Charlie

The building shuddered from the nearby impact. Charlie Burlamachi could hear the air-raid sirens warning everyone to take shelter. She blew the dust off her wristwatch and moved closer to the exit so she could scram, if necessary. Charlie knew she could run fast. She jogged and worked out daily, and at five feet eight inches tall, possessed a thirty-two-inch inseam and powerful leg muscles, so she had long strides. On top of that, being more of a sprinter than a marathoner served her well in dangerous situations such as these.

Charlie thought back to her last discussion in DC with her boss, Ed Wilson. It seemed a lifetime ago. “You’re on your own in this. Yes, the United States would love to have this man eliminated. He betrayed the United States and the United Kingdom, and he helped set up Tosh’s and Elda’s teams for the assassins in Operation Bittman. And now he’s working with the Russians against Ukraine. Having said that, we’re not sanctioned to assassinate him, especially with the oversight we’re receiving from Congress in our Ukrainian involvement. But . . . should he die accidentally while being politely questioned for intelligence . . .”

Had it been only a half hour since she’d eliminated the traitor? The ground beneath her feet shook. Another bomb, nearer this time. She brushed the dust out of her short hair. She should probably should wear a helmet. Not standard issue for a spy though. Some days she missed the military.

Charlie hoped her contact would arrive before the drones blew the building up. She tapped her watch. Where was he, and could she trust him?