BeirutF
ast Eddie Evans stood on the suite balcony with his phone pressed to his ear, looking down at two Muslim women who were splashing around the shallow end of the pool wearing hijabs and flowing dresses. About 20 feet away from them were two European women in skimpy bikinis, sunning themselves on deck chairs. It was an odd contrast, but it wasn’t enough to distract him from the painful reality of what he was hearing.
“The orders came from the DCI himself, Evans.” The man who calls himself Bayer sounded angry and distracted. “Given the White House guidance on this, he had no choice. Unfortunately, neither have I.”
“Sir…” Evans took a deep breath and decided he really didn’t really need a job with an outfit that did business this way. “You know this is wrong and so do I. You’ll have
