Chapter 23
HIS debrief with Irene had gone better than Hurley had expected.
He’d relayed what had occurred in Doha in what, for him, were calm clinical terms that were heavy on operational details and light on profanity.
Or at least relatively light on profanity.
As a seeming reward for his candor, Irene had listened respectfully and waited until the end of his update before offering her thoughts.
While he still considered her his adopted niece, she was also a badge-carrying employee of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Hurley was not.
Stansfield had instituted this change a number of years ago and Hurley had wholeheartedly supported the decision. Working as a contractor afforded him a lot more flexibility, while providing his notional superiors with deniability for his operational choices.
But this insulation came at a cost.
While the Orion team had become Hurley’s personal fiefdom, he still needed to work through official channels if he wanted to leverage the CIA’s vast capabilities.
He accomplished this by using Irene as a liaison.
In addition to being one of the few agency employees read into the Orion initiative and Rapp’s handler, she was also quickly becoming Stansfield’s adjutant.
Though he still had decades more operational history with Stansfield than did Irene, Hurley’s actions of late had strained this relationship.
Accordingly, he’d made a conscious effort to keep Irene in the loop and repair his damaged reputation.
But that didn’t mean he’d gone soft.
Like all good clandestine operatives, Hurley had a bias for action, and right now his instincts were demanding that he take a gander inside Sunshine Vacations. True, he’d briefed Irene that his operation would be surveillance in nature only, but the facts on the ground had a way of changing.
Irene would understand.
Probably.
“My gear’s packed up in my room,” Hurley said as he bounded down the stairs two at a time. “Send one of your guys to collect it.”
“Copy,” Brad said. “What about our taskings?”
“Keep on the target building, but be ready to move. I want to know if anyone approaches while I’m inside.
Unless I say otherwise, stay on station for another hour after I leave.
Get shots of anyone who comes in or out and their transportation.
If I give you the bug-out call, use emergency exfil procedures. We’ll link up at the secondary site.”
“Understood.”
Brad might have acknowledged Hurley’s transmission, but his single-word response carried with it a wealth of unspoken concerns.
Though he wasn’t new to the agency, Brad was new to Hurley.
Or at least working an Orion team operation with Hurley.
The CIA’s Directorate of Operations wasn’t exactly staffed with shrinking violets.
Even so, the cowboys who called Orion home took this characterization to the next level.
Whether or not Brad was a good fit to join their ranks had yet to be seen.
“Cheer up,” Hurley whispered as he came to the stairwell’s exit. “I’m gonna go inside, have a look around, and book a trip. Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s what you said when—”
“Okay,” Hurley said, talking over the surveillance team leader, “I’m going dark.”
He secured his low-profile communications set before Brad’s accusing voice could respond. Was he stretching his authorization from Irene a bit far? Perhaps. But a Hezbollah thug had tried to plug him yesterday evening.
No way was he letting that stand.
Hurley exited the stairwell, crossed the hotel lobby, and pushed through the entrance’s double doors.
After his time in the shabby hotel room, the fresh air felt good against his face.
He detested the waiting game that was stationary surveillance.
At his core, Hurley was a sticks-and-bricks man.
An intelligence officer who came of age during the height of the Cold War, in which the ability to service dead drops, conduct brush passes, and ditch Warsaw Pact surveillance teams was the measure of a man.
Though there was nothing particularly charming about the dirty two-lane street he was crossing, Hurley felt alive.
An angry horn blaring from his left brought him down from his high.
A white Toyota pickup truck edged by him, opting to pull into the opposite lane rather than slow for a pedestrian.
Hurley felt like thanking the driver. As always, his nerves buzzed with anticipation at the thought of what might or might not happen once he went operational.
He loved this job and everything that came with it, but as the Toyota had just demonstrated, the unexpected was always just a heartbeat away.
Time to get his head in the game.
As he reached the far side of the street, details about the storefront loomed larger.
Compared to its neighboring proprietors—a minimart, butcher shop, and bakery—the travel agency occupied two units instead of one.
The still-illuminated open sign hung over a door leading into the left unit, while an advertisement depicting an exotic skyline covered the glass exterior to the right.
Once again, his instincts whispered that this was confirmation that he was on the right path.
While there was nothing ominous about Sunshine Vacations residing in such a large space, it was unusual.
In Hurley’s world, unusual was often a stepping stone to significant.
Hurley strode up the steps leading to the agency’s door as he continued to register pertinent details about the establishment.
The leftmost unit had a glass exterior that was heavily tinted, where the rest of the storefronts provided bystanders with a view of the establishment’s wares.
The travel agency’s eastern border ended in a north–south-running alley that divided the strip mall from its mosque neighbor.
Hurley had noted the alley from his perch in the hotel, but he hadn’t seen the recessed door that would permit the agency’s occupants to exit the establishment unseen.
His final observation came as he grabbed the door’s handle and pulled.
The neon-red open sign winked off.