A Patchwork of Old Spies

By Gini Anding

Zach asked Josie what she really thought of the present state of affairs. Im tempted to use that line from my favorite movie, Frankly, my dear, I dont give a damn.

Okay, Scarlet. But surely you are concerned over whats been going on. That famous memory of yours must be putting what do you call them? Oh, yes, patches. Arent you putting two and two together and getting five? Thats what you usually do.

It was Josies turn to laugh. Honestly, Zach, what Im putting together reads like a script for a bad spy movie. We have nothing but red herrings, a mishmash of motley characters from various parts of the globe, more spies than villains, an attempted kidnapping, a fistfight, a car chase, a car blown up, a car accident, an escape on a motorcycle, nefarious thugs, virtuous good guys, covert agencies falling over covert agencies, a safe house or hideout, as the case may be, drug smuggling, romantic intrigue, false passports, not to mention changing locales: an offshore bank, an Irish pub, a travel plaza, a small animal hospital, and marinas up and down the east coast. We even have a plateful of old ops: Seagull, Mulberry Bush, Polaris. Ive even had to revisit the Patches program. The inmates are running the asylum.

So you think were being set up?

Thats what bothers me. Just what are we doing in this particular script? Why Chipley Island? Why round up all these old spies? Why here?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: May 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491766835

Gini Anding

Gini Anding earned her PhD at the University of Pennsylvania. She taught at the College of William and Mary, the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and the University of Kentucky. She is the author of four books on nineteenth- and twentieth-century French poetry. She now divides her time between St. Augustine, Florida, and Atlanta, Georgia, and writes mysteries (Amy Page / Jean-Michel Jolivet Witness series) and cookbooks (The Amateur Gourmet).

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A PATCHWOR K OF OLD SPIES

Copyright © 2015 Gini Anding .

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-6682-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6683-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015906515

iUniverse rev. date: 04/30/2015

Contents

Chapter 1 Readeville, Va Wednesday, 3:30 A.m.

Chapter 2 Readeville Small Animal Hospital Wednesday, 3:30 P.m.

Chapter 3 Muskrat Lane Chipley Island, Va Wednesday, Midnight

Chapter 4 Chipley Island, Va Saturday Night

Chapter 5 Muskrat Lane Chipley Island, Va Tuesday, 4:30 P.m.

Chapter 6 Chipley Island Marina Same Evening

Chapter 7 Over The Atlantic Thursday

Chapter 8 Cousins Restaurant Friday Morning

Chapter 9 Muskrat Lane Chipley Island Next Morning

Chapter 10 Two Days Later Charles City, Va

Chapter 11 Cousins Restaurant Chipley Island, Va That Night

Chapter 12 Chipley Island A Week Later

Chapter 13 Chipley Island Muskrat Lane Monday Night

Chapter 14 Muskrat Lane Two Weeks Later

Chapter 15 That Night Owl’s Nest Charles City County

Chapter 16 Chipley Island Four Days Later

Chapter 17 Next Day, Mid-Morning Warren Home

Chapter 18 Chipley Island Two Days Later

Afterward

Praise for

GINI ANDING

and

A CASE FOR OLD SPIES

(iUniverse, 2014, 246 p.)

[A] refreshing change of pace. … Focus is on the more cerebral and social aspects of spycraft. … A solid four-star read.

—James Rasmussen, San Francisco Book Review

One fine novel. … Not reading this book would be a mistake.

—John J. Kula, Amazon.com

A smart, intricately threaded tapestry of deeply informed spy trade craft. … Mastery of storytelling and geopolitics distinguishes this fine read.

—Turkophile, Amazon.com

A thought-provoking read for contemporary times. … One can only hope there really is a Chipley Island.

—Kathy C. Kurk, Amazon.com

The writing crackles with authenticity, allowing the author to spin an exciting and thought-provoking story that lends itself well to the thriller genre.

—Writer’s Digest

This is a fun read that any puzzle lover or mystery fan will enjoy.

—Anne K. Edwards, MysteryFiction.net

The author dexterously weaves in current happenings in Russia, Chechnya and the Arab nations to create a very real sense of our nation’s peril in a world of high-tech espionage.

—The St. Augustine Record

An intriguing look at what can happen when retired spies come out of retirement for one last mission. … The actual mystery will draw the reader in like a moth to a flame.

—D. Ann Williams, Portland Book Review

Praise for

GINI ANDING

and the

AMY PAGE / JEAN-MICHEL JOLIVET WITNESS SERIES

WITNESS ON THE QUAY

A richly detailed, authentic travelogue centered on the historic Ile Saint-Louis in Paris… . A compelling, immediate, exciting story.

—Steven W. May, Amazon.com

For aficionados of mystery-detective-espionage thrillers, Gini Anding offers both a new take on the genre and—best of all—a distillation of the finest features of whodunit fiction.

—Robert Griffin, Amazon.com

"Wise, witty and winsome, Witness on the Quay testifies warmly on France and things French… . Anding does for the City of Paris what Dan Brown does for the Eternal City!"

—Jacques Otrebor, Amazon.com

A genuine page-turner… . The author nails Paris (and the French) in a way that few American writers are able to do… . Most important, we see that love and passion can bloom in the lives of people over fifty.

—Robert W. Greene, BarnesandNoble.com

Amy is an unusual, fun, middle-aged heroine that the reader will fall in love with immediately… . It’s fun to read about an intelligent, talented, and yes, sexy older heroine.

—Writer’s Digest

WITNESS AT THE BRIDGE

A fast-paced mystery involving murder and the international drug trade, a heartwarming love story, a meticulous guidebook to Paris and especially to the Ile Saint-Louis, and a compendium of information about French history, cooking, and assorted customs.

—Barbara C. Bowen, BarnesandNoble.com

A delicious mix of mystery, romance and traditional whodunit.

—Heather Froeschl, BookReview.com

[A] crash course for Francophiles, history buffs, pop culture aficionados, cuisiniers and chef wannabes, and fun reading for anyone who loves a contemporary, mature, and Gallic-spiced romance.

—Katherine C. Kurk, Kentucky Philological Review

A delightful romantic mystery set in Paris… . Plenty of action and surprises to keep the reader turning pages until the delightful end.

—Writer’s Digest

WITNESS IN THE SQUARE

A fun read… . A multilayered take woven into a cleverly plotted tale.

—Anne K. Edwards, MysteryFiction.net

In the reflective tradition of Agatha Christie… this is not your typical murder mystery.

—Heather Froeschl, BookIdeas.com

WITNESS BY THE CHURCH

This mystery series seems grand fun. Written by an expert in French language and culture, it features a romantic angle seen not often enough in mystery.

—Writer’s Digest

If you like action and intrigue, this is a tale that will please you… . Lots of mystery… a secret society… a lost treasure, spies, a murder in a church… blended together to give the reader lots to consider.

—Anne K. Edwards, MysteryFiction.net

"[Anding] takes you to some wonderful places in Paris… . Vivid descriptions bring everything to life… . For a fun, romantic mystery, Witness by the Church is the perfect pick. Romance reader groups will especially love it!"

—Paige Lovitt, Amazon.com

[Anding] has dedicated such energy and intellect to the details that she makes the settings as real to the reader as to the visitor.

Julie Costich, Amazon.com

WITNESS FROM THE CAFÉ

"Equal parts mystery, thriller, travelogue, and history lesson, Witness from the Café is sunny and bright … a breezy read."

—San Francisco Book Review

An intriguing story in a fascinating setting… . This genre blend is skillfully written without any of the errors that might distract readers, enabling them to go on a journey that will keep them turning pages all the way to the end.

—Writer’s Digest

Plenty of romance, lots of action… . Talented author Gini Anding has crafted a tale that will make you want to read the entire series to date.

—Anne K. Edwards, MysteryFiction.net

Amy Page / Jean-Michel Jolivet Novels by Gini Anding

Witness on the Quay

Witness at the Bridge

Witness in the Square

Witness by the Church

Witness from the Café

Cookbooks by Gini Anding and Amy Page

The Amateur Gourmet

More from the Amateur Gourmet

Nonfiction Books

Under the name Virginia A. La Charité

Bonaventure des Périers’s

Novel Pastimes and Merry Tales

(with her husband, Raymond C. La Charité)

The Poetics and the Poetry of René Char

Henri Michaux

The Dynamics of Space:

Mallarmé’s Un coup de dés jamais n’abolira le hasard

Twentieth-Century French Avant-Garde Poetry,

1907-1990

Visit her website at

www.GiniAnding.com

Chapter 1

Readeville, VA

Wednesday, 3:30 a.m.

The storm was over and the rain had nearly stopped. As he approached the bridge, Zach could see flashes of lightning in the distance. It was remarkable that old Marshall Barrow had heard the crash given the power of the storm. Lights were probably out in much of the county, but the backup system installed some months ago along the waterfront of Chipley Island was working.

Zach Warren: former CIA sniper and assassin; deputy sheriff in charge of Chipley Island; occasional weapons instructor.

Stopping his motorcycle midway, Zach studied the scene of the accident. It was exactly as old Marshall Barrow had described it over the phone. A car had plowed into the lamppost on the right side of the entrance to the bridge. Its headlights were still on and Zach could glimpse a body in the driver’s seat. That door was open. Sitting next to it in his wheelchair was Marshall himself, holding a large black umbrella. By his side was his faithful Irish setter, Candy.

Marshall Barrow: retired bodyguard; wheelchair bound; lives in a cottage next to the bridge and monitors foot and motor traffic.

Good morning, Marshall. If the driver’s who you think he is, we’ve got quite a problem on our hands. You said he was badly wounded but still alive, so I’ve also called Jim.

You know that I’m good with faces. I remember this fellow going back and forth to the campground last year. I never knew his name. A blonde woman usually accompanied him, but she’s not in the car. Wasn’t he part of that mission you old spies did when that body washed up at Pirates Cove? Marshall asked.

Well, let me get a look at him. Yes, you’re right. That’s exactly who he is. By the way, thanks for shutting off the horn. The last thing we want is a crowd of boat owners from the marina. Let me have that powerful flashlight of yours.

After scanning the inside of the car, Zach stood up and patted Candy’s head. I’d say that he’s lost a lot of blood, but I don’t think that blood came from injuries in the crash. As I see it, the car crashed on the passenger side. He had to have been going at a fairly high speed and hydroplaned on that turn. The rain has probably taken care of any tire marks. Ah, here comes Jim. Marshall, call either Bill or Jerry and get one of them here. Also both of the Gypsy twins and tell them to come with a trailer. My guess is that our friend here was escaping from someone and heading for Chipley Island to hide out. Once we get him out of that car, we need to remove all traces of his arrival.

Just like old times, Marshall smiled. By the way, what is his name?

Gunther is all I know. He has lots of names. The last time I saw him, he said he was an Afrikaner who owned a charter fishing boat in the Cayman Islands and was known as Captain Pete. The blond woman you remember is Heidi and she is his … well, come to think of it, his sister or lover. I really don’t know, Zach laughed. Ah, here’s Jim.

Jim Andrews: retired MD, resident of Chipley Island and Zach’s father-in-law.

Just what in the hell is so important that you’ve dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night? I hope this is not one of your old spy friends who is now a criminal on the lam.

Not really, but it is an old contact and his being here must be kept hush-hush. Over here. We’ve not touched him, but he seems to be seriously wounded and has lost a lot of blood.

Suddenly the victim moaned.

Marshall spoke up. "He’s been like that. In an out of consciousness, but the words are garbled. He’s trying to say something, but all I could make out was something that sounded like loo too, but that doesn’t make any sense. He surely didn’t want a bathroom."

Well, he’s been shot, Jim said. Once in the right shoulder and once in the right calf, and then again in the right side at his waist and the lobe of his right ear. That’s what I can tell without having him on an examination table. I assume he was running from someone and that a proper hospital is out of the question.

Right, Zach replied. I need you to patch him up. The fewer people in the loop, the better all around. What supplies do you need?

I brought my medical bag, but it’s far from adequate for this situation. I do have the key to Doc Talcott’s office in town and can filch what I need from there. Why not go there? It’s a fully stocked clinic. There’s even an x-ray machine.

Zach shook his head. No. It’s on the town’s main square with the Sheriff’s Office right across the street. You’ve forgotten that Toby Harper is the new deputy sheriff and he and his wife Connie live in the apartment over the office.

Yes, and their baby Joy has colic, meaning one of them is up at all hours of the night. Lights on at the Doc’s would attract attention. Well, we need somewhere I can work. How about a room at the marina motel?

No, that won’t do. It’s not private enough. Besides, I think the motel is full, Zach said. Here come Tony and Hank. Maybe there’s a secluded spot at their Wagon Wheel Ranch.

Tony and Hank Martine: French Gypsy twins, miniature horse breeders, owners of Wagon Wheel Ranch on Chipley Island.

Well, Bill is right behind us, and I can plainly see that there’s an accident at our bridge, which explains why Zach and Jim are here, but why us and why Bill at this time of night? Tony asked. Please don’t tell me that I need to dispose of a body. That’s really not in my repertoire.

Bill Penrith: co-owner with Jerry Upshaw of the marina and Cousins Restaurant; both are retired CIA operatives who spent several years in England as liaison agents with MI-6.

It’s Gunther. He’s badly hurt but not from the crash. Jim says he’s been shot. I don’t know why he chose to come here, but I can only assume that he was seeking a hiding place and needed the kind of help that only Chipley Island can provide. I want you two to take the car and go over it with a fine-tooth comb. I don’t know where he was shot. If in the car, then there could be bullets in the upholstery or there could be something of importance stashed in it. Strip it completely and then get rid of it.

That we can do, Hank replied, but first we need to get Gunther out of it and take him … take him where exactly?

Doc Talcott’s clinic is out because it is right on the square. There are no vacancies at the motel. I know we can’t use your ranch. Your kids would wise up too quickly that something odd was going on. It’s hard to hide a seriously wounded man. We need somewhere off the beaten path, safe and secure, someplace we can turn into an operating room and recovery ward. I guess we could go out to the ruins of Bentley Hall and put it temporarily off limits to the public.

Ha! Tony snorted. If you say it’s closed, you’ll stir up interest. Your sister-in-law’s terrible triplets will be the first to snoop.

Marshall tapped his umbrella for attention. I know! You should take him to Molly. She’s a surgeon, you know. Why, she operated on Candy here and made her as good as new.

Mary Margaret (Molly) O’Brian: veterinarian.

Jim laughed. Of course. The Readeville Small Animal Hospital is perfect. It’s a good quarter mile back in the woods. I’d forgotten that Molly came back home to be with their father when her brother Patrick was killed in a car accident. You’re right, Marshall. She is a good vet. We take Thor and Queenie to her.

Okay. We’ll use Bill’s car. He brought the Lincoln Towncar and it should accommodate Gunther. I could go get the ambulance from the fire station, but I think that it might attract too much attention. Jim, tell us how to get Gunther out of his car and into Bill’s.

Under Jim’s guidance, Zach, Bill, Tony, and Hank gingerly moved Gunther. As Bill and Jim drove off, Tony and Hank began the job of removing the Mazda and cleaning the area of debris. Marshall rolled himself back to his cottage, and Zach got back on his motorcycle with a list of drugs that Jim wanted from the local pharmacy. As a member of the county law enforcement group, he had the keys and security codes for the county’s major buildings and he knew he could easily get in and out of the drug store without being spotted. Sometimes it paid off to have been a highly trained government agent, used to black ops and all sorts of clandestine missions. On the way he began to think of what to tell Josie. She was going to be very unhappy that a seriously wounded Gunther had landed on their doorstep. Zach did not doubt for one minute that Gunther’s identity had been blown while on a deep-cover freelance mission and that his escape unwittingly involved the group of retired spies who lived on Chipley Island.

Josie Warren: Zach’s wife, Jim’s oldest daughter, former government courier and tracker; known for her accurate and vivid recall, especially of visual images, in a word her eidetic memory; illustrator for children’s books.

Zach was turning into the lane that led to the veterinary hospital when his cellphone rang. It was Josie.

"What the hell is going on? I just had a call from Uncle Jack. He’s coming to Chipley Island tomorrow and guess who’s on board? Heidi! Not Gunther, but Heidi. He wants everyone at Cousins Restaurant. Something big must be up. The calls have gone out. I can only presume that you know where Gunther is and why Jack is coming. I just hope you’re not involved in another of his half-assed missions. If so, count me out. I’m not going to dinner with him. I am not only retired, I also quit. That’s spelled Q U I T."

Jackson Lee Andrews: U.S. Navy Adm., retired; former director of the defunct top secret AIC (American International Center); Jim’s brother and Josie’s uncle; lives on a yacht.

Zach groaned out loud. Josie had put her finger on it. If it was one of Jack’s secret ops, it had been blown and now Jack expected his old spies to come to the rescue. What Marshall had heard Gunther moaning was not loo too but lou two. Jack’s yacht was the Mary Lou II. That had to have been the rendezvous point, but somehow the mission had failed and the team had split, with Gunther playing decoy. Gunther must have thought he had lost his trackers and so he headed for Chipley Island.

Once the drugs were delivered to Jim, Zach would attempt to retrace Gunther’s drive to Readeville and make sure that he had indeed shaken his followers. As a precaution, he called Jerry and asked him to meet him at the church cemetery. Together they would retrace Gunther’s route and determine if additional measures were needed.

Damn you, Jack, Zach said to himself. Why can’t you just leave us all alone? Your niece is right. We are all retired. I know that some still do the occasional op, but most of us are content to be out of the game. Our skills are rusty and our reactions have slowed. In some cases, our bodies suffer from a lot of physical wear and tear and Josie isn’t the only one who carries emotional scars. Of course, the healthy bank accounts and hidden savings are appreciated, but then, when in service, we really gave it our all. A few of us still have prices on our heads. We’re all here in a place that offers us peace, security, and companionship. Only a spy knows what it is like to be a spy: leading a life outside the norm, often living a lie, fearful of betrayal, and, of course, being unacknowledged for risking life and limb, and always misunderstood outside the fold. To come in from the cold did not translate into warmth, fuzzy slippers, relaxation, family ties, safety. It just meant being inactive instead of active, still looking over one’s shoulder, still casing a room or store or restaurant, scrutinizing faces, trusting no one, carrying a weapon, being alert, sleeping with one eye open, and ironically wishing one were back in the cold where the lines were clearly drawn and one knew how to behave, where to go, how to act and react, and who was who.

Hi, Jerry. The storm has probably washed away useful clues. Still, we need to be sure. You take the right and I’ll take the left. I think we need to work back to the Interstate. I suspect that’s where he lost them.

There’s a travel plaza about six miles from the exit for Readeville. Let’s go there first and work down to here.

Good idea!

The two men drove to the Interstate, turned north, and came to a travel center closed for the night. The door to the building had been jimmied. Entering, they found two dead Orientals. They had been shot several times, the coup de grace in each case being a bullet to the forehead. Neither victim carried any identity papers or visible marks. Outside, in the parking lot, Zach and Jerry discovered a Jeep Cherokee with no registration papers in the glove compartment. On the back seat was an empty box of ammunition.

The vehicle was most likely stolen, Zach concluded. I don’t think a search of trash bins or the surrounding woods would be helpful. It’s probably safe to say that those two were tracking Gunther and he got rid of them before heading for Chipley Island. We’ll just leave it all as it is and let the state police deal with it in the morning. I think Gunther got clean away.

Jerry nodded in agreement. I’m all for going back. Maybe I can squeeze in another hour of sleep. We all need to be rested for Jack’s visit tomorrow night. What do you suppose that bastard now has up his kilt?

Zach remained quiet. Indeed what?

Chapter 2

Readeville Small Animal Hospital

Wednesday, 3:30 p.m.

Chipley Island, VA, is on the Chesapeake Bay. Strategically located between Richmond, Yorktown, and Hampton Roads, it is today a haven for spies who once worked for various clandestine agencies, most especially for AIC (American International Center) under Adm. Jackson Lee Andrews a.k.a. Uncle Jack. It is connected to the mainland by a bridge.

Readeville, VA, is the county seat of Mobjack County. Mobjack is the smallest of the Virginia counties, consisting of less than 252 square miles and a population under 10,000. The main industries are fishing, boating, and leisure. Because the county is surrounded by water on three sides, it has attracted many part-time residents in the summer and highly educated retirees, such as the old spies who live on Chipley Island.

Originally part of the Powhattan Confederacy, Readeville dates back to the early 1700s. The town itself consists mainly of an antebellum courthouse square surrounded by a pharmacy, an independent grocery store, the county Sheriff’s Office, a law office, a bank, a two-person insurance and realtor office, a one-person CPA office, a beauty salon and barber shop, a doctor’s office with a small clinic, the county newspaper, The Courthouse Gazette, the post office, and an antique shop that also operates as a coffee shop and luncheonette open only from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. except Sunday and Wednesday. At one end of the square stands the stately courthouse where county offices and records are found. The mayor and all county personnel have offices in an annex behind the building. The town is proud of the fact that it has no traffic signal.

On the road west is the feed store that also functions as a hardware and paint store. Due east is a full service gas station with a take-out pizza business run by the mechanic’s brother and his wife. There are several small churches along with a Dairy Queen just outside the town proper. The old one-story school building now houses the town library as well as the headquarters of the county historical society; at times it functions as the town hall. Next to it is the school complex: one building for elementary school children, one building for middle schoolers, and one for the high school.

The school system is unusual because of its enrichment program. Mobjack is not a wealthy county in terms of actual income, but it is rich in personnel who willingly volunteer expertise and talent by participating in special school programs, after school programs, Saturday electives, and the summer academy in mathematics, science, language arts, history, world literature, and navigation.

Attention is also given to the arts and sports. The high school football, basketball, baseball, tennis, and swimming teams invariably reach the state play-offs, while the art projects frequently take first place at the state arts festival. The students score well on national tests and are highly recruited by institutions of higher learning.

Residents of Readeville have to go to the neighboring county, Gloucester, in order to see a dentist, go to a movie theater, participate in community theater, eat Chinese food, patronize several car dealerships, browse a liquor store for wines and gourmet cheeses, or shop in an upscale old-fashioned emporium featuring a wide range of goods from perfumed soaps to imported olive oils to wine glasses. No one in Mobjack County complains and the business owners in Gloucester welcome the support. In return, people in Gloucester enjoy what Mobjack has to offer, especially the beaches and marina on Chipley Island.

Zach crossed the bridge from Chipley Island to the mainland. He was confident that no additional security measures along the island waterfront were necessary. Marshall Barrow did an excellent job of keeping an eye on visitors from the mainland, and the security cameras in the light poles recorded both motor and marine movement, sending images to the communications center in the private room at Cousins Restaurant. They had even put sensors on the buoys in the bay. Chipley Island was as secure as possible, but Readeville might be another story.

Zach turned into the parking lot at the animal hospital. He would bring up the problem of securing Readeville at the meeting tonight. One solution would be to bring on board the county sheriff, Gordon Dudley, provide special training for his deputies, and perhaps hire at least one more deputy, maybe one chosen by the old spies.

His head ached. He had finally gone back to bed at 6:30 a.m. that morning. It had been a long night and it looked as though tonight would be equally long. Josie was not home when he finally got up. She had not even left him a note. Obviously, he thought, she is mad as hell. He assumed she had gone over to Marjorie’s to discuss illustrations for the next book, Charlie Crab. Or was it Bobby Barracuda? Sandra Seahorse? He couldn’t remember and he guessed it did not matter. Josie enjoyed the work. She had even received an honorable mention for her work at the last author trade show. The books were a surprising success in the children’s literature market.

Marjorie Hunter: retired cipher expert and forger; successful author of children’s books.

Part of him agreed with Josie’s dismay over the news that her Uncle Jack was on his way with Heidi of all people. Zach had had no choice but to tell her about Gunther’s arrival and his present whereabouts at the vet’s. While she liked both Heidi and Gunther, she knew that Jack’s arrival on the scene could only mean one thing: another case for the old spies who had retired to Chipley Island.

Physically, he knew that he was not up for another covert mission. Too many wounds, too much bodily abuse on black op assignments. Yet, another part of him was curious as to why