Maggie’s hands danced across her keyboard, the file photos of Jon Smith and Valentina Metrace windowing up on the wall screens. “Physically, they are recovering from exhaustion, exposure, and a variety of minor injuries. Psychologically, they appear to be stable and still comfortable with operating. Given a reasonable period of rest and recuperation, I feel they will be deployable again. In my opinion both Jon and Professor Metrace continue to be valid mobile ciphers.”

Klein nodded. “I concur. I’m pleased with the way they seem to work in harness together. I’ve always been a bit concerned about Metrace, she tends toward being a bit of a cowboy at times. I think Jon’s a steadying influence on her. The chemistry’s good.”

In the screen glow, Maggie’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “In a number of ways. They’ve spent the last week together in Palm Springs.”

“Indeed.” Klein frowned, not in disapproval, but in consideration. “Normally, I don’t like to see off-mission fraternization between our prime ciphers, but in this instance I think we’ll make an exception. If Jon’s good for Metrace, I think Metrace may be good for Jon.”

“I agree, sir. Now, there’s one other personnel point I’d like to bring up.”

“What’s that, Maggie?”

His executive officer’s fingers clattered across her keyboard again, and a third wall screen lit, filling with the image of Randi Russell. “I think we had best declare this young lady radioactive. I don’t think we should ever tap her as an outside asset again.”

“Why so, Maggie? According to Jon’s report, Ms. Russell’s actions have been exemplary. She has a history of successful operations with him.”

“Yes, sir, but she’s CIA, and the Agency knows Covert One is out here now. They don’t know exactly who or what we are yet, but they don’t like our authority and the way we keep tapping their assets. They’re starting to sniff around, hunting for a line on us. Ms. Russell can bore-sight two of our prime ciphers, and we could get some comeback through her. I think we need to keep her distanced in the future.”

Klein shook his head. “I disagree. I believe we have another option.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“We don’t distance her. We absorb her. We bring her all the way in.”

Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “We recruit her as a mobile cipher?”

“Why not? Ms. Russell has the package. She has an excellent set of skills. She has the experience, and she doesn’t have any connections or attachments.”

“Except to the Agency.”

“We can work around that.” Klein smiled to himself, like a fencer flexing a new foil. “In fact, we may be able to make use of it.”

“As you wish, sir.” Maggie sounded dubious. “Do you want me to set up a recruitment approach?”

“No…not quite yet. But let’s keep an eye on her. Silver-flag her file and redesignate her as a special asset; then have her placed under a loose assessment surveillance. We’ll wait for another opportunity to team her with Smith and Metrace, and then…we shall see what we shall see.”

“Very good, sir.”

A silver border blipped into existence around Randi Russell’s photo. Fred Klein leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped, his expression intent. “Welcome to the firm, Ms. Russell,” he murmured to the blonde woman’s image.