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One thing Caspian’s instructors had hammered into his head during his training was that in his line of work, it was better to be underestimated than to be feared. Ten years and thirty-three sanctioned kills later, Caspian hadn’t forgotten the lesson. Better to be underestimated.
Caspian Anderson was a wolf in a sheepskin.
“Crève, enfoiré!” his wife had spit back at him before hanging up. Die, piece of shit!
“Let me guess,” Liesel said, “Ambassador Eichberg’s number was on it.” “No, not the ambassador’s number,” Nicklas corrected her. “His wife’s. Ribeiro had the private contact information of Catharina Eichberg.”
You covertly taking out the reporter and the actor allowed me—allowed us—to build the Elias legend faster than we had anticipated.
days had tested her in ways she wasn’t accustomed to anymore. Onyx had been officially terminated by Homeland eight years ago, a little over two years after Caspian had completed his training.
Aren’t you the one who wanted a little more excitement in your life? Liesel asked herself. Well, you got it, girl. You won the excitement jack-fucking-pot.
Her Caspian was gone. Someone had taken him.
She’d texted him back with the short but famous four-word message everyone just loved to receive from their partner. We need to talk.
Caspian Anderson was a German intelligence officer. Always had been.
I don't understand this one...
the I-95.
should really just say I95
“The I-95
Nobody that drives on 95 wirh any frequency calls it "the I95"
