17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter seventeen
The Gulfstream started to move the moment he stepped inside.
A flight attendant—a man rather than a good looking woman, but you can’t have everything in life—had closed the door while directing Trevor to sit anywhere he liked.
The plane was already taxing toward a runway.
When CIA wanted to get you somewhere fast, they wasted no time.
Trevor briefly wondered if any of this would roll back on Samantha.
She didn’t have authorization to dispatch a field officer, much less to book a private flight.
And yet none of that had stopped her. She had assured Trevor that everything would be approved after the fact.
Once the evil queen Kearns realized the threat in Belgrade was legitimate, she’d retroactively approve of Samantha’s decision to send an officer over on a Company jet.
Trevor hoped she was right. He'd hate to do anything to screw up Samantha’s career.
He’d hate even more to screw up his own.
And yet the opportunity for a private flight and a mission off the books, was too good to pass up. Now if only he had a glass of scotch and a cigar, and maybe a good looking blonde stewardess.
Trevor pushed his overnight bag under the seat in front of him with his foot and hummed a little snatch of the Monty Norman theme as he watched the Gulfstream trundle toward the runway. The engines were already cycling up. These pilots didn’t waste any time.
With a little luck and the right winds, he’d be landing in Belgrade in less than eight hours.
Trevor’s mother had wrung her hands in worry when he first announced his intention to join the Central Intelligence Agency.
Like most Americans, everything Mrs. de Camp knew about CIA came from what she’d seen in movies.
And that was mostly a load of BS. She’d worried that Trevor would be shipped off to some South American jungle with just a knife and a compass, by an uncaring government, on a one man mission to overthrow a drug cartel.
She didn’t realize the movies were mostly fiction and the real purpose of CIA was gathering information.
It was right there in the title. Central Intelligence Agency.
Still, Americans believed every intelligence officer was Jason Bourne.
And in truth, Trevor was feeling a little like Jason Bourne right now. He was living out all his childhood fantasies.
He was an officer for the Central Intelligence Agency, with a stunningly beautiful boss, and he was on his way to Europe aboard a private plane to investigate a potential terror organization.
Maybe mom was right after all?
The thought put a smile on Trevor’s face.
In truth, nothing could wipe the smile from Trevor’s face. This was everything he’d ever wanted. He rocked a bit in his seat. He really should get some sleep, but he was too wired.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Trevor told himself.
“Sorry, sir,” the attendant said. He was at the front of the craft, in the small space separating the seating area from the cockpit. He looked over the seats at Trevor and asked, “Did you need something?”
“I’m fine,” Trevor assured him. “Thank you.”
He was better than fine. Living the dream.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a dog-eared travel guide to Serbia.
Langley had a private library stocked with, mostly up to date, travel guides to just about anyplace in the world, along with scientific manuals, philosophy texts, political treaties, history books, and even a few paperback novels.
Someone even snuck a copy of Legacy of Ashes by Tim Weiner onto the shelves.
Weiner the Weiner had been scrawled on the cover in magic marker, along with a disturbingly anatomically correct appendage.
Corrections and addendums filled the pages, those pages that weren’t stuck together by chewing gum.
Trevor had taken a moment to further deface the treatise by Weiner before snagging a travel guide.
Now he eased his seat back, flipped open the book and read up on Serbia.
Despite working the Serbian desk at Langley, he’d never actually set foot in the country.
While he didn’t have any particular affinity for Serbia, the appointment was merely a stepping stone on his way to bigger and better things, Trevor had developed an appreciation for the country.
Engines cycled up and the Gulfstream hurtled along the runway as he started to read.