Code Of Honor. Don Pendleton

operatives lately…”

      Ms. White nodded. Besides Misters Mauve and Green, another operative had been killed in the Redmond assassination, and three more had retired. They were down to only six, and she knew that Mr. Indigo preferred their fighting strength to be an even dozen.

      “Who is this new man?”

      They entered the cabin, and Mr. Indigo led her to a laptop, which had a generic screen saver running on the monitor. Mr. Indigo touched the button under the track pad, causing the screen to change to that of a U.S. Marine Corps dossier on a gunnery sergeant. His name was blacked out—a standard Black Cross security protocol.

      “He’s a former jarhead,” Mr. Indigo explained, “and he’s been a merc since then. Sharpshooter. He’s had trouble finding work lately because he’s too brutal.”

      “I wasn’t aware that you could be too brutal for the Marines.”

      Giving her the tiniest of smiles—which was as emotional as he ever got—Mr. Indigo said, “There’s a first time for everything. He has a tendency to kill people regardless of whether they’re supposed to be killed, which irked his superiors in the Corps. After that, he became a merc, and that same tendency irked a few of his employers, too.”

      “I can imagine,” Ms. White said. “We have no such compunctions, though.”

      “Indeed not. Galloway has him set up for his interview tomorrow. I want you to pick the talent for it and supervise the process.”

      Ms. White blinked. That was something usually left to operatives with more experience than her. “Why me?”

      “I’d say you’ve earned the promotion.” Mr. Indigo stared at her with those intense eyes. “You’ve been my best operative since you were hired six years ago. With Mr. Red, Mr. Brown and Ms. Violet retiring, and losing Mr. Green, Mr. Mauve and Ms. Yellow, you’re the one I trust the most right now.”

      Unsure if she was being complimented, or if she was simply the best of a series of bad choices, Ms. White instead just asked, “Where is the interview to be held?”

      “Valley Forge. Find a half dozen or so from the usual sources and get them set up at eleven tomorrow. The interview’s at noon.”

      Ms. White winced. That was all the way across the country, which meant she’d need to leave immediately to have time to set things up.

      However, Mr. Indigo wasn’t one to give compliments lightly. If he was going to trust her with such an operation, it meant good things for her. Specifically, it meant more pay—which was, after all, her primary motivation—given his use of the word promotion. The idealistic college student who’d thought she’d be doing some good in the world had long since died. The realities of life beat that idealism right out of her.

      Mr. Indigo opened another window on the laptop. “There’s an e-ticket in the name of Alma White at Eureka/Arcata for a flight to Denver, and then a connecting flight to Philadelphia. You’ve got one hour.”

      Just enough time to shower and change her clothes. She wanted to get the smell of the blond man off her anyhow.