Few outside the inner circle knew The Campus existed. It wasn’t something you applied to. You had to be asked, handpicked, so it was easier to get the crème de la crème of intelligence officers and operators. Chavez was a plank-holder, one of the first on board at inception, along with Clark and Dom Caruso, who’d been chosen by President Ryan and Gerry Hendley. There had been others: Brian — Dom’s brother — and Sam. Both had been killed on the job. Chavez had lost countless friends, in Colombia, on Rainbow, and with the Agency — in hellholes all around the globe. Finding a place to get killed was never a problem.
Work in that environment made for a close-knit team, closer than family. The Campus was small. It had to be, but like any family, there were periodic squabbles and disagreements. Switching partners now and then helped to keep everyone on their toes. Beyond that, from a personal standpoint, Chavez genuinely liked these people. It was a good thing, too, because all told, he’d probably spent more time with members of one team or another than with his own family. Patsy had grown up that way with John Clark as her father, and now JP was going through the same thing. At a reunion the year before, Ding’s cousin had called him an asshat for spending so much time away from home, berating him for abandoning his family and leaving all the work on the home front to his wife. Patsy about ripped the woman’s head off defending him. But she’d been quiet on the drive back to the hotel, and admitted she wouldn’t mind seeing more of him. That next morning, though, she’d apologized for laying on the guilt trip, and left him a handwritten note. He’d even shown it to John and was pretty sure there had been a tear or two welling up in the old man’s eyes.
Never thought I’d meet another man like my dad. But I’m sure glad I did. Please don’t get discouraged because of us. JP and I know you’re not Superman — you’re so much better. Superman doesn’t have to be brave; he’s invincible. You’re a mere mortal, and yet you march into danger anyway, every day. That’s brave. Someday, JP will find out what you and Daddy do, and when he does, he’ll be so proud of you, just like I am.
Love you,
— Pats
Funny thing was, his wife’s note telling him to get out there and do his job only made him want to spend more time with her. Maybe she was just extra-wily that way. Accustomed to compartmentalizing home and work into different parts of his brain, he pushed the thoughts away and focused on the mission, rejuvenated for the moment.
A steady stream of customers, mostly young Indonesian hipster types, came and went from the business. Suparman’s was crammed in the middle of a strip mall that was three stories tall. Like the larger mall to the south, it had the slouchy look of something old that had been refurbished and repainted many times over. Flanked by a hair salon, a pet store, and a scooter dealership, among other things, Suparman’s took up the bottom two floors in the center of the mall. The upper floors of most of the businesses appeared to be apartments. That would make things interesting if they ended up having to break in here.
There’d been no heavies, no dark limousines pulling up front, nothing to lead Chavez to believe there was anything remarkable going on inside the store. Of course, that didn’t mean the Calliope tech wasn’t there. Chavez was more interested in learning if the security guards went home after the store closed, in the event they came up empty-handed at the main office and had to come back here later.
Adara showed up less than half an hour after she left, black hair still damp under a stylish red ball cap. She’d changed into khaki slacks and a sky-blue polo shirt. Chavez had a cup of tea waiting for her.
“Your hair looks good,” he said. “I’ll bet Dom likes it.”
