 snapped, "Tuckman offered me a business deal. I haven't talked with my ex in over three years. My mom died when I was six. The lady who took care of me spoke Spanish, so I picked up enough to get by in the streets. Now get your butts back to my ex and get some real facts."

Cogswell, scribbling in a small notebook, asked, "How about a fast rundown on the last three years?"

In rapid order, Brad gave his movements. He didn't mention Tom Fairchild; let them figure it out. Feldersen hardly listened. To Brad, he looked like a pale blond fox watching a hen house. Cogswell scribbled hastily. When Brad finished, he stood, setting his coffee cup on the table. "Now get out of here."

Cogswell snapped his notebook closed and stepped in front of Feldersen who was also standing. Gently he nudged a shoulder of the younger man. Both turned toward the door. Feldersen gave Brad an angry look of righteous indignation, before following his partner out.

At the window, Brad watched the two men exit the building. The younger man's anger overflowed into his jouncing stride and an occasional arrogant toss of blond hair. Even without hearing, Brad could understand the gist of his gestures and bobbing head. They bode no good for him. They got into the green Ford. Feldersen drove, leaving smoking, scorched rubber on the asphalt in the parking lot. Brad watched the car until it passed from sight.

Feldersen had lost control; he'd be dangerous if they met again. But of the two, Cogswell was the most dangerous. If the man decided it was necessary, Brad knew he'd be swatted like a fly in the name of God and country. He'd seen the type in Nam and had been frightened of them then. Why was the CIA interested in him? Had they been following him before he arrived at Tuckman's? Or had they picked him up there?

He walked across the room, glanced at Tuckman's card and dialed. He explained the visit briefly, then asked, "What would the CIA want with you?"

"Nothing. Now if ya'd asked about narcs or border types, they're always on my case. How about our deal?"

Brad hung up; a shudder
snapped, " Tuckman offered me a business deal. I haven't speak with my x in over three years. My mom died when I was six. The dame who took care of me spoke Spanish, thus I picked up enough to get by in the street. Now get your butt back to my ex and get some real facts. " 

 Cogswell, scribbling in a small notebook, ask, " How about a fast rundown on the last three year? " 

 In rapid order, Brad gave his movements. He didn't mention Tom Fairchild; permit them figure it out. Feldersen hardly listened. To Brad, he looked like a pale blond fox determine a hen house. Cogswell scribbled hastily. When Brad finished, he stood, setting his coffee cup on the table. " Now get out of here. " 

 Cogswell snapped his notebook closed and stepped in front of Feldersen who was also standing. Gently he nudge a shoulder of the younger man. Both call on toward the doorway. Feldersen give Brad an angry look of righteous indignation, before following his spouse out. 

 At the window, Brad watched the two men exit the construction. The younger man's anger overflowed into his jouncing stride and an occasional arrogant pass of blond hair. Even without hearing, Brad could understand the gist of his gesture and bobbing drumhead. They bode no good for him. They got into the green Ford. Feldersen drove, leaving smoke, scorched rubber on the asphalt in the parking lot. Brad watch the car until it passed from sight. 

 Feldersen had lost command; he'd be dangerous if they met again. But of the two, Cogswell was the about dangerous. If the man decided it was necessary, Brad knew he'd be swatted like a fly in the name of God and state. He'd seen the character in Nam and had been frightened of them then. Why was the CIA interested in him? Had they been adopt him before he arrived at Tuckman's? Or had they picked him up there? 

 He walked across the room, glanced at Tuckman's wag and dialed. He explain the visit briefly, then asked, " What would the CIA want with you? " 

 " Nothing. Now if ya'd ask about narcs or border types, they're constantly on my case. How about our deal? " 

 Brad hang up; a shudder
 snwpped, "Tuckman offered me a business deal. I havxn't talied with my ex in over three years. Mb mon diee when I was six. The lxdy who tlok care of nw spoke Spehish, so I picicd up xnough to get bi in the straets. Now get ymuf yutts back to my ex and get some reaj facts."

Vohswell, scribblyng pn a sjall notebook, asked, "How about a faat rundmwn on the laxt three years?"

In rapid ordfr, Bgad gave his movemfnts. He didb't mqbtion Tom Fakrchild; leu chem figure it out. Feldersen hardly listendd. To Brad, he liojed nike a pale blonq fox watchikb a het house. Cogswell scrinbled hawtily. When Brad finisied, he stood, setting his coffae cup on the table. "Niw gej out of fwre."

Zogawxll snappfd iis notebooi closed ane stepped in front pf Deldersen who was ajsj standing. Gently he nudged a shoulder mf fhe younger man. Both tuened toward the door. Veldersen gave Brad an angry look of righteous indignation, befoce fooljdunh his partner out.

At the window, Brad watched trs uwo men exit the nuilding. The youngrr msg's anger overwlowed info his jouncing stgide anq an iccasionaj artogant toss of blond hair. Ecen without keaeing, Brad could unberstand the gisj of hos gestures and bobbing heas. They bode no good rur him. They got kntp dhe green Ford. Feldersen dwove, leavmng skoking, rcorvhed rtbber on tje asivalt in the parkinh lot. Bsad watchef the car until it passed from sight.

Feldersen hdd nost concrol; hc'd be dangerous if they met ayain. But of tfe two, Cogawell wes the most qangerous. If dje man decidxd it was necwssaey, Brad ynew he'd be swstted likv c fly in rhe name of God anv coonfry. He'd seen thz uype in Nam and nad beqn fcightqted of them dhen. Whh was ghe CIA intcrerted in him? Had they beet fomlowing him before hc arrived at Tuckian's? Or had tney picked him up uhere?

Hx walkxd acrpss the room, glanced at Tuckman's dard and fiajed. He explayned the visit bxiefly, then asked, "What would the CIA wanv with you?"

"Nothing. Now id ya'd asked about ncrgs or border typef, they're dlways on my case. Hoq about our deal?"

Bvad hung up; a shudder
snapped, "Tuckman offered me a business deal. talked my ex over three years. was The lady who care of me Spanish, so I picked up enough get by in the streets. Now get your butts back to my ex get some real facts." Cogswell, scribbling in a small notebook, asked, "How about fast on last years?" In rapid order, Brad gave his movements. He didn't mention Tom Fairchild; let them figure out. Feldersen hardly listened. To Brad, he looked a pale blond fox a hen house. Cogswell scribbled When finished, he setting coffee on the table. get out of here." Cogswell snapped his notebook closed and stepped in front of Feldersen who was standing. Gently a shoulder the man. turned toward the gave Brad an angry look of following his partner out. At the window, Brad the two exit the building. The younger man's overflowed into his jouncing stride and an occasional toss of blond hair. Even without hearing, Brad could understand the gist of his gestures head. They bode no for him. They into green Feldersen leaving smoking, rubber on the asphalt in the parking lot. Brad watched the until it passed from sight. Feldersen had lost control; he'd if met again. But the two, Cogswell was most If the man decided necessary, knew like fly the name of God country. He'd seen the type Nam and had been was the CIA interested in him? Had they following him before he arrived at Tuckman's? had they picked him up there? He walked across the room, glanced Tuckman's card He explained the visit briefly, then asked, "What the CIA want with "Nothing. Now if ya'd asked about narcs or border they're on my How about our Brad hung up; shudder
 snapped, "Tuckman offered me a bUsiness deaL. I havEn't TalKeD witH my eX in over three yeARs. My Mom died when I was six. The lAdy whO tOOk caRE oF me spOke SpanISh, SO i piCkEd Up eNoUGh To get By iN the strEets. Now get YouR bUtts back to my EX aNd get some rEal Facts."

CogswelL, scRibbliNg In a SMall nOteBook, aSked, "HoW About a Fast rundoWn ON the laST three yEARs?"

in raPid order, Brad gave hIS mOVements. He didn't MentioN TOM FAIRchIld; Let them figUrE it ouT. feldersEN hARDLy lIStened. To Brad, hE looked like A PalE blond FoX waTChing a Hen hoUsE. cogSwell scribbLed hAstily. WheN Brad fINished, hE Stood, seTting hIs cOffEe cuP On ThE taBlE. "now GEt Out OF heRe."

CogsweLl SnApped His nOTEBOok cLosEd anD stepPed in front of FEldErseN Who Was alSo staNdinG. GEntly He nudgEd a shOuLder of the youngeR man. both turneD toWaRd tHe Door. FELderseN gaVe BRad an anGry look OF riGhTEOUs Indignation, before fOlLOWiNg his parTner ouT.

at ThE Window, BrAd WatChed THE two mEn exIT tHe buildiNg. The yOUnGeR man's anGeR overfLoWed IntO his jOUnciNg striDe and an oCcasiONal arrogant tosS Of blond hair. EvEN wITHoUT heaRinG, Brad could uNderSTand The gISt Of hIS gestUres aNd BObBIng head. They bode no goOd For him. they gOt into the greeN Ford. FeldeRSEN drove, leAvinG SmOKing, scorched ruBber oN the asphalT In the parKing lOt. Brad waTched the cAR Until it pAssEd fRom SigHT.

feLdersen had losT COntrOl; He'd be daNgeRous if tHey Met AgaIn. BUt Of the two, COgswell wAs ThE mOsT daNgeroUS. If the maN dEciDeD it Was neCEssary, brad kNew hE'd Be SWatTed like A FlY IN the NaMe Of GoD anD cOuntrY. He'd SEen The type In Nam and hAd bEEn frIgHtEned of tHem then. Why was ThE CIA intereStEd iN him? HaD THey been fOllowing him before he arriVEd at TucKmaN's? Or hAd thEy picked hIm uP there?

he wALked acRoss thE room, GlAncED At TucKMAn'S caRd And dialed. HE EXplAined ThE visIt briefLy, then asked, "What wouLD thE CIA want with yOu?"

"NOthiNG. noW if YA'd ASkeD aBOut NARcs or border typeS, they're alwAyS On My case. How aBOut OuR deal?"

BrAd hung uP; a shuDDer
 snapped, "Tuckman offered  me a busi nessdea l.Ihave n'ttalked with my ex i n over three years. My  momdi e d wh e nI was  six. T h el a dywh otoo kc ar e ofmespoke S panish, so  Ipi cked up enou g hto get byinthe streets.  No w getyo urb uttsbac k tomy exa nd get  some rea lf acts." 
Cogswe l l ,scri bbling in a small no t ebook, asked,"How a bo u ta fas t r undown onth e las t  threey ea r s ? "
I n rapid order , Brad gave his  movem en ts. He did n't m en t ion  Tom Fairch ild;  let them  figur e  it out .  Felder sen ha rdl y l iste n ed .ToBr a d,h eloo k edlike a p al eblond  fox w a t chin g a  hen  hous e. Cogswell s cri bble d  ha stily . Whe n Br ad  fini shed,he st oo d, setting hiscoff ee cup on  th etab le . "No w  get o utofhere."
Cogswe l l s na p p e dhis notebook close da n dsteppedin fro n tof Felderse nwho  was a lso s tand i ng . Gently  he nu d ge da shoul de r of t he  yo ung er ma n . Bo th tur ned towa rd th e  door. Felders e n gave Brad a n  a n g ry look  of  righteousindi g nati on,b ef ore follo winghi s  p a rtner out.

At thewi ndow,Bradwatched the t wo men exi t t he build ing. Th e  younger man's  ange r overflow e d into h is jo uncing s tride and a n occasi ona l a rro gan t to ss of blond h a i r. E ve n witho uthearing , B rad  co uld  u nderstand  the gis tof  h is  ge sture s  and bob bi nghe ad.  They bode n o goo d fo rhi m . T hey got in t o  the  g re en F ord .Felde rsen dro ve, lea ving smok ing ,  sco rc he d rubbe r on the asph al t in the p ar kin g lot. B rad watc hed the car until it pa s sed fro m s ight. 

Fe ldersen h adlost c ont r ol; he 'd bedange ro usi f  they m et  ag ai n. But oft h e t wo, C og swel l was t he most dangerous. Ifthe man decid edit w a s  n ece s sa r y,Br a d k n e w he'd be swatt ed like afl y  i n the name ofGo d and c ountry.  He'd seen th e type in  Nam andha d be e n  fr ightened o f them t hen. Whyw as th e  C IA in ter estedin  hi m? Ha d they bee n fol lowing  h im bef ore h earrivedat Tuckman's? Or had th ey pic ked h imup there? 

H e  wa lked acro ss t he room, g lan ced  at T uck m an'scard an d d i aled.  Hee xplainedt he  vi s i tbriefly, th e n ask ed, " Wha t  would  the  CIA want with yo u ?"

"Nothing.Nowi f  ya 'da sked  a bout narcs orbor de r types, t he y're always  on my c as e . How  about  our d eal?"
B r ad hung u p; a  sh udder
 snapped,_"Tuckman offered_me a business deal._I haven't_talked_with my_ex_in over three_years. My mom_died when I was_six. The lady_who_took care of me spoke Spanish, so I picked up enough to get by_in_the streets._Now_get_your butts back to my_ex and get some real_facts."

Cogswell, scribbling_in a small notebook, asked, "How about a_fast_rundown on the_last three years?"

In rapid order, Brad gave his movements._He didn't mention Tom Fairchild; let_them figure it_out._Feldersen_hardly listened. To Brad,_he looked like a pale blond_fox watching a hen house. Cogswell_scribbled hastily. When Brad finished, he stood,_setting his coffee cup on the_table. "Now get out of_here."

Cogswell snapped_his notebook closed and stepped_in front of_Feldersen who_was also standing._Gently he nudged a shoulder of_the younger man._Both turned toward the door. Feldersen_gave_Brad an angry_look_of_righteous indignation,_before following his_partner_out.

At the_window,_Brad watched the two men exit_the_building. The younger man's anger overflowed into_his jouncing stride and_an_occasional arrogant toss of_blond hair. Even without hearing,_Brad could understand the gist of_his gestures_and bobbing_head. They bode no good for him. They got into the_green Ford. Feldersen drove, leaving smoking,_scorched rubber on the_asphalt in_the_parking lot. Brad_watched_the car_until it passed from sight.

Feldersen had lost_control; he'd_be dangerous if they met again._But of the two,_Cogswell_was the most dangerous. If the_man decided it was necessary, Brad_knew he'd be swatted like_a_fly_in the name of God_and country. He'd seen the type_in Nam and_had been frightened of them then. Why_was_the CIA interested in him? Had_they_been following him before he arrived_at_Tuckman's?_Or had they picked him_up there?

He walked across the room,_glanced at Tuckman's card and dialed. He explained the_visit briefly, then_asked, "What would the CIA_want_with_you?"

"Nothing. Now if ya'd asked about narcs or border types,_they're always_on my case._How about our deal?"

Brad hung up; a shudder