Three maps lay across the table. The first displayed the coastline leading into Port Au-Prince, Haiti. The second, a plot of the interior port facilities. The third, a blueprint of a warehouse complex. A warehouse complex containing drug stockpiles, drug dealers, and drug money. Travis Blaine wanted the drug dealers. The money would be a pleasant bonus. The maps were illuminated by a flickering neon light filtered through cigarette smoke haze. Travis wasn't sure whether the smoke or the strobe-like lighting was giving him the headache, or if his head throbbed because of the visitor standing half in shadow across from him. Travis wanted a team of men. Ex-Seals, perhaps. The Agency apparently didn't see it that way, because he was sent a single woman instead. Amanda Pierce. A mountain climber by her looks, not a highly trained killer. Maybe the scar in front of her left ear said otherwise... "These are flimsy buildings," said the visitor. "You have too much explosive for the job. Also the timers aren't the necessary quality. I don't want to blow myself up while I retrieve the money cases. In, out, seconds count, Mr. Blaine." First test passed, thought Travis. The timers were sub-standard samples to test the visitor's skill. Perhaps she'll work out after all... |
