The Fellowship Read Online Free Page B

The Shepherd would be able to read it.
    Then he slid the tip of the TEK-9 barrel underneath the man’s ski mask. It lifted easily, revealing the face of a man in his late 20s. He was of Mediterranean complexion, possibly Italian. 
    The dead man’s mouth was formed into an O-shape. As if his last words had been “Oh,” or perhaps, “Wow.” Why was it that the dead always looked so surprised? What was it that they saw as they passed to the other side?
    Lars took comfort in this. The Shepherd had once told him that he was destined to martyr himself for the Great Mission.  He looked forward to whatever surprises awaited him during his journey.
     

 
    National Counterterrorsm Center
     
    Speers was waiting for Carver when he returned to his office. It was a shabby, tight little space. No windows, some particle board furniture that had been pilfered from an empty office over at the SBA building.  A far cry from the luxe offices he had once occupied over on K Street.
    This was supposed to be temporary, a fact he reminded himself of every day. He had avoided personalizing the space in any way for fear of cosmically elongating the time here in his own personal purgatory. Last month, he had finally brought in some lamps to replace the florescent lighting. Most of the pasty people who came into his office were much more attractive by lamplight.
    “Cute kids,” Speers said, pointing to the only photograph in the entire office . The picture, unframed and taped to the bottom of a monitor, showed Carver in an orange river raft with two cherub-like kids under his arms. “Whose are they?”
    “ My sister’s,” Carver smiled. They lived with Carver’s sister in Flagstaff, Arizona, about 80 miles from his parents’ cattle ranch in Joseph City.
    After the Ulysses Coup, as the American media had taken to describing the mutiny that had nearly topp led the American government the previous year, Carver had spent two days recovering in Walter Reed Hospital. He had then attended the funeral of his late partner, Megan O’ Keefe, before heading out to Arizona for some much-needed rest.
    He avoided all news and let his messages go unanswered for days at a time. As always, the first couple of days had been hard. His parents and extended family thought he was a contracting specialist for the State Department. He had to make his life in Washington seem like the most boring, milquetoast existence possible so they wouldn’t ask too many questions. And then there were the excuses. For all the weddings, anniversaries and birthdays he had missed while working abroad. He was so tired of being the bad son, the irresponsible uncle.
    But he had gotten past that. He had been there for his father’s birthday for the first time in years. And he had taken his niece and nephew fishing on Lake Mary, and they had caught their limit of Northern Pike. It had been good to reconnect. Just being around his own blood had been good for the soul. They were so normal. So happy.
    He had grown tired of Washington. With the exception of Speers, everyone he knew was either single, or wanted to be single so they could spend more time on their careers. Carver hated it, but knew he was just as guilty. He had never married. Never been engaged. The manner in which he had chosen to serve his country required keeping the people he loved at a distance.
    Now he stood in the hallway outside his own office. “How are the twins?”
    “ Sweet when I’m home,” Speers said, “But all I hear about when I’m gone is how much they cry. How they won’t nap at the right times. How she can’t get anything done.”
    “Maybe she just wants you home more.”
    “We’re not here to talk about my personal life. Come in and close the door.”
    Carver did so reluctantly. His office was about the size of a large walk-in closet.
    Speers pulled a purple lollipop from his pocket and began unwrapping it. “You handled that briefing well today.”
    “What do you want, Julian?”
    “To