Lisa Phillips - Double Agent

“They’re not stupid. Mostly. They’ll figure out why I was asking about her, even though I did my best to keep it to vague questions. Hopefully it’ll buy us time.”

Doug tapped his finger on the side of the sweating can of soda. He wasn’t going to tell Sabine what they’d found out. He’d probe instead with the hope that she would share of her own volition. Had Ben known she was a rogue agent? Doug had to get to the bottom of this before it all broke loose.

If she had betrayed the CIA and gone to work for the enemy six years ago, the CIA would have her on all kinds of watch lists. To have hidden her location and still be going on missions, fooling everyone left, right and center, meant she must be an exceptional spy. That or she worked for some very bad people...with very deep pockets.

A rogue CIA agent?

Doug sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“Get some answers, Sergeant Major. I expect to hear from you bright and early.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And call your dad.”

Doug groaned.

“The old man knows you’re back in the States. He’s expecting your call.”

The line went dead. Colonel Hiller wasn’t one for goodbyes or any kind of politeness that could be expected from a fellow human being, but his record as an officer was so impressive; he was already a legend at forty-six. He’d earned his rank the hard way, from the ground up—ground soaked with his own sweat and blood.

Doug found a can of soup in the cupboard and set about heating it up on the stove. He scrolled through his contacts, found “Andrew” and pressed Send, intending to leave a voice mail.

“General Richardson’s residence.”

Doug smiled at the sound of the housekeeper’s voice. “Hey, Jean. I take it he’s still up since it’s after midnight, yet you’re answering the phone.”

The fluffy middle-aged lady laughed like Doug’s old Sunday school teacher. “How are you, honey?”

“I’m doing fine, Jean. Thank you.”

“Well, you know I worry about you. Did you get those cookies I sent?”

“I did, yeah. They were good. The guys loved them.” He’d made sure to set aside some of the two dozen for himself.

“I should think so.”

Doug laughed. The lightness in him stretched and grew, even with such a small connection with someone who had nothing to do with the war he seemed to always be fighting.

“My grandmother’s secret recipe. Did you know she fought her way out of Nazi Germany with nothing but her recipe card box and her knitting needles?”

Laughter built up in his chest but didn’t spill out. “That’s a good story. You should stick with it.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll put you through to your dad now, honey.”

“Thanks, Jean.”

There was a pause, and then a man’s voice came over the line. “That you, son?” It was a voice that had both commanded troops and yelled at his teenage boy to straighten his room.

Doug sighed. “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.”

“It’s about time. Did you think I’d settle for you checking in over voice mail forever?”

Doug’s chest tightened until it ached. He should pay the old man a visit soon. “It’s late. I should probably let you get to bed.”

“Don’t even try it. This is a momentous occasion. I actually got you on the phone. You think I’m just going to let you say goodbye in two seconds? Besides, isn’t there something you want to tell me?”

Doug sighed, loud enough for his dad to hear. Of course he’d make him say it. “Happy birthday.”

“You want to make it happy? You show up at my birthday party on Saturday. You wear a tux. You smile. You tell me that you’re letting this whole business go.” His voice broke. “I want to see you get on with your life, Douglas. Find a woman. Get married, and make me a grandfather already. I’m getting old.”

Before the general was finished, Doug was already shaking his head. “I would if I could, but I can’t. Not until I find out who killed Ben.”

“It’s not just me. You know it’s what your mother would have wanted.”

“Oh, sure.” Doug sighed. “Bring up Mom and how she’d be so disappointed in my behavior.” His dad did it because it worked. Doug would never have willingly disappointed his mother.

The general huffed. “Always were too hard on yourself.”

“This isn’t just about me.”

“I get it, son. I do.” Fatigue clouded the old man’s voice. “You want justice for your friend so your team can go on.”

“And for his sister.”

“You want to protect her.”

“She’s strong, but she still seems so...fragile.”

There was quiet for a moment and then the general asked, “Is she pretty?”

“Dad.”

“Fine, fine. You do what you need to do, son. But when you’re done, you come see me, you hear?” The general waited a beat. “I miss you.”

Doug pressed End and lowered the phone. “I miss you, too.”

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