“Close the door, Ross.” The director of my department, a stern-faced man who looks like he has something perpetually stuck up his ass, is named Alton Mourns. That’s his real fucking name, which always makes me want to laugh, though I manage to keep it in check on the rare occasion I’m around him.
Today, I’m probably going to struggle with that.
I shut the door and stand in front of his desk, wondering if I’m getting the can or a reprimand or something else.
“Have a seat.” He meets my gaze with a look I can’t read so I sit down and stare back. I’m not afraid of the asshole, but I need one more year to get my pension, and while I don’t need the money, the benefits are good.
“What’s your relationship to the Queen of Limaj?” he asks abruptly.
I frown. “Um, childhood friend. I think we made out once or twice when we were teenagers. Now she’s married to a king who happens to be a friend of mine. Why?”
“Can you get close to her?”
“Close? Close as in…sleep with her? Talk to her? What kind of close are we talking?”
“Close as in her inner circle.”
“I’m already in her inner circle,” I respond, holding back a scowl. “What’s this about?”
“We believe the government there is in the process of putting together an intelligence agency, and I need intel on that.”
“I can give that to you right now,” I say, leaning back in my chair and relaxing now that I know this isn’t about me. “They are. It’s not a secret.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
He blows out a breath. “I need you to find out why and who’s running it.”
“Sir, those things aren’t secrets. I already know the answers, and they don’t have any problem with me telling you. The king himself is putting it together, with help from Prince Sandor and Joe Westfield.”
“Fucking Westfield. He was a pain in my ass when he was a marine, more of a pain in the ass when he worked for us, and now that he’s in the private sector, I want to cut his balls off.”
I decide to sit back and let him vent. Joe Westfield is one of my closest friends and confidants. “Is there a reason for you wanting to know this? They’re just trying to protect themselves.”
“We don’t want them forming another intelligence agency. They’re too close to both Russia and the Middle East. It makes them vulnerable.”
Okay, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. “Sir, they want to be our allies. King Erik has been rebuilding the country since he took power early this year, and the only reason he hasn’t sent an ambassador over here is because he doesn’t have enough people he trusts in his organization yet.”
“Precisely. Now he’s forming an intelligence agency—with those same people he can’t necessarily trust. I need you to stop it.”
“That’s not going to happen.” I’m probably kissing my pension goodbye, but it really isn’t up to me. I know Erik well enough to know he isn’t going to take direction from the CIA or any other foreign power.
“Are you refusing an order?” His eyes narrow.
“No, sir. I’m telling you the facts. Erik needs intelligence to help protect himself and his people. He’s not going to stop doing what he’s doing because you, or I, say so.”
“Your job is to convince him. One way or another.”
Our eyes meet across the desk, and I don’t even blink. “What does that mean? I’m not going to kill the King of Limaj. He’s my friend and his people are our allies.”
“They’re no one’s allies right now. They’re a lone entity trying to rebuild trust and relationships. Until they do, they can’t be trusted in the espionage world.”
“So what are my orders, exactly?”
“To get King Erik to stop what he’s doing and focus on building the government. In five years, we can revisit this.”
“Sir, this sounds more like something for the State Department, not intelligence.”
