Politics of Blood (Gray Spear Society Book 8) by Alex Siegel

game systems were below, but he had never seen anybody play them. Team members did watch movies though. Two overstuffed recliners were at both ends of a very comfortable couch.
    "I've already handed out new assignments," Aaron said. "Smythe and Sheryl are checking out the Sudanese terrorists. Norbert and Tawni will visit the Plumber."
    "The who?" Perry rubbed his tired eyes.
    "The assassin."
    "Oh, right. He was on the Society watch list. A very dangerous man. Did you warn Norbert and Tawni?"
    "Of course," Aaron said, "but I appreciate your concern. Get up. I need you back at your computer and doing more research. You've had a long enough nap."
    "Yes, sir."
    * * *
    Smythe looked up at the face of a brick apartment building. "The terrorists are there." He turned to another apartment building across the street. "And the CIA is there."
    He and Sheryl had changed their costumes. They now wore the black suits, dark sunglasses, and ear buds of Secret Service agents.
    Sheryl smiled. "This is fun. It's like walking into a spy novel."
    "Just stay in character. Federal agents don't smile while on duty. We'll start with the CIA."
    "Do you want to let me do the talking? You're the most stand-up guy I know, but you're not the best liar."
    "Fine." He snarled. "I'll let the professional deceiver take the lead."
    "You say that as if it's an insult. I'm proud of what I do."
    They entered the second apartment building. The interior was a dingy green, and a couple of light bulbs were burned out. The smell of sour milk was pervasive. The elevator doors had worrisome dents, so Smythe and Sheryl climbed the stairs instead.
    They reached the third floor and found apartment 312. He knocked loudly and stepped back.
    The door opened just a crack and a man peered out. "Hello?"
    Sheryl showed him a Secret Service badge. "We need to talk. We already know you're observing a group of Sudanese terrorists, so just let us in."
    He stared at the badge for a moment before opening the door.
    Smythe and Sheryl went into the apartment and found three more men inside. One was peering through a window with a telescope. Another was listening with headphones and taking notes. The third was sleeping on the floor on an air mattress. They wore civilian clothes. The room smelled like body odor.
    "Gentlemen," Sheryl said. "The President is in town, as I'm sure you know. We're here to perform a threat assessment. Are these terrorists a significant danger to his life?"
    The man who had let them into the apartment stood in front of her with his arms crossed. He had short, black hair. He hadn't shaved in a few weeks, and his beard was a scrappy mess.
    "How do you know about this operation?" he said. "It's supposed to be top secret."
    "Don't worry about that," Sheryl said. "Just answer the question."
    "If the CIA is leaking sensitive information to the Secret Service, I have to worry."
    "These are special circumstances. All the agencies are working together to protect the Democratic Convention. We have a lot of ground to cover today. Please, give us your report so we can move on."
    The spy frowned. Eventually, he said, "We're observing the subjects around the clock. We have their names and background information. Tracking devices are planted in their luggage. If they try anything, we'll know about it."
    "Do they have a specific plan?" Sheryl said.
    "They want to use poison gas to disrupt the convention, but they didn't bring any gas. Right now, they're trying to make some using household products. These guys aren't the sharpest tacks in the box. They'll probably poison themselves by accident."
    "Why haven't you arrested them?"
    "Their conversations are full of useful intelligence," the spy said. "We decided to let them dangle a little longer. In summary, the threat level is low to moderate at this point, but we're watching carefully."
    Sheryl nodded in a professional manner. She walked over to the telescope. The man there stepped aside to let her peer through it.
    Smythe took out