Direct Action - 03 Read Online Free PDF Page B

questions about Deckard's background. Much of it he lied about or was otherwise evasive. She picked up on something and steered the conversation in another direction. Deckard asked her similar questions and found out that she had a degree from Georgetown and a Masters from the London School of Economics. She had spent a lot of time in Iraq and Afghanistan using her biometrics background to help intelligence agencies and Special Operations units locate enemy fighters.
    “You know,” Sarah said as she finished her salad. “I see guys like you come through here every so often. Usually a lot of spooks, people who need covert or clandestine covers, but sometimes former Special Operations guys, which I assume you are, heading to one place or another.”
    “We're all looking for work these days.”
    “I never know where you are coming from,” she continued. “Usually I don't know where you are going either. I just process the paperwork and never see you again.”
    “Sounds like you are getting sentimental about the job,” Deckard said with a smile.
    “Maybe,” Sarah said as she rested her head in her hand, with her elbow on the table.
    “If it makes you feel any better, we usually don't know what the hell is going on ourselves.”
    “But you make it sound so romantic.”
    “Trust me,” Deckard laughed. “The honeymoon ends fairly quickly.”
    “Then why keep doing the job?”
    “Everyone has their reasons. Most people will tell you it is patriotism, and yeah, there is a little of that, but mostly they do it for the money. There are lots of jobs you can do as a patriot that don't involve thousand-dollar-a-day paychecks sitting behind a computer in some third-world shithole, jobs that pay better too. But there is a certain amount of path dependency; soldiering or spying is the only life they've really known.”
    “But not you?”
    “I don't need the money if that is what you are asking, and I don't hide behind the American flag. I do this job because I like it. Even when I don't like it, I choose my own missions, take the jobs that are personally important to me.”
    “Like this one?”
    Deckard wondered if she was trying to draw him out. Maybe she already had. He was going after his own kind this time around. Rogue operators assassinating democracy advocates around the world. This may not have been the most important mission he had ever committed too, but he knew it would be the most challenging mission of his entire career. And the most personal.
    “Like this one.”
    “You're an interesting guy Deckard.”
    Sarah pulled out her business card, clicked a pen, and wrote a phone number on the back of it before sliding the card across the table to him.
    “That's my personal number,” she told him. “Give me a call when you get back.”
    Deckard watched her as she turned around and headed for the door. Her hips rocked gently as she put on her sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him one last time before turning back towards her office.
    Damn.

4

    Deckard touched down in Kabul where he was met by a minder, a bored-looking private security contractor who escorted him to a waiting area where he sat quietly until his name was called. Boarding a CASA C-212, the aircraft took off down the runway like a shot, forcing Deckard to hold on to the fuselage to avoid being thrown out of his seat. No one bothered to tell him what their destination was. There were several pallets of supplies on board, probably destined for some remote combat outpost in the hinterlands somewhere. Deckard was just a strap-hanger hitching a ride.
    Drifting off to sleep, he woke with a start as the landing gear bounced off a dirt runway. The CASA spun around at the end of the landing strip as the loadmaster lowered the ramp. Hooking a thumb out into the dusty runway, he indicated to Deckard that it was time for him to unass himself from their bird so they could head to their final