63
Clarissa’s receptionist called over the intercom.
“You have a Kurt Grice here to see you, ma’am.”
“Send him in,” she pressed the lock release on her door.
Kurt walked up to stand directly across from the center of her desk. He didn’t sit—never did.
He was of average height and build, almost completely forgettable. His slightly round face looked neither childlike nor overfed. His blond hair fell straight to his ears and might have a touch of gray. And he was also one of the most effective field agents in the entire Special Activities Division. Prior to taking command of the SOG, he’d been particularly adept at aiding or altering the course of South American coups.
He waited for the soft click of the door swinging back into place and locking once more.
“You asked me to confirm any
