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“If you’re asking if Barb ever spoke of him, the answer is no. Cope did, though.”
There wasn’t an agent alive, especially among those like me who worked in technology, who didn’t revere Laird “Burns” Butler. Other than Burns’ oldest son, Kade, also known as Doc, there were few people in the business as close to the man as Deck was.
Years ago, when Decker was a teenager, he was adopted by MI6 Chief Z Alexander, who at the time, was living in Texas and running the King-Alexander Ranch, which he’d inherited from his late wife. Seeing something promising in Ashford, Z had contacted Burns, who’d agreed to mentor the teen in intelligence technology.
Many would argue that Deck had surpassed Burns in capability long ago, but the man himself never would. He humbly relinquished the “best in the world” title to Butler and always gave credit where he believed it was due. I didn’t have an opinion either way. Given my degree was in information technology, both men intimidated the hell out of me.
The scholarship I’d received to attend the University of Maryland was a combined academic and sports scholarship—for football. I’d played for the Terps all four years, as a tight end. I was big enough to be a monster blocker and quick enough to catch passes. I’d gotten a couple of offers to play in the NFL, but I wasn’t interested. By that time, I was far enough along in my degree that the agency had sent out a couple of feelers.
The way I saw it, I had a far better chance of never returning to ranch life if I got a job with the Central Intelligence Agency. When assignments started popping up first with just Ashford and then with the Invincibles, I was always first in line to get them, even if the jobs were only for asset protection.
In this case, it wasn’t spy-tech Decker needed Burns’ help with, though. The man was also considered the best in the business when it came to making an op, or an entire mission, look like it had never happened.
“Buck, you still with us?” said Deck.
“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”
“After we arrive in Colorado, I’ll be heading to California to meet with Burns.”
Working with Burns, or just having an opportunity to meet him, was something I’d never dreamed possible. Still didn’t. For all intents and purposes, the man was retired. I sure as hell wished I could go to California with Decker, but that was out of the question with the shit my father had pulled. Not to mention, there was no justifiable reason for me to go.
“Whatever Stella can recall about the story will be helpful to know in advance.”
“I’ve never known much outside of the fact that it ruined my aunt’s life.”
Decker nodded and stood.
“I don’t suppose there’s a chance in hell I could go with you?” said Stella, echoing my earlier thoughts.
“None whatsoever, unless you can convince this guy I’d be an okay number two on your detail.” Decker motioned at me.
“Oh no, you don’t. You can forget making me the bad guy.”
He laughed. “Tell you what, if Burns knows anything about Operation Argead, I’ll try to talk him into coming to Colorado. Fair enough?”
Stella’s face fell, but it appeared more in acceptance of the situation than disappointment.
“How long do you anticipate being there?” I asked.
“That depends on what Burns knows. Not more than a few hours would be my guess, but then I have to return to Texas.”
Stella put her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. Maybe another time.”
It wasn’t like her to give up so easily, not on anything, but I wouldn’t ask her about it now, with Decker standing right beside us.
The rest of the flight was bumpy enough that the pilot suggested everyone stay put with our seat belts fastened. When I felt Stella tense beside me, I slid my hand into hers.
She looked down when I wove our fingers together. “What are you doing?”
“I’m holdin’ your hand, Stella.”
“Why?”
I angled my head so I could look into her eyes. “I’ve waited a damn long time to be able to.”
She looked away, but she left her hand where it was.
“It’s so beautiful,” she commented on the drive from the Gunnison airfield into Crested Butte. It was a typical “Bluebird” day in the state that boasted more than three hundred days of sunshine a year.
