Page 64 of Spymaster

She did two tours in Afghanistan, during which she killed more enemy combatants than all of the other female soldiers combined. When word of her prowess leaked, a popular women’s magazine back in the States did an unauthorized profile of her. As soon as Al Qaeda and the Taliban discovered it, they placed a bounty on her head and the Pentagon pulled her from combat.

She ended up working with the all-female Delta Force unit known as the Athena Project, but as a trainer, not an operative. While she was proud to be part of such a prestigious program, it continually pissed her off to see those women being sent out on assignments, as she remained behind at Fort Bragg.

When Reed Carlton had offered her the opportunity to join his company and do all of the things she longed to do, she had jumped at the chance. In hiring her, he was putting into effect the same modus operandi Athena was—take highly intelligent, highly accomplished, highly attractive female athletes, give them the same training as the men, and set them loose in the field.

Women like Sloane were so successful not only because they were good at what they did, but also because their beauty negated them as a threat. The simple fact was that when most men saw a good-looking woman, the blood flow to their brains got diverted to south of their belt buckles.

Her looks were an asset and she had no problem leveraging them. She could only do that, though, because she knew Carlton and Harvath valued her for everything else she brought to the party.

The waitress returned with her Red Bull, and while Sloane waited for her appetizer, she scrolled through a series of news feeds on her phone. As part of operational security, the team wasn’t allowed to check their social media accounts while they were on assignments.

It was smart policy, which was Harvath in a nutshell. He was constantly hammering home the importance of good tradecraft.

She also knew that good tradecraft could be the difference between life and death. Having been a hitter for so long, Harvath had plenty of those lessons to share.

He knew his stuff. More important, he wasn’t half bad at teaching others. He had helped her to become an even better operator. And for that, she was grateful.

Looking up, she saw the waitress arriving with her wings. She was almost done with them when Jasinski arrived.

“Nice boots,” said Sloane, as the hostess showed Jasinski to the table. They were black and came up almost thigh-high. Her dress was incredibly form-fitting and left nothing at all to the imagination.

“I think Harvath enjoyed picking out our outfits,” Jasinski replied.

“No question. You look great, though.”

“Thank you. You, too. What are you drinking?”

Sloane held up her glass. “Red Bull.”

“I’ll have one as well, please,” she said to the waitress, who had just arrived at the table. “How are the nachos?”

“Excellent.”

“And some nachos, then, please.”

When the waitress had walked away, Jasinski looked over at the bar and said, “So that’s them?”

Sloane nodded.

The Russians were a rough-looking bunch. They stood out like sore thumbs. Sparrman, even with his red hair, resembled every other local in the place.

Alpha dogs had a way of recognizing other alpha dogs, and Harvath had worried that if any of his male team members locked eyes with any of the Spetsnaz soldiers, they would have known something was up and that would have been the end of it. Harvath wanted to maintain the element of surprise for as long as he could. That was why Sloane and Jasinski had been sent in on their own.

Returning her attention to the table, Jasinski said, “This is your show. I’m here to back you up, but only if you need me. We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

“We’ve already started,” Sloane replied, as she glanced over and caught Sparrman looking at her. “And I will need you, but let’s wait for your food first. Then we can kick this thing into gear.”

Jasinski admired the woman’s cool and her confidence. She seemed not only ready, but also eager for what was about to happen.

CHAPTER 40

Sloane knew exactly what she was doing. Dressed in the clothing Harvath had bought her, she was already fishing with dynamite, but clothing was only part of a successful seduction. It was a dance, a series of almost imperceptible cues—of motions, glances, and expressions.

She did her best to ignore Sparrman, only allowing him to catch her looking at him when she wanted to be caught. That was part of the game as well.

She spent most of her time focused on Jasinski, who acted as her eyes, telling her what was going on at the bar and if her target was looking at them.

Jasinski knew the game and was an exceptional wingman. She knew how to dial her energy up, smile, and laugh. They were competing with the soccer match. It was important that they be more fun, and more enticing. Soon enough, they had their answer.

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