Laynie Portland, Spy Rising—The Prequel Read online

  Table of Contents

  Laynie Portland, Spy Rising—The Prequel

  Laynie Portland

  Foreword

  Part 1: Laynie

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Part 2: Linnéa

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Postscript

  A Preview of Laynie Portland, Retired Spy

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Books by Vikki Kestell

  A Prairie Heritage

  Girls from the Mountain

  Nanostealth

  About the Author

  Laynie Portland, Spy Rising

  —The Prequel

  ©2019 Vikki Kestell

  All Rights Reserved

  Faith-Filled Fiction™

  http://www.faith-filledfiction.com/

  http://www.vikkikestell.com/

  Laynie Portland, Spy Rising

  —The Prequel

  by Vikki Kestell

  Available in Print and eBook Format

  NO ONE IS BORN A SPY.

  Every “righteous” clandestine operative is recruited, through one means or another, and trained for the difficult and often terrible work intended to ensure that the principles of freedom triumph over ideologies that seek to dominate and enslave.

  The year is 1977; the Cold War is intensifying. Helena Portland—Laynie to her family—is set to graduate from the University of Washington, when recruiters from Marstead International invite her to dinner and an informal employment interview. Laynie is flattered: Marstead International is a technology and aeronautics firm with a global presence and reputation.

  But behind their corporate image? Marstead is a front for joint U.S./NATO covert operations.

  Not far into the dinner conversation, the recruiters make their pitch: “We have offices around the world, Miss Portland, and we actively seek college graduates with the right mix of aptitude and skills to work and grow within our worldwide market. Actually, we have been observing you for some time. We feel that you have the potential to serve . . . the interests of your country.”

  Laynie catches their drift and confronts it. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You are representatives of a U.S. intelligence agency, unnamed so far, and you are trying to recruit me. Do I have it right?”

  When Laynie accepts Marstead’s offer, she is sent through the Company’s rigorous tradecraft and tactical training program. Laynie soon discovers that the world of clandestine service is dirty business. To succeed, operatives must bend and twist the tenets of liberty. Along the way, noble objectives tarnish and corrode, hearts harden, and methods and means drag virtue into the gutter.

  Laynie perseveres at the work set before her; she enters into it because she holds a secret—a secret she has never shared with anyone, a view of herself that not only condones the awful choices she is asked to make, but justifies them.

  I am worthless; my life has no value. I am only useful when the work I do serves a greater purpose.

  Laynie Portland

  THEY RECRUITED AND trained her for their purposes. She turned out better than they expected.

  Book 1: Laynie Portland, Spy Rising—The Prequel

  Book 2: Laynie Portland, Retired Spy

  Book 3: Laynie Portland, Renegade Spy, 12.02.19

  Book 4: Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected, 06.02.20

  Acknowledgements

  All my thanks and appreciation

  to my esteemed teammates,

  Cheryl Adkins and Greg McCann.

  With every project,

  you give of yourselves,

  pouring invaluable time

  from your busy lives

  into each new book, to make it

  the most effective instrument

  of the Good News possible.

  I love and appreciate you.

  I always will.

  Many thanks to my friend,

  Jim Rutskie,

  for your technical expertise on firearms

  and your enthusiasm for my books!

  You are so appreciated.

  Cover design

  Vikki Kestell

  Scripture Quotations Taken From

  The King James Version (KJV), Public Domain.

  To My Readers

  This book is a work of fiction,

  what I term Faith-Filled Fiction™.

  While the characters and events are fiction,

  they are situated within the historical record.

  To God be the glory.

  Foreword

  WHAT IS A PREQUEL? It is the inverse of a sequel; it is a book occurring before the actual first work in a series, whereas a sequel is the book that follows the first work and continues the story. A prequel serves as “the backstory,” providing the reader with intimate, inside information concerning the series’ protagonist.

  Laynie Portland, Spy Rising—The Prequel, while being the first book in a four-book series, is, likewise, a look back into young Laynie’s life, how Marstead International recruited her . . . and how they molded Laynie into the spy and seductress they desired her to be.

  This statement is true: No one is born a spy. Laynie’s journey into a life of counterintelligence and espionage required intense training and dedication, but that journey is also a tale of choices, of decisions often made for the wrong reasons and on the basis of faulty belief and rationale. Laynie’s story discloses the inexorable breaking down of moral restraint as the pressure of what she desires overrules what she knows is right . . . when the innocence of her youth is stripped away, and the shape of her destiny is set.

  Many of us will relate.

  Chapter 1

  Part 1: Laynie

  Chapter 1

  My Dear Readers,

  Did you miss the Foreword?

  If so, click the link above to read it

  and, afterward, return here.

  The Foreword contains valuable

  context for this story.

  Seattle, Washington, May 1977

  “HEY, MAMA.”

  Laynie’s mother, Polly, stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing vegetables for a chopped salad. Laynie sidled up to her mother, wrapped her arms around Polly’s shoulders, and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek.

  Laynie’s athletic frame towered a good eight inches over Polly Portland, who barely topped five feet and whose corkscrew ebony curls were distinctly unlike Laynie’s straight blonde hair. Polly’s husband, Gene Portland, was tall and lanky like Laynie. Although his blonde hair had darkened, then silvered, as he aged, most observers assumed Laynie had inherited her height and coloring from him.

  She hadn’t.

  “Hey yourself, baby girl. How was your day?”

  “All right. Last term paper of the semester turned in. Check! Two more finals, a group presentation, and I’m done.”

  “Your daddy and I are so proud of you, Laynie. First girl in the family on either side to earn hersel’ a college degree.”

  “You keep saying that, but you and daddy gave me this opportunity, Mama. You worked and saved all my life to pay my way. I just stood on your shoulders; you and daddy ‘earned’ this degree.”

  “We wanted to give you every ’vantage we never had, sugar. Wouldn’t have it no
other way, and we know you will do us proud. By the way, got you a letter, came t’day.”

  “Probably another university hawking their graduate program. Well, I don’t want to go to grad school. I want to get out in the world. Do some real work. See some things.”

  Laynie’s parents had hinted that she should pursue a master’s degree, but she’d roundly rebuffed the idea, and they hadn’t pressed it further.

  “Throw it away then, Laynie-girl. It’s on the table.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Mama.”

  Laynie picked up the envelope, surprised not to see a university crest in the return address corner. The paper was expensive, a stiff powder blue with only an embossed P.O box to hint at the sender. She used her father’s letter opener to slit the envelope, then pulled out a single sheet of folded stationery. Same stiff powder blue with a letterhead that read:

  MARSTEAD INTERNATIONAL

  Global Technologies of the Future

  “Oh?” Laynie’s pulse quickened, and she read through the letter quickly.

  Dear Miss Portland,

  Our company, Marstead International, is in the Seattle area interviewing prospective employees for entry-level positions in the field of technology acquisition and transfer. We understand that you will be graduating next month from the University of Washington. Marstead has offices throughout the world, and your degree in political science with a minor in modern languages suggests you would make a promising candidate.

  If you are interested in hearing more about opportunities with Marstead, our recruitment team would like to host you for dinner at Metropolitan Grill, Second and Marion, downtown Seattle, Tuesday evening, 6 p.m., for an informal discussion and first interview. Please call us at the number below to confirm your reservation with us.

  Cordially,

  Regina Lohwen

  Marstead International,

  Human Resources Division

  The letter piqued Laynie’s curiosity. She picked up the phone and made the call. When she finished, she returned to the kitchen and collected flatware and plates to set the table.

  “Guess what, Mama? I have my first job interview.”

  THE FOLLOWING TUESDAY evening, Laynie walked into the restaurant lobby. A man and a woman stood to greet her.

  “Miss Portland? I’m Bert Norwood of Marstead International. This is my colleague, Angela Stewart.”

  Laynie nodded and shook hands with the man and woman, both “seasoned” personnel—in other words, a couple decades older and more experienced than her twenty-two years.

  “Please call me Laynie.”

  “All right, Laynie, and feel free to call us Angela and Bert. If you’d like to come this way? I’m told our table is ready.”

  Laynie followed them through the restaurant and sat down at a table for three set in a corner that offered them privacy for their conversation.

  After they had ordered from the menu, Bert asked, “Why don’t you tell us what you’d like to do with your life, Laynie?”

  A curious approach, Laynie thought. Most companies want to know what you can offer them. They want you to speak to why they should hire you—or at least that’s what I’ve been told to expect. Laynie had taken a workshop in interviewing techniques, part of which was preparing to present herself in a favorable light, to demonstrate how she might be an asset to the company.

  She smiled. “Thank you for asking. Well, I suppose at the deepest level, I’d like my work to harmonize with my personal values and goals. I want my life’s labor to count for something positive. Meaningful. The technology field is growing quickly, and I feel that it will, within the next few decades, impact all aspects of the human experience. I’d like to contribute to that, to making the world a better place.”

  Her response must have been received favorably, because Bert replied, “Marstead, too, holds corporate values focused on improving lives through technology. It is actually very important to us that our employees share our desire to make the world a better, safer, and freer place for all people.”

  Laynie maintained a neutral expression as she repeated his last words to herself, Safer? Freer? Hmm. Interesting shift to the dialogue.

  Bert continued, “We have offices around the world, Miss Portland, and we actively seek college graduates with the right mix of aptitude and skills to work and grow within our worldwide market. Are you averse to travel? Perhaps relocating to one of our international offices?”

  “Not at all. I’d like to see more of the world.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. A willingness to travel and relocate advances your candidacy with Marstead. In addition, we look for people who can become comfortable in diverse cultures and environments, able to successfully navigate within them. To that end, we offer our new employees rigorous training, such as immersive language instruction and technology adoption and coaching to make them proficient in their specific positions. We also pay tuition for employees wishing to pursue graduate degrees while in our employ.”

  Laynie nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Laynie, is your family, by chance, of Scandinavian descent? I ask because you have classic Scandinavian features—the height, blonde hair, and blue eyes.”

  “My father’s family is Swedish, but I can’t claim his heritage. I was adopted, you see. It was a closed adoption, so I know nothing of my biological parents’ pedigree.”

  She laughed softly. “My dad has the Swedish characteristics, all right, but my mother is African American. She’s a little thing, too. I was taller than her before I started junior high.”

  “You come from a loving family, I take it?” Angela asked.

  “Very much so. There are just the four of us, my parents, me, and my younger brother, Sammie.” She chuckled again. “Sorry. His name is actually Stephen, but I’ve called him Sammie my whole life.”

  “Any other family, Laynie? Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents? Cousins?”

  “No, not that we are in contact with. I’m afraid my parents’ families, on both sides, didn’t approve of mixed marriages, so they severed ties. Like I said, just the four of us.”

  “How would your family feel if you relocated, say, to Europe?”

  Laynie thought for a moment. “I think it would be hard for them to accept my choice.”

  “And you? How might their feelings affect you?”

  She met Angela’s probing gaze. “I would hope they understand that I must follow my dreams and aspirations. Although the distance might be difficult for them to bear, they have always supported my decisions—and it’s not as though we’d never see each other again. The world is getting smaller by the minute.”

  The waiter appeared with their entrees, and they waited until he finished serving before resuming their conversation.

  As they began to eat, Angela turned the conversation back to business. “To be frank, Laynie, we think you are the type of individual Marstead is looking for: bold, flexible, adaptive, smart. In fact, our Marstead Talent Acquisition Department has been observing you for some time.”

  “Oh?” Laynie was picking up an odd “vibe” from the two recruiters, but she determined to show no surprise at Angela’s comment, even though she was surprised. Very. But then, she had always been good at masking her feelings.

  Angela glanced at Bert as though seeking his confirmation for something. Bert nodded for her to continue.

  Angela smiled. “Yes, as it turns out, you are high on our list of potential new hires. Not only is your academic record outstanding, but your gift for languages intrigues us. You are fluent in Spanish and German, I believe?”

  “Spanish more than German, but, yes. And a smattering of Swedish—thanks to my dad.”

  “Good, good. Adaptability to new situations and facility with language is important in the technology acquisition work we do in foreign countries such as France, Norway, Finland, Estonia, Poland, Germany. And the Soviet Union.

  Without skipping a beat, Angela added, “Have you any interest in learning Russian? Tech trans
fer is difficult enough without the addition of language barriers. We, of course, want to bring any emerging tech home to the States. We wish American industry to continue as the best in the world—while we also keep America strong and secure. How do those goals align with your personal values?”

  An instinct humming in Laynie’s head told her to play it cool, even, perhaps, coy.

  What are they really asking me?

  She said, “I would enjoy learning Russian,” but her political science studies were chasing her thoughts down a different path. Marstead acquires technology from the Soviet Union? Hmm. How do they do that? And I wonder how Leonid Brezhnev feels about it? Bet you a doughnut he’s clueless about Marstead’s plans to “bring home emerging tech,” particularly Soviet tech, Angela—but you probably wouldn’t take that bet, would you?

  Angela, still pleasant, still probing carefully, said next, “Based on what we’ve seen of you, we feel that you have the character, aptitude, and potential to serve . . . the interests of your country, Laynie.”

  There it was.

  Laynie snapped to the sudden twist in the conversation—confirmation of what, moments earlier, she’d begun to suspect. Nonetheless, she didn’t question the abrupt turn. She didn’t even flick an eyebrow, but only glanced with indifference at the woman . . . who was watching Laynie a little too closely for her comfort.

  This has got to be an interview for an altogether different kind of job, and I don’t particularly appreciate being played with. I wonder how you’d like it, Bert and Angela?

  Let’s find out, shall we?

  Laynie speared some green beans and sighed a happy sigh. “I just love how they’ve prepared these beans, don’t you, Angela?”

  Angela, taken aback at the alteration in Laynie’s affect, blinked. “I, uh, yes. They’re quite good.”

  She slid her eyes toward Bert. At Laynie’s gushing pronouncement, he had forked a bite of the beans and, at present, was looking them over as if seeing green beans for the first time in his life. He popped the bite into his mouth, and chewed.