Marcus Reed stood by the window, broad-shouldered and quiet, headphones resting around his neck.
Tara Nguyen sat on a hard plastic chair checking medical supplies.
Owen Pike leaned against a support pillar with the relaxed posture of a man who noticed everything.
David Keller was arguing with someone through an encrypted handset.
Noah Briggs stood alone near the boarding door.
Briggs was the one who concerned me.
Not because he looked suspicious.
Because he looked perfectly unsuspicious.
Counterintelligence agents learned early that appearing ordinary was a professional skill.
Briggs wore a dark jacket, gray shirt, and an expression that revealed nothing.
“Elena,” Tara said when she saw me.
I smiled genuinely.
“Tara.”
She stood and hugged me.
Cole looked startled.
Apparently he had expected me to be incapable of human contact.
“You look tired,” Tara said.
“You look judgmental.”
“Occupational hazard.”
She noticed the coffee stains on my sleeve.
“What happened?”
Cole looked at the floor.
“Airport turbulence,” I said.
Tara looked between us.
“Interesting.”
“You’ll hear about it later.”
“I look forward to that.”
Briggs approached.
“Chief Vance.”
“Agent Briggs.”
“We haven’t met.”
“I know.”
That made him pause.
Good.
I preferred people slightly uncertain around me.
