Raymond Benson - 2012 - Hitman: Damnation Read Online Free PDF Page A

that the ICA was right there in plain
sight, moving from port to port on the open sea.
                 The
Jean Danjou II was the perfect home for a necessary
evil.
                 The
twenty-eight-year-old Asian woman known only as Jade rechecked the figures on her notepad, glanced back at the monitor on the
workstation labeled “Caribbean” to note any changes in the data, made some calculations,
and then stood. The command center was buzzing with activity and distractions,
but the woman had no problem staying focused. She looked at her
steel-and-white-gold Rolex and saw that she was due in the conference room in
five minutes. Just enough time for a quick walk-through to make sure everything
was running smoothly.
                 The
center, situated deep in the Jean Danjou II on deck
three, was the size of a baseball diamond. The walls were covered with
electronic maps and large-screen HD computer monitors. More than a dozen
workstations, dedicated to monitoring the Agency’s activities in various
territories around the globe, occupied the floor. Each one was manned by an
analyst or manager. A tireless and dedicated staff ran the Agency’s many
concurrent active operations. And it was Jade’s job to oversee the control
center, as well as serve as personal assistant to one of ICA’s top managers.
                 Jade’s
professional demeanor, dark leather business suit, patterned stockings,
glasses, and the black hair done in a bun might have suggested that she was an
executive secretary for a Fortune 500 company. But if one looked past her
obvious beauty and noticed her many tattoos—mostly illustrative dragons—and the
severe, no-nonsense soul behind her brown eyes, it was apparent that the woman
was a formidable and dangerous person.
                 After
making the rounds to each workstation and obtaining status updates from every
worker, Jade glanced again at the Rolex. It was time for the meeting with her
boss. She informed Julius, her immediate subordinate,
where she was going, and then left the command center in his capable hands.
                 Any
ship contained narrow and claustrophobic spaces, but the interior of the Jean Danjou II felt more like a high-tech corporate building
than a luxury yacht. Each manager, responsible for the various functions that
kept the Agency in business, had his or her own private office. Jade knew that
one day she would have one. With a promotion to manager, she would gain more
responsibility. That meant more money. Working for the Agency was the best job
in the world.
                 Ascending
to deck two by a marble and steel staircase, Jade nodded at one of the armed
guards who patrolled the ship at all times. She liked to give the guards the
perception that she appreciated their protection, when, in fact, Jade could
probably take on three of them at once, slit their throats with the stiletto
she kept on her person at all times, and then calmly go about her business.
                 Eventually
she reached the conference room and entered.
                 “Right
on time, Jade . My God, you’re damned efficient,” said
the man sitting at a long table in front of a computer monitor. He was
finishing his lunch—a po ’-boy stuffed with salami,
cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers. “Tell me again where you had combat training?”
                 “Westerners
call it the Golden Triangle,” she answered. “Specifically
Burma. But I spent a lot of time in Laos.”
                 “Jungle
stuff, huh?”
                 “Yes, sir.”
                 Benjamin
Travis allowed his eyes to look her up and down—it was something he did daily,
but she didn’t mind. All the men on the boat—and some women—thought she was
hot. It had its advantages.
                 Travis
said, “Sit down. What have you got for me?”