Search and Destroy JT Sawyer (books to read in your 30s txt) 📖

Begley to roll his chair back slightly. “What would a pencil-dick like you even know about being at war? I bet you can’t even tell me how many fucking stars for our service members are on the north wall at Langley. You know, the service memorial you’ve walked past a few hundred times during your visits over the years…the stars representing the men and women in clandestine ops who died in the line of duty.”

Begley canted his head. “Fifty or so. Fuck if I know. But what I can tell you is that they never would have seen a day of action and played hero if it wasn’t for people like me who trudge up to the Capitol and sign off on all the ops you guys do, so don’t lecture me about patriotic duty.”

Begley stood up, looking at the door. “Now, if you’ll be on your way. I have one of those very meetings on the Hill to prepare for. Keep me posted on any developments with locating the stolen databases from Burke’s company and when Shepard is finally apprehended. I don’t want to read about it on my laptop this time.”

Patterson glared at the director. He could have snaked his hand out across the desk and snapped the man’s neck in a move that was not unfamiliar to him. Instead, he took a measured breath, like he was about to pull the trigger on a sniper rifle.

“My efforts to locate Perseus will continue, as they have from the get-go, but whoever was behind the theft had skills, funding and resources. Since I can vouch for my people, maybe you should look at the other agencies under your watch. Talk to the senior personnel in person for once, instead of polishing the armrests of that chair with your elbows in this office. The frontlines on any war, here or abroad, are fought by men willing to walk into the storm, not hide behind their desk because they lack the balls to lead.”

He turned, heading for the door then pausing at the entrance. “And it’s a hundred and thirty-three stars on the wall. Each one of those operators was an embodiment of valor and integrity in a way I don’t expect you to ever comprehend.”

Patterson pivoted, then calmly opened the door, exiting as the other office staff parted along the hallway in his wake.

After the man departed, Begley still felt a need to clutch the edge of his desk to control his quivering hands. It had taken every ounce of courage in his wispy frame to talk down to the former field agent, and now he felt exhausted.

He eased back into his chair, his shoulder slumping forward. “That old fossil…time for him to file his resignation already.” Begley hoped that the bull-headed agent had gotten that hint, since he didn’t have the reserves of fortitude to demand it outright.

With Perseus’ core components missing, it would set back Begley’s plans for creating his coveted domestic anti-terrorism unit. The recruits were already being trained at an isolated location in New England, but its success revolved around Perseus’ unique software. Fortunately, due to his forethought in the matter, he had required Burke to sign off on an agreement in their contract for Begley to be provided with a monthly backup of Perseus’ hard drive with the caveat that Burke would deliver the completed package and the root program upon completion of his research.

At least I have a chunk of Perseus, so my techs will only be a few months behind in finishing what Burke started, assuming we can locate the fucking source code.

He tilted his head to either side, stretching his neck.

Then we can enter a new era of law enforcement in this country and purge the Neanderthals.

28

Cal looked out the dirty window of his second-floor room at the hostel in downtown Baltimore, expecting a SWAT team to roll up at any second.

Relax. You should be good for now.

He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself, then returned to his crude tailoring work on the suit, which he was converting into a quick-change outfit with the help of the office stapler. He inserted the buttoned-up shirt into the suit then stapled the two garments together at the sleeves, the collar, and at the bottom hem. Then he attached the blue tie, stapling it in place. He had bought a shirt and suit a bit larger than his frame to allow him to slide the entire arrangement over his head like a hoodie, as his urban evasion instructors in Israel had taught him to do.

The switch from his casual attire of jeans and a t-shirt could be accomplished in less than a minute by changing out of his pants and sliding on the shirt-suit, allowing him to quickly alter his visual appearance long enough to further an escape.

Once that task was completed, he practiced the outfit change a dozen times until it was fluid, then folded up the suit and slacks, placing them back in the pack.

Cal wolfed down a power bar and finished off a liter of water, then he began the tedious process of dyeing his sandy-colored hair black.

An hour later, he grabbed his gear and headed downstairs to the back door. He passed a young Scandinavian couple in the parking lot who were intent on having him take their photo before the hostel sign. He snapped off a few then handed the camera back to them, feigning a southern accent.

He headed along the alley, walking for eight blocks until he arrived at a pawn shop he’d seen earlier.

Sighing from the gut punch that was about to come, he entered the store and looked around at the items hanging on the wall and in the locked display cases, then he held up the Rolex to the portly figure behind the counter.

The man slipped his shovel-like hand under the thick security glass, clutching the watch and scrutinizing the faceplate then glancing up at Shepard before grabbing a jeweler’s lens