Most Eligible Spy by Dana Marton

national security. He was a low-key guy. He had a pretty good rein on his temper for the most. But he seriously wanted to beat Mikey Metzner’s head into the damned desk back there. He couldn’t stand it when someone was messing with his country.
    “Anything?” Ray, a big chunk of Viking wearing a leg cast, asked as soon as Mo walked through the door. He and Jamie were working from the office that morning, comparing satellite images and analyzing CBP data, looking for likely crossing points across the Rio Grande.
    The team had already discovered two tunnels. Both discoveries had been compromised, unfortunately. One of the tunnels had blown up, injuring Ray. The transfer would happen someplace else. The key was to find out where and let no one know that they knew the location. They wanted the transfer to go ahead as planned so they could apprehend those terrorists and their weapons.
    “Not much,” he answered Ray. “Yet. But we’ll get them.”
    “We’re gonna kick terrorist ass.” Ray grinned. “That’s what we do.”
    The sooner, the better. “This small-town business is more like detective work,” Mo grumbled. “Having to treat dirtbags like Metzner with kid gloves while the tangos are getting a step closer to crossing the border rubs me the wrong way.”
    He’d been made for action, not for investigative detail.
    “Prepare for more of this when you transfer to the CIA,” Jamie put in. “It’s not all fancy gadgets and pretty women like in the movies.”
    He knew that. He wanted it anyway. His foster father, the man who’d pretty much saved his life, had tried out for the agency. He didn’t pass the test because of an old war injury from his Marine days. But it had been his dream. He had been through some bad breaks, had lost close friends in his platoon due to bad intelligence. He’d wanted to do something about that, bring combat experience to the agency.
    He had tried to direct his sons that way, too, but none of them had an interest in the military, let alone intelligence services. Except Mo. He wanted to make the man proud, wanted to make that dream come true. It was such a small thing compared to what his foster father had done for him.
    “Anyway, I did get one thing from Metzner,” Mo said as he headed for the coffee. “A nickname. Coyote.”
    Ray swore. “Could be anyone.”
    “Guy is smart. You have to be to run a billion-dollar business. Still,” Jamie said. “It’s something we didn’t have before. Could be a starting point. We can ask around.”
    Shep strode in just then, coming off border patrol.
    “Anything?” Mo asked, hoping his teammate had better luck this morning.
    “Interviewed a dozen ranchers near the border, border agents, even bird watchers.” He shrugged. “Everybody says the same thing. Barely anyone is crossing these days. They think it’s because of the economy.”
    “Or because the bastard in charge is having everyone lie low while he gets ready for his big move,” Mo thought out loud.
    Jamie pushed to his feet. “I better head out. All we need is one lucky break, catching one guy who knows something.”
    He had been hired as operations coordinator. Technically, he didn’t have to leave the office. But he’d insisted on being put on the rotation, even though walking around with his prosthetic legs had to be exhausting, possibly painful. He never used that as an excuse. If anything, he pushed himself harder than anyone else. If Mo knew one thing, it was this: when they all fell down, Jamie Cassidy would still be standing.
    He had the hardest eyes Mo had ever seen and very few emotions. He had a legendary record within the SDDU, not that he ever talked about past missions. Especially not about the one that had taken his legs. And everybody respected that.
    “Mo got a name from Mikey Metzner,” he told Shep. “Coyote.”
    “Sounds like it could be a gang name,” Shep said as he dropped into his chair and turned on his computer.
    “Makes sense. The