Dead in Their Tracks (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Story Book 1) (18 page)
Chapter 42
A month later, after all of the
debriefings had finished and Mitch had used up the rest of his considerable
vacation days, he walked along the battleship-gray carpeting on the second
floor of the FBI building in downtown Phoenix, striding by familiar faces who
cast lilted smiles of recognition. He didn’t care—there were few people there
that he desired to work with and he wondered how he had pressed on in that
stifling job for so long.
Mitch walked into his office and began
packing his items. He wasn’t sure what was next for him but it had to involve
being outdoors and entail travel. No sitting still or checking endless emails
or hunting two-bit fugitives. Maybe he’d find work on a ranch for part of the
year. Then again, he knew that was back-breaking work best suited towards a
younger man with a more pliable body.
“Leaving without a farewell?” said Ryker,
who was standing in the doorway. “So, that’s it—unravel a terrorist cell and
internal corruption and it’s time to hang your hat up.”
Mitch had come to respect the man, though
he still didn’t like him very much. They were just too opposite in every way.
“Thought I’d take some time off and go on a long horse-packing trip, maybe up
on Apache land for a while.”
“I can still use you if you ever get tired
of roastin’ corn over da campfire,” he said in a weak attempt at a cowboy
accent that sounded more like someone from Georgia.
“Thanks. I think my next job will involve
a little less bureaucracy and suit-wearing.”
Ryker walked forward and extended his
hand. After they had shaken, the bureau chief turned away then came to a halt.
“Almost forgot—this was dropped off at the front desk below,” he said, reaching
into his jacket pocket and removing an envelope. “It’s already been scanned so
no surprises inside.”
Ryker closed the door. Mitch tapped the
envelope against his palm, noticing it was post-marked as international mail.
He removed his small folder and slit open the edge. The sentences that followed
were penned in beautiful blue cursive.
Mitch,
It seems the Israeli military wants to
revive their combat tracking program! They are looking for independent
contractors to provide training and your name may have made it into their
queue. Tel Aviv is lovely in the fall. What do you say, cowboy?
Dev
He put the letter down and walked over to
the tinted window. Mitch stood with his hands on his hips, gazing at the cobalt
desert sky and tracing it down to where it melted into the horizon.
What indeed?
Thank you for
reading this book. Join Mitch & Dev in their further adventures in the
second book,
Counter Strike
, now available
for pre-order on Amazon.
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Post-Apocalyptic Fiction by JT Sawyer
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Life Under Open
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