Chapter One – Major

10 a.m. July 9th, 1988. Downtown Boston, Massachusetts. North of the park, near the street sat an elderly looking man reading the newspaper on the park bench. He was wearing a long coat despite the weather being nice. He also wore a red baseball cap to hide his eyes. Busy day, lots of cars passing by. Several people passed by without a thought given to the old man. He sat there alone for several minutes until another man sat down next to him. This man was wearing blue jeans, a button down white shirt and sunglasses. Without looking at each other, he looked at his watch and said, "I am late for work."

The old man reading the paper calmly replied, "Not in Beirut."

The younger man, who was wearing blue jeans, laughed a little bit and said, "You know we have been using Beirut in our challenge and password system for so long, I am starting to feel bad that I have never been there."

"Careful what you wish for… You might get your chance. You have a new order. Vacation is over. Since you've been gone shit has been hitting the fan and on a regular basis. We don't have enough men to cover the field. You are going back to HQ." The old man folded up the newspaper and handed it over. "Call me Major. Your new call sign is Baker. Your handler is still Freeman. You two know each other, so I won't bore you with the details. Everything else is in there."

"You get to be Major, huh?" Baker took the newspaper and flipped through the pages until he found a yellow folder. With a glance he could see money and a passport along with a few other papers. Then he said, "How come your friends at Brass give you the call sign Major while my call sign sucks?"

Major turned back to Baker and said, "So sorry, but that's above my pay grade. With as hot as things are right now, I am sure you will have a new one in a few weeks." Major got up from the bench and looked to his left and right. Then he said, "Let's walk. I don't feel right sitting still for too long. And we don't want to be caught exchanging papers."

Baker stood up from the bench. They walked together along the street as Major talked, "When you get back to HQ you will also be partnered up with a recruit for training purposes. Brass has been breathing down my neck about Soviet activity in Europe. We don't have the manpower to keep my ass out of the sling."

Baker was confused for a second, "New recruits? I thought the whole Chernobyl disaster calmed things down. The Soviets are focusing on their infrastructure. Last I heard, Freeman said the Soviets were on their way to push Gorbachev out of office."

"You're not wrong. Brass and the more important people at the Pentagon have estimated that Gorbachev will step down in the next few months. With proper motivation. The problem is… If Gorbachev steps down, someone worse might step up. It would be Stalin all over again. The Soviets are just crazy enough to elect another psychopath. If that happens, we will only have a few months of peace until he turns this cold war into a real one."

Baker agreed by saying, "Of course. Should have known Brass was looking into the worst-case scenario. But it is entirely possible that the Soviets will choose someone else." Then he asked, "What has been happening since I left?"

Major looked down, but remembered he didn't have the newspaper anymore, "I take it you haven't read the paper yet today. When you get the chance, read the headline."

Baker pulled the newspaper out of his pocket, making sure not to drop the yellow folder inside. He read the headline, "An Act of War. The USSR fires a surface-to-air missile, shooting down an Italian Airbus." Baker was shocked, "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday."

Baker continued to read the paper, "President Reagan calls for Soviet withdrawal from Europe." He kept reading but quickly realized what was going on. Then he said, "So if I am understanding this right. The Soviets are losing control of their military."

"Not at all, this was intentional." Major thought about it for a minute then said, "Freeman told me not to tell you. But since you are coming back in, you are going to learn about it anyways. One of our agents was on the flight. She was on her way to deliver us information."

"One of ours?"

"Yes, Virgo."

"Jesus Christ, man. Virgo is dead?"

Major said, "Yeah, the Soviets claim it's a case of mistaken identity. Gorbachev himself apologized to the Italian people for the mistake. But you and I know it was no mistake. The Soviets knew what she had was worth more than money can buy. They wanted to bury that information, and they did so at the cost of 200 innocent lives."

Baker shook his head, "Virgo is dead?! What a mess. I never should have left when I did."

"I agree, but I can't imagine you running around Europe with your arm in a sling. By the way, how is your shoulder?"

"Back to 100%. Good as new."

"Good to hear, everyone needs time to heal. I hope your mommy packed your lunch because your flight leaves today. In a few hours, I think. Oh, and next time you pull some crazy stunts. Do us a favor and just don't get shot. It creates a lot of paperwork." Major stopped at the crosswalk and pressed the button.

Baker was still in shock at the news but threw a fake smile at Major as he said, "You used to work in the field at one time Major. You should know that dodging bullets is a part of the business."

Now, standing at the crosswalk, Major turned to face Baker, "You have been with the unit for almost as long as Freeman has. Since Vietnam? That's a long time in the field. Christ, even I was only a field agent for 6 years. Always looking over your shoulder. Every second is a gamble paid with your life. 6 years was enough for me."

Baker shrugged and said, "I don't remember receiving a retirement plan when my 6-year mark went by. Who is in charge of sending those out?"

Major was watching the traffic lights waiting for the chance to cross the road. He responded, "No, checks are sent out for freelancer agents. That's why you get paid so well. Your affairs should be in order. You have been pushing your luck for a long time now. I don't look forward to the day when I have to come back to Boston and tell your family some fake ass story about how you got hit by a bus. That's going to be my job. You know? At some point you have to ask yourself. How many times do you think you can get lucky?"

Baker did not say anything. He was distracted looking at a slow approaching car. The driver was alone, but slowly the passenger side window began to roll down as he approached. Baker's hyper awareness fired up. He only looked at the driver for one second. Long dark hair, bear eyes, goatee, and a stone face. Everything happened in slow motion. He watched as the driver reached for something. Baker hesitated for a second then realized his fear was coming true. Baker grabbed Major by the coat and shouted, "GET DOWN!"

A single shot rang out. People started screaming as Baker and Major hit the ground. The shooter's car did not stop, after firing once as he sped off down the street squealing his tires. Baker looked up to see the car darting between vehicles and quickly disappeared in the distance. He sat up, looked at Major, and said, "He's gone. You, okay?"

Major rolled over clutching his stomach, blood on his hands. Baker used Major's coat to soak up the blood and shouted, "Someone call 911! This man has been shot!"

Major didn't say a word. Baker noticed that he was beginning to panic. His breathing was starting to pick up. Short shallow breaths. Baker had to pretend he didn't know him. So, he said, "You're gonna be okay pal. Help is on the way." He used the Major's coat to apply pressure to the wound. Several people ran over to see what was happening. No one jumped in to help.

Within a few minutes an ambulance arrived. Once the paramedics took over, Baker stepped away. He had blood on his hands from the event. He looked down to see his shirt was also covered in blood splatter. He removed his shirt and used it to wipe as much of the blood off his hand as possible. Paramedics treated Major and quickly loaded him up on a stretcher. Baker watched as they put him in the ambulance and drove away. They left behind a blood-soaked pavement and Major's red baseball cap. Baker walked over and picked up the hat. Stomach wounds are painful but only fatal if not treated. Baker reassured himself that Major was going to be fine.

Soon after, a police officer arrived on the scene. Baker claimed that he didn't know the guy. They just happened to be standing near each other when it happened. He answered the officer's questions. He couldn't help but remember the last words Major had said. How many times do you think you can get lucky…? The irony was real.

He pretended to be in shock at the whole situation. Once the officer was done asking questions, Baker said, "I gotta go. I need to go get a new shirt. Maybe I should wash that guy's blood off my hands." The cop agreed with him. With that, Baker walked away. He was a sitting duck out in the open like this. There was clearly a Hitman in town looking for him. Baker took another moment to remember his face. Long dark hair, bear eyes, ugly goatee, and a stone-faced killer. He needed to get back to his safe house. It was only a few blocks away. Having been off duty for the last two months, Baker had begun to relax a bit. But now that he had witnessed Major getting shot, his spy mentality was back. He was now hyper aware of his surroundings. He walked around a corner and waited for several minutes to make sure he was not being followed. Nothing.

Baker climbed up the ladder into the loft of the department store. In the crawl space there was a bed, desk, and small functional bathroom. The first thing he did was wash Major's blood off his hands. Then he pulled the newspaper out of his pocket and opened the yellow folder.

Inside was all the information he needed. Headquarters' location, Freeman's phone number, and a wad of dollar bills and Euros. Baker looked around the small room. He realized that his phone could be tapped. Maybe even the room itself. Without missing a beat, he opened the phone and checked for bugs. Nothing. He searched the walls of the room and once again found nothing. Taking no chances, Baker took the yellow folder over to his backpack. He opened his personal bag, pulled out a gray shirt, and put it on. Near the mattress was his black bomber jacket and his suppressed pistol. He put on the jacket and looked at his pistol. With a heavy heart he stuffed it under the mattress. He loved his Model 59. He hated the idea of leaving it behind. Even though he needed it now more than ever, he knew he couldn't take it on the plane. Putting the paperwork in his personal bag, Baker left the safe house.

He quickly climbed down the ladder and walked back to the street. Baker wasted no time as he walked north toward the airport. He kept checking over his shoulder. Always aware, always watching for someone out of place. He was half expecting to see the Hitman come walking around a corner. That would be his luck. Baker passed a pay phone call. Not this one. It is too close to the safe house. If they knew where we were meeting, then they could have known about the safe house. If they knew about the safe house, then they could have bugged all the nearby pay phones. Baker's paranoia was at full power. After another two payphones he finally stopped calling Freeman. Making an international call from a pay phone was a terrible idea. After he fed the machine a handful of quarters, he looked at the paper and dialed the number. Inside the phone booth he felt a little bit safer from what could be lurking around the corner. The phone rang for a second then someone picked up on the other end without saying a word.

Baker said, "Bravo Kilo one niner. Freeman, this is Baker. I just watched Major getting shot in the street."

"Son of a bitch!" Freeman shouted from the other end, "He had sensitive information on him."

"Don't worry about those. I have the papers, the money, the passports. It's all here." Baker had to ask, "Who knew about the meeting today?"

Freeman was clearly confused, "What?"

Baker repeated himself, "I said, who knew about Major and I meeting at the park today? You, me, Major, and who else?"

Freeman did not respond right away. But after a moment he answered, "No one. I didn't include anyone else. I made the call to Major myself."

Baker was mad at this point, he said, "Freeman, I just witnessed a Soviet Hitman gun down one of our own in broad daylight. They knew exactly where we were meeting! They were waiting for us. Either you or Major have a bug in your phone. Check your phone lines, call Brass, and tell them to check their phones too."

Freeman was writing something down, but he still said, "We will. Be careful. See you soon." With those last words Freeman hung up. Baker hung up his phone too. With a deep breath he left the safety of the phone booth. It was a long walk to the airport. After some careful consideration Baker hailed a cab and climbed in. The ride to the airport was less stressful however he was still vigilant. He was still unarmed with people hunting him. He took a moment to look over the paperwork again. The location of the new headquarters was in Budapest, Hungary. At least it is closer than the old one in Bulgaria. The rest of the folder was money, and a plane ticket. The flight left at Noon. Baker looked at his watch. It was already 11:10am. He could be cutting it close.

30 minutes later, Baker arrived at the airport. Baker tipped the cabby, grabbed his bag, and walked inside. He took extra steps to not look out of place. Once again, he double-checked over his shoulder for the Hitman. Nothing. He walked over to the shop and bought a large suitcase and a handful of shirts and sweatpants. The lady at the register probably thought he was crazy, but Baker knew what he was doing. Outside the shop he threw all his newly purchased clothes in the suitcase and proceeded on his way.

Before the terminal, Baker passed through security and metal detectors. Finally, after getting through the security checkpoint, he put his mind at ease. He checked his watch again, at 11:42am. Somehow, he timed that perfectly. As he sat there waiting to board the plane, the time started to slip by. Suddenly Baker felt someone was watching him. Baker's first thought was of the Hitman. Was he here? He couldn't get past security with a gun, but there is more than one way to kill someone. But would the Hitman attack him in public like this? Using his keen perception, he turned his head to the left and right. Seeing a woman look away from him when he did. She was watching him. Baker looked at her face, outfit, and luggage. Her face was light skinned, with very little make-up if she used any at all. She was wearing very professional clothing. She looked like she ran a large company or was going to a job interview for one. Finally… No luggage. She had no luggage. He turned his whole body towards her and stared at her. She was only 6 or 7 feet away. The woman tried actively to avoid looking at him but after several seconds she could not look away anymore.

The woman looked at him and gave him a little smile. Baker spoke first in broken Hungarian, "Are you ready for a long flight?"

The woman did not know how to respond. In English she said, "Sorry I don't understand what you are saying."

Baker instantly noticed she carried no accent. But he smiled and said in English, "Sorry, I was asking if you were ready for the long flight."

She smiled, "Oh yes, I am very excited to see Budapest."

"First time visiting?"

"No, I have family there. I visit them all the time."

Baker walked over to her and said, "Family? Excellent, I'm Jonathan, pleased to meet you." He extended his hand to shake hers.

She shook his hand and said, "Cindy."

The gears were spinning in his head. Here is this girl named Cindy, not a traditional Hungarian name but okay sure. She was visiting family in Hungary and doesn't speak a word of Hungarian, okay maybe her family moved there recently. However, the big tip off was the luggage. She had NO luggage. She clearly wasn't a soviet spy. Her accent is 100% American. So… Baker smiled and said, "Cindy? That is a pretty name. Before we get on the flight, you might want to call your family in Budapest and tell them that you are going to be running late. About 3 or 4 hours late."

Shocked by this, Cindy said, "What?"

"What, what?" Baker replied.

She corrected herself and said, "I mean, what, like what do you mean? Why would I be late? I am already here at the terminal."

Baker sat down in the seat next to her and whispered, "You see, when you arrive in Budapest without any luggage whatsoever the Customs officers will notice. They are trained to notice these things. How could someone be visiting family halfway around the world without any clothes? Then they will ask you about your family, names, phone numbers, birthdays, hair color, on and on and on… Every answer they don't like only makes them ask more questions. When Customs starts asking questions, they rarely stop. It's called Cold War paranoia." Baker looked around her and finished with, "You have no luggage."

Cindy didn't say anything about this. She did turn a little red on the cheeks though. Their conversation was cut short as an announcement was made, "All passengers for Flight 121 will begin boarding at terminal 16."

Baker looked at the terminal and went back to Cindy and said, "Too late now." Once again, she was without words. Baker stood up and walked back to his seat. He grabbed his personal bag and luggage and waited while all the other passengers boarded the plane. Cindy just sat there not knowing what to do. Once everyone was loaded, Baker walked over to the terminal. As he handed his ticket to the stewardess, he glanced back to Cindy who was still sitting there. Finally, he motioned to her and said, "Come on. It is too late to panic now."

Once Cindy realized that she was holding up the plane, she stood up and handed in her ticket. Baker left his luggage with the stewardess and carried his backpack over his shoulder. Paying no attention to Cindy, Baker walked to the plane and found his seat. As always it was way in the back. Baker thought, coach seats, yay. Baker sat down with his bag on his lap. Naturally, Freeman booked his seat in coach. Then again, the back of the bus was the safest place to be in a plane crash. Baker made himself comfortable. Not a lot of people can sleep sitting up. Practice makes perfect. As he did so, he pulled Major's hat down over his eyes.

Even with his eyes closed, his ears heard someone walking his way. Baker opened his eyes to see Cindy had finally boarded the plane. She walked to her seat that was also in the back of the plane. Baker thought to himself… The American girl with the shady backstory is also flying in coach. It's interesting.

Within a few minutes the plane was moving. The stewardess was giving her speech about seat belt safety. Baker did not listen to it. He had heard it a million times. He used the hat to block out the light and focused on relaxing his body so he could fall asleep faster. The plane rumbled as it made its way to the runway. Within a minute or two they were airborne. Time to get some shut eye. Before he knew it, he was out.

*

Baker awoke to the captain's announcement that the seat belt light was coming on. They were 10 minutes away from Budapest International Airport and beginning their descent. It's about time. Baker stretched his back. Not the most comfortable ride but comfort is for the rich. He looked at his watch. 9:21 p.m. His watch did not adjust with the time zones. He adjusted it to read 11:21 p.m. Time was an important part of his job. Seconds make or break deals. Seconds can cost lives.

Within a few minutes the plane was on the ground. People started to grab their things and walk for the exit. Baker noticed it was raining in Budapest. How very convenient. Rain means umbrellas and hats. Easy disguises that anyone can master. He followed the crowd over to the luggage area and collected his suitcase. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Cindy eyeballing someone else's luggage. Was she really going to steal someone else's luggage? Such an amateur move. She was going to get herself arrested.

Baker decided to intervene at this point. He walked up behind Cindy and said, "Are you ready to go dear?"

Cindy was shocked, "Oh my god, you scared me."

Baker nodded his head, "Sorry sweety, I found our luggage, now we can get this trip started." Baker pulled her away from luggage racks and toward the Customs line. Cindy didn't know what to say. Luckily, Baker was an expert in this. Once they were far enough away from the crowd of people he whispered, "Let me do the talking. Just agree with what I say, got it?'' Cindy nodded as they approached the Customs checkpoint. Baker put his luggage on the conveyor belt. Then he walked through the metal detector. Cindy followed up with him. Once they were through, together they approached the Customs desk. It looked like the Customs officer had been working a 36-hour shift. She showed absolutely no emotion as she said in Hungarian, "Papers please."

Baker replied in English, "Hello, do you speak English?"

The Customs agent rolled her eyes and said in English, "Yes, I need to see your papers."

Baker looked at Cindy and said, "Honey, do you have my passport?" Then he reached around to his back pocket and said, "Oh no, I have it right here. Good thing I didn't lose it." He handed the passport to the Customs Agent. Cindy handed hers as well.

The Customs Agent looked over their passports while asking questions, "What is the purpose of your visit to Budapest?"

"I've never been here before. I am here to meet my girlfriend's family." He gave Cindy a hug with one arm and said, "I have never met them before, so I am a bit nervous."

The Customs Agent clearly couldn't care less. She asked, "How long will you be staying?"

Bakers said, "About a week."

"Do you have anything to declare?"

Baker nodded and said, "Yes, your English is exceptional, and your personality is absolutely charming."

The Customs Agent looked at him with a blank stare. However, somewhere in that blank stare there was a hint of rage. Like she had seen so many scumbag Americans in her days that she wished they would all just fall over dead. Then she reached over and grabbed a stamp and slammed it down on both of their passports. She closed the passports and handed them back while saying, "Welcome to Budapest. Exit is to your left."

Baker took his passport and gave Cindy hers. Then he said, "Thank you, and God bless." They both turned and walked out of Customs.

Once back in the airport, Baker took his arm off of Cindy and said, "And THAT is how you survive Customs."

Cindy smiled for the first time since she was in the Boston airport. She said, "Thank you."

Baker replied, "Don't worry about it. Now that you are here, you have 3 choices. The exit is over there," He pointed with his hand, "The bar is over there, and of course you can always buy another ticket and go back home. If you choose to go home, I wish you the best. If you choose the bar, drink one for me. And if you choose the exit, be careful you don't get yourself killed out there." Cindy didn't know what to say to that. It was such an odd thing to hear. Baker did not wait for an answer. He walked away, leaving Cindy standing there stunned.

Baker's choice was the exit. Outside it was night. Baker walked to the street and hailed a cab and said in Hungarian, "Can you take me to the corner of 29th and Ciutadella?" The cabbie agreed and helped Baker put his luggage in the trunk. Baker jumped into the back seat as the cabbie drove off.

Sometime later… Baker checked his watch. 1:18 a.m. July 10th now. Soon enough the cab arrived at 29th and Ciutadella. Baker tipped the driver and waved goodbye as he drove off. Of course, 29th and Ciutadella was not the location of HQ. Baker wasn't just handing out that information to the cab driver. Baker walked over a few blocks in the dark. This was his favorite time. With low visibility, your ears become your eyes. A few minutes later Baker turned down an alleyway until he found an old warehouse with one poorly painted green door. That's it. Home sweet home.

Baker knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later someone looked through the peephole. Baker smiled and waved at the eyes. The eyes grew wide for a second then the peep hole closed. Baker heard someone shouting inside, "Yo! Baker is here! He's at the front door! Freeman! Baker's here!"

Baker shook his head at how unprofessional that was. The doorman was supposed to ask for a challenge, then the man at the door was supposed to give the correct answer. I guess that line of thinking gets thrown out the door when you see an old friend. A few seconds later the door opened, and a man said, "Baker! Goddamn, we missed you." He walked outside and gave Baker a hug.

Baker said, "Sorry man, I want to call you Marco, but I am sure your call sign is different now, what's your new name?"

The man said with a smile, "I'm Sidewinder."

"Wow, even you got a better code name than me. Who the heck picked the names this time around?"

"You can blame Freeman." Sidewinder said as he took Baker's bag and led him inside. "You were on vacation, so you didn't get the best call sign. It could have been worse. One of the recruits got the name Gearbox." As Baker stepped inside, he immediately felt at home. The old warehouse had been converted into several sections. Sleeping quarters, armory, intel room, equipment room, even a makeshift kitchen.

As he looked over the building layout, Freeman walked around the corner. Freeman was an older man in his 40s. he wiped sleep from his eyes as he said, "How was the flight?"

"Long," Baker shook Freeman's hand then said, "We need to talk. Now." Freeman nodded and led Baker back to his office. Freeman sat down at his desk while Baker shut the door. This was a conversation that needed privacy. Freeman asked, "What is going on?"

"Alcohol." Baker said as he grabbed a pair of shot glasses off a nearby shelf. "You still keep a bottle under your desk?"

Freeman smiled and said, "It's almost part of the business." He reached down and pulled out a large bottle of bourbon. He pulled the cork and poured a little into each shot glass and asked, "What are we drinking to? Major?"

Baker shook his head and said, "No, but since you brought it up, how is the old man?"

Freeman smiled and said, "Angry as expected. Currently in the hospital recovering. He has been through some scraps in his days, so he should pull through alright. That Hitman still has me confused though. I called Brass and they said their phones are clean. Either they are lying or they don't know what's going on."

Baker took the shot glass and poured a little bit out onto the ground. Then he said, "You should always pour one out for a fallen comrade." Freeman looked at him confused, then Baker drank the rest of the shot and said, "Virgo."

Freeman's face sank. "How did you find out?"

Baker jerked the newspaper out of his pocket and tossed it up on the desk. It landed with the headline facing Freeman. Then Baker said, "Major bought me a newspaper."

Freeman thought about it for a second then he slammed his fist on the desk and said, "Is nothing sacred anymore?" Baker nodded. Freeman looked down disguised, "I am sorry, man. I didn't want you to hear about her like that." Freeman shook his head, "I wanted to tell you in person."

Baker put the shot glass back on the table and said, "The Newspaper told me the rest. Soviet SAM sites. Gorbachev's apology. 200 innocent lives lost. All to kill one agent."

Freeman finally reached over and drank the shot. He poured out the last of it on the ground. "The press made it sound like an accident. We all know better. In this business nothing is an accident. The information she was bringing back to HQ was huge. Bigger than anything we had before. That's why Brass has told us to double our efforts."

Baker agreed and sat down on the chair near Freeman's desk. Then he asked, "What intel did she have?"

Freeman poured himself another shot of a glass of alcohol, as he said, "She found an informant that worked for Gorbachev. This lady apparently stole paperwork from his desk. It was a list of people that were also candidates for the Exstrusis Program. Soviet Spies. All of them. Not just a few names... Apparently, it had 16 names on it. First and last names. With pictures of them to go with them."

Baker was shocked. "16 names associated with the Exstrusis Program? Holy shit. That's huge. If we handed over that kind of intel to the CIA, we would have funding for years." Baker thought about it for a moment then added, "With the Exstrusis Program exposed, Gorbachev would be in ruins, and the KGB would be shut down."

Freeman stopped him, "That's a lot of speculation there. Even if you could shut down Exstrusis, we would still have to deal with the KGB. They are just as bad. They just care less about mind altering drugs and kidnapping innocent people. Also bear in mind, Virgo's informant could have been lying. The whole thing could have been fake." Freeman poured Baker another shot along with himself and said under his breath, "The whole thing could have been fake."

Baker could see the sadness in Freeman's eyes. It was like watching someone give up on a dream. Virgo meant a lot to everyone. Both Baker and Freeman considered her a friend. The kind of friend that would hide you in her basement for a month and not even tell her own family. That kind of friend. Baker shook his head and said, "I don't think the intel was fake. And whoever gave the order to shoot down that plane didn't think so either."

Freeman took a moment to soak in the alcohol and Baker's words, then he said, "It's all gone now. There is nothing left at the crash site. We will never know what she had."

Baker thought about it for a second. This was a hard subject to bring up, but it needed to be said. Then he said, "I know this is a hard subject to bring up… But have you considered the possibility that we have a mole in our ranks?"

Freeman almost spit up his drink and he said, "Come on man, how can you say such a thing?!"

Baker retorted, "Virgo is dead. Major got shot yesterday. People have been dropping like flies in this organization for the last four or five years. Piper, Yankee, Quartermaster, and now Virgo. Good people. Good Agents. It's just the only thing that would make sense at this point." Baker and Freeman sat without words for a moment. Less than a minute passed, and Baker piped up, "Sorry, I didn't mean to kill the mood. I am sure you have briefed everyone by now. I am the only person who has been left out of the loop."

"Actually, no. I haven't handed out any info on our situation just yet. First thing tomorrow maybe."

"Why wait? I am ready now."

"You do realize it is midnight, right? I know you are jetlagged, but some of us were trying to get some sleep. As soon as all the recruits get here, we will have a huge briefing, so I don't have to repeat myself. Okay?"

Baker smiled and said, "By the way, I think I met one of your recruits on the way here. On my flight, female, mid-20s, glasses, calls herself Cindy… I figure she was one of our recruits or a really dumb tourist."

Freeman nodded, "Sounds like one of ours. We get recruits from all over. They dropped the training time from a year to six months. Six months to teach these recruits how to survive! That's why we are pairing everyone up. Every recruit gets a partner until they become worth their salt. That includes you."

"Training the next generation, I guess." Baker sighed and stood up. He picked up the shot glass, downed it, and put his shot glass back on the desk. Then he said, "Sounds good. See you in the morning." Baker walked to the door but turned around to say, "Before he was shot, Major said, in this business every second is a gamble paid with your life. Do you agree with that?"

Freeman rolled his eyes and said, "Sounds like something he would say. I worked under Major for so long, I thought I heard all his stories. Did he also tell you that he pushed for a desk job his first year in the field? They denied him of course."

Baker smiled, but only a bit. Then he said, "When this is over. And I mean completely over. I think I will be applying for a job at the CIA."

Freeman questioned him, "You and me both. That's the big time right there. When the Cold War is over, we will effectively be out of business. Spies like us will either be written off or retired. If we do our jobs well, we can get an invite to the real CIA. We would get an actual retirement plan, maybe even our own desk. But I have to ask. Are you sure you want to keep serving after 10 years?"

"Yeah," Baker confirmed, "We have been doing this for almost 10 years now. Even longer than you have. I just can't imagine myself in a future without..."

Freeman shook his head, "Without someone to fight?"

Baker chuckled under his breath. Then he said, "We have always been taught to put the mission first. The idea of quitting or giving up the fight is… difficult." Baker looked out to the HQ area then went back to Freeman and said, "Besides, what else do we have?"

Freeman agreed, "I understand completely. After a certain point when you have seen too much blood and brains. Civilian life isn't something that we can do anymore. Next time Brass calls I will subtly ask if they have room for some old dogs like us. They might laugh in my face. They might say yes. Who knows?"

Baker turned around to face Freeman then he said, "Sounds good. Just don't tell them my name is Baker. In fact, right now, we should change my call sign. "Baker" is already too hot since Major got shot in Boston. Lately, I have been switching to call signs like Sidewinder switches girlfriends."

Freeman nodded, "Yeah, I can change the paperwork. You want me to make one up or do you have one in mind?"

Baker thought about it for a second, then he scratched his day-old beard and said, "Karma."

"Karma? That is an interesting choice." Freeman questioned him, "Why that one?"

Karma smiled and said, "Because Karma never forgets. Karma spares no one. And Karma is going to give them what they deserve."