Here’s what I’ve been doing in my off hours, besides visiting Flix, Whitman thought: finding out that Ibrahim Mansour is nothing more than a punk running a wildcat cadre he claims is affiliated with al-Qaeda, which none of my private back-channel contacts can verify. In other words, he was a soft target: an easy win for NSA, currying favor with POTUS on the defensive domestically. But he brought up none of this to her, instead saying, “What could Hemingway be suspicious of?”

“On the surface, it would seem that after the blown mission, he’s looking at everyone, including you. But I’m thinking, actually, he’s after Luther St. Vincent.” She cocked her head. “You’re St. Vincent’s bȇte noire, so Hemingway thinks. Is that right?”

“Tie this all up for me, would you?”

Julie swallowed hard. Being between Hemingway and this man was an exceedingly uncomfortable place to be. “This is just a guess, you understand.”

“I’m listening.”

“Hemingway was hoping I’d scrape up some dirt on you to use as leverage. He wants to force the issue. He wants you to take out St. Vincent for him.”

“Hands perfectly clean.”

She nodded uncertainly. “Like I said—”

“It’s a good guess,” Whit said slowly as she chewed over the scenario. “My world is full of pricks.”

There was a small silence, which ended when Whitman said, more gently than she could have imagined, “One thing. Why in the world would Hemingway send you?”

“I asked him that myself. He told me he thought a civilian like Sydny would respond better to someone like me, who wasn’t a trained field man; that a field man might spook her.”

Whitman was about to say that her boss was full of shit, when she piped up.

“But you know I kind of liked it. I mean I was a little scared, but he called me into his office.”

“So you said.”

“But the thing is—the odd thing—is that he asked me to close the door behind me. That’s SOP for agents, but he’s never, ever done that with me before. When I’m in his office the door is always open.”

“What d’you make of that?”

“Well, naturally I was flattered, and thrilled when he gave me this assignment. At last, I thought, he’s giving me a chance to be of use to him, instead of just being a drone pushing papers.”

“What was it that changed your mind?”

“Frankly, you. Your presence here—you picking me up—has made me rethink the entire episode. It’s why I asked you if Sydny was lying. I was wondering whether she belongs to Hemingway, whether this was a clandestine way of having me re-vetted.”

“Put your mind at ease on that score,” Whitman said. “Sydny belongs to no one. She’s my friend.”