Chapter 6
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The door to Mark’s apartment had been replaced, and while it was temporary, it was very secure. However, never let it be said that the CIA didn’t have a way of opening locked doors that rivaled the WBIS. I let myself in and looked around.
It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, but it was still bad, the living room having takenthe brunt of the explosion.
The coffee table was in pieces, the books that had been stacked on it scattered across the floor, ruined.
The couch was scorched and soaked, unsalvageable.
The television screen was shattered.
The bookcase that held his small library was on its side, the paperbacks knocked fromtheir shelves, a soggy mass.
The case that held the sword hung at an odd angle, the glass a spider web of cracks.
As for Sam, there was nothing left of the ceramic dog but fragments.