Rising Phoenix by Evan Graver

Author:Evan Graver [Graver, Evan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

CIA Safe House

Triumph, Guyana

CONNELLY WAS BACK in Guyana and Phoenix was tired of being grilled.

The two of them were in a two-bedroom house not far from Eugene F. Correia International Airport where the CIA kept a hanger for Orville Wright and his Cessna. The shuttered house had no air conditioning which made the oppressive heat outside even worse. Tired and sweaty, Phoenix wanted Connelly’s incessant questions to end so he could get on with the next mission.

While he knew that briefings and after-action reports were an essential part of both his Army and his CIA career, that didn’t mean he enjoyed doing them, especially when he had to sit down in front of a computer and craft a detailed summary. Too much time staring at a screen made him restless and being cooped up in the house with Connelly was driving him crazy.

He peeled off his T-shirt and used it to mop the sweat off his forehead. “You guys couldn’t have sprung for a place with air conditioning?”

“It wasn’t my call,” Connelly said. She too had stripped down to just her sports bra and shorts.

Phoenix rolled his shoulder, trying to relieve the ache in his muscles. “So anyway, just before we get on the plane, I throw the recruitment pitch at Lieutenant Blanco, but she hasn’t called, so I don’t know where we stand with her.”

“What’s the matter, John?” Connelly asked, watching him contort his body to ease the pain in his back.

“It’s my shoulder. Same old bullshit.”

Connelly got up from the table and stepped behind the muscular case officer. She placed her hands on his shoulders and then dug her thumbs into the exact spot between his shoulder blade and spine where his muscles had twisted themselves into a knot.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” his handler said. “Take some time off.”

“Will you let me?” Phoenix asked. “With the possibility of war between Venezuela and Guyana on the horizon, I don’t think … Oh, yeah,” he moaned. “That’s the spot.”

Connelly continued to massage his shoulders, loosening the tension he kept there. Whenever he was in D.C., Phoenix made time to get frequent massages and acupuncture treatments. The acupuncturist was also a homeopathic doctor who had told Phoenix that he carried a lot of resentment in his gall bladder, which resulted in swelling that irritated the phrenic nerve and caused his shoulder pain. Phoenix, being the wiseass that he was, had looked at her and said, “Let’s stick a pin in it, yeah, doc.” And she had, literally.

But he’d often pondered her statement, wondering what he was so resentful about. He figured it was the premature death of both his parents, or maybe it was the way the judge had forced him to join the Army in handcuffs, although he’d excelled at being an enlisted man and then as a CIA case officer.

“You’re right,” Connelly agreed. “I don’t think anyone is going to be taking time off.” She moved both hands to his right deltoid and continued to massage him.

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