The Detachment

Clements, and probably Hort, too. That, or just tell them all to fuck off and take his chances. He wondered if the real reason he’d accepted Hort’s orders this time was just to defer that day of reckoning.
    Or was it something else? Having learned through multiple near-death experiences just how much of the noble-sounding king and country rhetoric was bullshit designed to fool the impressionable and empower the corrupt, was it possible he still craved being on the inside so much he was pretending not to know better? When he put it that way, it felt pathetic, but the notion of abandoning the military—abandoning the ISA—was horrible. Just imagining it made him feel anxious to the point of panic. What would he do? Who would he be?
    He blew out a long breath and popped up on his palms in upward facing dog, his pelvis on the floor, his back arched. He liked the yoga. He found he didn’t bounce back quite as quickly as he had in his football and wrestling days, and that the esoteric stretches seemed to help.
    One of the attendants walked over, an attractive brunette wearing a spa uniform with a nametag reading Alisa . Treven had noticed her watching him earlier and wondered if she was interested. Apparently that would be a yes.
    “I didn’t figure you for a yoga aficionado,” she said.
    “I don’t know about aficionado,” Treven said, coming to his feet. “But I like the stretches.”
    “It’s smart. A lot of guys who are into weights don’t stretch enough.”
    “Do you teach this stuff?”
    “Personal trainer. I don’t think you need it, though. I was watching you, you know what you’re doing.”
    She was certainly easy on the eyes, and any other time, he would have been happy to follow wherever this led. But not today.
    “Well, I better wrap it up,” he said. “You can only do so much yoga in a day.”
    She smiled, just a hint of Oh, well in the way her eyes lingered on his. “Can I bring you anything? A towel, water…?”
    “No, I’m good. Thanks for asking.”
    “Okay, then.” She held his gaze for another instant, then turned to head back to the front of the room. Treven was about to follow her when a muscular, crew-cut guy in a dark suit came in. Treven made him instantly as a bodyguard—the build, the watchful presence, and no way was the guy here for a workout wearing a suit.
    “Oh, one thing,” Treven said to Alisa, who turned back to face him. “The spa. There’s a steam room in there, right?”
    He was stalling for time, wanting to see what the bodyguard did and who might come in behind him. It wasn’t necessarily going to be Shorrock. The Wynn did a lot of business with VIPs. Whoever it might be, he knew he’d look less noteworthy chatting up one of the attendants than he would on his own.
    “There is,” Alisa said. “The steam is infused with Eucalyptus, so it’ll really clear out your pores and open up your sinuses.”
    “I’ll have to give it a try. I don’t think I’ve ever had a Eucalyptus steam bath before.”
    She smiled. “You’ll like it. I use the women’s every day I’m here.”
    Treven tracked the bodyguard in his peripheral vision. The man scoped the room, but not carefully. Treven had the sense he was only confirming there was no other way in or out. And why be more thorough than that? Shorrock was important, true, but it wasn’t as though he was the president. And like Rain had said, if Shorrock was doing something unscheduled, the security detail would be more focused on someone following him than they would be on people who were already there.
    “Every day?” Treven said. “You must have the cleanest pores in Vegas.”
    Alisa laughed. “I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely good for your skin.”
    The bodyguard walked back to the glass doors and held one open, and bam , in walked Shorrock. Treven felt his heart rate kick up a notch. Son of a bitch, they had him.
    “I’ll tell you,” Treven said, keeping Shorrock in his peripheral vision, “I’ve always been jealous of people who get to work out for a living.”
    “You look like you’re doing okay,” Alisa said, glancing down at his torso. “What are you in town for?”
    The guard, he noted, hadn’t come back in. Shorrock was heading for the back of the room, where the free weights were.
    “Just a reunion with some friends,” Treven said. She’d pinged him with that glance and the question about his plans. If he pinged back, she’d escalate. “Play some poker,