Undercover by Danielle Steel

concealing who he really was, as a person, even now. “You don’t think about that when you’re there. You do what you have to do. But what you’re doing here is just as important, more so. You’re protecting the president of the United States, that’s an important job. I was just following drug runners, and trying to make a dent in the cartels.” They all knew it was a nearly impossible job, but Marshall had done some damage to their operation. Not enough by his standards, but according to his superiors and the reports written about him, his impact had been huge, especially with the information he had shared when he came out. Raul would be hurting for a long time. Marshall said nothing about it to the other men.
    “Did you have to leave because someone blew your cover?” one of them asked, curious about him and the job.
    “There was a leak,” he said simply. “I had to get out fast.” His eyes told nothing about how painful his departure had been, or what he’d left behind.
    “That’s a tough way to live. You must be glad to be home.” Marshall sighed in answer. The truth was, he wasn’t. He longed for his old life, and he considered the time in Washington temporary. That was the only thing that kept him going—the belief that one day he’d go back to undercover missions.
    “It’s different” was all Marshall said, and it reminded his new colleagues that the guys who did undercover work were addicted to it.
    “Your Spanish must be amazing,” another Secret Service man said with quiet respect, and Marshall laughed. They had all noticed how modest and discreet he was.
    “Better than my English sometimes. I hadn’t spoken English in six years. You become someone else, and forget who you really are, or used to be. It all seems pretty strange at first, and after a while it’s the only life you know.” He still read South American newspapers more often than North American, and watched Spanish TV, but he didn’t say it, at the risk of sounding weird.
    “Are you finished with the DEA?” the other Secret Service man asked with interest.
    “I hope not,” Marshall said quietly. “It suits me. You’ve got more room to move around, and do some damage where it counts. Maybe I’m addicted to the adrenaline rush.” They all knew that a lot of operatives got killed working in the field for the DEA, even in the States.
    “You get that rush in this line of work occasionally too. I always think how bad the boys must have felt when Kennedy was shot. They were doing all they could, but sometimes shit happens…you do everything right, and get screwed anyway.”
    “Undercover work is like that too. You never know the outcome till it’s over, if you’ll make it or get killed.” They nodded, in silent agreement, and then the meeting with the British prime minister broke up, and they moved on to Congress with the president and had no time to talk. But it had been an interesting exchange, and gave the others a glimpse into who Marshall was. He didn’t talk much about himself, and was still trying to get oriented to his new line of work, but they could see how serious and conscientious he was about it.
    He didn’t relax his guard all day until the president was back in the Oval Office, and Amelia appeared in her mouse costume with the pink ballet shoes and tutu, at four o’clock. Someone had painted mouse whiskers on her face. She was beaming and bouncing as she threaded her way through the desks, and darted in and out of offices, and came up to Marshall with a big toothless smile. She was carrying a plastic Halloween pumpkin already half filled with candy, and several of the secretaries had come prepared and dropped some miniature candy bars into her pumpkin. Marshall was sorry he had nothing to give her. He hadn’t thought to buy candy for the kids. And minutes after she got there, her brother appeared, a serious, handsome boy, in his vampire costume, with the fake blood dripping from his mouth. He was