It was a year ago, Nassar said. He visited me at my hotel room in London. At first, he called it Operation Red Box. Then, a month later he came to me and told me he made an error, it wasnt Operation Red Box. We must never speak of Operation Red Box again. We must never even say the words. But I remembered it. Im sure that is the name, but I dont know what it means. So if you want to learn about Operation Red Box, dont ask me anything. Ask your CIA Director instead.

Whos got this guy? Luke said. Is someone taking custody?

One of the men from Homeland Security raised his hand. When the NYPD is done with him, theyre going to release him to us.

Luke nodded. Good. Hang on to him.

He started walking toward the door.

Where are you going? one of the men said.

Luke didnt even turn around.

Im going back to Washington. I need to talk to someone.

Chapter 34

8:33 p.m.

Washington, DC

The man wouldnt meet him until nightfall.

Luke waited alone on a wooded path by the shore of the Potomac River. The sun had just set, but no light was visible. A thick, cold fog had rolled in off the water sometime earlier. It swirled around him. No one could see him. He could be anyone in here. He could be a dead man. He could have ceased to exist. He could be the last person left on Earth. It was a good feeling.

He had raced back here to Washington, only to end up waiting. He was past exhausted, and with so much at stake, the waiting bothered him. The man always made him wait. Always had, always would.

Luke had talked to Ed Newsam on the phone ten minutes before. Newsam was in the hospital. Jacob and Rachel had managed to crash land the chopper in the middle of an empty Little League baseball field. Newsams hip was cracked, and he had been strafed pretty good with bullets, but he was going to be fine. It would take more than an Uzi to kill a man like Newsam. Still, he was out of commission, and the thought of that worried Luke just a bit.

There was a lot more to do.

Quite a day youve had, a voice said.

Luke looked up. A tall elderly man in a long leather coat stood nearby, walking a small gray and brown dog. The mans hair was so white it almost seemed to glow in the just settled darkness. He didnt face Luke directly, but came closer and sat at the far end of the bench. He lowered himself to the bench slowly and with some difficulty. Then he patted the little dog with thin hands. A biscuit appeared in one of those hands like a magic trick, and the man fed it to the dog. He smiled at his own sleight of hand.