Marque (Agency Book 4) by Richard F. Weyand

Author:Richard F. Weyand [Weyand, Richard F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-20T16:00:00+00:00

The ship’s girl, Sally McCormack, also sent Portnoy a meeting request once they were in hyperspace. Portnoy met her at the door, and let the bubbly young woman in.

“Hi, Claude! Can I call you Claude? You should call me Sally.”

“Sure. Come in, Sally.”

“Thanks!”

McCormack bounced over to the sitting arrangement and flopped on one of the armchairs.

“Oh, what a cool dog!”

McCormack was a study in contrast to Stickney. She looked to be mid twenties, not necessarily real smart, and full of energy. It seemed like everything she said included an exclamation mark.

“How can I help you, Sally?”

McCormack glanced at the closed door, then back to Portnoy. She became serious all of a sudden, and dropped what was, now, clearly an act. Portnoy raised his estimate of her age five years. Maybe even ten.

“I’m just checking in with you as team leader, Mr. Portnoy. Mr. Mangum sent me along because he thought you might need my services on this mission. Sally McCormack is an alias, of course. My name is Judy Blunt.”

Judy Blunt? Holy shit!

Portnoy’s jaw dropped open, and he closed it with an effort.

Claude Portnoy and Bert Mangum were direct-action operatives. You could send them out on a mission, within broad parameters, to find out what was going on and fix it. That might include murder, but not necessarily. They were trusted to craft a solution that met the Agency’s goals and carry it out.

Judy Blunt was another thing entirely. She was an assassin, pure and simple. You told her who you wanted dead, and they died. You could request slow or fast, clean or messy, obvious murder or a terrible accident. But they would be dead.

The joke in the Agency was that she was a blunt instrument, but Portnoy knew better. She was a scalpel. A sharp one.

Portnoy knew of her, but he had never met her. Blunt was the ultimate lone operator. Her cover of choice was prostitute, whether high-end call girl or street whore or ship’s girl, as here.

She had never failed an assignment, and she had never been caught.

“Yes, Mr. Mangum is correct. We may very well need your abilities, Ms. Blunt. Glad to have you on the mission.”

Blunt nodded.

“But my identity need not be known to anyone else, Mr. Portnoy. Just tell me who you want done, and how, and I’ll do it. I need not be in your planning sessions. Just count on me to carry out my assignments.”

“Very well, Ms. Blunt. Thank you for checking in.”

Blunt got up and walked to the door. She resumed her persona before opening the door.

“OK, Claude! Thanks! See you around, huh? Wink, wink.”

McCormack laughed and bounced down the corridor to her room.

Damn. No signing up for visiting hours with the ship’s girl for him. It would be like sleeping with a cobra.

Portnoy was just glad she was his cobra.

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