CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ian and Athos closed in on the table to read the news brief from Atlanta’s CBS website, and both started cursing. Athos’ handler, Arthur Giles, Special Agent in Charge of the Atlanta DEA office, had been killed in a drive-by shooting. He had been gunned down as he exited his vehicle at his home on the city’s outskirts around a quarter after seven last night. There were no reported suspects, but the police and feds were looking at a local g**g of d**g runners.
“f**k! God damn it!” Athos plunged both hands through his hair again and spun around, looking for something to vent his anger on. Not finding anything other than a wall, he punched it, and the pain didn’t even register as his knuckles began to swell. “His daughter had his first grandchild a month ago. And now he’s
