She glanced out the window as the jet taxied to the gate.
I’m home.
Relief washed over her. It had been a long assignment.
The unbuckling of seatbelts stole her attention, but she got busy fishing her burner from the false bottom of her handbag to text her handler.
Landed at Dulles. Going to embassy
Halston couldn’t wait to head down to CIA headquarters in McLean for a face-to-face.
I hope it’s soon.
First, she’d hug the woman who’d been her lifeline for the past nine months, then she’d pass along the thumb drive before debriefing her boss. Excitement had her foot tapping out a frenetic beat on the airplane floor.
The passenger beside her glanced down. “That’s exactly how I feel,” he said. “That was a long flight.”
“It’s all good,” she said, maintaining her thick, Russian accent.
During the thirteen-hour flight, he’d tried to make small talk—more than once—but she’d shut him down.
“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Maybe we can share a ride.”
While she wasn’t getting creepy-guy vibes, she wasn’t interested in getting to know him. If she had been, she’d done it hours ago.
“I’m all set.”
“If I give you my number, any chance you’d call me for coffee or a drink?”
She tossed a nod at his wedding ring. “Will your wife be joining us?”
His cheeks reddened. “She won’t mind.”
The plane stopped at the gate, the flight crew got busy opening the exit door.
“I’m getting a divorce,” he added.
Whatever.
Rather than continue the conversation, Halston got busy pulling her hair into her signature Minka bun, leaving her long bangs draping over her forehead. First-class passengers began rising from their seats.
Her seat mate pulled out her large carry-on. “Yours?”
She took it from him. “Thanks.”
He grabbed his, turned back to her. “See ya at baggage claim.”
After he left, she motioned for the woman traveling with two young children, then she entered the aisle. She’d packed her small wardrobe into her carry-all, so she was all set. Her only direction… forward.
As she walked into the airport terminal toward Customs, she checked the time and did a double take. The flight was long, the layover longer than she’d hoped, plus the time difference. It was three-thirty Monday afternoon.
Her burner rang.
“Hello,” she answered, her thick Russian accent front and center.
“Welcome back,” said her handler. “It’s great to hear your voice.”
“Same,” Halston said. “What’s the plan?”