Spycatcher

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“You’re sure that I won’t be killed today?” The spy rubbed a hand against his smooth face and looked down at the wet Central Park grass beneath him. It was very early in the morning, and beyond the park the sounds of New York life were distant and mellow. He frowned and shook his head slightly. A fine, windless rain fell. “This whole thing seems odd.”

Will Cochrane observed the man for a while before speaking. “Soroush, it is odd. That’s why you’ll have three expert men close by to protect you.”

Soroush’s frown deepened. He looked up at Will’s tall and powerful frame. “Only three? That’s all your masters in British Intelligence could give you?”

Will pushed fingers through his cropped dark hair and then reached out to touch the Iranian’s arm. “Perfectly adequate for what we need to happen.”

The spy chuckled a little. “I thought I was your most valuable asset.”

“You are.”

Soroush swiveled so that he was fully facing Will. “But good things always come to an end?”

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