The Ties That Bind. Cliff Ryder
replied. “The Russians watch the Bering Sea very carefully and they’re always listening, and the Inuit are a people trapped between the need to adapt to the modern world and the desire to cling to their traditions. That’s another good reason to send you, Jason. You have a better chance of understanding them, I think, than any of our other agents, and if they can be a help to you, that’s a good thing, too.”
Jason chuckled dryly. “My mother was Inuit, so I have the blood,” he said, “but I’m hardly one of them. I don’t believe in family.”
“I know,” Denny said. “It’s one of the reasons we recruited you. Family men get tangled up in personal issues. That doesn’t seem to be a problem you have. Still, that doesn’t mean you can’t use the native people up there if it comes to that.”
“I don’t imagine it will,” Jason replied. “But I’m not above using them to get the job done.”
Denny thought about it for a minute, then said, “I know that, too, Jason. I’ve read your file several times over. You’re smart, educated, cold and decisive. It’s why you’ve been so successful and why I think you’ll be successful here. That said, beneath the exterior, I imagine that you’re as human as the next man. Try not to let the machine take over completely, okay? The best field agents tend to blend your strengths with the ability to be compassionate.”
“I’m not a machine,” Jason objected, stung a little. “I just don’t have much use for other people. They’re a burden I don’t care to deal with.”
“You mean like what happened at the firing range last night?” Denny asked. “You killed one man and injured another.”
Jason paused, stunned that his boss knew what happened. “How did you—”
“It’s my job to know,” Denny said. “And for what it’s worth, you did the right thing. We ask our operatives to be ghosts, but there’s also a time for doing what’s right. That was the choice you faced last night, and you made the right call.”
“It won’t happen again,” Jason said, still trying to wrap his mind around an organization that could know so much about one person so quickly. “I mean…you hired me to be a ghost, so that’s what I’ll be.”
Denny chuckled. “Sooner or later, you’ll do the human thing again. I understand why you feel the way you do, why you operate the way you do. Just remember that relaxing once in a while won’t hurt you, okay? You are human, after all.” He smiled.
“Got it,” Jason said. He turned to the door. “I better get a move on if I’m going to be ready to catch that flight.”
“Stay safe,” Denny said. “And think about what I said, Jason. No man can stand alone forever.”
Without looking back, Jason said, “I’ll give it some thought, boss.” Then he opened the door and slipped out of the room.
All the way back to the log-out screen, he thought about Denny’s words. What did they want from him? One minute, he’s supposed to be a cold-blooded killer, the next he’s supposed to…what? Be a kinder, gentler assassin?
He logged out and put the glasses on the desk, rubbing his eyes to ease the strain. It was ridiculous, he thought. He didn’t have time for friends and family. And he didn’t have time to deal with any of the feelings associated with those issues today. He had saved Miller because it was the right thing to do, not because of some human bond. Most of the time, there was right and wrong, good and evil. Shades of gray entered into it, but usually that was confined to situations where feelings were involved, where the moralities of a given situation were debatable. He didn’t deal too often in those gray areas. His life tended to be black and white and he preferred it that way.
He got up from the desk just as a brown envelope slid beneath his front door. He knew it would contain his travel documents. “I’ve got work to do,” he muttered to himself as he crossed the room. “I’ll deal with learning how to be a more compassionate assassin tomorrow.”
“YOU’RE CERTAIN of this, Denny?” Kate asked, running a hand through her short-cropped hair. “He’s brand-new and this is delicate. We can’t afford any mistakes at all.”
“I’m sure, Kate,” Denny replied. “You’ve read his file.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “Ph.D. in psychology from Harvard, with a genius-level IQ. Borderline photographic memory. Well above average blending skills and he excelled in our training program. His final test was a masterwork. That dignitary was about as covered as anyone I’ve ever seen and Siku got him. My concern is that this could get personal for him. His family is out there…somewhere. We don’t need personal right now.”
“Sure, it is,” Denny said. “But the man obviously does not care. He’s ice, Kate, and his record is spotless. My contact at the CIA said that they called him the thinking man’s assassin. Do you know why?”
She shook her head, and he continued. “Because he was like a computer. Precise, calculating, no feelings at all. He plans and plans and then does the job. No mistakes. And he’s not above using people to meet his mission goals—even if it gets them killed.”
“I understand all that, but this isn’t an assassination,” Kate said. “With any luck at all, no one important will even know he was there.”
Denny sighed heavily and wished he could go back to his horse ranch. “Kate, with all due respect, I think you’ve missed something here.”
One eyebrow arched and her lips pursed tightly before she said, “Go on.”
“The odds of him finding the sub—if it exists at all—then getting to it, getting on board and getting out again with no one the wiser are about a million to one against. Submarines are very confined spaces, and a stranger is going to be recognized instantly. It’s far more likely that he’ll be captured.”
“So why send him?” Kate asked. “If he’s just going to be captured and die, what’s the point?”
“I didn’t say he’d die, Kate,” Denny said. “I said it was far more likely that he’d be captured.”
“What’s the difference?”
“If he does get captured, Kate, it won’t be for long. Certainly not long enough for them to get him back to Russia. The most likely scenario at that point is that he would find a way to destroy the sub and kill the crew, even if it meant his own death.”
“How did you reach that conclusion?” she asked. “His psych profile doesn’t indicate anything like suicidal tendencies.”
Denny shrugged. “He’s not suicidal. What he is, Kate, is a man without anything in his life but the mission. That can be a good thing for us, of course, because if he’s successful, we win, and if he fails, it’s likely that we at least gain some time. Not as big a win, but a win of sorts. It’s not a very good thing for him to be that way, but he hasn’t figured that out yet. He may live long enough to do so, but I can’t really say for sure at this point.”
“You’re a coldhearted man, Denny,” Kate said. “Very cold.”
“No, Kate,” he said, “I’m a realist. I can’t afford to be anything else. If I start thinking like an optimist, a lot of people are going to die. Our agents need to be human, too. So do we, for that matter.”
“There’s a difference between being a hopeless optimist and having hope,” she said, her voice soft. “I’d like to believe that a big part of what Room 59 does is finding that difference.”
“Maybe it is,” Denny said. “But in the meantime, we have a job to do, and sometimes that means that we have to use people in some not so nice ways, even our own agents. Especially when it means, they’re better agents for it in the long run.”
“We all get used,” Kate said. “That comes with the territory. But that doesn’t mean we always have to