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Would You Like Spies With That?Damon tried to look inconspicuous in the crowded fast-food restaurant as he rummaged through his pockets. He didn't have much trouble blending into a crowdthat was part of the job description, after allbut he didn't want anyone wondering why that man sitting all by himself in the corner was slowly beginning to panic.Up until now, the job had been going so smoothly. Damon had taken his employers' advice and gone plainclothes for this mission, dressing in a ratty sweatshirt and jeans quite unlike the spiffy uniforms most mooks would wear in those spy films he loved as a kid. He had memorized the street corner he was to deliver the intelligence at. He had been so careful not to let anyone know that the young, stubbled man in his late twenties was really part of a massive organization bent on toppling the leading governments of the free world one by one.Good God, he thought upon hitting this realization for roughly the nineteenth time in his life, Why do I work for