All Chapters of PERKS OF THE POSITION : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

VERONICAThe cold steel of the customized SIG Sauer P320 slide loaded a 9mm jacketed hollow-point into the chamber with a sharp, mechanical finality. The sound echoed off the acoustic dampening tiles of the private firing bay, a crisp, clean frequency that temporarily overrode the low, industrial hum of the facility’s air filtration system.I adjusted my silver-rimmed spectacles, my fingers locking around the textured polymer grip.My posture was not the standard, relaxed stance of a civilian marksman. My feet were planted at a precise forty-five-degree tactical diagonal, my shoulders rolled forward, my center of gravity lowered to absorb the repetitive, high-velocity recoil of a continuous discharge sequence.My system was experiencing a severe, unvetted thermal spike.According to the internal diagnostic monitors embedded in my slate resting on the bench behind me, my resting heart rate was tracking at an abnormal 94 beats per minute. My respiration was shallow, operating at a 14% d

GERALDThe Oval Office was supposed to be untouchable.Every package that entered the West Wing was screened, scanned, logged, and inspected long before it ever got anywhere near the President. Layers of security existed for one reason to make sure nothing dangerous crossed that threshold.At 8:14 that morning, that system failed.A black parcel, no bigger than a hardcover book, sat in the middle of my desk. It passed the security check without any issues yet it looked suspicious even to me but how come no one considered this scenario or possibility before now?It had arrived through a diplomatic pouch from the Swiss consulate, carrying the kind of immunity that made people stop asking questions and somehow, that made me trust it even less."Norton."My voice filled the room.I never took my eyes off the box."Who approved this?"Norton stepped forward from the doorway, looking as though he hadn't taken a full breath since the package arrived."It came through using a stolen diplomati

VERONICA The private investigator didn't ask me to meet him in a government building or a secure facility.Instead, he chose a tiny tea shop tucked away in Marylebone.It smelled of old books, over-steeped tea, and rain that had soaked into the walls years ago.At half past eight that morning, the windows were fogged with condensation, turning the London streets outside into blurred streaks of gold and gray.I sat in the corner with my back against the wall, where I could see every customer who walked through the door. My charcoal trench coat was buttoned to my neck, and my silver-rimmed glasses reflected the live security feeds running quietly across my contact display.Hampshire Medical Facility: Stable.Carolina: Recovery probability-38%.Global Network: Secure.At least, that's what the system claimed.Across from me sat Kennedy the private investigator. I'd spent three hours verifying him being able to separate my interest from Gerald's without clash before agreeing to this meet

VERONICAThe club Aether was buzzing with life, expensive perfume, sweat and so much booze around. I looked around for Selya Rasputina. I kept walking until I got to the VIP Booth Four where she danced all over Maxim Petrov, her on and off friend with benefit.Selya Rasputina, twenty-two years old, the youngest daughter of the Russian President, and a master’s student at the London School of Economics was sitting on a crimson velvet banquet couch. Her ice-blonde hair fell over her exposed shoulders, her eyes hazy from a precise mixture of high-grade vodka and MDMA. Beside her sat Maxim, her athletic, dark-haired boyfriend whose family owned three privatized metallurgy plants in the Ural region.My thoughts for being here were absolutely simple. The Russian President needed to issue Catya’s sovereign pardon, but diplomatic agreements executed under duress carried an inherent variance. I required a secondary contingency; a direct, unshakeable leverage point over his private, unlisted r

GERALDHolding Veronica’s jaw in my hands was like holding a fine piece of sculpted marble; cold, smooth, and infuriatingly unyielding.Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight fucking hours she had been missing from my grid, vanished into thin air while my Strike Group sat idling in the Mediterranean and my intelligence teams tore London apart brick by brick. I had been ready to execute half the executive detail in Westminster and yet, standing in front of me with her silver-rimmed spectacles resting straight on her nose and her charcoal suit completely pristine, she didn't look like a woman who had been held captive. She looked like a grandmaster who had just moved a pawn across the board and claimed a king."You were securing our victory," I repeated, my voice dropping an octave, heavy and dangerous in the quiet, pressurized room. "You disappeared off my satellite telemetry without my clearance, Veronica. Do you have any idea what I was ready to burn down to find you?""My mobile signal was