Chasing Ivan by Tim Tigner

were popped and cigars were lit in anticipation of multimillion dollar deals. “Are you going to finish your story?” I asked Jo.
    “Can’t you guess the rest?”
    “I doubt my guessing would have the flamboyance of your telling.”
    “I found my way into the ambassador’s residence and left the briefcase and wallet under his pillow.”
    “With a card, I assume?”
    “The alternative would have been rude.”
    “What did you write?”
    “Please find my curriculum vitae attached. Yours respectfully, Josephine Monfort. Along with my phone number, of course.”
    “Of course.” I held up my hand and began tabulating with my fingers. “ Skills , balls , integrity , ingenuity , and cheek . I could see Granger weighing that lineup on par with a chest full of combat ribbons.”
    She held up a hand and made the peace sign. “I noticed that you ran out of fingers before you got to respect and lateral thinking . They’re very big on those at Langley.”
    “Those go without saying.”
    “It was Granger who evaluated me on the ambassador’s recommendation, but he was gone before I completed my training. I liked him. Were the two of you close?”
    “He brought me in, trained me, and functioned as my control for four years. He’s a great man and a good friend.”
    “You obviously miss him. I only met Oscar briefly. He comes across as more of a politician.”
    “Let’s just say he and Granger have different strengths.”
    “So what’s your story? Special Forces?”
    “No, I was also the oddball of my class.”
    “Do tell.”
    I didn’t like talking about myself, but the Anzhelika was still a couple of minute’s walk away, and there was nothing like casual conversation to help a couple blend in. Security would be looking for people exuding purpose. Jo seemed to intuit this. “I was a biathlete until a back injury ended my career.”
    “By biathlete, you mean shooting and skiing?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Were you any good?”
    “I grew up in Colorado, where both are obsessions, and I was obsessed enough to make the Olympic team.”
    “No kidding? Wow! How’d you do?”
    “I won bronze in Vancouver, but of course I wanted gold. I was totally committed to winning it too, when I hurt my back.”
    “That sucks.”
    “It happens a lot. I didn’t want to let it make me bitter, so I funneled all my energy into rock climbing, which is another Colorado obsession.”
    “The back injury didn’t prevent that?”
    “You’d think, but no. Different force vectors.” This was starting to feel more like a first date than a SOG op, and I found myself enjoying it. Apparently eight weeks of working exclusively with Oscar had left a void.
    “Well, it seems to have worked. You don’t strike me as bitter.”
    “Thanks. Actually, the Olympic disappointment made me reckless. Desperate to prove myself, I went straight for free-soloing, which is where you climb without ropes or equipment. I tackled cliffs like they were battlefields and I was my ancient namesake. With that attitude and my Olympic conditioning, I managed to set a couple of speed records. Nothing newsworthy anywhere outside Colorado or climbing circles, but enough to make the local papers. Granger was visiting the Air Force Academy, saw an article and got curious. He ended up recruiting me. Kinda made me his pet project and brought in some top guns for one-on-one training, since I didn’t have the typical Special Forces background. I was very fortunate.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Five years.”
    “I just finished up at The Farm five days ago. I’m barely over the jet lag.”
    “Well, you’re doing fantastic so far. Those were great moves, by the way. I was looking for some sleight of hand, but still didn’t see a thing.”
    “Merci beaucoup.”
    I grabbed Jo’s arm and guided her into a vacant tent.
    “What is it?”
    “Michael’s coming down the Anzhelika’s gangplank. He’s dressed the same as when he left the Mercedes, but now