9
LEO
Leo was already changed, ready for bed, when his phone rang.
‘Your passenger was retrieved. At the airport.’ The voice was familiar but unknown.
Leo hung up. His bedroom was empty, the walls creamy and blank. Besides the bed, the only furniture was a wooden table and chair, both of which he’d assembled the first weekend of his arrival.
‘Okay,’ he said to himself, as he was alone in the room. He felt an odd pang of regret, though the news was positive: Jefferson had been on the wish list for over a decade. Directorate Eight had learned his American identity years earlier, via a compromised translator out of Langley. The woman lacked access to case files however, and they’d been unable to determine his location. Until Julia.
On Leo’s table were the remnants of dinner: chicken sou
