When they’d found out what I’d done, they’d tried to slip her back out of the country and introduce her into the refugee flow out of Syria, but I Called the Oversight Council, they oversaw all Taskforce activity, approving each mission on a case by case basis. Of course, the higher ups in the Taskforce hadn’t taken that view. She had prevented a catastrophic attack at the United Nations headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland, and she’d deserved the rescue. It was bad form all the way around, not the least because it could have exposed the entire organization, and with it our less than stellar following of United States Code, but she was worth it. I’d basically turned an enormous covert infrastructure into my own personal coyote operation, but instead of bringing in a load of El Salvadorians across the Rio Grande in the back of a pickup, I’d flown her into the United States on a Gulf Stream jet leased to my company.

I’d basically smuggled her into the United States using a covert aircraft for the organization I worked with.Ĭalled Project Prometheus in official top-secret traffic – but just the Taskforce to all of us minions – its sole mission was protecting the United States from attacks that others in the department of defense or the CIA couldn’t prosecute, which is to say it operated outside of legal bounds. Okay, that sounds like I’d gone through the wickets with the US department of state to introduce a foreign refugee into America, but hadn’t. So I’d brought her back to America after it was over.

She’d ended up being pretty critical to saving a lot of lives, and after the loss of her family, she was all alone. I’d paid for a couple of lessons, and in so doing had turned her into a monster.Ī refugee from Syria, I’d collided with Amena on a mission in Europe after herįamily had been slaughtered by some very bad men.

I’d decided to get her interested in volleyball, because the school she was set to attend had a pretty good team. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was mad about being forced to leave the house, or upset at herself for agreeing to the plan in the first place.Īt thirteen years old, she was taller than most of the girls her age and was pretty athletic. The ball back and forth, like before a volleyball game, and she had decided to turn it into a contest. All we were supposed to be doing was tapping We were in our small driveway on a narrow lane in Charleston, without even a net, and I knew she’d done it on purpose. She gave me a little impish grin and said, “I thought your reflexes were quicker. I didn’t even try, watching it bounce away. She leapt up and hammered it again with a little bit of rage. A floater that I knew she was going to smash.

Amena spiked the ball and I dove for it, barely able to get it back into the air.

American traitor by brad taylor