Brad Thor - Path Of The Assassin

“Yes.”

“Well, I poured a little on the steps outside.”

“And after tucking us in, he walked through it and made his way to his room?”

“Yup.”

“But what about-”

“The night-vision goggles?”

“Yeah, I thought we were supposed to turn them in with the rest of the gear.”

“I did. I just pulled them back out of the case when nobody was looking.”

Meg was having such a good laugh she had to set her beer on the floor for fear of spilling it. “You have got to show me his room,” she said.

“When we finish the beers, I will. Enjoy the AC while you can. I think you’re going to find Morrell’s room very uncomfortable.”

“You switched air conditioners?”

“Um-hum.”

“That’s classic.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“Oh, no?”

“Nope, there’s something else I owe him.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know what short-sheeting is?”

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t my first summer camp experience.”

“Well, I take it a step further.”

“How?”

“We’re going to short-sheet him, but we’re also going to take out all but two of the supports from his mattress frame.”

“When he gets into bed, he’s going to hit the floor?”

“Yep, and when he realizes he’s been short-sheeted, he’s going to hit the ceiling.”

Once again, Meg started laughing. After another beer, she confided in Harvath that it felt good to laugh because she hadn’t been feeling herself lately and didn’t know why. When asked what her symptoms were, Meg stated that she’d almost completely lost her appetite, had tons of energy, and seemed to get angry at the drop of a hat. Sometimes she even got the shakes coupled with what felt like heart palpitations. She figured it had something to do with the vitamin supplements she was being given, but when she asked the CIA doctor about it, he had told her it was just stress and not to worry about anything.

“You’re being given vitamins?” asked Harvath skeptically.

“The doctor prescribed some stuff that first day we got here. Remember when I had the physical? I think you had arts and crafts,” said Meg, giggling.

Harvath didn’t want to alarm her and so smiled and asked, “Can I see the vitamins you’re taking?”

“Nope,” she said as she took another long swig of beer.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have any on me. They give them to me at breakfast in the morning. I think that’s why Morrell is so adamant about me not being late. There’s always one of the doctor’s assistants there.”

“I’ve seen him. I just figured they were checking in to make sure you were feeling okay.”

“Yeah, he does that too. Asks a lot of questions.”

“Questions like what?”

“Like do I feel happy, sad, angry…You know, things like that.”

“So it’s more emotional than physical?”

“They ask physical questions, but for the most part, it’s emotional.”

“Interesting,” said Harvath, letting the subject drop, but not before asking, “Would you mind doing me a favor tomorrow?”

“Sure, as long as you agree to do me one.”

“What do you need?”

“Hand me another beer.”

Harvath laughed and popped the top on another Corona.

“How come you don’t have any limes for these?” asked Meg.

“That’s what we get for ripping off someone with no class.”

Meg started laughing again. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to palm your vitamins tomorrow.” Harvath gathered up a handful of bottle caps and began to show her. “Lift your hand to your mouth and pretend to pop them in-”

“I know what palming is, Scot, but why? Is there something wrong with them?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t worry about it. Just bring them to me tomorrow so I can check them out.”

“Fine. Consider it done. God, this beer tastes good.”

“Twice as good since we didn’t have to pay for it,” said Harvath.

By the time they made it to Morrell’s room, both Scot and Meg were feeling no pain. They short-sheeted his bed and removed all but two of the bed frame supports, and in a fit of sophomoric genius, decided to take all of the left shoes from his closet and scatter them around the Point.

When they finally made it back to their rooms an hour later, they knew there might be hell to pay, but neither of them cared. As they said good night, Meg wrapped her arms around Harvath. She planted a deep kiss on his lips and Harvath did nothing to pull away. This time, it was Harvath who finally broke their embrace, and Meg retreated into her room and locked the door for the night. It was the best she had felt in she couldn’t remember how long. While she fell asleep smiling, Harvath took a long time before drifting off, worried that things between them might be going too far. They had been at the Point for only a little more than a week, and there was no telling how much longer they would be working together. He couldn’t let anything develop between them that might jeopardize the operation.

At breakfast the next morning, Meg Cassidy’s slight hangover from several Coronas and way too many M amp;M’s didn’t do much to improve her mood. When the doctor’s assistant doled out her vitamins, Meg palmed them just as Harvath had asked, and returned with them to the table.

Scot looked through the multicolored tablets and shook his head.

“What is it?” asked Meg.

“You’ve heard of better living through chemistry?’

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, this is better soldiering through chemistry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but these aren’t all vitamins.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m no pharmacist, but I’m pretty sure I recognize one of these little guys.”

“Which one,” asked Meg as she leaned in and stared at the pills in Harvath’s hand.

“This one,” he said as he rolled an oblong capsule off to one side of his palm. “They call them Unkies.”

“What the hell’s an Unkie?” asked Meg as she rolled the pill around with her finger.

“You know how they say, ‘The Lord loves a workin’ man’? Well, we used to always say ‘Uncle Sam loves a fightin’ man.’ Some adjunct of the Special Operations community a ways back came up with an anabolic steroid derivative which was supposed to safely increase strength and stamina, but had the nasty side effect of putting a mean edge on people’s tempers.”

Concern was etched across Meg’s face. “Were there any other side effects?”

“Like regular steroids, they could mess up your complexion with acne and that kind of stuff.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You know what?” said Meg, anger sliding into her voice. “I’m getting pretty sick and tired of people deciding what Meg Cassidy should and shouldn’t worry about. I want you to tell me, right now, what the other side effects were!”

“Don’t get pissed at me. I didn’t prescribe these.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

“Fine. The biggest side effect was that your testicles could shrivel up,” said Scot as he wondered how that one was going to sit with Meg.

“So there are potential reproductive side effects?”

“As far as I know, only if you have testicles,” said Scot, trying not to laugh.

“You think this is funny? This is not funny. This is my body we’re talking about here. I didn’t give any of these goddamn CIA mad scientists permission to monkey around with my body. What the hell are they thinking?”

“I think they’re thinking they want you a bit more aggressive.”

“Aggressive?” repeated Meg, her voice now incredulous.