by Justin Bell
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With a jolt, the small plane hit the paved runway and the tires squealed, bringing the fast moving transport to a sudden, jarring stop, surrounded by the buildings of the familiar small airport that Grace was now also quite acquainted. This most recent trip had been the most frustrating, and the political landmines that had been waiting for him in Washington only went to show just how screwed up this system was. He accomplished much in his current role, and this operation in particular set the stage for some huge gains for him, and even the global landscape of genetic engineering. The NSA would never reveal the secrets gleaned with this particular operation, but certain details would find their way out into the general populace, and even those small details could transform the medical and scientific community forever. The fact that all of this could be jeopardized because some political middle manager got his panties in a bunch about something was mind-blowing to Grace, and he was just thankful that he and his superior had been able to head it off at the pass.
Meanwhile, neither Burndock nor the guys from Brooklyn Protection seemed to understand or appreciate just how crafty and skilled Strickland was. Grace could only hope that ultimately Strickland didn't get what he was looking for, or they could be on the receiving end of a world of hurt, and that was no place to be. His group was skilled at surveillance, pursuit, and analysis, but when it came right down to it, NSA agents were built for proactive action, and when things got ugly, they were at a disadvantage. That's why they used third party contractors for the rough stuff. So what were they supposed to do when William Strickland, who was one of their best contractors, turned against them? That was something Grace didn't want to consider.