Page 56 of Gryphon

“No way, what?”

“Picture a map of Europe, now picture the little toe of a right foot.” And, once again, she’d proved that your average mushroom would blow her away on an IQ test.

“Uh…”

Of course Holly wouldn’t have a chance of figuring out something as ridiculous as—

“Georgia?”

“Remember 2008,” Val liked how that supported her argument. And that Holly had understood. Did that only move Holly up the intelligence quotient, or did they both get to outsmart a toadstool?

“That’s weird as…” Holly tapered off.

“Yes, but it kind of fits.” Plus it saved her from having to shift to her left foot to track more toe-country equivalencies. “They aren’t a NATO member nation yet but they want to be. If I was them, I’d be scared as hell of Russia trying to pull a Ukraine on them before they can be accepted. That creates a major need to have someone else deal with Russia ASAP. They sent their Spec Ops teams into Donetsk and Crimea back in 2014, on the Ukrainian side, to help keep it out of their own back yard.”

“It does fit.” Holly paused for the span of thirty seconds while Val studied her left toes and wondered who hid under each of them. “Can you get me someone to talk to there?”

Val almost bungled that question in surprise. Holly had reached some warrior decision that fast. But Val wasn’t drunk and mental activity had purged a significant portion of the hangover. Not someone to call; someone to talk to. This was the woman who had parachuted alone into Russia to rescue her friends.

Holly Harper would be headed to Georgia—in person.

“Yes, I have contacts there.”

“Good. We’ll be airborne soon. Five or six hours transit time.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Holly paused before speaking, “You got it together, Val?”

It was nice of Holly to ask. An offer to listen, by someone outside the CIA but with heavy-duty security clearance so that she could relax a bit. Val might take her up on that over drinks someday—over a single drink someday—but that’s not what Holly needed right now.

“Yeah, I’m good to go.”

“Goodonya!” And Holly hung up.

Val inspected her right toes and the five spread fingers of her right hand. Was Georgia logical, or was she sending Holly on a wild goose chase? She supposed that they’d know soon enough.

She slipped along the wall of her home office and ducked across the hall to her bedroom without crossing the construction project’s sightlines.

Davey Wilson still slept the sleep of the sated.

Did she have it together? Not even close.

But if a seriously cute thirty-something-year-old—please let him be at least thirty—wanted to ravage her fifty-year-old body, who was she to complain. She had to leave for work soon; there wasn’t any time to waste.

So she didn’t waste any.

She was already naked after all, saving time right there.

Val, and her toes and fingers, pounced.

42

“How many more?” Chief Kancheli asked. How many more attacks on Sweden would it take to tip NATO into war with Russia?

Eight months as a direct-report to the Chief of the Georgian Intelligence Service, Pavle still shook with nerves each time he climbed the stairs to this office. Chief K—as he was known behind his back, and just as stone-faced as Agent K, Tommy Lee Jones, in Men in Black—loomed behind his desk.

Pavle did his best not to cower.

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