Page 48 of Destroyer
Sydney hurried over to Naomi and hugged her. Naomi was a long-time coworker and Sydney’s closest friend at the CIA. Her ebony skin sparkled with a light dusting of glitter while a beautiful array of gold necklaces rested gently against her chest.
Naomi eyed her costume and laughed. “Only you could pull this off. Can you crack the whip?”
“Hell, yeah,” Sydney said with a laugh.
The women sat as their server—dressed as a Dalmatian—greeted them with a friendly smile. “Ruff ruff, and happy Halloween. What can I get you?”
After the women placed their drink orders, they leaned forward so they wouldn’t have to shout. “When’d you get back?” Sydney asked.
“A week ago,” Naomi said. “My leads all dead-ended. Crafty Lamar has earned his alias. He’stoodamn crafty.”
“You’ll find him,” Sydney said. “You always do. You’re the best of the best.”
“No, babe,you’rethe best,” Naomi said with a smile. “How ‘bout you?”
“I found Petersen in Milan.”
Naomi’s eyes grew large. “Tell me something good.”
“Adios motherfucker,” Sydney said.
“Nice work.”
“Doing that always leaves me feeling sick to my stomach,” Sydney confided.
“I would hope so. It’s violent, vile, and final. Even if they do deserve it.” After a pause, Naomi added, “And then, there were two.”
“Crafty Lamar and the man himself, King A,” Sydney whispered.
The server returned and set down their drinks. Sydney handed him the coupon from Rebel. “I don’t have cash, so how can I tip you?”
“I’ve got the tip.” Naomi handed him cash.
The server thanked her before scurrying to another table.
“You know the owner?” Naomi asked.
“His wife is a friend of Caroline’s,” Sydney lifted her drink and the two women toasted. “Here’s to us.”
“And a great friendship.”
“It’s too crowded in here,” Sydney said. “Let’s go sit in the lobby. There’s a table near the skeleton that was empty.”
With their drinks in hand, the two women relocated to a quieter area of the beautiful lobby, and their conversation resumed. Sydney had been working overseas for so long, chilling with her friend over a glass of wine felt surreal.
“Do you love your job?” Sydney asked.
“Love? I think I’d love a dog,” Naomi replied, “or a vacation.”
As Naomi spoke, Sydney’s gaze jumped from her friend to the people in the lobby. A habit long-ingrained in her, she was always searching, always on the lookout for her targets.
During her early days at The Farm, the CIA trainers taught them how to be super vigilant, how to ensure they weren’t followed, how to check and recheck if a CI was on the up-and-up or was leading them down a dead-end path where the only thing awaiting them was the Grim Reaper.
“I can’t remember the last time I was on a vacation,” Sydney said. “Where would you go?”
“I don’t know, but I’d get an adorable little dog that looked like Chewbacca.”
Sydney laughed. “I love that.”
