LITMIR.BIZ

      This book is dedicated to my grandfather,

       John David Perkins,

       a man of few words, wry humor and a good heart.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

       Prologue

       “T his one’s mighty little. Maybe we’d better throw her back.”

      Clay Senate wondered if his new colleague was serious. He glanced again at the photos and dossier of Vanessa Walker. The pictures were just in, a news photo of a smiling Walker receiving her badge and a mug shot, with height lines for a background, showing she measured sixty-three inches. She looked pretty. Young. Perky. Obviously Native American. “You know what they say, Cate. Good things often come in small packages.”

      “I’m not touching that comment,” Cate teased, laughing as she looked at Danielle Sweet, who was barely five-five. “But okay, I say give her a shot.”

      Clay nodded at the vote offered by the first hire for the new COMPASS team, an adjunct of Sextant, the Civilian Special Operations team now being organized by Homeland Security to investigate and neutralize threats at home and abroad.

      Cate Olin stood six feet tall and had the strong-shouldered, small-breasted, slim-hipped body of a long-distance swimmer. He watched as she raked a lock of straight white-blond hair back behind one ear. Cate had a degree in criminal justice, was fluent in several languages and had put in six years with the National Security Agency.

      Jack Mercier, the agent who would act as director for both teams, had handpicked her. Mercier had the contacts necessary to identify and appropriate personnel. He also had an infallible knack for choosing personalities that would mesh into a cohesive unit.

      “What do you think, Dani?” Jack asked Danielle Sweet, the latest hire, a former army brat who could kick some serious butt on the mats at the gym. She was a deceptively dainty brunette with a master’s in international relations from Georgetown. Though people generally underestimated Dani because of her looks, Sweet’s IQ was off the charts, her powers of reasoning were outstanding and she could charm her way into or out of anything.

      She graced Mercier with a benign smile. “Excellent credentials. She’s awfully gung ho, isn’t she? Who grins like that for a mug shot?” Then she grinned herself. “But we like gung ho, don’t we?”

      “Absolutely.” Jack turned then, silent for a moment as he regarded Clay. “Fine, we agree Walker’s a possible. She’s on a case, Clay, so if you go and give her a hand, you can see how she handles herself. You’ll be pulling double duty here. Recruiting and investigating. I only found out about Walker’s current case because I called to see when she might be available to meet with you. When I identified myself, her Agent-in-Charge assumed I was following up on the report submitted to his superior and promptly filled me in on what’s going on.”

      “What kind of case?” Clay asked.

      “A bomb detonated at one of the casinos on the Qualla Boundary.”

      “That’s the Cherokee reservation in North Carolina?” Cate asked.

      “Yes, and technically under federal jurisdiction, at least for a case such as this. Agent Walker was at the scene when it happened. Someone had called her and told her a friend of hers was in trouble at the casino and being held there by the manager. A ruse to get her there, of course. It’s all in the report.

      “I got the okay for you to partner with Agent Walker on it while you check her out, Clay. We’ll go with your final recommendation about bringing her on here.”

      Clay nodded as he scooped up the folder of information and scanned it briefly for more details.

      There wasn’t much. Vanessa Walker had taken a phone call that had come in to the Asheville bureau. James Hightower, a former fishing guide and resident of Cherokee, had been convicted for manslaughter and had served four years. After his release, he’d returned to a small community just outside the boundary and had taken rooms with a woman called Lisa Yellowhorse.

      Yellowhorse had made the call to Vanessa Walker, saying she suspected that her tenant was responsible for the bombing and might be planning something worse.

      It shouldn’t take long to round up this guy and find some proof, or at least some answers to the allegation. Clay just hoped he was there long enough to get some indication as to how their prospective hire performed.

      “Mind telling me what Ms. Walker’s claim to fame might be?” Even though he’d read her folder, he wanted to know her peculiar gift, the one that had prompted Mercier to suggest her above a number of others with equally impressive credentials. No doubt she would have some extra tricks that weren’t in that file. They all did, ranging from excellent instincts to outright telepathy.

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