
“SEC!” Wes snapped.
“Right! Right, sorry. SEC.” I shot him a sideways smirk.
He turned to me and grinned. “What did Miss Moaner have to say?” he asked, referring to Tammy Noamer.
“Oh, she just wanted to give me this,” I said pulling the thumb drive out of my pocket.
He looked down at my hand and then forward again feigning indifference. “What’s that?”
“Just the architecture of the crash these guys are planning.”
His head snapped around. “Crash?”
“Why’d she give it to you?” He asked, his feelings seemingly hurt again.
“Have you looked at it yet?” he asked.
“Yeah. I ran it through the mainframe in the back seat of my leased Lexus,” I replied tucking the drive back into my pocket. “No, I haven’t looked at it yet.”
S.L. Shelton is the author of an Amazon Bestselling Political Thriller Action Espionage Series, (The Scott Wolfe Series). Follow him on Twitter @SLSheltonAuthor or Facebook. He will love you for it. And if you like the posts, click like (Clicks are the secret way to get authors to write more.)