He had some visible bruises, but he didn’t think that was it. This was some kind of upscale place with folded linen napkins and chairs that looked like they would collapse if you sat down in them too hard. The tables were covered in shiny goblets of orange juice and ice water, and the people were all dressed in suits or business skirts and they all had great haircuts. It was pretty tough for the marine not to plunk himself down, put his boots up on one of the tiny tables, and order a cheap domestic beer. Instead he walked up to where Charlotte Holman sat with another man—Arnold Grauen, the director of the whole NSA. Her boss and, just then, his. He came up to the table and saluted, even though they were both civilians. There was an almost audible sigh from the other tables. They’d had trouble figuring out what a roughneck like Wilkes was doing in their fancy eating establishment, but this was, after all, D.C.
What do You think about The Cyclops Initiative (2015)?
