Covert Ops by J T Brannan

Author:J T Brannan [Brannan, J T]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Arrow Publishing
Published: 2020-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

10

Cole stalked around the bowels of the complex in Forest Hills, his energy levels up but with no way of getting rid of it. He thought about hitting the gym or going for a run, but knew he didn’t have the time. There was a full-blown crisis going on, and he had to be on top of it. This was, he reflected, one of the things he hated about what amounted to an administrative role; there was no outlet for the adrenaline. When he’d been on missions, things had sometimes been unbearably stressful and tense, but there had normally – eventually – been some sort of physical outlet for that stress. People tended to end up dead as a result of that outlet, but they were the bad guys, and that made it alright – for the most part, anyway. But here, there was no way of getting hands-on with the enemy, and there was nothing to bleed off the stress that resulted.

His mind on other things, he suddenly found himself outside the gym anyway, and smiled, despite himself. What he’d thought had been a stroll to work off some steam had actually been a forced march to this very location; his subconscious had probably known it all along.

He walked in, deciding not to bother even changing, and approached one of the heavy bags that lined one of the walls. A few other guys were working out, but Cole just grunted greetings at them, not wanting to waste time talking. To their credit, they didn’t push it; and, he was pleased to see, they were so absorbed in their own workouts that they didn’t want to chat anyway.

Exercise was, Cole decided, just like sleep; something the human body – and the human mind – needed, if it was to operate at full capacity. He was doing nobody any favors sitting in his office, going stir-crazy; and as he unleashed his first shot into the bag, his unprotected right fist slamming with a sharp crack into the leather, he immediately started to feel better.

He got straight into it, not bothering to warm up – who warmed up before a real fight anyway? – and laid into the bag with everything he had. Punches, elbows, kicks, knees, even headbutts, Cole assaulted the bag like it was the only thing that stood between him and nuclear annihilation. Shot after shot rocked the seventy-pound bag, an unrelenting barrage without end; his focus was laser-sharp, each strike hit with surgical precision and man-stopping power.

A vibration in his pocket interrupted his flow, and in an instant, he was back to reality; he looked down at his hands, the knuckles raw, felt the wetness of his sweat as it soaked through his white cotton shirt and into his suit. He checked the time, saw that he’d been hitting the bag all-out for nearly twenty minutes, and found it hard to believe. Where had the time gone? He hadn’t even taken his jacket off, was still wearing his tie as he’d attacked the bag; the Oxfords were still on his feet, his Colt Commander .

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