19 Chapter 19

“Who’s your trainer, Matheson?”

He looked startled. “You, sir.”

I tapped my foot impatiently. “Who was your trainer?”

“Mr. Adams, sir.”

“James ‘Bond’ Adams?”

He moistened his lips. “Yes, sir.”

I knew the man. He’d jumped on The Boss’s bandwagon with both feet, one of the firstto insist his agents couch their responses ambiguously, hence the nickname, James Bond.

I ran a hand through my hair, not at all happy. If I was going to have to undo all the crap Adams had taught him….

Matheson was pale, but that was the only sign he was nervous. Did he think I was goingto tell him he’d blown his first assignment, that he didn’t have the stuff to follow in my footsteps?

Well, he didn’t—not yet, anyway.

Or did he think I was going to criticize Adams? In that case, he’d be wrong. I didn’t belong to any of the factions that tended to second-guess around the water cooler the activities of other agents, and if I pissed and moaned about someone, it would be to their faces.