Evocatus Inception

Usually, a few tranquil hours trolling off the Panhandle would distract Woody from thinking about his past—especially the people he had killed. Usually, but not today. Today, he had a gut feeling—an intangible foreboding he could not ignore. Off the starboard bow, black skimmers dabbing their wingtips in the mirrored ocean. A distant rumble of thunder heralded the arrival of afternoon thunderstorms. He pulled up the trolling motor, climbed the flying bridge, and started the engines.

He eased the throttles forward, and soon, Cathleen was playing along. The muted rumble of the inboard engines was his favourite music. Woody loved his boat. She provided him freedom, joy, and a place to call home. Behind the ship, bottlenose dolphins were breaching and playing in the wake like rambunctious kids at a water park. Woody smiled. Look at those beautiful creatures, he thought. I’ll be swimming with you guys someday. Before entering Pensacola Bay, he motored past Fort Pickens and Naval Air Station Pensacola. A brown pelican circled overhead before piercing the glassy turquoise sea like a feathered arrow. Woody changed his heading to set up the approach to his marina. He rounded the piled-rock breakwater. A lone figure was standing by his berth. Woody throttled back the engines and approached the pier.

Holy s**t, he thought, it’s Mick Taylor. Mick was Woody’s trainer at his first CIA Field Officer posting in Washington, D.C. He took Woody under his wing and became his mentor and trusted confidant. When Woody’s wife Cathleen was in the final stages of bone cancer, it was Mick who was there beside him when Woody ended her suffering. Woody hadn’t seen him since a Clandestine Service reunion three years ago.