Sandstorm Read Online Free PDF Page A

major downfall. The fact that one of the accusations came from the son of a prominent US senator—a senator who also served on the subcommittee charged with overseeing the nation’s intelligence agencies—was a deadly thorn in her career.
    Janway was reassigned to an important post at Langley, but essentially, it was desk duty. She withstood the injustice (as she perceived it) for almost a year before filing the lawsuit. If her career wasn’t over before, it certainly was then. Now, she was dead.
    Add to that, the latest headache provided by the station chief in Rome. Nora Mossa, who Janway mentored, was AWOL. Her apartment had been searched and secured when she failed to make a scheduled check-in. Field assets like her were known to go off grid at times, but she wasn’t on an assignment, and after several hours, an alert was sent out. Factor in the Janway connection, and Mossa’s disappearance became even more concerning. The agent was now actively being searched for all over the world. A heads-up was even sent out to other governmental agencies. The organizational chart of the CIA was much like any other major conglomerate, which meant Champion, near the top, rarely met or even knew a majority of those on the lower rungs of the ladder. Mossa was an exception. He knew her name. She’d been part of that joint operation with Janway. She was one of Janway’s most prized assets. Mossa’s file indicated a result-oriented field agent who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. She was also well trained, able to assume new identities and disappear with ease. That’s all he needed at the moment, an experienced field agent who, when she didn’t want to be found, likely couldn’t. It would take a lot of resources, but she had to be located. Until evidence was presented to the contrary, he was going with the assumption that she hadn’t met the same fate as Janway.
    Outside his partially opened door, Champion could hear that his administrative assistant, Mrs. Prescot, had arrived. She was a carryover from the office’s previous occupant and the one before that. Loyal and efficient, she’d likely be in that outer office until she chose otherwise. He could tell she was making a fresh pot of coffee before settling in her chair. Shortly after, there were voices, and then came a polite knock at his door. Mrs. Prescot poked her head in.
    “Good morning, Mr. Champion.”
    “Same to you, Mrs. Prescot.”
    “Mr. Peters is here to see you.”
    “Show him in, please.”
    She opened the door fully, motioning Karl Peters into the office. Smartly dressed in a dark suit, the Hofstra alum carried a small brown paper bag, slightly moistened at the corners.
    “Can I get you anything, Mr. Peters?” Mrs. Prescot asked in a nurturing way. “We have coffee, tea, water, soda.”
    He sheepishly held up his brown paper bag, careful to put a hand under the bottom. “No thanks,” he said. “I stopped for a latte on the way.”
    “Very well then.” Mrs. Prescot was closing the door when she paused. “By the way, Mr. Champion…”
    “Yes?”
    “Your coffee is getting much better, but…”
    “But it would be better if I wait for you to make it.”
    Mrs. Prescot smiled and closed the door behind her.
    Champion still had a warm look on his face when he addressed Peters. “Latte! What the hell?”
    Peters removed his beverage from the soiled bag. Licking his fingers, he said, “What can I say? Acquired taste. Double chocolate mocha, to be exact.”
    Champion just nodded. “To each his own.” He raised his coffee mug and took a drink.
    Peters slurped his still-hot latte, the sound of which produced a pained look from Champion. Peters looked up innocently. “Sorry, sir.” He cleared his throat before beginning. “On Janway’s computer at the house were files that pertained to nuclear capability for Pakistan, North Korea, China, and Iran. Essentially, just background stuff on who has what, and in the case of Iran, how far they are